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surielstea · 8 days

Text

Words on Paper

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel’s jealous over a male in your book and it’s hilarious.

Warnings: Just fluff, short Drabble :)

1k words

You and Nesta hadn't shut up about the men in your books all morning. The new Sellyn Drake novel had come out less than a week ago and the both of you couldn't stop raving about it, you swore you had dreams about the characters, and when you weren't caught up in the plot you were analyzing the characters, the male love interest specifically who Nesta and you were all but frothing at the mouth over.

"I need him, unfortunately," Nesta sighed, looking over to me as we held our planks. Valkyrie training seemed to go a lot faster when the both of you got the chance to debrief over chapters and share what you were passionate about, Cassian didn't seem to care as long as we stayed on task and kept up with the movements.

The exercises had become second nature to the both of you, sure it wasn't as mindless as breathing but after it's been part of your routine for weeks it truly does come naturally, like a second language that only the two of you can speak.

Azriel was slow to insanity at this point. He couldn't seem to adjust to the idea of you taking interest in anyone but him. With Mates, the rule is that if the bond is accepted then there's no one else for that person, intertwined by fate.

So why was he so irritated when you rambled too long about a guy from a book?

"Are you two working out your mouths too?" Azriel stands above you, arms crossed over his chest. Slowly, you look up at him with a wide grin. "Sorry, sir," you tease. Nesta shakes her head in exasperation and you giggle.

It took one minute of silence until Nesta and you were whispering amongst each other again.

Azriel seems to have given up days ago, his eyes narrowed at you from across the sparring mats, Cassian next to him as they drink their waters.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Azriel asks his brother, continuing to stare at both of their mates. “Does what?” Cassian turned to him with an arched brow. “That they’re so obsessed with those men from their little smut novels,” Azriel mutters and Cassian nearly laughs at the death glare the Shadow Singer was saving for the fictional male, who as of late was threatening to take his wife away.

“It’s just words on paper,” Cass shrugs, bending down to place his water on the ground. “I know but, the idea of her wanting anyone else gets under my skin,” Azriel argues and this time Cassian does laugh, it was so odd to see the revered Spymaster so torn up about some guy, who wasn’t even real. “What’re you jealous of him?” Cassian scoffs through his laughter. Azriel rolls his eyes and puts his water down. “Whatever, just don’t come crying when you can’t satisfy Nesta anymore,” He grumbled.

“I doubt that day will come,” Nesta hums from behind the Shadow Singer. He knew she was there, you with her, but he needed to get his point across. “Hey hun, you ready to go?” You dip under his arm, placing a hand on his bare chest. He only nodded in reply.

“Hey, remember what I said, it’s just words Az,” Cassian said before you got the chance to winnow him away, he nodded once more then you took him home.

You didn’t want to know what the General was going on about, you could tell from training Azriel was a little irritated but you couldn’t remember doing anything to irk him.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong or just keep pouting like a baby?” You ask and he scowls down at you. You smile, hands coming to his jaw and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, he barely has time to reciprocate it before you’re pulling away.

“What’s got you so tense?” You smush his cheeks together and he just stares at you in reply, so you begin to guess. “Something Cass did?” You ask and he shakes his head no. “Something I did?” He doesn’t move and you deflate, flinging your arms over his shoulders and melting into him. “Can’t you just tell me what’s wrong, please?” You sigh into his neck, already admitting defeat. “Do you like him more than me?” He blurts and you stiffen, pulling away to look up at him confused. “Like who?” You utter. “The guy in your stupid book,” He grumbled and you openly cackled before slapping a hand over your lips. “It’s not funny,” He groans backing away from your touch and plopping down onto the sofa, where he could sulk in peace. “I know, I’m sorry Az,” You say, taking deep breaths to control your giggles. “I’m just saying, what does he have that I don’t?” He frowns and you walk over to him, sprawling over his lap and straddling his hips. “Perhaps a control on his emotions?” You tease and he grumbles beneath his breath like a child, looking away from you.

It was true that Azriel was quite explosive. One would think he’d be less reactive as the Spymaster and yet he might’ve been the quickest to action out of all the inner circle. It was a weakness, something he was working on. It was rude of you to point it out but you make up for it by peppering a line of loving kisses up the side of his face.

“I love you, okay? Only you,” You reassure. “Those men, they’re meant to be thirsted over, you understand that don’t you?” You ask and the male nods. “I just don’t want you wanting anyone else,” He looks at me and my grin widens. “Awh, Az,” You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him tight. “I’m all yours, don’t worry,” You muffle into his neck. “Yeah? All mine?” He asks and you nod rapidly before saying, “Promise,”

“Now stop acting like a big baby,” you pull away from the hug and hold his face in your hands. “I’m gonna go bathe, you gonna keep moping out here or do you wanna join me?” You tease. He doesn’t answer and instead picks you up from where you sit and walks you straight to the bathing chambers.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp @nyxbranwenn @dnfhascorruptedme @summerandsalt @annamariereads16 @thisiskaylin @itsbonniebabe

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envysparkler · 15 days

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ambushes

Dick started it.

In his defense, his replacement was a twelve-year-old who looked like he was nine, and Dick overcompensated when he grabbed Jason’s arms and swung with far too much force for the surprisingly light frame.

Dick had meant to twirl him.�� Get that annoyed scowl off his face, because Jason could imitate a storm cloud like no one’s business, but when he blushed his whole face turned as red as a fire truck.

It was practically Dick’s brotherly duty to tease the kid, and the cuter his little replacement was, the less Dick’s stomach felt like clawing itself apart, so.

He’d been intending to twirl the kid.

But his grip was too loose and his force too strong and Jason slipped out of his grasp with a yelp as Dick sent him flying.

Thankfully, his trajectory was met with a couch.

Jason clawed himself out of the cushions, spitting mad, his cheeks turning pink, and Dick laughed.

It was hilarious. Jason’s dark glare promised revenge, but Dick was the older brother, and Jason was a whole foot shorter than him.

Dick ruffled the kid’s hair as he passed by, still grinning.

~#~

Jason continues it.

Jason continues it with Damian because the League’s where he learned it – Bruce never let them train in the Manor, and Jason had never been stupid enough to drop his guard on the streets. But the League, yes, it had been a home once, but never a safe place, not when tests and traps and tricks lurked around every corner.

Damian’s eased away from that ever-present state of alertness. Dick’s trained it out of him with praise and cuddles, most likely. Just makes Jason’s job all the easier.

He stalks down the corridor silently – Titus gives him a look but doesn’t bark, the dog is far too trusting – and, when he gets close enough, attacks.

An arm around Damian’s chest, trapping his arms, and another clamped over his mouth before Damian can even think to struggle.

Damian stills, and then twists a wrist, and there’s a knife poking somewhere Jason does not want it to poke.

Eased out of hyperawareness, but you don’t forget your instincts, not if you’ve been raised by the League of Assassins.

“If I’d been trying to kill you,” Jason whispers, “You’d already be dead.”

The knife pokes harder as Damian spits enraged, incomprehensible sounds against his hand.

“Just proving a point, demon brat.”

He lets Damian go and moves for the knife in the same instant that Damian turns on his heel – it’s easy work to disarm the kid, twirling the knife as he grins down at a furious child.

“You’ve forgotten who you are,” Jason hums idly, tapping the flat of the blade to Damian’s head and leaving before the demon brat can come up with a suitable threat in his speechless rage.

~#~

He sees the new Batgirl – he thinks she’s Batgirl right now, anyway, Babs seems to enjoy playing musical chairs with that thing – sprawled out on the couch like it’s her own home, like she isn’t mooching off a billionaire that she regularly insults.

It’s things like this that make Stephanie Brown his favorite vigilante. She has the same awe for Batman as she does for a roadside weed, she somehow managed to win reluctant approval from Damian, she drags the Replacement out of his hidey-holes, and she’s Cass’s favorite.

Considering that Cass is Bruce’s favorite, it’s another blow to the old man.

She registers him leaning against the doorframe, and tenses.

