#or i wonder if it's just a self-preservation instinct

[ascribesstory]

The Ache Of Betrayal (Part 1)

Hello! Welcome to my first fanfiction in well over a year! I'm really excited, but be warned, I've only recently gotten into the bat-verse recently and it's very hard to find the comics, so there may be some mistakes.

Trigger warnings: Bad family dynamics, false accusations, mention of injury.

words: 769 (They will be longer in the future I swear)

Part two

Jason Todd/Red Hood is the protag

I groan as I wake up on my ratty old couch that still had the faint odor of cigarettes from whomever owned it last.  I had found it one night on my way home from patrol when my safehouse had been mostly empty, and I’d still been sleeping on the floor.

My memory fails me for a moment until I sit up, a deep pain radiating from my side.

That’s right, I remember.  The night before I’d been patrolling and gotten jumped by some goons who thought taking down the Red Hood would improve their status.

Somehow, going after a guy who had beheaded eight crimelords seemed like a good idea to them.

Either way, it had ended with two very sorry criminals in the hospital and a bullet wound in my side.  Nothing lethal, but it hurts like hell.

Of course, passing out on my shitty couch without any first aid hasn’t helped any.

Or had it?  I’m surprised to find the bullet hole bandaged, and I’m guessing if I unwrapped my side I’d find the wound cleaned and stitched.

“You know, father said you didn’t have any self-preservation instincts as robin, but even I know better than to run around in the manner that you have.”

I groan.  “Hello demon brat.”  Looking over I see that Damian had settled down at the counter with a cup of tea he definitely didn’t get from my cupboards, in his civilian clothes.

“Father wants you at the manor.”  He says, shifting uncomfortably.

I scoff.  “Father wants a lot of things, you can tell him to shove it.  And do you just carry around a cup of tea now?  You know that’s pretty impractical right?”

At first I didn't even bother to look over at him, picking at the bandages and wondering how long until I could head back on patrol.

Until I realized that unlike normal, Damian hadn’t responded snarkily or slinked off.  That Damian was still sitting there and wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

“What happened?”

Damian flinches slightly, small fingers gripping the cup anxiously.  “Jason… Did you start killing again?”

I stiffen, studying him to see if this was his stupid attempt at a joke.  “Of course I haven’t, what the hell makes you think that?”

Damian meets my stare with a glare.  “The men who shot you last night turned up dead.  Father looked at the cameras, after you got shot and they slipped off something happened out of sight of any cameras. As for you… we couldn’t find you either.”

I laugh darkly.  “Oh, and of course that means I was behind it right?  It’s not like those guys could have pissed anyone else off by waving guns around in known gang territory.”

“Listen, it would just make all of the others feel better if you’d come back to the cave and help us find out who actually killed them-”

“You mean so Bruce can keep an eye on me, right?  Or maybe he’s finally decided to ship me off to Arkham, bored of babysitting the son he let die.”  I force myself to stand, grabbing my helmet.  “Well, you can tell him that I’m not interested in his feelings, and he should stay the hell out of my life.  I’m following the code, that’s all he needs to know.”

Damian scoffs and stands as well.  “Todd, this is very immature of you, father is just worried about your wellbeing.  The pit still affects you, doesn't it?  Is it possible you killed those men without knowing it?”

As if summoned, that familiar green starts to tint my vision and my feelings, but I take a deep breath and push it back down where I push all those nasty feelings I have no plan on confronting.  “I’ve had control of the pit rage for over a year now Damian.  And anyway, I’ve never killed anyone without knowing it.”

I head for the door.  “That’s just a lie the others tell themselves so they can look me in the eye.”

Damian starts to speak again but I head out, slamming the door behind me. I curse myself for not keeping an emergency bag for situations like these.  Finding a new safehouse was gonna suck, but if the bats thought I was going rouge I needed to lay low for a bit.

On the run again.

I can’t help the ache in my heart that I thought I had shed long ago.  After that hopeful little bird died in a warehouse, hoping for his father to save him up until the very last moment.

The ache of betrayal.

[2009editingtips]

oh fuck phil got phorbed😔

He deserved it. Lookin like that with those ocean blue eyes of his. Something something, you could get lost in those eyes.

[sysig]

You’re gonna die if you keep that up (Patreon)

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

most important detail ive learned from rereading is that hestio's specific skillset is singing sacred hymms and casting curses on enemies

BANGING POTS AND PANS, HESTIO CAN SING !!!!!!

[crescenthistory]

A big round of applause for your 2k milestone carina congratulations^^

May I request an argue with dialogue 48 with poly!Bartylus with a fem! Ravenclaw reader likes doing questionable stuff to satisfy her random curiosity. Problem being she has little sense of self preservation so she often lands in the hospital wing and whenever the two show up after hearing she had the nth concussion, she's does a very casual report be like: 'so turns out Thestrals do behave like horses if I tugged its tail too hard'. Regulus probably aged another 10 years while Barty is half concern and half rolling on the floor. Or idk, I just wanna see Reggie massaging his temples while Bee wheezing his lungs out with a confused reader lol.

thank you so much for your request babes<33 i switched this one up a little, hope you enjoy it

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 48 "sometimes i wonder how you're still alive" with poly!bartylus

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: fem!reader, use of y/n, barty pov and all of its usual chaos, established poly relationship, clumsy and whimsical reader

wc: 1.3k

Barty sat waiting for you to exit your Transfiguration class, so he could spend his free period with you, but you were taking an awfully long time. 

His instincts told him to just sneak into the classroom and call out for you, but he had been scolded for doing just that very recently – not just by professors but by Regulus, his own personal authority figure apparently – so he bit his tongue. Yet, when Lupin and Potter exited before you, he could no longer help himself from throwing his head back and groaning, drawing their attention.

“You good, Junior?” Potter asked wearily with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I’m looking at my annoying brothers in law and not my wonderful girlfriend. What’s taking her so long?”

The two exchanged a glance before Lupin cleared his throat. “Y/N wasn’t in class. I’m quite certain she’s in the infirmary?” It was voiced as a question, but Barty could tell that it wasn’t really.

On paper, this revelation should fill him with worry and concern for your wellbeing, he should want to run full throttle towards the infirmary. Instead, he was filled with a dread of a very different kind and let yet another raspy groan escape him. 

“Not again,” he hissed before slapping his knees and getting up. “Right. Where’s Regulus?” 

“Should you not be your own boyfriend’s keeper?” Lupin asked at the very same time as Potter said “Potions”.

Barty looked at Lupin with a hah-expression. 

“Best get there before he does then!” He announced cheerily before turning on his heel and skipping down the hallway, using every wall and pole he passed as leverage. He didn’t bother looking back over his shoulder to see what more the two boys had to say.

The journey to the infirmary went by quickly, Barty’s movements all motivated by a desire to have Regulus not get to the scene before him. 

“Evening, darling Poppy,” he called out to the matron who looked up at him with an unamused expression. “Where’s she at?”

She looked like she wanted to comment on his unprofessional language, but instead she gave a heavy sigh, clearly giving up before even starting. “Miss L/N is in bed 6 to the right,” was all she said, turning back to cleaning her equipment near the door.

Barty blew her a kiss before beginning to skip in and promptly transitioning to walking upon Pomfrey’s deadly expression. 

You quickly came into view, sitting up in your bed while happily eating some of the infirmary food. Your sweet expression brightened when you spotted Barty coming towards you and any thought that might have swirled in his head about being strict with you immediately melted away. He felt as if he was floating up to you as he came to plop down on your bedside.

“Good afternoon, my lovely darling angel,” he all-but cooed. “Happy to see you in one piece.” 

You leaned forward and brought him in for a loving kiss that you hummed your greeting into. “Hi, B. How are you?”

“Well for one, I’m not the one with an icepack on my shoulder.” His brows furrowed in entertainment. 

You pulled away from him and looked perplexed at his comment for a moment before reaching to your shoulder, as if you had forgotten it was even there. ���Oh, that was no bother. I have good news: You can pet the Thestrals even if you can’t see them. Not all of them necessarily enjoy it, but it’s certainly possible.”

Barty huffed a laugh, leaning forward to bury his head in your non-injured shoulder. Even in the infirmary, you still smelled so effortlessly like yourself, a scent he wanted to drown himself in every time he was near you. Still, he was a man on a mission, and he could not be distracted, even by the loveliest girl in the castle.

“Right, that is fantastic to hear,” he said as he pulled away to look at you. “And I would love to hear even more – but somewhere else. Are you good to walk? You’re good to walk yeah, we can get out of here?” Even as he spoke he was beginning to back your belongings from the bedside table into your backpack. You began to giggle, but before he could ask why, he was interrupted by another voice.

“It’s no use, Junior, I’m already here.”

Barty’s shoulders sagged theatrically as he let your backpack fall to the ground with a soft thump and turned to look at the source of the voice. Coming around the corner with a wettened towel in one hand and the other places accusatorily on his hip was Regulus — Barty’s favourite boy that he really did not want to see right now.

“Aweh, Reg, baby, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Cut the crap, B,” he said with faux iciness as he passed him to sit on the other side of your bed. “You were planning on keeping this from me, weren’t you?”

Barty looked to you for backup, but you just took in the scene before you with wide entertained eyes. You were lucky he loved you so much.

“Now why would you even think that? I’m just eager to get this little rascal into her own bed.”

“Barty.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Okay, so I wanted to protect her from your hysterics. Sue me.”

You just giggled and placed a hand on Barty’s wrist, rubbing circles into it placatingly. “Thank you B, but Reggie has been very sweet and patient with me. No need to protect me.”

Regulus was placing the damp towel over your neck, which clearly provided some relief as you sighed. His fingers were mindful in his ministrations of moving every piece of hair away, so they wouldn’t be caught beneath the towel. His eyes were zeroed in on his work as he spoke. “Yes, I have been very sweet and patient. You see, Junior, I heard a rumour about where she got this idea that approaching Thestrals was a good thing.”

Barty swallowed. “Did you, now?”

Regulus looked up through one of his curls that had come loose to give Barty a withering glare. “Sometimes I wonder how you two are still alive.”

Barty felt a sudden need to play all of his cards. He brought his hand up to tuck Regulus’ curl softly behind his ear, letting his fingertips linger as he traced over the edge of his boyfriend’s sharp jaw, caressing softly. He kept eye contact as a small smile lingered over his lips. “It’s a miracle all thanks to you, pretty boy. Don’t you want to keep us that way?”

Regulus kept glaring, but Barty could see how his resolve was shaken, even by his blatant manipulation. It made him grin widely. 

“Please don’t kill Barty, Regulus. He’s too fit to die and you’re too fit for Azkaban.” You supplied your own defense around a mouthful of yoghurt, clearly beyond amused at not being the only one in the doghouse.

“If you don’t watch it, you two will be the death of me,” he grumbled under his breath as he abandoned the towel to rub the tension out of his temples. 

Barty took the opportunity to manhandle Regulus down onto the bed beside you, so that he could lay across both of your chests – a cuddle pile that this bed was most certainly not built for but that he swore to make work nonetheless. You immediately opened your arms to accept Regulus into your side, who was still murmuring protests all the while the tops of his cheeks were darkening in colour.

“We’ll keep you safe and sound, Reg. Won’t we, baby?.” Barty grinned up at him, knowing he’s won yet again. “And we’ll make sure this little bird right here doesn’t fly too close to the sun.”

“You better,” came the quiet murmur from the reddened boy.

The shade only worsened when you and Barty both went to kiss his cheeks – as did your smiles.