It isn’t a big thing, she’s still staring at the TV screen, but it’s obvious she’s tracking him as he gets closer.

So Jason makes no attempt to hide it. Just gets close enough, and lunges.

Steph immediately scrambles out of the way, and Jason has to boost himself over the couch to catch her – he catches her shoulder and takes her down, using every drop of his weight advantage to pin her to the ground, arms above her head.

“Jason?” she asks warily, tracking his eyes as she tests his grip.

“Stephanie,” he mocks in her hesitant tone.

Steph’s eyes narrow. “Get off me, you asshole,” she snaps, twisting her hips – forcing him to either let go or use a lot more force to keep her down.

Jason chooses to let go, straightening back up and staring down at the wary teenager. He grins, and offers her a hand up.

Steph takes it, still suspicious – but her suspicion doesn’t save her from being dumped head-first onto the couch.

“Jason!” comes the muffled cry as he saunters out of the room, “You bastard!”

~#~

The Replacement, surprisingly, is the easiest to ambush.

Jason maybe expected slightly more self-preservation from the kid – Jason’s legitimately tried to kill him two times, after all – but Tim clearly falls into the same trap as Damian.

The Manor’s home, thus it must be safe. No matter how many formerly-undead previously-psychotic killers have keys.

All Jason has to do is wait for the kid to step out of the study, his gaze fixed on his tablet as he mutters something under his breath, before reaching out and snatching him.

The Replacement is short and light, two things that make it easy for Jason to carry him, especially when the kid goes startlingly limp at the sight of Jason’s face.

He doesn’t even protest when Jason snags the tablet from his hands and sets it down on one of the side tables.

The pliant meekness is almost worrisome, if it wasn’t what Jason wanted in the first place. He carries Tim all the way to his room, rolls his eyes at the absolute mess, tucks the wilting – and sleep deprived, Jason was counting – teenager into bed, and pretends he doesn’t see the wide eyes as he turns to leave.

He pauses on the threshold. “If you leave the bed, I will hunt you down,” he promises, and makes no attempt to hide the threat in his voice.

Tim ducks underneath the covers.

~#~

Cassandra Wayne is, no doubt, the most formidable of his opponents. He cannot sneak up on her. He cannot even try.

Well, no, he can certainly try, which is how he ends up wearing the contents of a water bottle as Cass blinks down at him from on top of a bookshelf.

Jason sighs, eyes the bookshelf, and pretty quickly decides that it won’t be able to hold his weight.

“I’ll get you one day,” he warns before leaving.

~#~

“No, Jay, Jay,” Dick clutched Jason’s shoulders, failing horribly at hiding his grin as Jason rounded the edge of the deck, “I swear, Little Wing, don’t you dare –”

“I think you need to cool off,” Jason laughed, and tried to pry Dick off.

“Not getting rid of me that easily, Jaybird,” Dick said, holding on tighter.

Jason considered him for a moment, before his face split into a wide, devious smile. Dick had just enough time to think uh oh before Jason sprinted the last few steps and jumped into the pool. Dick yelped, but there was no time to disentangle himself before they hit the water.

“Told you I’d get revenge,” Jason grinned.

#my snippets #jason bullying his siblings #dick started it

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takenbypeter · 11 months

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Anything To Make You Smile

Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 903

Authors note: so many people requested a part two to this Anything to make him smile, and I think I might have to make a part 3, also idk if there is a sword for this there is

Here Bucky and Sam were, back at the S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. And despite Bucky telling them he was done with this sort of thing he still found himself constantly being pulled back again. Thankfully they were just finishing up a mission report this time.

He didn’t enjoy coming to headquarters, too many people, too many looks despite them already knowing who he was.

But it wasn’t all bad.

“And that’s when AJ and Cass got caught, right in the middle of everything,” Sam said laughing at his own story about his nephews while eating one of the free breakfast bars from the break room.

Bucky’s head was faced in Sam’s direction but his eyes were focused past Sam, and on you. You were outside the door just across the hallway perched at the water cooler.

Now Bucky and you have reached some sort of understanding over the past few months, you would greet each other with smiles, genuine ones now, and sure you’d make small talk here and there nothing big, but today?Today you seemed out of it.

I mean this wasn’t the first time he’s seen you today, he walked by you when he first got there and he expected some sort of greeting but you kept your eyes down, mind seemingly elsewhere.

Even here at the cooler you looked distracted. Now, typically your face rested with the corners of your mouth tilted a little bit upwards, today your lips ran a flat line. Bucky would tell himself he didn’t care, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wondering if everything was okay.

Sam easily caught on as he looked behind him then back at the vibranium armed man. “Alright, go on.”

That seemed to grab back Bucky’s attention, “what?”

“Go on. Go talk to Y/n, you clearly want to. I’m out here telling a hilarious story and you just want to ignore me.”

Bucky shook his head, “no it’s not like that, just…” Buck’s eyes fall to you again before back to Sam, “something’s off.”

“Then go find out,” Sam simply suggested. Bucky wanted to argue and mind his own business but his body was already reacting as he pushed himself off from the counter that he was leaning on and began walking your direction.

Wanting the conversation to happen as naturally as possible he grabbed a cup and poured himself a drink from the water cooler that you were standing beside as you drank from your own cup.

He took a sip from the paper cup before lowering it from his mouth, “hey,” he said.

You responded by giving him a tired smile, “hey.”

Buck looked away, pressing his lips together. Usually you did most of the talking. He wasn’t exactly sure where to go from here. After taking another sip from his drink he figured he’d cut right to the chase, “are you…okay?”

You turned to him with your eyelids resting halfway. “You seem a little off, that’s all.”

“I’m fine, just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Bucky knew how that felt, but he didn’t want to make this about him. “What happened?”

“Oh you know. The usual, just up all night crying, but don’t worry about it, it’s not a big deal,” you promised, trying to remind yourself not to give too much information to the attractive man which was difficult because he did make you a little nervous.

“I’m sorry,” is all he said.

“No don’t be, it’s just one of those things you know?”

He pressed his lips together and raised his brows, lines taking shape above them. “I do know how that is.” You tilted your head and he pointed to himself adding, “nightmares.”

“Oh, gotcha…well it’s just one of those things that we gotta keep moving forward right?”

He nodded again and you offered him a real genuine smile, it wasn’t as big as your usual but he could tell you meant it. With that little chat you threw away your cup, thanked him, and went back on your way.

Buck didn’t know what to do but he wanted to help you in some way, just wasn’t sure how.

Practically twenty minutes later he found you again as he was leaving the building.

“Hey I hoped I’d run into you.”

“Oh yeah? Well here I am,” you said with an exhausted expression still on your face.

“Yeah, I just wanted to say bye and I’ll see you next time.”

That was strange to you, he’s never looked for you before, not like this. “See you next time,” you repeated, finding this interaction odd. He walked past you but before he got too far he turned around again, “oh and uh, check your right cardigan pocket.” And off he went not even a stalling to see your reaction.

Automatically you reach in curiously. You felt a piece of paper in there and pulling it out, you realized it was folded in four quadrants. Unfolding it you opened it up and on it was an endearing picture of a tiny kitten, hanging onto a tree branch, with the words, ‘hang in there,’ plastered in the photo.

This was so hilariously silly to you, especially with the fact that it came from Bucky, the man who half the building was afraid of. Despite your day being crap, you couldn’t stop the laugh that started to escape from your mouth.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 3 years

Text

Poor Illyrian Baby - Cassian

A/N: I cannot settle on a faceclaim for Cass, so I’ll just use some cute fanart. This is my first time writing for Cassian and I am so excited and nervous! This is another of my Disney prompts while I’m at Disney. I’ll be in the park today but please let me know what you think!

Fanart is by Merwild on Deviantart!

Disney Prompt: Peter Pan, #1: Poor Nana? Poor Nana?!

Pairing: Cassian x Reader Word Count: 1,833 Synopsis: When training gets out of hand, the reader takes the opportunity to tease Cassian, and their friends are all too happy to join in.

“Harder.”

“I’m trying.”

“Harder, Y/N.”

“Cassian, I’m going as hard as I can!”

“Harder!”

“I am!” you yelled. Cassian backed away from you, letting out a sigh. You had been training for the last hour or so, and he had continued to push and push you. But no matter what you did, it wasn’t enough for him. No matter how hard you hit his gloved hands, it wasn’t hard enough.

He had invited you to the training ring for the past couple of months, in preparation for what, you didn’t know. He told you it was always important to be in shape. To be able to defend yourself. And you had made lots of progress, but you still hadn’t gotten to the level Cassian wanted you to reach.

“You’ve got to give more,” he said.

“I’m telling you, Cass, I can’t give anymore,” you said, stalking away from him to get a drink of water. He watched you go, his eyes trailing down your sweaty body. “Can’t we just call it a day?”

“No.”

“Why do you care so much?” you asked.

“I just like seeing you get so sweaty,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and drained your water and then filled another glass and drank it as well.

“Let’s just be done for the day.”

“Not until you stop holding back.”

“I promise you, I’m not holding back,” you said. Cassian stalked towards you, the smirk on his face growing as he approached.

“Did you like it when I told you to go harder?” he asked, his voice barely above whisper.

“Grow up,” you said, trying to move past him. He grabbed your hand quickly but gently, keeping you in front of him.

“Let me go,” you said.

“Break free from me,” he said. “We’ve trained for this.”

“Cassian, I’m tired.”

“So break free.”

“No,” you said, looking up into his hazel eyes.

“You like me holding you this close?” he asked. You could tell he was trying to get a rise out of you. Trying to get you to give in to his game.

“Not particularly.”

“I think you do. And I think you liked when I told you to go harder. Do you like it when I tell you what to do, Y/N?” he asked. You met his eyes again and couldn’t help but smile a little. You shook your head when his smile grew wider.

“Let me go.”

“Break free,” he said again. “I know you can give more, so show me more.”

“I’m sure you’d like that,” you said, looking up at him icily.

“Maybe I would,” he said, inching closer. “But only if you finally give me your all.”

“You couldn’t handle my all,” you said. His grin only grew.

“I think maybe I could.”

A rush of wings and a loud thud broke you from Cassian’s gaze, and in a quick motion, you ripped your hand from Cassian’s, and ended up punching him right in the face. Cassian reeled back as Azriel fought off his laugh.

“Oh my-- I’m so--”

“That was hilarious,” Azriel said, chuckling at his friend. Cassian threw a vulgar gesture at him as he righted himself. As you looked at him you saw his eye was already starting to bruise, and couldn’t help but start to laugh, too.

“You think this is funny?”

“A little bit,” you said, stepping closer to him. You reached up to touch his bruise, and as you did, you felt the pain in your hand. “Fuck,” you muttered, cradling it in your other.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian asked, taking a worried step towards you.

“I think I broke a finger punching your hard head,” you said. He looked your hand over, and when he didn’t find any real damage, he grinned.

“Well, maybe I can introduce you to my other hard--”

“Stop,” Azriel said, stepping in between the two of you. He took your hand in his and examined the broken finger. “If it’s broken, it’s just slightly. Just wrap it and you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, thank you Az for that timely interruption,” Cassian said, a hand still on his bruising eye.

“Well, the training seemed to be over,” he said, breezing back away from the two of you.

“It was,” you said, glancing up at Cassian once. He winked at you quickly before looking to his brother.

“Turns out all it took was another handsome Illyrian appearing out of nowhere to get her to finally give her all.”

“I think she just wanted to get away from you,” Azriel said.

“She didn’t hit me that hard, Az. I can still kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try. Unless Y/N wants to give it another go,” he said.

“I’m good. He’s all yours.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Cassian returned to the town house later that night, showered and changed into cleaner, nicer clothes, the bruise around his eye had turned an ugly shade of green.

“What happened to you?” Amren asked, cringing at his face when he stepped into the living room.

“I got punched,” he said with a shrug.

“By Azriel?” Mor asked, walking into the room, a bottle of wine in hand. Cassian held out a hand for it and took a swig. And then another.

“No, this little bruise is a gift from Y/N.”

“Good for her,” Mor said, taking a seat next to Amren. Cassian scoffed.

“Good for her? I get punched in the face and you say good for her?”

“Hush,” Mor said as Rhys and Feyre walked into the room.

“What happened to you?” Rhys asked, smirking slightly at his brother.

“Y/N punched him,” Amren said. Feyre was kind enough not to outright laugh, unlike her mate.

“Shut up,” Cassian said, taking another drink.

“Was this a scheduled part of the training?” Rhys asked.

“Perhaps.”

“It wasn’t,” you said, walking into the room. You had also showered and changed into clean clothes, and Cassian saw that your two fingers were wrapped together.

“What happened to you?” Feyre asked.

“Oh, I maybe broke my finger punching him in the face,” you said, your eyes shooting to Cassian’s quickly.

“Aw, poor Y/N,” Mor said, getting up from the couch to look at your hand.

“Poor Y/N?” Cassian asked in disbelief. “She hit me!”

“Does it hurt?” Feyre asked, completely ignoring him.

“No, it’s fine. Nothing to whine about.” Again, you shot another glance to Cassian. He shook his head at you.

Elain walked into the room, Nesta trailing behind her, and they took one look at your broken finger and instantly circled around you.

“What happened?” Elain asked.

“I broke a finger punching Cassian,” you explained.

“Poor Y/N,” she said, taking your hand into hers.

“Unbelievable,” Cassian muttered.

“What’s the matter?” Azriel asked, appearing behind him.

“Cauldron’s sake, you’ve got to stop doing that,” Cassian cursed. “They’re all fawning over Y/N’s fingers.”

“How are you doing Y/N?” Azriel asked.

“I went to a healer. She said I broke the bone but it’d heal soon.”

“That’s not too bad,” Azriel said, “Poor you, though.”

“Ridiculous!” Cassian blurted, slamming the bottle of wine down on the table next to him.

“You alright?” Rhys asked.

“She punches me in the face, and yet you all feel sorry for her!”

“Well, she broke a finger,” Feyre said, and Cassian could see the smile growing on her face.

“Unbelievable!” he yelled. “Screw dinner. I’m going to bed.” Cassian made his way toward the stairs and started taking them up two at a time.

“Better rest up that eye,” Azriel called after him. Cassian slammed the door shut.

“I better go check on him,” you said. “He never wants to miss a meal. We may have taken the joke too far.” Mor only waved her hand as she continued to giggle.

“He deserved it,” Amren said.

You moved up the stairs and knocked on Cassian’s door twice. He grumbled something incoherent but swung open the door.

“You pouting up here?” you asked, stepping into his room.

“I’m not pouting.”

“So you storming up the stairs was just another training exercise?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, sitting down on his bed.

“How’s your eye?”

“It’s fine,” he said, shaking his head.

“Looks pretty ugly,” you said, stepping closer to him.

“Well, you pack a pretty mean punch.”

“Only when I’m scared,” you said, sitting down on the other side of the bed, scooting back against his pillows.

“No, you just need to relax. Trust your instincts.”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. Cassian reached for your hand.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, not really. It was just funny to tease you about it.”

“You got everyone in on it?” he asked, looking down at you with a wicked grin.

“Yeah. They loved the idea. I thought it would be a fitting repayment after what you did to me.”

“You liked it,” Cassian said, waving his hand.

“I liked seeing you pout because I got all the attention,” you said, smiling back him.

“My eye deserves a lot of attention.”

“Let me see,” you said, turning his head gently, your fingers on his cheek.

“How’s it look?”

“Pretty bad,” you said. “I think your face might be ruined forever.”

“You sure? Maybe you should get a closer look.” In one quick motion, he grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap. You were breathless for a minute. “Can you see better now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly.

“And?”

“It’s bad,” you said, touching the bruise softly. “Your face is done for.”

“That’s too bad. Are you sure you can’t do anything to fix it?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Maybe kiss it?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow but inched closer to him and kissed his eye gently.

“Better?” you asked.

“It might need another.” You rolled your eyes. And then kissed his eye again.