[revelboo]

Ohhh, I really hope Earthspark Soundwave is able to fix Rumble :(

Yeah… that story Bee started to tell… no thank you to that

Son Of A Gun Pt 5

Earthspark Soundwave x Reader

• Can still hear you sniffling as he works, but otherwise, you’re thankfully quiet. Making him very aware of every single time his cassettes poke their heads into the room to check on you like you’re a younger sibling they’re worried about and it’s absolutely infuriating. By the third time, he just shuts the door and reaches to snag you by the back of your shirt to drag you closer. “Stop brainwashing them,” he snarls and you glare up at him, eyes red.

• What? “I’m not doing anything. I don’t even want to be here,” you immediately counter, teeth gritting when he pushes you down flat on your back, servos caging you so he can lean over you, growling. Making you wonder if he’s finally had enough of you. Because you can’t not smart off even to save your own life apparently. Face far too close to yours, he vents to stir your hair then shoves away from the table you’re on. Scowling as he paces, servos clenching and unclenching, you roll to your feet and study his project. “You really need to work on your anger issues. No wonder your kids like me better.”

• It’s like you just can’t help yourself. Maybe you don’t have any self preservation instincts whatsoever. Threatening to knock you down with a raised hand sends you scurrying out of reach. “You’re just a pet,” he growls, grabbing a tool and getting back to work on the frustratingly little parts. Because the only tech readily available to him to cannibalize is human tech. And you wander closer again, leaning to look at what he’s working on. Glancing up at him when he loses a part inside the converter and turns it upside down trying to shake it back out.

• “You want me to get it for you?” Because as funny as watching big daddy get pissed trying to get whatever little doohickey he just dropped is, appearing useful can only help your survival chances. And that glare turns your way again. Holding up your hands, you wiggle your fingers. “It won’t kill you to ask for help.” You’re almost positive that he’s about to knock you on your butt again, but instead, he very carefully sets the thing down to gesture at it. Skin prickling as you have to turn your back on him, you figure out where the part is and squirm your arm inside it all the way to the elbow to dig it out.

• Wants to hate you even more as you smile triumphantly up at him. Wants to flick you off the table. Oops, no more pet. Instead, he points at where the part goes. Arching your brows at him, you screw it into place. Well. Maybe he has some use for you after all. At least until you no longer serve a purpose. Turning, he carries over the rest of the parts. “This goes next,” he grumbles, nudging the next piece your way. If you expect to be thanked, you’re going to have to wait a very long time. You don’t complain, though. Just pick up the part and attach it where he indicates. Helping him replace you without even realizing it.

Previous

Next

[solxamber]

Hey there! This is just a request but could you please do an unhinged reader x Leona(romantic)? Like, menace to society, 0 self preservation skills with questionable morals that just keeps bugging Leona out of boredom.

I guess the genre would be crack and you can basically choose the details.

Thank you❤️

Leona Kingscholar x unhinged Reader

thank you for this, I had so much fun writing this <3

Leona wasn’t sure why the universe had cursed him like this. Of all the people in the world, why you? Why had you, a walking disaster with all the survival instincts of a toddler with scissors, decided to latch onto him? And why did he fall for you?

And it wasn’t even in a cute, lovesick-puppy way. No, you were like a chaotic gremlin that had crawled out of some alternate dimension just to make his life worse.

“Leona, watch this!” You stood precariously on the edge of a crumbling wall, grinning like you were about to unveil the world’s greatest invention.

Leona didn’t even bother lifting his head from his nap spot under the tree. He’d learned that reacting only made you more encouraged. “If you fall, I’m not catching you.”

“That’s fine, I’ll just bounce!” you chirped back.

Leona opened one eye, an eyebrow twitching in disbelief. “You’re not a ball.”

“Not with that attitude,” you shot back, then proceeded to leap from the wall like you had just discovered flight. Spoiler alert: you had not. Gravity, however, was very familiar with you.

You crashed to the ground in a flurry of limbs and dust, groaning dramatically.

Leona sighed and got up with the enthusiasm of a sloth being asked to run a marathon. “You good, or should I call someone with a stretcher?”

You waved him off from your spot on the ground, laughing despite the fact that you were very clearly in pain. “No worries! Just testing my limits. Next time, I’ll stick the landing.”

“There better not be a next time.” Leona rubbed his temples, wondering how his life had come to this. “You’ve got the brain of a rock, y’know that?”

“Rocks are strong!” you shot back, scrambling to your feet, dusting yourself off like you hadn’t just risked spinal damage for absolutely no reason.

Leona turned to walk away, muttering, “Great. I’m babysitting a suicidal pebble.”

But, of course, you followed him. You always followed him. It was like you’d made it your life’s mission to annoy him into an early grave. He wasn’t sure if it was boredom, insanity, or both.

“Where are we going?” you asked, bounding beside him like some overexcited puppy.

“We’re not going anywhere. I’m going somewhere. You’re going away.”

“But that’s boring,” you whined, clearly oblivious to any and all social cues. “You’re so lazy! Don’t you ever want to do something exciting?”

Leona stopped dead in his tracks and turned to glare at you. “I don’t want to do anything exciting. Ever. I want to nap in peace, without you pulling some stupid stunt every five minutes.”

You shrugged, unbothered. “Sounds like quitter talk. What if I found us something really fun to do?”

Leona gave you a deadpan look. “Fun by your standards means I’ll either end up in jail or hospitalized. No thanks.”

You grinned mischievously. “What if I told you I’ve got a plan to steal all of the fancy food from the Mostro Lounge? No one would even know it was us!”

Leona stared at you, trying to figure out how you’d come to this conclusion with a straight face. “We literally live in a dorm with a kitchen. If you want fancy food, just ask.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” You waggled your eyebrows. “Come on, live a little! You’re a lion, aren’t you supposed to be all fierce and stuff? You should be excited to commit some petty crime.”

Leona pinched the bridge of his nose. “First of all, lions don’t do crime sprees. Second, stealing isn’t a hobby. And third, if you try something stupid, don’t expect me to bail you out.”

“Oh please,” you waved him off, smirking. “You’d totally bail me out. You love me.”

Leona narrowed his eyes at you, opening his mouth to argue, but then closed it. Damn it, you had a point. He would bail you out. Probably. Begrudgingly.

But he wasn’t going to admit that.

“I tolerate you,” he corrected, turning on his heel and continuing to walk away.

“Aww, that’s practically a love confession coming from you!” You sprinted after him, making ridiculous heart gestures in the air. “Leona Kingscholar, prince of sarcasm and naps, tolerates me. I’m honored.”

Leona groaned. He’d tried ignoring you, scaring you off, threatening you with bodily harm (all of which you’d laughed off). And somehow, despite his best efforts, you were still here. Still determined to bring chaos into his otherwise peaceful life.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one day,” Leona muttered as you fell into step beside him again. “And I’m not dragging your body out of trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You waved him off, clearly not listening. “So, what’s for dinner? And can I challenge Ruggie to a spoon duel?”

Leona sighed heavily. Why were you like this? And why, despite every instinct telling him to ditch you in the Savanna, did he kind of, sort of… not hate it?

Great. Now you were rotting his brain with your nonsense. Just what he needed.

At least life wasn’t boring anymore.

Masterlist

[witherby]

Hello! I was just wondering if we could get some more Punchline + Joker Junior content? I absolutely loved the first fic you did about them. Take all the time you need, don't rush 💓

I loooove these two and I'm happy to write for them some more! Hope you enjoy!

Punchline: Bonded Pair

3900+ words

⚠️ mention of unsafe living conditions, lack of self preservation instincts, parentification, technically kidnapping?, and threats of death/injury ⚠️

Masterlist is Here!

Popsy's been gone for more than two days, which means Batsy hauled him off to the loony bin again.

You and your brother have to fend for yourselves until he comes back, which is fine. It's a monthly occurrence. You know you have to lie low and not cause trouble when Popsy's away because that's Popsy's job. The best little kiddos are the ones that are neither seen nor heard unless otherwise ordered, he always says, and you're the best of the best!

So, instead of prepping explosives and building elaborate traps, you walk soundlessly across the hideaway to go find your most favoritest person in the whole world.

The concrete of the warehouse is cold under your bare feet and you can hear sirens in the distance. You dance around barrels of firearms and explosive materials, dodge the scurrying rats and roaches littering the floor, and climb up walls and broken ladders with ease to reach the upper floors where your brother is hiding.

Getting up onto the rafters, you spread your arms for balance and toe along the beams. You spot your target hunched over a small pile of scraps and tech across the way and approach him with a grin. You hold in a snicker as you make to leap on top of him, but at the last second he turns and grabs you around the waist with a grin.

"Gotcha!" He cheers. You squirm in his hold, laughing.

"No fair! No fair! How'd ya know I was coming!?"

"Felt the bar wobbling." JJ sets you down and taps the rafter. You feel the subtle vibrations under your hands when you touch the metal and click your tongue, disappointed. You'd get him next time. "What's up? Besides us, ha!"

"Bored!" You scurry past him and grab up what he was working on, holding it up to the moonlight trickling between the busted roof panels. "Whatcha makin' today? Can I help? Can I, can I?"

JJ chuckles and beckons for the device. You comply, handing it over and sitting down right next to him. He holds it in such a way that you can see everything he's doing, always happy to share with you and always happy to explain. That's one of the reasons you adore him so much.

"This is a signal jammer," he explains, flipping the little gadget over to show you the wiring on the back. "This panel here is programmed to send out a frequency that makes technology go all wiley! Radios can't broadcast, cameras can't record, cellphones can't call, yadda yadda."

"But how's the jammer know not to jam itself?" You ask, leaning down to examine the paneling more closely, as if it'll help you understand it any better. It's practically gibberish to you no matter how you think about it.

JJ giggles. "D'ya want me to tell you all the boring specifics, or do you wanna go play tag again?"

You hide your grin behind your hand and kick your feet, giddy. Your big brother always knows you prefer to be more active when you're left to your own devices. He's so smart! JJ can read and write and work on tech and strategize with Popsy — he's the coolest clown in town!

"You're It!" You cry, pinching his arm, then leap off the rafters.

Or, at least you try. A hand clutches your wrist, quick as lightning, which stops your momentum. You tip your head back to find JJ holding you up and staring at you with wide, blue eyes. His smile is thin and wobbly and his breathing is sharp.

"Punchline!!" He cries. "We're eighty feet in the air!"

You snort, hanging limp in his grasp, and make no move to help him lift you back up.

"I can't get hurt, remember?" You swing your legs back and forth, rocking your body. His grip gets tighter on your hand, registering the change of pressure without the pain, which just proves your point. "You're silly! This doesn't count, you have to let me get a headstart when you're It!"

JJ leans back and pulls on you with all his might, groaning from the effort. His voice echoes throughout the warehouse and you can see his arms straining under his shirt sleeves. Slowly but surely, he's able to get you high enough to pull you back onto the beam, and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Let's play on the ground," he says like it's a suggestion, but you know by the tone of his voice that it's not. It's his "no more nonsense" tone, the one he uses when Popsy's in a bad mood or when you have to be quiet when relocating to a new secret base. You've learned to obey that tone very well. That tone keeps you safe.

When he stands, he hauls you over his shoulder like a rag doll. You huff and whine and complain without actually putting up a struggle, but his arms lock around you like a vise anyway, so you just pick at a loose thread on the back of his collar as he makes the journey back down the rafters.

"No fun," you grumble, "no fun, no fun."

"Just because you can't feel when a bone breaks means you should break it," Junior says. He adjusts his grip on you as he starts to climb down some old scaffolding, shimmying carefully to the ground. "Harder to play when you can't walk."