“Better now?” you asked.

“A little. But I maybe need--”

“Just kiss me,” you said, gripping his shirt. His hands tightened on your waist as he pulled you against him and kissed your lips. His were warm and gentle, but the hand pulling you in was anything but gentle as he dragged it along your back.

“Oh no, poor Y/N.”

You pulled away from each other and looked towards the door. Rhysand and Azriel were standing in the doorway, smirks on their faces. Cassian whipped the pillow at them.

“Get out of here!” he yelled as the pillow bounced off Rhys’s quick shields. They retreated down the hallway with laughter.

“Poor Cassian,” you said with a giggle, looking back at him. “Poor Illyrian baby.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” he said, pulling you back into his arms.

#cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian acotar x reader #cassian acotar x you #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian acotar imagine #cassian fanfic #cassian #cassian acotar fanfic #cassian fanfiction #cassian acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

It's Only Temporary

Feyre Archeron x Rhys - Tattoo Artist Oneshot

After losing a bet, Rhys gets a new tattoo

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Tattoos

2492 words

*******

“Fey!” Cassian’s voice boomed through the glass door as he grinned and waved to get her attention.

Looking up from her sketchbook, Feyre watched as Cassian tried to open the locked door again, shaking the wood so hard the bell hanging above it started chiming frantically.

She rolled her eyes and walked out from behind the counter she’d been working at, quickly getting to the door before his enthusiasm ripped it from its hinges. Feyre had barely flipped the lock when Cassian swung it open and immediately wrapped her in a bone crushing hug, lifting her off the ground as she laughed before setting her back down and ruffling her hair. Then he strutted through the dim lobby of her tattoo parlor taking his time to survey the walls of designs, the colorful crushed velvet couches, and the small rack of t-shirts and stickers she had for sale with the shop’s logo printed on them.

The Rainbow was Feyre’s baby. She’d saved almost every penny from the time she’d gotten her first job in order to afford her shop. After studying art in school and apprenticing for a few years, she’d finally been able to buy a small storefront in Velaris and built her business from the ground up.

It didn’t hurt that most of her friends liked tattoos and were always happy to be her canvases and subsequent advertising.

Shaking her head at Cassian who’d made himself at home near her front counter, Feyre returned to her spot with her sketchbook, now open to display a howling water wolf, and raised a brow, “Can’t you read? I’m closed.”

He scoffed, grinning, and leaned his forearms on the counter. “Not for me, Archeron.”

She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help her smirk when she told him, “It late and I’m busy. Care to tell me why you’re here?” Feyre looked at him expectantly.

Cassian just grinned. “Do I need a reason to visit my very successful, very talented friend?”

“Wow, such flattery, Cassian. What exactly are you trying to get me to agree to?” She raised an eyebrow, trying to reign in a smirk.

He flashed her a wolfish grin. “Convince your sister to go out with me.”

Feyre snorted. “I don’t think you’re Elain’s type.”

“You’re hilarious, Archeron.” Cassian deadpanned and rolled his eyes, “Come on, Fey. Talk me up to Nesta.”

Feyre sighed, closing her sketchbook, and resigning herself to not getting anymore work done tonight. “Cass, I’ve done all I can on that front, believe me. You’ll have to win her over all on your own.”

“Been trying that for years.” He grumbled then ran a hand through his hair.

“I know that isn’t why you’re here,” Feyre insisted, “you ask me to do that literally every time you see me, so I know you didn’t seek me out for that. What’s up?”

He shot her a grin that made his single dimple stand out as he glanced at the door to the parlor. “Az is on his way over with Rhys and we were hoping you would do us a favor.”

“A favor?” she asked skeptically.

Cassian kept grinning. “You see, baby Arche,” Feyre snorted at the nickname. “your idiot boyfriend made a bet that he never stood a chance of winning, and he lost. Horribly.”

“Okay…” she rubbed at her face, trying to steel herself for whatever she was about to hear. Cassian’s shit-eating grin wasn’t making Feyre feel any better.

“Az and I want you to tattoo a little something special on Rhys for us.”

She paused, halting her shuffling of her sketches and furrowed her brows. “You want me to tattoo something on Rhys…because he lost a bet?”

“Yes.”

“Does Rhys know this?”

A slow smirk spread across Cass’s face, “He knows he’s coming to see you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Cassian, why would I agree to tattoo something—you haven’t even said what it is, by the way—onto my boyfriend when he obviously doesn’t even know what’s happening?”

“Well,” Cass pointed out, “I’d hope he’d realize what was happening once you sat him in the chair and got your needles and ink out.”

She snorted, “You know what I mean.”

“Because, Fey,” He sighed dramatically, “Little Rhysie is a punk and lost a bet so now he has to get a tattoo of our choice. And who better to do it, than his wonderful tattoo artist of a girlfriend?” his grin came back, wider than before.

Feyre said nothing for a moment as she stared Cassian down. Then she asked, “How drunk is he?”

Cassian chuckled, “Very.”

Feyre smiled slowly, “And how drunk are you?”

He narrowed his eyes at her but lifted his fingers to show a small space between his thumb and pointer finger. “Just a little bit.”

“So, a lot.” Feyre corrected

Cassian was silent a moment before grinning, “Rhys bet that he could outdrink me.”

Feyre blinked, then clutched the counter as she bent over laughing. She heard Cassian’s loud chortles next to her a moment later. When she stood back up, she wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head.

“Oh, my gods,” She was still chuckling, trying to picture Rhys go shot for shot with the mass of a man standing in front of her. “I love him, but sometimes he’s such an idiot.”

“I think you mean all the time.”

Just then, the bell on the door jingled again and Azriel held it open with one arm as he gripped a stumbling Rhys with the other.

“Hi, Feyre.” Azriel nodded at her as the door shut behind him.

“Hey, Az” She chuckled and walked towards the pair. “Can you lock that? Thanks.”

“Feyre, darling!” Rhys suddenly beamed and stumbled towards her, stepping close enough that she could smell every shot he’d taken on his breath. He used both hands to gently cup her face, squishing her cheeks in little and pressing a sloppy but sweet kiss to her lips. “I missed you.”

She smiled at him but stepped back to avoid his breath. “I saw you a few hours ago.”

He pouted, “That’s too long. I’ve had to look at those two ugly faces all night when I could’ve been looking at your dazzling one.”

“Why does he have to insult us when he compliments her?” Cass grumbled to Azriel who looked mildly amused.

He snorted. “Perspective.”

Feyre removed herself from Rhys’ grip only for him to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into his side. She leaned into his touch, and helped keep him standing, as she rested her head on his shoulder as she faced Azriel.

“Az, can you fill me in? Cassian tried, but I don’t know how much I trust his story.”

Cassian feigned hurt and shook his head. “Fey, I am wounded that you doubt me.”

Azriel’s explanation had been essentially the same as Cassian’s with a few more details and a little less slurring of words. She’d rolled her eyes but told them to wait in the lobby while she took Rhys back to her studio.

Feyre had no intention of actually tattooing her very intoxicated boyfriend just because he and his brothers had made a stupid bet. He’d have to be completely sober before she agreed to that.

Guiding Rhys into her back room, she waited until he was sitting on the edge of her large, leather chair before moving to stand between his spread legs. His hands instantly found her waist and she rested her palms on his thighs.

Quirking a brow at her boyfriend, Feyre asked, “Did you actually think you could out drink Cassian?”

Rhys scoffed, “I’m just as big as he is, why shouldn’t I have been able to do it?”

Feyre smirked as Rhys pouted. “Babe, you may be fit,” she huffed a laugh at his raised brow, “okay, fine, extremely fit, but Cass is a tank. And he’s a bartender. There’s no possible way you could’ve won that bet.”

Rhys kept pouting, flexing his fingers over her hips, “You’re supposed to be on my side, Darling.”

She laughed and pecked him on the cheek. “I am, always.” She kissed his lips for good measure. “But I’m going to tease you when you’re being an idiot.”

He used his grip on her hips to pull her towards him for an actual kiss. Feyre stayed wrapped in his arms for as long as she could stand his horrid tequila-drenched breath. Letting her arms loop around his neck and her fingers tangle in his hair, Feyre pulled back.

Rhys let his forehead droop onto her chest and Feyre had the distinct feeling that it was less about the warm comfort of her skin and more about an excuse for Rhys to press his face into her breasts.

“I don’t hear any needles buzzing back there, Fey!” Cassian bellowed from the lobby area. She snorted at the clear sound of a hand hitting someone’s head and the following curse.

She rolled her eyes but kept playing with Rhys’ hair as he mumbled something too muffled for her to understand.

“What was that?” she asked.

Raising his face, he looked at her and winced. “Are you actually going to tattoo me?”

She snickered at the disdain on his features.

“Maybe I should,” she teased, “to teach you a lesson making ridiculous bets.”

Rhys winked. “you can teach me a lesson anytime, Darling.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and was about to retort back when Cassian yelled again, “Baby Arche! We’re not paying you to make out back there!”

She snorted and hollered, “You’re not paying me at all! I’m getting there, don’t rush me.”

Azriel’s voice came next, “We didn’t bring your intoxicated man-child here so the two of you could get it on in the back parlor.”

Rhys snorted and replied back, “You say that like it’s never happened.”

“Rhys.” She hissed, smacking his arm as he chuckled.

“Gross,” two voices audibly gagged from the other room. “You’d better sanitize back there!”

A pause, then a disgusted Cassian said, “You’ve tattooed me on that chair, I don’t want to know what you sickos have done to it.”

Feyre and Rhys snickered before she said, “You might want to avoid the front couch then, too.”

Rhys, still grinning, added, “And the check-out counter—”

“—and the bathroom sink!” Feyre finished.

“Heathens.” Azriel muttered.

Rhys and Feyre laughed at their friends’ obvious disgust.

“I don’t need to hear any more of this,” Cassian insisted. “Ever.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and turned on her machine, allowing the steady buzz of the needle to flow into the waiting area; Cassian’s loud whoop telling her the sound was loud enough.

She carefully set the device on her counter and let the buzz echo through the room as she turned towards a small drawer and pulled out a colorful packet.

Rhys raised an eyebrow at the needle she clearly wasn’t prepping to use on him and watched as she flipped through the pages of whatever she was holding.

She paused on a page and grinned, flipping it around for him to see.

“Do you want a flying bat or one that’s hanging upside down?”

Rhys blinked. Twice. He slowly grinned back at his clever girlfriend as she handed him the sheet of temporary, press-on tattoos.

They were cartoonish-looking designs; the ones made for children that you could use a wet cloth to press onto your skin. He flipped through the rest of the pages to see a variety of other animals and plants, all ready to be cut out and used.

“Is my only choice a bat?” He grinned, looking back up at Feyre to see her already grabbing a scissor and paper towel.

She snorted. “That was what your brothers insisted on.” She took back the packet and carefully cut out the two bats. “They may be drunk enough to think a press-on is a real tattoo, but I don’t know if they’d accept anything else.”

When she held up both bat options for him, he nodded towards the one with outstretched wings. Feyre wet the paper towels and pushed his sleeve up to reveal his toned forearm. After making sure his skin was clean and dry, she gently pressed the bat onto his skin and covered the design with the wet paper towel, allying pressure to keep the image steady.

Rhys reached over with his free hand and grabbed the packet again. “Why do you have these? Besides for saving your boyfriend from a stupid bet?” he finished with a wide grin.

She laughed, still pressing firmly on the tattoo. “I keep them for the kids.”

At his raised brow she rolled her eyes. “Sometimes my clients can’t help but have their kids with them, so I keep the press-ons for those who see their parents and insist they get a tattoo, too.” She snorted at some memory. “I used to have washable markers for them to use but then a few of them would walk out of here looking like some avant-garde painting, so I switched to these. It’s adorable when they hold their cartoon dragon next to their parent’s actual ink.”

Rhys chuckled and Feyre lifted her hand, slowly peeling back the sticky paper to reveal a cute, flying bat.

He flexed his arm, grinning as the movement made the bat’s wings look as if they were flying. “How do I look?”

She leaned in to inspect the bat, making a show of darting between the cartoon and his real tattoos trailing down his arm. “Hmm, I think maybe when you’re sober, I should actually ink this onto you.”

Her grin made him laugh. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss next to the bat, careful not to brush it, and he smiled as she looked back at him.

“How’s it going?” Az’s low voice carried from the front room, making Feyre chuckle and Rhys huff.

She leaned over and expertly turned off the still-buzzing needle before calling back, “Just finished!”

Rhys brought his arm up and laughed again at the small, cheery bat placed between his darker swirls of years-old markings. He locked eyes with Feyre again as she put her supplies away and moved to stand once again between his legs. “You think they’ll buy it?”

She snorted, “Probably not.” She laughed again at his sullen expression. “But I don’t think the bet ever specified the tattoo having to be real.”

Rhys’ grin returned in full force as he brought his hands to Feyre’s face and guided her lips towards his. “You, Darling, are spectacular.”

Laughing again, Feyre leaned out of his reach. “And you, babe, still have horrible breath.”

Rhys rolled his eyes but loosened his grip as she stepped out of his arms, taking her hand as she led them back towards the front lobby.

“Come on,” she said over her shoulder, winking, “let’s show them your new tattoo.”

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash

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starkravinghazelnoots · 3 years

Text

It shouldn’t have been a big deal to Sam that Bucky was taller than him. In fact, it wasn’t a big deal to Sam, no matter what Sarah insisted.

“There is only one thing you men are more sensitive about than your height,” Sarah had teased with a knowing smirk, “and that would be y’all’s foot size.”

Sam had wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Please don’t ever speak to me again.”

“You are the one living under my roof, Samuel.”

Unfortunately, his sister had been right about that, too.

Except no, no, it didn’t matter that Bucky was taller than Sam! The difference was a measly two inches, so small it could hardly even be called a ‘difference’ with total seriousness. And Bucky was yet to boast of this slight advantage he had in height, either, thus reinforcing the fact that it really and truly did not at all matter to Sam that Bucky was the teensiest bit taller than him. Sure, maybe sometimes Sam wanted to be the one who leaned down into a tender kiss, but that wish was not so strong as to be the only thing ever on his mind.

“If that’s the case, why can’t you stop talking my ear off about it?”

Sam frowned at his sister’s irritated tone, though her dramatic eye roll that followed told him Sarah’s exasperation was only half-genuine. “Well, since you’re always telling the boys you know everything, I figured you’d be the best person to ask for adv—”

“Oh, you hush.” Sarah swatted his arm with the kitchen towel. “I don’t tell them I know everything. I just remind them that if they have questions, they should come to me before you or Bucky.”

Yeah, Sam couldn’t blame her for that one. Bucky’s knowledge was antiquated at best and Sam no longer bothered to deny how his constant to and fro across the country meant he was oftentimes out the loop. “Okay, well, now I’m the one coming to you with a question. So what should I do? Buy a pair of heels?” He was pretty sure he’d hate wearing them, but Bucky’s reaction would inevitably be hilarious. Sam was tempted.

“Hell no, do not waste your paycheck on that.” Sarah sighed as she hung the beige towel up beside the sink. “Look, bro. If you’re coming to me like AJ and Cass do with a question about people, I’m gonna give you the same answer I always give them. If you got a problem with someone…” She gave him a flat look that immediately clued Sam in to the fact that he was going to hate her advice. “Talk. It. Out.”

Sam groaned, leaning back against the wooden cabinets of the kitchen. “You already know Bucky’s the quiet and condescending type.”

“Who gives a shit? Clearly you’re the one with a problem here, not your beau.”

Touché.

“Also, you chose to date him.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam grumbled. “You’ve made your point.”

“Thank you. Now go put all your counselor skills to use and have a talk with your man,” Sarah concluded with a shooing gesture. “Oh, also—wake up the boys for me, will you? They’re gonna be late for school if they don’t get moving.”