"I guess..." You concede. You can walk on broken legs just fine. You've done it before, but it was admittedly much easier when they weren't broken.

"Glad we agree!"

Despite your protests, you giggle. When your brother's feet touch the floor, he puts you down and forces you to put your shoes on, citing that glass and rusty nails in your feet is still a nuisance even if it doesn't hurt. Once the laces are fastened you immediately take off in a sprint, starting the game.

JJ's always taken great care of you even though you don't really need it anymore. It's been his job since you were born. Popsy doesn't do babies. They're a lot of effort and time he doesn't have, especially when he's busy building the next great game for the Bat and his Birds to play. While Popsy plays with them, you and JJ entertain each other! It's always been that way, and it's lots of fun coming up with new games during the downtime.

"Ten..." JJ calls, smirking as he watches you go. "Nine...eight...sevensixfive —"

"Cheater!" You squeal, hearing his footsteps kick up behind you, and run faster. "Play fair!"

"Fourthreetwoone!" He laughs, sprinting for you. "IIII'm comiiiing, P!!"

You hop over a crate of weaponry and shriek with laughter when your brother follows suit a few seconds later, vaulting and jumping and running after you through the warehouse with only moonlight to guide your way. His past as a Bird makes him exceptionally fast and agile, but he's taught you enough tricks that you can generally keep him at bay for a bit.

You weave between two barrels that he flips over. You dart past a pallet propped against the wall and flip it down behind you, forcing him to duck under it. You squeeze into a dusty air vent he's just a hair too big to fit, his arm reaching uselessly for your hunched figure.

"Cheater," he pants, winded from the chase. His grin is softer. Authentic. You feel yours shift to match. The genuine mirth buzzes around in your chest like a moth around light.

"Takes one to know one," you sing-song, wiggling your fingers just out of his reach. He makes a strong attempt at grabbing you, but you draw back and giggle. "Truce?"

"Yeah," he quickly agrees. "You're It next?"

You nod. When he moves out of the way, you crawl out of the vent and sit on the floor beside him, shoulders touching, and catch your breath together. You tip your head in his direction since he's sitting on your right, in case he has something to say. He notices and props his chin on top of your head.

"Ready?" He asks after a few minutes. You nod, and together you climb to your feet. "Alright. Tag!"

He gently touches your shoulder then takes off across the warehouse. A few mice scatter on his approach and he's careful not to trample any.

"Ten, nine, eight," you call, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Unlike your silly older brother, you're going to play fair and square so you can rub your victory in his face.

"Seven, six, five..."

You lose sight of JJ, but that's fine. The game's more fun when it turns into Hide and Tag.

"Four, three, two, one! HERE I COME, JJ!"

You run in the direction you saw him last, moonlight your only guide, and keep your eyes peeled for any motion in your periphery. So far it's just wood and metal all around you, nothing but your shoes clicking against the floor as you go.

"I'm gonna geeeet youuuu~" you coo, perking up when a shadow shifts a few yards ahead. You rush toward the motion and swerve to avoid crashing into the stacked bottles of acid your Popsy had you collect the other day. "A-ha!"

A Bird stares at you, wide-eyed and dead silent as he white-knuckles a small cluster of papers in his hands. You recognize them as Popsy and JJ's blueprints for some future trap designs. His jaw is practically on the floor, as though believing his garish colors and obvious movement in your living space weren't going to get him noticed. Granted, you thought you'd noticed your brother, but that's a moot point.

Neither of you moves for a few seconds, just staring at each other with incredulity. You've never met another person that wasn't Popsy, JJ, or one of Popsy's henchmen before. You don't know what to do.

"J-Junior," you stammer, grin crooked and heart thundering in your ear. You take a step back, and the Bird seems to come back to himself at that. "Junior!!"

"I won't hurt you," the Bird says, quickly tucking the papers into a pocket. He reaches a hand out to you and steps forward. You turn and bolt, running for your mallet. "Wait!"

"Beat it, Birdy!!" You shout, grabbing the handle of your weapon and swinging wide. The intruder just barely avoids getting his skull caved in. He takes a combative stance, hands balled into fists as he finally gets the hint and puts some distance between you.

"This is not the move to make," he says, scowling now. You sneer at him and twirl the mallet between your hands, glancing left and right for any signs of your brother. "I didn't come here to fight. We can discuss this peacefully."

"Are you deaf?" You taunt, running towards him. You kick a discarded pipe at his face, forcing him to block it, then while he's distracted use a crate as your launch pad to jump at him with your weapon poised to swing down with as much momentum as possible. "I said BEAT IT!!"

The Bird flips backwards to avoid collision. Your mallet hits the concrete with thunderous impact, leaving cracks behind.

You take the offensive, stalking after the Bird and steering him towards the exit. You won't kill him — Popsy's drilled (sometimes literally) into you enough times that if a Bat is gonna die, it's gonna be by his hand — but the sooner he leaves, the sooner you and JJ can round up whatever you can carry and rush to the next hideaway.

"Nightwing, where are you?" The Bird says, pressing two fingers to his ear as you continue to swing at him. "There's a child on the premises with the Joker's motif all over her. I could use someone with your annoying people skills."

He dodges another swipe of your hammer and you see his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, stiffening like a board.

"Timothy?" He blurts. Your already frantic heartbeat kicks up even faster.

It makes sense now why JJ wouldn't answer your call — that Nightwing guy must have found him. These stupid Birds have invaded your home and accosted your big brother, and now they're deadnaming him like they've got the right to reclaim your family! Like they've got the right to take him from you! Like they've got the right to intrude on your business!

"His name," you hiss, more snarling than smiling as you kick your leg out and bring the Bird to his knees in surprise, "is JJ!!"

You swing again, hitting him in the stomach, and send the Birdy flying across the warehouse. He hits the ground several yards away and rolls, groaning in pain. You stalk after him with furrowed brows and bared teeth.

"What'd ya do with my big bro!?" You demand. "Tell me quickly before I break Popsy's rule and turn your face into mashed potatoes!!"

The intruder pushes himself up by his hands with a grunt, glaring up at you through the lenses of his domino mask. You lift your mallet in warning.

"Where is he!? I'll give ya to the count of three!"

You bring your mallet down right next to the bird's head, making him flinch back.

"One!"

You do it again, this time just barely missing his knee as he tries to get to his feet. He stumbles back and lands on his ass, hurriedly crab-walking away from you.

"Two!"

"Three."

Something pricks your neck, the sensation startling. You flinch and drop the mallet, lifting your hand to touch the needle stuck in your skin. The room starts spinning and swirling, becoming a shadowy merry-go-round in the darkness of the warehouse. You stumble to the side and run into the big, bad Bat himself, who materializes out of nowhere to wrap his arms around you and frown at your slumping body.

Whoops. Probably should've double-checked your surroundings a little better. JJ's situational awareness was always stronger than yours. You'll tell him that when you break out of Arkham with Popsy.

"OhHHhh," you mumble, consciousness fading fast. "BaTSy's here...no...nO fuN...go 'way and...and gimME BAck my...broOotherrrrr..."

Your eyes roll back, your bones turn to jelly, and you're gone.

--

You do not wake up in Arkham. You groggily peel your eyes open to find a plain, beige cell all around you. To your left is a bed, on the back wall is a curtain hiding a toilet and a showerhead, and there's a sink in the right corner. On the ceiling, you lock eyes with a security camera, and when you push yourself into an upright position, you look through the clear, cell door to see a dark corridor clearly carved into a cave.

You're in a cell in the Batcave. How curious.

You push yourself to your feet, shaky from the leftover effects of the sedative, and press your hands against the door, pushing against it with a quiet grunt. It doesn't yield and, based off the panels you've worked with when Popsy's building a new trap, feels bulletproof.

With that avenue of escape gone, you wander to the center of the room and sink to your knees, wrapping your arms around yourself and sighing wistfully as your head gently rests against the wall.

You aren't used to being alone. Is JJ also in the cave, or did the Bats put him somewhere else? Maybe he escaped and he's on his way to Arkham to go get Popsy before they swing back around for you. No, they probably put him somewhere else; they called JJ by his old name, so they must want him for something. You don't know what for, and the lack of anything you can do in here is making your skin buzz. You just want to go back to the warehouse and play Hide and Tag with your family.

You must have dozed off again, because the next thing you know you're jolted awake by animalistic screaming down the hall and several, panicked voices are shouting at someone to calm down. You hear something shatter and a batarang goes flying past your door, which startles you.

"Get the fucking sedative out!!"

"I'M WORKIN' ON IT, ASSHOLE, JUST KEEP HIM STILL!"

You watch Batman rush past your door without sparing you a glance, jaw clenched and hands formed into fists. The shrieking gets even louder and the sounds of struggle more intense.

"WHERE IS SHE!?"

Oh, that shrieking is JJ. A wave of discomfort rolls down your spine and makes your fingers and toes numb. Is he upset because you haven't broken out of your cell yet? You're normally pretty fast at escaping bonds and cages, you've had lots of practice, but the sedative had made you so sleepy! That's not your fault!

"Tim, please calm —"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Your brother shouts. There's another hard thump and sounds of a struggle. A syringe rolls down the hallway and stops in front of your door. "WHERE IS SHE!? WHERE'S MY SISTER!!"

It's worry, you realize. JJ is worried for you. He takes his role as your big brother very seriously, so much so that this is the longest you've ever spent apart, and you're still just in the same building. You don't want him to be worried.

"JJ!" You call, pressing your hands to the glass. "I'm here!"

Everything quiets for a moment. You don't move. You don't breathe. You hold your good ear to the glass to listen.

"Punchline?" He calls.

"I'm in here, JJ!" You respond.

"C'mere," your brother immediately says, in his no-nonsense tone. You glance at the door and the keypad you have no hopes of hacking. The complicated, techy stuff is beyond you. You're the muscle and he's the brains, a dynamic you've been very comfortable with until now.

"I can't," you admit. "I can't get out!"

"...Tim, don't —"

More scuffling. Someone groans in pain. It's not JJ; you know what his pain sounds like, and that's not it.

"Let her go."

"One of you please go grab the goddamn sedative!"

"Give my sister back to me, right now."

"There's no need for violence. Get the knife away from your brother's throat —"

"I DON'T HAVE ANY BROTHERS!" JJ shouts. "GIVE MY LITTLE SISTER BACK TO ME NOW!"

You're so absorbed in the conversation down the corridor that you completely miss the man in the suit in front of your cell. He presses a few buttons on the keypad and you step back from him when the door slides open.

It's a geezer. What little hair is left on his head is snow white and he's dressed up in a fancy schmancy tuxedo. His gaze is piercing, but non-threatening as he looks at you.

"Terribly sorry to disturb you, madam," he says, voice gentle as he offers you a hand, palm up. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth. Might I request your aid? Your brother seems to be in quite the fright, and I think we've made a grievous error in separating such a bonded pair. Please, allow me to correct that at once."

"...what?" You blurt, smile thin. "You wanna give me AIDS?"

Alfred's expression gets a little tight. He takes a deep breath and starts talking again.

"Apologies for the confusion. I'd like to bring you to your brother. May I?"

Oh! Finally, somebody talking sense! You grin and take his hand, stepping out of the cell and turning your head towards the commotion.

JJ is standing tall and has a Bird on his knees in front of him, one hand fisted in his hair and the other holding a blade to his throat. You're pretty sure it's the one called Nightwing, but you wouldn't bet on it. The shorter Bird you fought in the warehouse is standing next to Batman and holding his dislocated shoulder while a thin line of blood runs down his temple. A big guy, like beefy as shit, in a red helmet is aiming a gun at your brother's head. And Batman is standing with his hands up in placation, trying and failing to take the pacifist route.