Sam gave her a mock salute, grinning as Sarah rolled her eyes a second time before turning back towards the eggs she was scrambling on the stove. Knowing such a reaction meant their conversation was over, Sam resigned himself to maybe—maybe—talking to Bucky about his… see, he didn’t even know what to call the issue. His height complex? God no, that sounded horrible.

Well, first things first—he needed to wake up the boys.

As Sam headed towards the stairs, he passed a sleepy Bucky emerging from the small half bath, his normal hand covering his mouth as he yawned while the vibranium one scratched his stomach. Sam did his best to ignore the way the latter action made the hem of Bucky’s shirt ride up a fraction of an inch.

“Morning,” he said, earning a tired nod from Bucky in response as he reached the foot of the stairs, pausing after taking only a few steps up. “Sleep well?”

Bucky nodded again, a content smile tugging at his lips. “Through the whole night.”

Sam’s chest swelled with pride at the revelation. It had now been—what, a week and a half of restful nights for Bucky? Surely he was verging on a new record. “Hell yeah, man. That’s great.”

Bucky’s little smile became a pleased smirk. “I still think I’d sleep even better in your room—”

Sam laughed. “Sorry, Buck. Not with kids in the house.” He glanced at the clock across the hall before taking another step up the stairs. “Speaking of the boys, I need to wake them up before Sarah has my head.”

“Oh, wait. I’ll come with you.”

Sam pretended his heart didn’t flutter at the near-insufferable domesticity of the mental image that followed, one of Bucky gently shaking his nephews’ shoulders to get them out of bed. Christ. Sam was so whipped.

When Bucky reached the foot of the stairwell, Sam couldn’t help but notice the scattered fluffy tufts his partner’s hair had developed into throughout the night. Unfairly-attractive bed head, as it were. This casual observation was followed by a more intense thought that hit Sam like a sledgehammer.

He could see the top of Bucky’s head. Because, on the stairs, he was taller than Bucky.

Sam didn’t consider himself to be an impulsive person—no matter what Bucky said—but at that moment, he threw forethought to the wind. Bucky only had his feet on the first and second steps when Sam leaned down to cup his partner’s face with both hands and crash their lips together in a kiss that made fireworks explode in Sam’s stomach. Bucky’s morning breath wasn’t even too bad—rinsed his mouth, maybe?—and Sam soon found himself lost in the warmth of Bucky’s lips on his and the firm grip Bucky now had on his hips. Although he sorely regretted the eventual need to pull away for air, Sam had to admit that the dazed, blissful expression on Bucky’s face almost made breaking the kiss worth it.

God. Fuck. That settled it. If this was what it was like to kiss Bucky Barnes from above, Sam was going to suck it up and lay everything out to Bucky. Sarah would tease him endlessly, as sisters were wont to do, but damn.

It’d be so worth it.

“What was that for?” Bucky finally murmured, running a hand up and down Sam’s side.

Sam smiled as he traced Bucky’s bottom lip with his thumb. Ha. “Ask me later. We gotta wake up the boys.”

Bucky nodded. He made absolutely no move to continue up the stairs. “Kiss me again, first?”

Well, who was Sam to refuse such a polite request?

#sarah: making out on my stairwell is NOT waking up the boys samuel #jsdsjks this is the first of my sambucky kiss prompt ficlets for pride. haven't decided if i'll put it on ao3 or not #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #tfatws #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fanfic #sambucky fic #my writing

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fanficsandfluff · 3 years

Text

The Wake-Up

Finally, I've crossed a fic idea off my daydream checklist! Enjoy!

Fandom: MCU, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, some Cass and AJ, a smidge of Sarah

Words: 2,010

Bucky hadn’t felt as well-rested as he had on Sarah’s couch, even despite being woken by her two boys. So, yes, maybe he did keep accepting offers to stay over. It helped his mental well-being, so what? He sought the rest and relaxation. Sam hadn’t even been there a few times, but it was still as welcome as ever. Sarah cooked great food. He brought her flowers the last time he slept over, and he loved the bright smile that sprung to her face.

“We need to clear a guest room all for you,” Sarah joked at the dinner table on one particular summer night.

“You can take Uncle Sam’s room when he’s not here!” Cass announced through a mouthful of grits.

Bucky grinned at all the jests and he knuckled Cass’s shoulder, “Oh, I’m sure Uncle Sam wouldn’t mind at all,” he always smiled whenever he heard ‘Uncle Sam’ being used to address the new Captain America. Brought a lot of nostalgia back, and even turned it into something positive.

But on the couch he remained, at least for the upcoming night.

Sam pulled up at 3 am, the whole house asleep. He had to get used to seeing Bucky on Sarah’s couch, but it was finally starting to become less surprising. As long as he was on the couch and not in Sarah’s bed, all things were fine by him. Sam tiptoed in after shedding his boots at the door, easing into the comfort brought to him just by being in the house. He adjusted the blanket by Bucky’s feet and pulled another corner over his bare arm, non-metal.

Sam smirked to himself. He always assumed Bucky possessed superhuman senses, so someone who decided to even step too close while he slept would be pulverized immediately. But no. The guy needed the sleep, he supposed. Bucky’s breathing pattern didn’t even change when Sam adjusted the blanket. Hmm… he could use this.

~~~

“Shhh, shhshh, hey guys,” Sam kissed his nephews on their foreheads when he woke them purposely later that morning. Dawn was just creeping over the bayou, shimmering the lights on the water.

“Wait, shh, you gotta stay quiet or you’ll ruin it,” Sam had his hand atop AJ’s head and he ruffled it around, making the older boy giggle.

“Ruin what?” Cass whispered.

“We’re gonna wake Bucky. The guy’s just always sleeping, isn’t he?”

Both boys shared identical grins, “Yeah, totally!” AJ slipped his glasses onto his face, Cass following suit.

And so the plot begun. Sam went to the bathroom with his nephews and gathered shaving cream after Cass had pulled a feather from his animal project from school. Sam explained what they’d be doing with these tools, since they’d never pulled this prank before (wow, Sam felt old).

AJ and Cass were practically vibrating with anticipation and giddiness. The trio snuck their way to the couch. Sam sprayed the shaving cream on Bucky’s metal hand since he knew how to not make the spray noise come out so loudly (and his human arm was tucked behind him on the couch so he couldn’t get to that one, okay? He didn’t go for the metal on purpose, he isn’t that cruel).

Sam pointed to Cass first as the three of them stood by Bucky’s head, hiding behind that edge of the couch, crouching. Cass stood and swiped the feather across Bucky’s forehead. No reaction. He gave it to AJ. AJ, more methodical, wiggled the feathered tip on the bridge of Bucky’s nose. Now he got his nose to scrunch, brow to furrow, but his arms stayed put. Sam next. He got the feather to move closer to Bucky’s nostrils.

“So close…” Cass whispered in the smallest voice, hands covering his mouth. AJ also put his own hand over Cass’s hands covering his mouth because of the comment.

Sam kept it up, even swiping around Bucky’s cheeks, when-- WHAM!

The boys both exclaimed, Cass jumping up and down excitedly while giggling. Sam laughed loudly, holding his stomach. The noise was a loud metal clang when metal arm connected with skull. It was hilarious.

Bucky shot up with a start, feeling his eyes covered in some kind of gook, and he practically gave himself a headache. He heard all the laughter and he sighed deeply.

“Gross…” he grumbled and wiped his eyes, not realizing his hand was the cause. He ended up smearing more shaving cream across his eyes.

“You got a little something…” Sam spoke, holding back more laughs. Anything to mess with Bucky was the highlight of Sam’s day.

Bucky got enough shaving cream off his face and wiped onto his pants to see again. He eyed the boys first, knowing he could scare them off quicker. He growled.

“Go go go!” AJ directed his younger brother, ushering him back towards the bedrooms, the two shoving each other and tripping over each other along the way.

Bucky’s eyes went to Sam immediately after.

Sam had to think quick. Run from a super soldier and inevitably get caught, or wake Sarah because there’s no way Bucky would do anything to him if Sarah was--- yeah, nope, not willing to face Sarah’s wrath either. Sam bolted out the front door, hearing the screen door clatter behind him. Not two seconds later he heard it clatter again, meaning Bucky was hot on his trail.

Sam ran through the yard, weaving between trees, feeling the dewy grass get kicked up under his bare feet.

Bucky threw himself at Sam when he had the shot and they both propelled forward, rolling in the grass for a few feet.

“Ow! Shit, Buck!” Sam exclaimed, groaning, feigning more pain than he was actually in.

Bucky was atop Sam, not falling for the act for a second. It took Sam a moment to look up and he burst out another laugh, unable to help himself. Bucky still had a white-painted face full of shaving cream, just now looking more smeared than goopy.

“You know you’re so dead and you’re still laughing? Where’d you get the balls…” Bucky tried to sound menacing, he really did.

“Nahah, no, you--” he cleared his throat, buying time so he could formulate a way out from under the Winter Soldier, “It’s good for your skin. Moisturizing. You look good.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes and his metal hand snapped to Sam’s when he tried to move, wrenching it up above his head. Sam was pinned. Now was the time he was getting nervous.

“It was all AJ and Cass, I just thought you should know.”

“Mmhm,” Bucky, man of few words, looked up and down Sam’s torso. He had him pinned. Now what to do. Bucky poked at Sam’s protruding rib. He did it again to the few above that one, making a little path of pokes.

Sam shifted under him, uncomfortable. His face looked much less jovial now. Annoyed. Good.

“Oh Sam, buddy, you never told me you were ticklish,” he drawled.

“I’m not--I mean, just stop. I’m sorry,” Sam apologized.

Bucky’s eyebrow actually raised. That was the whole fun of the game. Coaxing the apology. But of course Sam went and ruined that. Nice guy.

“For what?” Nice recovery, Barnes.

“For waking you up.”

Bucky allowed himself to quirk the corners of his lips, “Gotta be more specific than that,” and his one hand dug into the ribs on Sam’s right side. His fingers groped for the spaces in between and massaged his way in. Sam bucked and laughter was torn from his chest.

Sam was ticklish and only Sarah knew. Of course she knew, being the older sister. But dammit, he was never planning on Bucky Barnes figuring it out. And this was exactly why! The guy would be devastating!

“No! NohohoHO BUCKY!” Sam twisted side to side since that’s all the mobility he was allowed.

“What else are you sorry for? Here, I’ll give you the list,” as Bucky spoke, he had to raise his voice over Sam’s desperate giggles, hand switching to clawing at the other’s belly, “You woke me up with a prank. So there’s that. You lied and blamed AJ and Cass for something you 100% planned. You ran from the scene of the crime. Am I missing anything, Wilson?”

“Screhehehew you!” Sam got out before laughing louder as Bucky’s hand scratched at his armpit, “Stop! Stoppit, you fuhucking cyborg!”

“Oho! I’ll add that! Aaand, oh, and you lied to me about you not being ticklish. You said ‘I’m not,’” Bucky imitated Sam in a very stupid voice, “when clearly you are. Very. Very ticklish.”

Sam was pulling on his arms as much as he could without injuring himself. His veins popped, muscles straining. He was useless like this. Defenseless.

But he was laughing.

That was kind of nice.

Bucky contemplated letting go and allowing Sam to squirm. He liked having him at his mercy like this, though. Made him feel powerful… Hm.

Bucky kept Sam pinned with his vibranium appendage, and he wiped as much of the remaining shaving cream off his face as he could with his right hand.

Sam coughed as he sucked the humid morning air into his lungs. By now he didn’t know if the moistness he felt all along his back was from the dewy grass or from his own sweat.

“No, man, dohon’t,” he saw the absolute mischief painted on Bucky’s gleeful face and his raised shaving cream hand. Bucky planted his palm on the side of Sam’s face, chuckling to himself after the act.

“Aw, you-- you’re real gross, Barnes, you know that?” Sam spit out the imaginary shaving cream that got in his mouth.

“I think I’m just being fair,” Bucky pushed up Sam’s sleep shirt with his free elbow and he started tracing patterns with shaving cream along Sam’s belly. That got Cap giggling all over again.

“Buhuhucky, noho!”

“Keep giggling, Sam, it’s only gonna make me want to keep this up.”

Sam would swear up and down that that particular comment didn’t make him blush, but oh boy he felt his cheeks get warmer.

“I don’t g-gihiggle, asshole!”

“Oh, no?” Bucky switched to scratching at Sam’s taught tummy, the shaving cream making the experience extra slippery, causing Sam’s laughter to jump in pitch.

“I”m sorry!” Sam squeaked out before Bucky could even change tactics again.

Bucky chortled, “For…?”

“Everything! Eheverything you sahahaid!”

“Aww,” Bucky smiled. He pulled his metal arm back and just sat on Sam’s waist, still basking in the glow of winning like this.

Bucky leaned his head down closer to Sam’s, “I forgive you,” he said curtly. He watched the last few huffs and breaths of light laughs leave Sam’s lips. He could get headbutted being this close to Sam’s own face. Or kissed. Wait--

Bucky climbed off of Sam, sitting beside him in the grass. He pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped the shaving cream fully off his face.

Sam jabbed Bucky’s abs when the shirt came up and the Winter Soldier twitched.

Sam smiled wide. Bucky, eyes squinted at first, soon relaxed his face and allowed himself to smile back.

“Don’t do that again,” Bucky pointed a vibranium finger at Sam.

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“You made Cass and AJ very happy.”

“Yeah, well…. They don’t need to prank me to be happy.”

“Yeah they did. Being mischievous. It’s all part of being little kids,” Sam sat up, head tilted Bucky’s way.

“Still.”

“Okay, I was trying to be thankful, jerk. Thanks for handling it like a good sport.”

Bucky looked over at Sam and he held his gaze for a few seconds. Did Sam like what just happened? Or was that just praise for him for not ripping Sam’s nephews limb from limb? Restraint?

“Oof, that brain malfunctions a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Sam was right back to teasing, “Code red!”

Bucky chuckled, head bowed. Sam, proud as ever to get that smile from the Winter Soldier, nudged him.

“You’re so stupid,” was all Bucky could think of saying. Sam laughed.

102 notes · View notes

rainygothherowolf · 3 years

Text

Jasonette/ Daminette- Little Sister Pt.3

First ~ Previous ~ Here(Final)

Marinette was bouncing in her seat, her mother and father chuckled at her childlike reaction to the plane landing. When it was finally their turn, the Dupain-Chengs grabbed their carry-ons and exited the plane.

"Come on, Maman, Papa! Damian said they were waiting by baggage claim!" The bluenette helped her parents with their things while they made sure they had everything before eagerly leading them through the now familiar airport.