"JJ!" You exclaim, happy he's okay. Five heads turn to face you, and you let go of Alfred's hand to run to his side.

JJ lets go of the hand in the Bird's hair to hug you tight, then ushers you to stand behind him. The other hand keeps the knife in place.

"You hurt?"

"Silly question," you mumble, but indulge him anyway. "I'm right as rain, now that you're here!"

He nods, ice blue eyes roaming across all the birdies in the hall with you. Everyone else stares right back, tense and motionless.

"We're bottlenecked, P," he murmurs eventually. "Might haveta enjoy a little vacation in one of these cells 'till Popsy breaks out again."

You shrug, threading your fingers with his free hand. "Together?"

"Together," he says firmly. The fancy butler nods easily, waving his arm.

"You won't be separated again," Alfred promises. "Please, let's cease the violent altercations and all take a rest. Let me move you to a bigger room you two can share."

JJ gives you his full attention. You read the silent question in his gaze.

It's up to you to decide. You can fight your way to freedom or let them herd you into another box for the time being.

You quirk your lips, considering, then shake your head. The warehouse was getting a little boring anyway, and a fight could get your brother hurt.

"Lead the way, Penny Wenny!"

The knife is discarded and Nightwing quickly moves to the side, rubbing his neck and shooting your brother a weird look. The beefy guy lowers his gun. You keep your hands linked and follow the fancy butler to a larger cell with a bigger bed, which JJ tugs you to, and you curl up in his lap while he watches the door with a pensive quirk of his lips. Alfred bows and then leaves, the only sounds now being hushed conversation down the hall.

"You're not hurt?" JJ asks again. You shake your head. "Okay."

"Sorry, JJ," you sigh. "I tried t'get the baby bird to tell me where ya were, but then they pricked me and I woke up here. I wasn't payin' good enough attention..."

JJ gives you a gentle squeeze, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"Not your fault. These guys ain't no joke, P. I would know. I won't let them separate us again."

You hum, knocking your feet together as you come to terms with your new, temporary living space. You can adapt anywhere as long as your brother is around.

Click. Click. Click.

[simmplerussiangirl]

The courting

Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: Sevika had never been courted, bought her a drink, given her flowers and candy, or insisted on socializing. And then she came into her life.

Word count:2.3k

a/n: I love Sevika with all my heart. God, I hope my future wife will be like her. Otherwise, I don't see the point of moving on with my life lol.

- Wow,” I said, running my hand across the table where a girl of unimaginable beauty was sitting. She was smoking a cigarette and doing something with her mechanical arm, apparently fixing it. - So beautiful and alone. And bored.

 I sat down on the chair opposite the girl. Smiling with all her 32 teeth, I examined her without shyness. Her cheekbones were the first thing that caught my eye, and it looked like you could cut yourself if you swiped them. Oh, and what that look was worth.... She was looking at me angrily from under her forehead with her deep dark brown eyes. Her bushy eyebrows were pulled down to the bridge of her nose.

- Get out of here,” she looked down at her hand again, painstakingly fixing some part of it.

 I laughed softly and leaned on my palm, watching her movements with rapt attention. A lock of short, dark hair fell over her eyes, and she jerked her head to remove it. Allowing me to see her powerful neck, its veins bulging.

- I wouldn't dream of it - I smiled again - What did you say your name was?

 The girl looked at me again unhappily, taking a cigarette in her healthy hand and taking a puff.

- 'I didn't say my name. Get out of here before I spoil your face.

- Oh, you like it rough,” I laughed, and leaned back in my chair, watching her look of surprise, then curved my lips in a squeamish way and returned to my hand. - Don't worry, I like that too. I won't leave you until you tell me your name, you must understand that.

The girl snorted contemptuously.

-Sevika- -she angrily tapped her mechanical arm, she was clearly having trouble with it.

-Wonderful, I'm Sophie,” I smiled captivatingly as she looked at me angrily.

 I got up from the table and walked over to her, leaning slightly toward her face. Sevika pulled her head back sharply, which made me giggle slightly.

- You didn't put the spring in, Sevika - I sweetly held out the girl's name tasting it and held out my palm to her with the piece from her hand - Here you go.

 I watched with amusement as bewilderment and then rage grew in her. But by the time she realized that I had deliberately snatched the piece from her to ask her name, I was gone.

 Luckily my instinct for self-preservation was there.

***

The next time we met was at the same bar about a week after the hand incident.

 As I walked into the bar, I saw her sitting back in the spot where I usually hung out. “That's a sign,” I thought as I squeezed my way to the bar through a layer of drunk people.

-Tommy darling, hello there-” I sent the bartender an air kiss, ”I have a life and death question for you.

 The bartender laughed softly and walked over to me. Having a man behind the bar was a plus. He's a drinking buddy, a friend, an informant.

-I'm listening. - He said in a humble voice, leaning toward me so he could hear me better.

-Remember what a girl named Sevika usually orders? - I made the most pleading eyes I could and folded my fingers crosswise.

-I remember. -What is it?

-Tommy, you're my savior! - I jumped up and down and clapped my hands together - Make it my usual and add Sevika's order to the bill.

 He smiled suspiciously, but didn't ask anything, just went off to make drinks, muttering something to himself and shaking his head.

 -He handed the drinks to me, but as soon as I reached for them, he pulled them back to him, forcing me to look at him. “But be warned, she might hit you, so don't get too excited.

- Don't worry, it'll be fine,” I put the money on the bar, took the drinks and went to the girl. - “I love you,” I whispered with just my lips to him.

-Darling, what a reunion.

 I happily walked over to the girl and placed the mug with her drink beside her and sat down on the chair across from her again.

- You again? - she frowned and looked at me unhappily.

- Me again. Did you miss me? - I took a sip from my glass and nodded toward her, “Help yourself.

- What if you poison me? No thanks,” she pushed away the drink I'd brought her.

- Hey, I bought it for you. Do you want me to sip it? - I pouted my lips and stared naively into her eyes.

- No.” She cut me off and got up from the table.

 I turned my head to see where she was going. Sevika was leaving the bar. I rolled my eyes and clucked my tongue as I sipped my drink again, staring unhappily at the mug I'd brought for her.

 I stared at the glass for about ten minutes, and finally, unable to stand it, I slammed my foot down on the table, and the drink fell to the floor, spilling over.

 This drinking scheme always worked, so why did this girl refuse? I sighed heavily and got up from the table, heading home. I wasn't in the mood anymore.

***

The next time we crossed paths was late at night. I was coming home from a bar when Sevika and some blue-haired girl came out of the fog to meet me.

- Sevika dear, what meeting? - I smiled drunkenly and saluted her with my hand - Going to the bar with your girlfriend?

- She's not my girlfriend - the girl with blue hair snorted and ran forward behind my back, seemingly not wanting to see anyone at all.

-I stretched out and looked into Sevika's eyes. - This is the third time we've seen each other, how many more times do we have to see each other before she'll finally talk to me?

 I heard a quiet laugh. And the girl walked over to me, towering over me. And I was a little surprised at her size, she was taller than me by almost a whole head.

- Are you trying to intimidate me with your body? - I laughed when I saw her surprised squint, “You're not succeeding. So far I've only gotten aroused

 Sevika stepped away from me abruptly, going behind my back. To which I laughed out loud.

- See you later, sweetheart.

***

The next seven meetings were insanely monotonous. I bought her alcohol, she sent me away and left. The only thing that made them different was that in the last few, she started taking the drinks with her and leaving not from the bar, but to the second floor, where Silko's office was.

 And I thought that was a green light and started running into the bar more often, leaving flowers and candy at Tommy's. I knew she was picking them up. I didn't know if she was keeping it all for herself or giving it to someone else.

***

One Friday night, I bought drinks for the two of us again and sat down at her table.

- I was more excited than usual this time, and I felt like I was close to getting Sevika to talk to me.

- I'm already having nightmares about you - she rubbed her face with her hands and looked at me.

- Oh, so you're dreaming about me, interesting,” I smiled softly at her, waiting for her to take her drink and go upstairs.

 But instead she took a sip of alcohol and leaned back in her chair.

- You're not even going to run away from me? - I smiled mischievously, tilting my head sideways to look at the girl.

- You can't run away from me, you're not going to eat until I talk to you. So I'm sitting here in front of you, ask me anything you want.

- Oh, so you think you'll fuck off if you talk to me? - I giggled and tossed my hair back,” What's your favorite color?

 I saw a shadow of incomprehension run across her face, as if I had asked something insanely weird.

-What?” her arched eyebrow and surprised look made me laugh, and I burst out laughing.

-What? -I asked something personal? My maroon.

-Black. Why would you ask that?

- Because I'm curious. I put my hands on the table. Did you like the flowers I gave you?

- I gave them to Jinx.” She averted her eyes and looked behind me.

- First of all, you're lying,” I smirked, running my finger along the rim of the glass, ”and second of all, who is Jinx, your girlfriend or your girlfriend's girlfriend?

- My headache,” she rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, trying to hide her nervousness.

- Well, you've already admitted you're lying to me. So how about some flowers?  I tried to pick ones you might like.

- Pretty ones, Sevika said, why did you bring them?

- I was trying to get you to like me. All girls like to receive flowers. There are women who don't like flowers in general, but in any case even they like to receive bouquets. It's an act of consideration, but for some reason you're trying to prove me wrong. Why?

-Listen, you're wasting your time, I'm not interested in you or your attention. - Sevika flared up, and with a sharp swing of her arms, threw her drink off the table.

-Are you sure?

-Sure.

-Strange, -I stood up from the table, picked up the mug and, putting it on the table in front of Sevika, leaned over to her face. - After all, when a person is not interesting - courtship is not accepted. And you accepted, and drinks, and bouquets, and sweets, and all sorts of trinkets. All right, I'll leave you alone, dearie. But I have to try one last time. Come here tomorrow at 7:00 if you still want to go out with me. I'll be waiting, Sevika.

 Wiggling my hips, I left the bar. I knew I'd done a bad thing by manipulating her. But without it, I'd be running around like a puppy for a couple more months.

***

At seven o'clock that night, I was sitting at her table like a bayonet. Impatiently glancing at the time, snapping my fingers and glaring at everyone who entered the bar. With each passing minute, I doubted more and more that she was coming. So when it was 7:15 on the clock, I got up from the table.

 Pulling up the skirt I'd put on for her. I couldn't believe that she really didn't care about me and was accepting my advances, just because she was bored. I felt sick to my stomach about her blowing me off, I guess I was just imagining things.

 I looked up and saw her on the stairs leading up to the second stairwell. It wasn't clear if she was going up or down, so I just stared at her, waiting for her to move on. A couple seconds later, I saw her heading up the stairs at a brisk pace. I smirked, grabbed my bag from the chair, and walked outside.

 I crouched down on the curb and pressed my lips together, watching the passersby. And as luck would have it, there were only couples on the street. I bent my legs at the knees, put my hands on them, and hid my head in them, wishing I could just vaporize. “How could I screw up so badly, and fall in love with a girl I've only had a normal conversation with once...”

 I felt a jacket being placed on my shoulders. I instantly boiled up, why the fuck am I being touched when I'm in such a fucked up mood. I felt like I was going to punch the bastard in the face if he didn't get off my back right away.

- What am I, a fucking hanger?! - I exclaimed, turning my head back sharply, rage on my face, anger inside me. But that was until I saw who was standing in front of me.

 Sevika. So beautiful. Wearing a beautiful, seemingly new black shirt with the first two buttons undone. Her hair was in a fresh bun for once, not sticking out in all directions, and she was holding a small bouquet of burgundy roses.

- I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you. - I stood up from the curb and fixed my skirt. - So does that mean you're okay to go out with me, or okay, but not with me? - I tilted my head to the side and adjusted her jacket.

 - I do. With you - she held out the bouquet to me and as I accepted it, I breathed in the scent of the flowers - You said you liked that you liked burgundy, so I... Um....

- Thank you, it's my pleasure - I interrupted her, seeing the girl's awkwardness - I was already thinking that you really aren't attracted to me.

- You're not good at thinking, Sophie dear, leave it to someone like me - the girl turned me away from the bar and put her hand on my back and gently nudged me to go.

-Wow, so I had to yell at you once to get you to start flirting with me? - I pouted my lips, turning my head toward her. -You could have told me that earlier.

- Yeah, like you said, I like it rough.

 I laughed, my laugh mingling with hers, husky and chesty. And I swear it's the best thing I've ever heard in my life.

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 3

Who didn't tell me the actual ship name was blueberrycake. What the flip guys.

Anyway, I saw this post and was like omg I need it. So I wrote it.

Part 3 if you will.

-> Part one

-> Part Two

☁ There was something be said about your resolve. Or your spite. Or your absolute lack of self-preservation.

☁ Cosmo wasn't sure which one it was yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Not yet anyway. For the sake of your newly budding relationship.

☁ It had been a slow process admittedly, between the four of you, talking and discussing the boundaries you all had and laying them out in the open, along with the expectations you all had for the relationship.

☁ You all were still getting used to each other, and honestly Cosmo wasn't sure if you all were 'official' or just...seeing each other? Glisten had told him there was a difference. He didn't think there was but apparently there was a huge difference between seeing each other, going out, dating and being official.

☁ It was startling to suddenly have to have the difference of all of these explained to him in what was supposed to be a five floor run for pops to restock. It turned into a five floor lecture with Poppy, Glisten and Scraps all explaining the differences to him from across the rooms they were in.

☁ A strange day indeed. He was mostly just glad the others weren't there. You were still recovering and Astro had taken to ensuring you were actually bed resting and not doing...whatever it is you do when you're not listening to common sense. Sprout is with Pebble, making sure the little rock dog is back on track with his healing so he can hopefully be part of a future run.

☁ Leaving Cosmo the unfortunate sole victim of the chat. Even Teagan got in on it, prodding his cheek with a finger and knowing grin, going on about he was quite the 'heartbreaker'. He didn't want to be that! He quite liked you all!

☁ Looking onwards, he wondered how that happened. At one point did he look at what was before him and go yeah thats the one. Because he had questions for his past self. Lots of questions.

☁ "How many is that?" He has to ask, leaning over to where Astro is watching silently, amusement written on the celestial's face. He lost count after #15.

☁ "This is thirty two." Astro hummed, using a star shard to catch a tower of empty pudding cups that had begun to fall. They were disposed of properly as you cracked open what was your thirty-third pudding cup, sticking your spoon into it eagerly. How this happened? Cosmo didn't know. He walked in at the seventh, and even then questioned what the hell you were thinking.

☁ Beside you, Gigi and Goob were cheering you on, bringing more pudding cups out of...Well, Cosmo wasn't even sure where. Just that now there were more. You didn't need more.

☁ "Does Sprout know?" Cosmo continued to ask, leaning to lay on Astro. He was warm and the fur of his blanket was soft. Cosmo probably could've fallen asleep there really if he wasn't too busy watching the crazy shitstorm in front of him.

☁ "Nope." Came the very answer Cosmo was expecting. Probably for the best if he thought about it. If Sprout knew he'd stop it. Himself and Astro both were more curious to see the outcome then they were to stop it. Was there a limit?

☁ You would find out.

☁ Hopefully before Sprout showed up, but that was neither here nor there.

☁ The pudding cup was stacked on top of your most recent pile and number thirty-four was opened.

☁ "We're going to have to deal with this later." Astro tacked on, laying his head on Cosmo's. Cosmo hummed in acknowledgement having accepted that at cup seventeen.

☁ He could only imagine what thirty four pudding cups (And counting) could do to your poor tummy. That was part of science though.

☁ "Whatever happens, we will use this against them for the rest of their life." The roll huffed, glancing to the doorway out of instinct. He could faintly hear Sprout talking with Vee, the most recent recovery, most likely about the latest gossip around Gardenview.

☁ Oh little did they know.

☁ Thirty-five was opened and primed as you slapped down number thirty four.

☁ "This has gotta be some kind of world record." Astro pipes up again, eye darting to where Cosmo had looked off too. "Ooh, Wardens here." He teased, making Cosmo grin.

☁ The thirty fifth pudding cup, no empty, was slammed down as your eyes darted to where they sat, wide and scared. "He's not-"

☁ Goob and Gigi seemed to take this as a challenge, pushing more cups into your hands. Gigi claimed she had a bet going she needed to win while Goob was probably just there for the thrill.

☁ The added challenge of speed seemed to turn up the pace, cutting through four more in the blink of an eye.

☁ Number fourty was in hand and on its way to being devoured when the shrill gasp they all had been waiting for cut in.

☁ "What in Dandy's name do you think you're doing?!"

☁ Cosmo had to laugh. He had to. This was too good. It was too much watching Sprout try to charge you as you just as quickly try to eat your fortieth pudding cup. Incredible. Truly.

☁ And better yet, you were never living it down.

☁ Even after the night of constant tummy aches and your whines as they took turns caring for you, it followed you in teasing reminders whenever you so much as looked at another thing of pudding.

☁ It wasn't until you all were focusing on the trying to get the newer toons back that the it dropped the first time.

☁ You were on standby as Pebble took over distracting for a round, sticking close enough that you could use your spare air horn should Pebble stumble at all. But since you also couldn't help yourself, you were leaning on Cosmo's back as he was doing a machine, poking and prodding at his face when he didn't immediately give you what you wanted.

☁ Which was attention. Which his was taken as he tried to not mess up his skill checks and get you both caught and make Pebble's life that much harder.

☁ Still you persisted until the light of his machine blinked green and he was finally able to turn to face you. You stumbled, landing on his chest as he caught you, raising a non-existent eyebrow at your antics. "Listen, pudding cup, you can have all the attention you want, but you gotta be patient."

☁ You opened you're mouth for a rebuttal before pausing, finger raised in the air as the words registered. He snickered at the face you were making, turning and moving on to the next machine.

☁ "What did you call me?" You asked, quickly running to match step with him while also keeping an eye on Pebble.

☁ "C'mon, you don't think eating 40 pudding cups is gonna earn you some kind of nickname?" He threw back, hiding behind a stack of boxes with you as you heard Pebble bark, alerting anyone in the area he was on his way.

☁ "Could've been 41 but, someone hates fun." You grunted, looking in the direction you last saw Sprout headed.

☁ Rolling his eyes, Cosmo shot you a look. "I hope you remember the stomach ache you had to endure."

☁ "Yeah. but I would've had it no matter what. I could've at least found out what the limit was." You pouted.

☁ "Uh huh and even if you had, that wouldn't change anything about the nickname. Would it, pudding?" He teased.

☁ The nickname didn't leave no matter how much you wanted it to.

☁ Every time he had the opportunity, Cosmo was using it. Dropping it as he passed behind you in the kitchen ("Watch behind, pudding cup!"), during runs ("Twisted to the right of ele, Puddin'."), even during your down time! ("Pudding, Astro's looking for you!")

☁ Which was fine, really, you didn't mind the nickname. Sprout still called you Bud more than your actual name. But that was where the affections from him stopped.

☁ He let you all hang all over him and accepted kisses to the cheek with stammered words, flustered in a way that was too adorable to be any actual deterrent.

☁ You were half convinced he didn't think he was allowed that privilege. Which was cute, in an odd sort of way.

☁ You were watching Cosmo as he iced some new cookies, leaning on the counter with the same look in your eye that he's sure started the pudding debacle.

☁ He paused, mid dollop on an icing petal before looking up at you. "Can I help you, pudding?"

☁ "You're hiding something."

☁"Am I?" Cosmo hummed, switching colors to a bright blue that was sure to stain your teeth. The way nature intended.

☁ "You are. I can sense it. It's like I have the force." You nod resolutely. "Or like boyfriend intuition." You paused, holding your hand to your chin. "How long does that take to develop? We haven't been together all that long but what if I developed it like the second we were together? Wouldn't that be cool? I wonder if it works on Astro. Sprout talks to much so I don't even need it for him-"

☁ "Are we...Together, I mean?" Cosmo suddenly cuts in, halting your rambling. Normally he loves listening to your little spiels, but the topic being brought up is enough to have him spilling. "Or are we just like dating- or maybe just seeing each other? I-"

☁ "Have you been talking with Glisten?" You suddenly ask, a soft smile on your features as you slide off your perch to walk around the counter. "Because he's given me the whole 'are you actually exclusive' talk before too."

☁ Cosmo pauses before huffing. "Yeah. Him, Poppy and Scraps. I just...I don't know if we put a label on it."

☁ "Oh you silly cream puff. You know you can just ask us this stuff, right?" You grin, wrapping your arms around his waist with a bright grin. "They think that just because their love lives are messy all of ours have to be messy too. I promise we're together, exclusive, partners. Whatever wording they used. I know the other two would agree too."

☁ Cosmo heaves a sigh of relief, leaning his forehead onto yours. "I was honestly scared of what you'd say."

☁ "Well, don't be." You snorted. "You're lucky it was me who started this conversation. Could you imagine Sprout's reaction?"

☁ "I try not too. "

☁ "You might've spent Astro tumbling with you." You laugh.

☁ "I wouldn't have let him, you know that, pudding." Cosmo chuckled before stilling, swallowing. "Can I-...Can I kiss you?"

☁ "I'd be mad if you didn't."

☁ With a laugh, Cosmo angles his head down, his lips meeting your own in a sweet kiss.

☁ When the other two find you, both of your mouths are stained purple as you share a plate of cookies between you.

☁ "I thought the cookie cutter didn't allow for you guys to put in the purple petal." Astro hums, taking a cookie for himself and scanning it. No purple petals to be seen, but he bites into it anyway, humming happily at the taste.

☁ "It doesn't." Sprout answers, looking at the cookies that were sans said petal. Their flower cutter only had five petals as opposed to Dandy's six, so they just omitted the purple petal when making Dandy cookies. Or they normally did.

☁ "There was some extra red icing." You answer, leaning onto Cosmo's shoulder. "I helped dispose of it."

☁ "You're lips are purple." Sprout deadpans.

☁ "There was also some extra blue." Cosmo flushes as he avoids looking at the other two.

☁ There's a moment of silence before Astro is laughing so hard at Sprout's face he chokes.

[the-fourchette]

Jayce and his sacrifice

What we really need to realise is that Jayce saw the bomb coming behind Mel, but instead of running in the opposite direction to protect himself, he went against his survival instinct and rushed to protect Mel.

I don't know if it was conscious or not but he instinctively ran to her ! I'm just realizing how much he was in love with her ! He's such a hero !

No wonder he chose to die by the end of the series, this guy has no sense of self-preservation ! His ultimate sacrifice is carried by a sense of duty, responsibility, redemption, intense guilt, depression and compassion for his friend. And here it is carried by pure, unadulterated love ! This is so romantic and tragic, I'm crying ! 😭

My boy really thought he could protect Mel by wrapping his arms around her. His face was buried in her neck OMG !

Jayce, defender of tomorrow, wanted to protect his lover, his future, the woman who makes things possible for him 😭

His love for her literally saved him, this is so poetic !

And then he checked on her multiple times, making sure that she was safe and sound. The way he kept calling her, his soft "Mel", and "it's okay". I'm crying, this is so sweet, I can't !

He helped her standing, cupped and caressed her face. Never stopped soothing her, he was so delicate.

Look at his worried face, and Mel is so lost and vulnerable here, look at her little hands in his shoulders !! He took care of her so much ! What a gentleman !

And then they both start looking for other people.

But poor man could never catch a break, he discovered his best friend was dead. So, so tragic !

[m4rv3l-girl]

Hi, I was wondering if you're okay with the idea I'm going to present if not totally cool, thank you anyways. So ppl seem to write smut or funny scenarios about Bucky being caught while he's helping himself thinking of y/n BUT what if y/n was helping themselves to thoughts of Bucky and he heard/saw her accidentally. Idk if you'd make it funny or smutty, just an idea. Sorry if it's bad, just thought it was fun to flip the script for once.

Caught in the act

Warning: Mentions of sex. Masturbation.

The compound was quiet. Too quiet.

Bucky Barnes had learned to trust his instincts, and right now, they were telling him something was off. Not in the “Hydra is infiltrating the base” way, but in the “where the hell is everyone?” kind of way.

Stark was off-world, Steve was doing whatever the hell Steve did in retirement, and Sam had dragged most of the team out for a long-overdue night off. Even Natasha had given him a knowing smirk and muttered something about “alone time” before slipping out the door.

Alone time. Right. Bucky had plans for that himself—something about a beer and mindlessly flipping through whatever crap was on TV. That plan changed when he walked past Y/N’s room.

Her door was cracked open. Just a sliver. He wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t hyper-aware of everything about her. It was a problem. A deep-rooted, all-consuming problem that started the first time she smiled at him like he wasn’t broken, like he was just Bucky. And now, he was stuck—caught between wanting more and knowing he shouldn’t.

He hadn’t meant to stop. Not until he heard it.

A sound. Soft, muffled. A sharp inhale followed by something dangerously close to a whimper. Bucky froze in the hall, every nerve in his body standing at attention. The part of him still wired for combat wanted to break down the door and assess the threat. The part of him hopelessly in love with her knew exactly what that sound was.

It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t distress. It was pleasure. Pure and raw and—

His stomach dropped.

Y/N was moaning. His name.

Bucky swallowed, throat dry as he stood frozen in place. He should walk away. Hell, he should run. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he shifted, inching toward the barely-open door like a damn fool.

The sight nearly knocked him flat.

Y/N was sprawled across her bed, tangled in sheets that did little to cover her. Her breasts were sat exposed to the air and her nipples were pulled into taut peaks. One hand clutched desperately at the fabric, while the other was tucked beneath the sheets - a grinding motion between her legs.

Bucky jerked back before he could see more, heart slamming against his ribs. Jesus Christ.

His name. She had been saying his name. Not some vague, desperate plea but his name, clear as day. It sent his mind spinning, heat pooling low in his gut as he realized exactly what she was doing.

The realization was a gut punch. A hard, unrelenting surge of something he wasn’t ready to name because if he did - if he let himself really feel it - he might do something reckless. Like go in there.

And yet, he didn’t move. Not even when she gasped, voice breaking on a needy whimper, not when she arched against the mattress, not when he heard her breathless, desperate murmur.

“Bucky..”

He had to go. Now.

He forced himself back, willing his body to move, but his traitorous metal arm knocked against the doorframe. The quiet clang might as well have been an explosion. He barely had time to curse before he heard her gasp, the rustling of sheets as she scrambled upright.

“Wha—?”

Busted.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself six ways to Sunday before forcing himself to turn back. Y/N was staring at him, face flushed, lips parted, breathing heavy. Every sinful detail was burned into his mind, permanently etched behind his eyelids.

“Bucky?” Her voice was unsteady. “Did you—how long were you—?”

Too long. Way too long.

His brain short-circuited, caught between apology and self-preservation. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. “Oh my God.”

“I was just walking by.”

“Walking by?” Her voice pitched higher, the embarrassment hitting full force. “And you just—decided to stop?”

“No! I mean, yes—” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I heard my name.”

Silence.

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “Oh.”

Bucky had been in some truly horrible situations in his life. This was a whole new level of hell.

“I’m gonna go.” He took a step back. “You just—do whatever it was you were—”

“Oh my God, stop talking,” she groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “Just go.”

He nodded. That was the plan. Get the hell out of there, pretend this never happened. And yet—

He didn’t move.

Y/N peeked up at him through her fingers. “Why are you still here?”

Good question. A great question. But then she licked her lips, and something in him snapped.

“Doll,” he rasped, voice lower than he meant, “were you really thinking about me?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head like that might somehow erase reality. “I will literally throw myself off this balcony.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. A dangerous, self-satisfied thing. The heat still thrumming in his veins overpowered his better judgment. “You know I’d catch you.”

Y/N groaned. “Go away.”

He should. He really, really should. But when she peeked up at him again, all flushed and guilty and absolutely wrecked, his resolve crumbled.

“Or,” he mused, stepping closer, “you could let me help.”

Y/N’s eyes shot open, meeting his. “What?”

He shrugged, trying for casual, but the heat in his gaze belied his nonchalance. “Seemed like you were having a bit of trouble there. Maybe I could—assist?”

The blush that painted her cheeks was like a neon sign flashing in the quiet of the room. She pulled the sheets to cover her face. “Buckyyy…” She whined with pathetic anger.

He couldn’t help but laugh a little, the sound rich and warm, sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m just saying, if you want a hand…”

Her head snapped up. “What? No! That’s—” But she didn’t get to finish. The words lodged in her throat when she saw his expression. He wasn’t joking. He was dead serious. And, oh God, she was seriously considering it.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered, closing the distance between them. “You know you want to.”

The room grew hotter, her breaths shallower. He reached out and brushed the hair from her forehead, his touch sending sparks along her skin. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare look away from those piercing blue eyes.

“What if someone finds out?” she managed to ask.

His smile grew. “Then I guess we’d be in a bit of a jam, wouldn’t we?”

But she could see the hunger in his gaze, the same one she felt in her core.

“Was that the first time you’ve touched yourself thinking about me?” Bucky's voice was a gentle rumble, his hand now cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

Y/N's eyes went wide, and she rolled off the bed with a thud, landing in an embarrassed heap on the floor. She curled into a ball, the sheets pooling around her, face burning hotter than the sun. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

He followed, his booted feet silent on the plush carpet. “What? That you want me?” He crouched beside her, his hand brushing over her bare shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine.

“No, that you’re actually here, and that you saw..” she mumbled into the floor. “That you’re not disgusted by me. That—”

“Disgusted?” He interrupted, voice sharp. He tugged the sheet down, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of disdain or pity. But all she found was heat, a smoldering intensity that made her heart race. “Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I’m—”

“You’re beautiful,” he cut her off, his voice gruff. “And the fact that you were thinking about me while you were pleasing that perfect body…I never want to unsee that.”

Her eyes searched his, a mix of shock and something that looked suspiciously like hope. Bucky’s thumb brushed her bottom lip, his gaze never leaving hers. He leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin.

“What were you thinking about..?” he whispered, his breath fanning over her.

Y/N’s eyes widened even further, and she swallowed hard. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But she knew she couldn’t lie to him. Not now. “You,” she murmured, the admission slipping out before she could think better of it. “I was thinking about you, and us, and—”

He didn’t let her finish. Bucky’s hand found hers, and he gently pulled her to her feet, the sheet slipping away to reveal her nakedness. She should have felt shy, embarrassed, but all she felt was the weight of his stare, the heat of his body.

He stood up, towering over her, and she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. “Us?” he echoed, the word thick with meaning.

Her heart thudded in her chest, the air between them thick with anticipation. “Yeah,” she said, her voice a mere breath.

“What exactly?” He asked, almost out of breath.

Y/N looked up at him, her cheeks aflame, but she didn’t back down. “You know what. Us together. Like—uhm…” She stumbled over the words, her heart hammering.

Bucky’s grip on her hand tightened, his eyes searching hers. “Like what?” he prompted, his voice softer now.

“Like making love,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her admission. She watched his expression, waiting for the rejection, the amusement. But instead, she saw something good flicker in his eyes. Desire. Need.

He took a step closer, his chest brushing hers. “Is that so?” he murmured.

Y/N nodded, feeling the warmth of his body against her own, the heat from his gaze searing through her.

Bucky’s thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, his touch feather-light but leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “And here I thought you were just passing the time while everyone was out.”

“It’s not just passing the time for me,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. She searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but all she found was an intensity that mirrored her own.

For a moment, the world outside of Y/N’s room ceased to exist. There were no missions, no alien threats, no superhero personas to uphold—just her and Bucky, standing in the quiet embrace of the night. The air grew thick with tension, each breath they took charged with the electricity of possibility.

His free hand came up, cupping her face, tilting it back until their eyes were locked. His thumb traced her cheekbone, sending shivers down her neck. “I’ve done it too.” he said softly…

——————————————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed it, Hun. I really liked writing this. 🫶

Maybe a part 2..? 🤔

[azullumi]

“there’s so many fishes in the sea but i never learned how to swim” ; aventurine

summary — a guide to pining presented by yours truly, aventurine.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, secret pining but like aventurine can be too obvious, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons

tagging — @toorurs (sorry boo i forgot to tag 😭)

note — i know i could have done better with this one, my brain wasn’t just working and im also on a trip. this is day 6 and 7 of writing for him until i get him !!

Aventurine yearns for connection yet he erects tall walls of self-preservation, fearing vulnerability, attachment, and betrayals (the shadow of his fear of losing someone dear to him all over again will haunt and follow his steps). He’s always distant, seemingly detached to the people around him like a leaf that never touches the ground as the wind carries it away; his only drive for relationships is due to mutual-benefit or a give-and-take situation. So what happens to him when he falls and yearns for someone?

Love is violence, he knows that but his eyes would stumble after your shadow and he wonders what it feels like to live in it. He’ll lie under your gaze and he’ll dream what it feels like to be seen, what it feels like to be loved by you. He will seek ways to be close to you but not close enough that you’ll know the rhythm of his heart spells out the letters of your name. In each moment of longing, it is all tinged with a taste of bitterness as this yearning, though desired, is a precarious precipice—everything will crumble and fall once he speaks about it.

So he settles with stolen looks with wishful thinking that you’ll cast a glance at his direction, he settles with the small things at first before he begins to become selfish—he’ll make up reasons just to see and talk to you, think of excuses just so he could linger a little longer in your presence. He’ll make up games and initiates bets where he knows he’ll always win but would let himself lose anyways; winning or losing didn’t matter to him in those moments with you.

“Go ahead, guess.”

You fell into a deep thought, staring at the two hands balled into fist that are in front of you. Your eyebrows were scrunched, trying to listen to the voice of your instinct but everything was silent inside your head.

“Take your time. After all, whoever loses has to follow what the winner wants.” Aventurine spoke and you could discern the hint of amusement in his tone as he watched you fall into some sort of predicament—all you had to do was to choose which one of his hands was the coin in. It was just one of the simple games you’ll play with him every time you see each other. Come to think of it, his visits to your department have been quite frequent despite having no particular business, official or not.

“Shh. I’m thinking.” You answer, lifting your index finger to your mouth in a hush gesture. It took you a few moments of silence and thoughtful humming before you pointed at his left hand, “That one.”

But he opens his left hand to show nothing on his palm, his right hand revealing the coin at the same time, and you are hit with a wave of disappointment. A chuckle slips past his lips and you just sighed—there was nothing you could do but to admit defeat. “Well then, what do you want me to do?”

Aventurine, without a single second of hesitation, answered. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

The thing is you could have laid yourself bare to him, you could tell him all of the sins that taint your skin, the words left unspoken in your mouth, the growing mold in your lungs. He’ll see the rot and will choose to stay, he’ll see the cobwebs and dusty bookshelves, and he’ll love you still, he’ll see the torn wallpapers and ruined floors and he’ll still adore you (he’ll find you where you are most ruined and he will love you there).

(His hand would gently tug and hold at the cuffs of your sleeves, letting the warmth and closeness of his touch linger in hopes that you’ll see him in the sun that holds you gently.)

Many people claim that they love you but do they adore you the same way as he does? Would they cross bridges for you when he’ll swim oceans just to see the way your eyes catch the light? Would they traverse the stars just to listen to the sound of your laughter? 

(He’ll see the dirt in your hands and will help you wash it off when others would simply walk away.)

He’ll think of you as he laid in his bed, satin sheets all wrinkled and messy as his pillows scattered around his form, and he wondered how nice it would be to have your things among his. to have the smell of your perfume mixed with his, to have you in his arms before he sleeps (he has dreams of his dreams and you’re always in it).

All this yearning, longing, and adoration will turn into a sword that will make him bleed the more he holds on to it and you’ll stay in his thoughts as the blood will run dry on his being. He simply hopes he crosses your mind once in a while so that he won’t feel pathetic for thinking of you all the time.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[penguininahottub]

This is, by no means, original thought. However, after the release of Beatles ‘64, I just want someone to make a Beatles film that is for us. Forget the mainstream and do what Cynthia said had never happened - people getting the emotion right instead of just the facts. The Beatles story isn’t a success story, it isn’t a rags to riches story, it isn’t an even a story about genius, it’s a story that has the power to change the world and one that will be told for ever. We are living in an era where we get to witness a myth being made and so in tribute to the oral tradition, we need to be the myth-makers. Someone needs to tell the story. I hope it will be Paul. I fear it won’t. Perhaps he can’t or shouldn’t, perhaps he won’t be believed. He definitely won’t be if everyone, including him, keeps recycling the same tropes. We know there’s no new stuff to be created, but there is a new light to be shed on what we know is there. This is beginning to sound a bit like the discovery of the Book of Mormon. No one needs another religion, but we do need is for someone to actually attempt to approach this seismic cultural event with an honest and open perspective.

Yoko allowed John to believe he was the genius. John’s canonisation (his manufactured image does him no favours) means that we can forget that Paul was the revered one in the 60s. He was the chosen one - in every way. John clocked it at their very first meeting.

“I half thought to myself, He’s as good as me, I’d been kingpin up to then. Now, I thought, if I take him on, what will happen?”- John

He took a risk, he made his choice and then never again believed in his own ultimate superiority. The story he’d told himself growing up, was that nobody was capable of spotting his genius because they were all below him. Surely a trauma response to being abandoned by his parents. Never could stand to be ignored, forever desperate to be seen and yet incapable of taking off the armour of cruelty. Look at me! Paul was the same, not armour but a wall of charm. Underneath John was soft and Paul is that almost impenetrable wall. They let each other in, and each betrayed the other. Those instincts of self-preservation that John spoke about.

Anyway, he took the chance on Paul, because he wanted to be somebody and Paul and him together made that a real possibility. Also, Paul was fucking hot and clever and talented. He was also a non-conforming weirdo who made everything look effortless and wouldn’t join John’s gang and wouldn’t let him lead. I wonder if this was Paul knowing, from the first moment of seeing John as was then confirmed by subsequent sightings and (I suspect) recces, strategically carried out to observe John (oh that bus worship carries some significance beyond an appreciation for public transport), that he knew how to handle John. Handle and manage John, in order to make him his very own.

(Is it him? Does it matter, because Paul has told us he “noticed” John many times, even before the chocolate bar.)

But, all the Paul adulation, especially John’s own uncontrollable, unconditional veneration, got to be too much. He couldn’t keep his jealousy in check. No quantity of material objects, women, money, food, fame soothed the ache for long enough. He thought Yoko, and because I am sure this is what Yoko promised him, was the only person who would always be in awe of him. She wasn’t, and the really tragic part is that Paul was from the jump, he still is and his faith never waivered.

If only they’d been able to maintain the connection and never lose the ability to read each other’s minds.

They burned too brightly. They loved too hard.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 | ghostface!darren (pig) x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | he probably wasn't even invited to this party, because who would invite him? but he came anyways... just to torment you. far more than you could've imagined, in fact.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 2.5k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | NONCON DARK SMUT 18+ ONLY!!, public sex, degradation, pain kink, knife kink, a bit of predator/prey, blood kink, smoking, unprotected sex/implied risk of pregnancy, darren is kind of an incel lmao

It was a pretty traditional high school party— overcrowded, loud and sweaty, bad music and worse liquor— but at least the sea of costumes, ranging from scary to silly to sexy, added at least some new layer of interest to the whole thing.

You hadn’t tried very hard with your devil costume— more accurately an attempt at a ‘sexy devil’ costume— but you put on horns and heels with a tight red dress and nobody can really complain.  You weren’t really here to get into the ‘spooky spirit’ or whatever anyways, just an excuse to drink and maybe chat with some people you’d been missing.

The person you ended up chatting to right in that moment, though, was exactly the last person you wanted to talk to.

You didn’t even know there was someone behind you until you felt him press up to your back, suddenly hovering right by you.  “Want a drink?” he asked, shoving a cup towards you, but you were too busy nearly jumping out of your skin to care— you almost knocked the drink over, actually some of it did splash onto another partygoer, but she was too drunk to notice.

“Fuck!” you yelped, turning to see the gangly boy behind you.  “Christ, Darren, do you have to always sneak up on a girl like that?”

He just smiled and tried to offer the drink to you again.

“M’already holding one,” you pointed out with a frown, “didn’t ya notice?”

“O-oh yeah,” he mumbled, lowering the cup finally.  “Costume looks good.”

“Thanks,” you shrugged, though you suddenly felt the urge to tug down the bottom of your dress.

“You’re not worried what the boys are gonna think with you dressed like that?” he asked, and you glared at him as you shoved his shoulder.  

“Don’t you think before you open your fuckin’ mouth?” you spat.  “What are you, anyway?”

The black robes didn’t really tell you anything— not until he reached behind his head and pulled a Ghostface mask over his face.

“Oh,” you snorted, “not the most original, is it?”

“Don’t like t’movie?” he wondered as he pulled the mask back again.

“I mean, it’s pretty good,” you relented, “but—”

“You wanna fuck ‘im, don’t you?” he insisted suddenly with a lascivious grin. 

“What?” you squinted.

“Ghostface,” he clarified, “you’re one of the girls who thinks he’s fit, yeah?”

“Why are you always such a creep?” you asked him with a grimace, but then you decided to change the topic quickly.  “Kinda thought you’d be a pig or something,” you admitted, “with the nickname and all.”

“Nah, that’s stupid,” he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms— which made you notice the prop knife in his hand.  It actually looked pretty good, shinier than most plastic costume knives.

Just then, Jimmy O’Doyle sauntered up beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders.  “Ay, little devil,” he greeted, flicking the red horns on your head as you smiled sheepishly.

He hardly acknowledged Darren, spare for a quick nod, but Darren was staring at Jimmy for a little too long before he looked at you again.

“Thought you said you didn’t want a boyfriend,” Darren said sharply, glowering a bit.

Jimmy scoffed and you shifted uncomfortably; Darren tended to be… what’s the word… desperate?  Clingy?  Overall bizarre?  He certainly couldn’t take much of a hint.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said first, though that didn’t really matter— you didn’t need any reason to reject Darren, outside of your natural self-preservation instinct.  He actually wasn’t bad-looking, but it was hard to tell past those leering eyes and the uncomfortable smile.  He wasn’t smiling now though… he looked quietly enraged, sipping pointedly on his drink as he glanced away for a moment.  

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Jimmy smirked at you, hardly waiting for your nod before disappearing back into the crowd.

Suddenly, as you felt Darren’s livid gaze from awkwardly close, you decided that you needed a little fresh air.  And by that, you really meant a cigarette.

Not wanting to tell Darren that you were going outside for a smoke, you instead mumbled some excuse about going to the loo— somewhere he was just sane enough not to follow you to— and bumped through the crowd until you found a door out into the neighbourhood.

There was a slight drizzle still going outside— more of a misting, really— that made everything all foggy and grey, spare for the yellow-y glow of the streetlamps dotting the way.  It wasn’t a full moon, as cool as that would be, but near to one… regardless, it wasn’t visible behind low, dark clouds, leaving the night starless and dreary.  There wasn’t much to look at in the alley as you lit your cigarette and took slow drags from it, so as you stared blankly forward at brick walls with chipping whitewash, your mind wandered a bit.  Nothing of great merit: upcoming assignments, the possibility of an afterparty, the lingering hope you could find a steamy hook-up for the night… you didn’t just put this outfit on for the pictures.

Before you could get too far into your imagination, you were startled by a distant sound, jumping slight as your head turned towards it— but it was just the dark alley, not much to see.  You squinted, trying to make out movement in the shadows, but for quite a while you couldn’t see anything.

Only when you turned your head back forward with a shrug was there any sign of what you’d heard, just a shift in the corner of your eye.  You looked at it again, and you hated to admit it, but your heart froze up for a second when that white face emerged from the darkness.

Of course, you gave your best unaffected scoff when you actually processed what you were looking at.

“Quit it, Darren,” you warned, willing your voice to sound stable as you shouted down the road towards him, “you’re not gonna scare me.”

You watched him move closer, stepping into the light so you could see him better, and tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck stood up.  If he knew he was getting to you, he’d just keep doing it; you rolled your eyes and took a drag through your cigarette to try to seem nonchalant… but you had to stop your hand from shaking just a bit.  Only because it was chilly out, surely…

You thought it was a joke— a stupid joke, but still just a joke— until he dragged his knife along the brick wall as he stalked toward you.  The sharp, high-pitched screech of metal against stone was unmistakable… and that was how you realised it was a real knife.  A very sharp, very real knife; he’s going to actually kill me, you thought, just before you let out a primal and instinctive scream.

Turning on your heel, you ran as fast as you could.  Each rapid pulse of your heart pumped adrenaline through your veins, and you felt so shaky that you worried the light night breeze would knock you over.  

These were far from running shoes, though— they were pretty excruciating to just stand in, actually— and it was only a few blocks of a chase before you tripped.  Yelping in pain, you tried to scramble up or even crawl forward… but just as you rolled over and winced from landing on your hip, you saw him stalking forward into the flickering light of a streetlamp.

He was probably just going to take the mask off and laugh at you, right?  Reveal the whole thing was a silly prank and the knife was fake and that he just wanted to prove you were scared of him.  Yes, that would be the most sane thing for him to do at that moment, even after being so not-sane by chasing you with a knife.  Instead, as you tried to crawl back, he just tilted his masked head curiously at you, and with his free hand reached down and palmed at his groin.  He was hard— you could see the outline of it through his costume, his hips rocking forward slightly into his palm as you heard a muffled hiss from his mouth.

He knelt down and grabbed your kicking legs, roughly yanking you closer and hovering above you menacingly.  “C’mon and scream for me,” he ordered with a delighted purr, pulling his mask back, laughing when what came out of you was more of a wail or sob instead.  “Louder, y’little whore—”

“Get off me!” you shrieked, trying to fight him away, whining as he laid down over you instead and licked your neck.  You turned your head with a grimace, shuddering as his weight pinned you against the slightly-damp pavement.

“G’na show Pig how tight the little hole gets when you’re scared— aren’t ya, fuckin’ slut?”

“Be serious, Darren— s’not funny, get away from me!”

You struggled less when he flashed the knife; as little as you could, in fact you actually nearly froze as he teased you with it, running the tip down the front of your dress with just enough pressure to pop a few sequins off, making you whimper in terror.  He laughed, though— a small, dark, chuckle.  “Quiet now,” he noticed.  “Don’t make a fuss, sweetheart.”

You had to bite your lip to hide a shout, though, when a gloved hand up slipped under your short dress, grabbing greedily at your lacy panties.  He licked his teeth, bared by his grin, as he stared at you with those haunting eyes of his.  “Wet, aren’tcha, girl?” he taunted— not that he’d be able to feel it through his black gloves, but past your own groaning you could almost hear it (though you tried not to).

“You’re such a creep!” you spat, though you tried to regulate your tone as you glanced at his knife again, held against you by one of his hands on your arm; maybe part of you still thought he would stop and admit it was a joke, but the darkness in his stare made you doubt that more and more.  The gravity of the situation still hadn’t really set in yet— sure, you were coursing with fear and had goosebumps all over, but it didn’t totally feel real.

“Won’t take too long,” he promised with a sigh as he hastily tugged his costume out of the way, still pinning you down with one hand (if not as effectively).  When he roughly yanked his cock out, proudly brandishing it between your legs as your eyes went wide… that’s when it felt real.

“Don’t,” you gasped instantly, looking up at him with pleading eyes.  “Don’t, Darren, please— you can’t—”

“Shh,” he hissed quickly, “s’good— gonna feel good, alright?”

He gasped loudly as he pushed inside you, eyes shutting tight before he dropped his head down onto your chest.  “Fuck, girl— what’s a whore cunt so tight for?”

Not wasting any time, he pulled his hips back and roughly thrusted forward into you again, making you choke on your cry.

“S’for me, isn’t it?” he decided with a sick sort of grin.  “Want Pig to feel good?  Like t’squeeze the thick cock, don’t ya?”

“I— I fuckin’ hate you,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tight, in disgusted disbelief that this was happening— that it was him inside you, holding you down.  But you couldn’t forget it, not with him moaning and purring above you, mumbling stuttered praises… and the feeling of it, it was impossible to ignore, as much as you hoped to somehow.  It was a deep stretch, each thrust making your chest tighten out of more than just fear.

“Mmf, fuck,” he grunted, holding onto you tighter— another reminder he still had that fucking knife.  “Pretty— it’s a pretty thing… it’s warm inside…”

Grimacing, you hated the way your body responded to his lewd comments about it; your walls clenched on him slightly, you could tell by the way you felt even more sore inside than before.

He pressed the knife up against your neck, growling in amusement at your wince of fear.  “Think Pig’s gonna slice you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you stammered out your answer, eventually.

“Waste of a pretty face, no?” he smirked, moving the knife up and caressing the side of your face with it— not that it could really be called a caress, all rigid and cold like that… “Say please.”

“Huh?”

“Say please,” he repeated, “beg me not to hurt you.”

“Already are,” you sneered at him, but he pressed the knife to your neck with a little more intention— a little more pressure, a wild look in his eyes suddenly— as he insisted again.

“Wanna hear you beg,” he spat.  “Do it or Piggy might hurt you worse.”

“Please, please,” you whispered shakily, shutting your eyes.  “Please don’t, Darren…”

You gasped sharply as he pressed the knife down just enough to draw a thin line of blood, only to pull the blade away and lick hungrily at the wound.  Feeling dizzy and sick, you winced at the sting of his tongue lapping at your pierced skin, lips wrapping around and suckling as teeth dug painfully into your pulse.

He thrusted faster, recklessly so, and bit down on his lip as he breathed heavier.  You were too focused on how painfully deep he was going to really process anything when he started to slow down— that is, you felt that he was slowing down, and didn’t think for a minute about why he was slowing down.  

His loud, low groan gave it away; you snapped back to reality and looked up at him in a new kind of fear.  “Fuck, Darren, did you just—?!” you whimpered, squirming harder as you realised what he’d done.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed you sharply, hissing as he grabbed a tight hold of your hip.  “Stay fuckin’ still, girl— fuck, I’m still coming—”

You yelped and tried harder to fight him off, but he kept you pinned down easily, even forcing you into a rough and sloppy kiss.

He sighed into it after a second, relaxing on top of you until it was a little hard to breathe under his weight.  You whined and tried to break away, but the hand with the knife still in it held your jaw, the cold metal pressing threateningly against your face.

Whimpering and blinking up at him, you met his icy gaze and he smiled proudly down at you.  “Little devil, eh?” he smirked as he toyed with your horned headband, which had become quite dishevelled from all the running and struggling.  “Your blood matches the outfit— poor whore, red all over…”

“Darren,” you choked, fighting a sob of disbelief as you felt him pull out of you with a hiss— a steady, sticky leak giving away how much he’d come.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“Don’t be fussin’, girl, like I said,” he rolled his eyes, though he was still grinning wide.  “Ready to go back to the party now?  Or do you just want Pig to take y’home, sweetheart?” 

[usaguisenpaisblog]

Being Daniel Molloy's assistant

° Genre: headcanon

° Other tags: gn!reader, spoilers from the season 2

|| Sorry if something is wrong, english is not my first language||

° Daniel Molloy was a complicated person - a fact that he himself recognizes and admits out loud. "Probably because of the age", he would justify, but his sarcastic spirit, his sharp tongue and mind, the lack of any sense of self-preservation along with the fact that he was surly and more tired than when he was younger, made him a difficult person to work.

° The young writers, reporters or journalists who came to him were, for the most part, fans of his work. Boys and girls with a romantic view of their chosen profession, hungry for advice from a veteran in the field, but all they would receive from Daniel Molloy would be a sarcastic comment loaded with a certain truth that would make them offended enough to leave. him in peace and maybe give up on that hole they were digging themselves into.

° And then you came along: a college student in your final years of journalism school who had the audacity to approach him on a random Tuesday at his favorite café. He laughed at you, of course. He found it funny how well-dressed you were with a resume in hands, looking ready to run or fight if necessary. Without a filter or without showing any weakness in the face of Molloy's comments, the eldest had great interest in the youngest's obstinate stance. Reading one of your published articles, Daniel gave in and recognized your talent in writing, deciding to hire you as his assistant.

° The job itself was relatively simple and paid a fair amount, consisting of the task of reviewing some things Daniel hoped to publish, transcribing some interviews, and making sure grandpa took his medicine.

"Mr. Molloy, have you taken your medicine? It's already 3 o'clock"

"Blow me"

"Mr Molloy..."

"Eat my ass"

"Daniel."

(He took the medicine after receiving a serious look from you, along with a low curse).

° When the invitation for the trip to Dubai arrived, Daniel didn't want you with him for fear of what the consequences of a single wrong question asked - flashback to the 70s - could be and how it could affect you, but, once again, you surprised him, showing up on boarding day with a suitcase, a handbag and a laptop in hand, waiting for Molloy to board.

° Louis was waiting for you two, unsurprisingly, a serene smile welcoming you both to his ridiculously expensive residence in Dubai. "Welcome to my home, dear [L/N] and Daniel."

° Truth be told, all the vampire talk didn't go down in the first instance. A part of you thought that perhaps Daniel had finally lost his lucidity and was giving a crazy man an opportunity to tell his delusions, but as you watched Louis de Ponte Du Lac drain a live fox during dinner, you began to wonder what type of situation was you being involved.

° During your stay there (during the events of Season 1), your job was largely the same. When Molloy finally rested, you reviewed your own notes, did some research for Daniel, and transcribed Louis' reports.

° The fake Rashid was always around, occasionally bringing you coffee - and watching over your shoulder the article you were writing. "Can I get you something more?" He asked with those dark deer eyes. "No, thank you, darling" You would respond with a soft smile before going back to what you were doing. There was something suspicious about him, your instincts would tell you. The doe eyes were soft and almost innocent, but there was something wrong there, you just couldn't tell.

° The (sexual) tension was high whenever Louis decided to feed on Rashid during dinner. You and Daniel looked at the scene with a certain curiosity, even though you admired something that you couldn't say yourself. Something inherent in human beings watching something violent so closely. The deer surrendering to the lion with such submission that it enchanted the surrounding animals.

° "What are your thoughts about them?" Mr. Molloy would ask after another end of the interview session, both of you sitting in the room while organizing some documents.

"The twink and Louis?"

"Whatever you want to call"

"Something is definitely wrong. He's hiding something. The way he seems so devoted to Louis, yet prays for another God...that's odd, do you know? I have a feeling that Louis knows about this, but is playing too."

"Do you have a feeling?" Daniel laughed

"The same feeling that I have that you think that's odd too"

Bingo, the old man thought the same.

"Do you think they fuck?" The oldest would ask, sipping his martine.

"You should ask him that. 'Hey, mr. Du Lac, I know you're almost crying because of the memories of you old abusive lover, but the readers would love to know: do you and Rashid had or have sex?' Bet he would love to hear you asking that."

° Reading Claudia's diaries in the silence of the morning while Mr Molloy rested was something almost sacred while silence reigned in that expensive apartment. The passing of the weathered pages was a low sound, taking care not to tear or damage the vampire girl's memories. While the birds sang outside and his pen scribbled notes in his own notebook, Louis would occasionally talk privately with you, curious to know more about Daniel Molloy's sharp-tongued assistant.

° "Tell me, [Name], did Daniel tell you about what happened in the 70s?" He would ask, crossing his legs in a ridiculously elegant way.

"He usually doesn't tell me about his gay nights in the 70's, it's on our contract, you know?" You said without looking at him, too focused on the research you were doing.

° Lestat de Lioncourt was a figure apart from the narrative. Always very charming, talented and dramatic, the French vampire was like a ghost of his own stereotype, sometimes meeting expectations, sometimes making strange decisions that didn't even seem like him. Something is strange, your mind would say.

° Suddenly, Rashid became the vampire Armand, a little bitch with an attitude who loved to look at you and Daniel as if he knew something you didn't. He was more charming with those golden eyes, but there was something that screamed red flag when it came to his memories in Paris.

° "You know I can read your thoughts, right?" He approached you one night while you were smoking outside your apartment.

"And?"

"You should be careful with them" Armand slowly approached you in a clear attempt at intimidation "I don't want you giving your simple and shallow opinion about things that you don't understand."

"....I didn't say anything"

"Yet."

Red (yet beautiful) flag.

° Armand and Louis were a show of defense and explanations when they decided (in a theatrical way) to join forces and face Daniel and you. The oldest wanted to laugh most of the time, just like you, but you held back.

° Ah, but then the truth was revealed and the couple, together for 77 years, separated - the final act of the rigorous and dangerous investigation that Daniel carried out during those days there. Armand had a murderous look at humans, but he didn't move a single muscle as he tried - in vain - to calm down or explain himself to Louis.

° He turned them into vampires, of course, more out of revenge than for any plausible reason. The vampire life wasn't a burden - yet - as Daniel Molloy felt more alive than ever as he hunted men and women at night, while you had another pre-assigned mission: finding the vampire Lestat de Lioncourt.

° You just wanted a conversation. An interview.