Damian and Marinette had been together for a little over three years, the young designer was now eighteen, her boyfriend a year older. The couple visited each other throughout the year for birthdays, holidays, and whenever they could- of course, Jason was more than happy to chaperone Damian's visits to Paris, always eager to see his little sister.

The Waynes were quick when it came to accepting Marinette as one of their own, once she'd been fighting one of Hawkmoth's akumas and apparently someone saw. The entire family ended up spending an hour watching her defeat the villain just to make sure they didn't need to go help.

Of course, during some of her many visits Marinette got herself in the middle of more than a few prank wars. At first, she participated to get Damian and Jason to work together- wanting two of the most important boys in her life to get along but it quickly became a free for all. It was safe to say Marinette won, getting the entire family with the exception of: Alfred, Mar'i, Kor'i and Selina, stuck doing a live interview about the family dynamic with questions written by Marinette.

Marinette dragged her parents past her favorite TSA officer with an excited hello before thinking back to when she saw the Waynes family interview. Bruce thought it was the funniest way to oust her to the public, and allowed her to go through with it. Everyone saw Marinette smiling cheekily from the sidelines as they answered question after question, clearly written by her.

// Flashback, 2 years ago //

"Alright, next question: who is the best superhero?" Everyone laughed softly, darting to each other picking sides for the debate to come.

"Oh boy, not this again." Bruce sighed, Selina patting him reassuringly, she decided to attend the interview, wanting to watch the chaos unfold in person.

"Bat girl!" The three girls exclaimed in unison, hopefully Babs was watching as Stephanie elaborated. "The original, of course. She was awesome, always doing these cool gymnastic tricks- way better than Nightwings!" The boys were quick to counter.

"No way! Robin had way better tricks, did you see the video of him doing that cool triple flip thing?!" Tim offered.

"Nope! Because Nightwing has superior acrobatic skills, I heard he was able to beat the Batman in a fight because of them- when he and the Justice league got brainwashed or something!" Bruce sighed tiredly as everyone else continued to argue, eventually it became a shouting match. Bruce whistled loudly, everyone quieting. The reporter continued.

"This next question is for all of you, except Mr. and Mrs. Wayne, who is your favorite sibling?" They all shared a smug look and answered from left to right, Dick went first. Stephanie and Tim were quick to follow, Cass responding immediately after them.

"Marinette."

"HEY! She was my sister first! Anyways, Marinette." Jason exclaimed proudly.

"tt, all my siblings are annoying- with the exception of Cass, the most tolerable."

"What, brat, you don't like Marinette?" Jason interrupted before the reporter could ask.

"tt, she is not my sister. And she isn't any of yours, I'm the only reason she visits Gotham." Damian huffed defensively.

"YEAH RIGHT! I'm her favorite, she visits for me not you!" Damian scoffed.

"Marinette, obviously prefers me." Damian challenged, standing- dragging Marinette into view as she blushed furiously. She glared at her boyfriend as she was pulled from her hiding spot.

"Damian! No-"

"Yes. You should know better than to include me in their pathetic prank war." Damian kissed Marinette firmly, she responded out of habit before he pulled away with a smirk, sitting. He sat Marinette on his lap, she blushed but didn't move wrapping an arm behind Damian.

"I assume you're Marinette?" The Parisian nodded timidly at the reporter's question.

"And you're?" The woman asked, curious as to how exactly she was related to the Waynes.

"My girlfriend." Damian answered for her, Marinette flicked his ear.

"I used to live in Gotham, me and Jason looked out for each other but I got adopted by a nice couple in France! My parents are amazing, anyways, I was on a class trip and saw Jason, and met Damian and we started dating."

"Despite my best efforts." Jason huffed, a sixteen-year-old Marinette rolled her eyes.

"He's exaggerating." Damian scoffed at that. The reporter seemed to adapt to Marinette's presence quickly, her teleprompter now changing questions from those Marinette sent to new ones.

"Okay, so Marinette and Damian- who said I love you first?" Marinette smirked, whispered in Damian's ear, and answered:

"I did." Damian blushed softly as he starred at Marinette, she said it well over a year ago to which Damian immediately reciprocated. Just to embarrass him, Marinette said 'Me, beach, bikini.' which always embarrassed Damian because it always worked- he'd immediately think back to the first time they went to the beach her in a bikini borrowed from Selina.

Jason snorted, and everyone else seemed amused to see Damian flustered.

"Who is more romantic?" Marinette hadn't been expecting questions other than the ones she wrote but took the opportunity when she saw it.

"He is." Damian glared at Marinette as his family howled in laughter.

"How?"

"OH! I KNOW I KNOW!" Stephanie raised one hand while putting a finger on her nose. "Damian always sends her flowers, and covers her in a blanket if she falls asleep, and always tries to cook for her even though she or Alfie have to save the day! But she is too! When he got sick, she always called to make sure he was resting instead of working, and sang him to sleep like a little kid! She's an awesome singer!" Marinette seemed to get even more embarrassed as the rest of the Waynes added their own compliments. The interview was about to end but Marinette got an idea, an awfully hilarious idea, it was her emergency back up.

"Well since you all seem to agree on everything, who caught my sketch book on fire?" The family went silent, everyone looked guilty.

"It was an accident." Bruce, shockingly, started.

"We never should have tried to cook." Cass continued.

"But you were sick, and Alfred was out of town." Dick tried to amend.

"The book was right next to the burner- Damian was looking at it." Stephanie added, shifting the blame to Marinette's boyfriend.

"Trying to see what you would make him for Christmas." Jason seconded.

" So he could one-up it." Tim added, unnecessarily.

"Because of how great your gift from last year was." Stephanie mentioned before everyone spoke together in unison.

"Sorry." Marinette laughed, they'd rehearsed that.

"You really think I'd leave ideas for all of your gifts in there? PLEASE! You are all too nosy, I keep the one with all of your gifts somewhere safe." Marinette said, smirking down at Damian who was glaring at his tattletail siblings.

// Flashback ends //

Marinette always smiled at the memory, she loved the Waynes- they had such a beautifully chaotic family dynamic.

"Slow down, Marinette! It's not like they'll leave without us!" Tom said, chuckling as his daughter dragged the adults towards baggage claim, only a little bit further and then Marinette would see Damian again. Last they'd seen each other was when Damian visited Paris three months ago, it had felt like an eternity to her. Marinette was pulled to a stop by Sabine, who was cold, the mother put one of her sweaters on while an impatient Marinette watched. Finally, Sabine was ready, closing her bag with a quick 'zip'.

Marinette immediately dragged her parents toward the sign she quickly spotted, Mar'i was sitting on her father's shoulders with a large poster above her head. The sign was neon pink, with white cut out letters spelling out 'Dupain-Cheng' in two rows. There were little doodles and hearts decorating the borders.

Damian stood next to Jason, impatiently checking his watch grumbling about how long customs takes. Tim and Stephanie were near them with Bruce, Alfred, Selina, and Kor'i. Only Bruce, Damian, and Jason had met Tom and Sabine before hand. Mar'i was excited to meet her twin's parents, hearing about their magic desserts.

"Auntie Nettie!" the half-Tamiranian exclaimed, climbing down her father awkwardly before charging towards Marinette. The Parisian was quick to hug the girl back.

"Hello, Mini Me!" The five-year-old was quick to climb onto Marinette's shoulders, offering her hand to Tom who was now at almost eye level. Marinette's father took the offered hand and gave the small girl a firm handshake. The girl giggled.

"Uncle Dami! I did it, just like you taught me!"

"Good job, Mar'i!" The girl's father praised, grabbing his daughter off the short girls shoulders and placing her on the floor. Damian was about to hug Marinette when Jason steps in front of him and greets his sister.

"Hey, Marinette! it's good to see you again!" Marinette hugged her brother close before pulling away and turning to greet a now grumpy Damian.

"DAMI!" Marinette said cheerily, latching onto him with a tight hug. Damian hugged back feeling her in his arms again was almost as relaxing as the smell of her hair. The sharp, sweet smell of jasmine invaded his senses with a pleasant undertone of rose water.

"Hello." She laughed as she pulled away to greet Stephanie and Cass. Damian greeted Tom and Sabine familiarly, as did Jason. Mar'i was quick to properly introduce herself to both.

"Hi! I'm Mar'i, and you're Marinette's parents! Tom and Sabine! Auntie Nettie talks about you guys a lot, is it true you two are soulmates like in the fairy tales?" Marinette's parents laughed softly before starting up a conversation with the girl. Eventually, Marinette's parents were acquainted with everyone and they made their way to the manor. Tom called their new employee, George, to make sure everything at the bakery was going well with the holiday rush.

It was December 23rd and the weather in Gotham was harsh, everyone was quick to rush into the warm manor. Tom and Sabine quietly marveled at the extravagance of it all. Marinette quickly led them to their room, promising to help them around until they got the hang of the manors maze-like layout.

"Thank you, dear, where is your room?"

"It's just down the hall, what do you guys want to do? Diner is always at six so you have time to unpack or take a nap."

"That sounds like a good idea, thank you, Marinette."

"Of course, Maman! I'll come get you at five fifty, okay?" Her parents nodded before shutting the door, Marinette made her way to Damian's room- which so happened to also be hers.

The Parisian plopped on the bed, tired from the flight. Damian noticed her 'tired to the bone' sigh from his seat at his desk and went to lay down next to her, hugging her from behind his lips pressed to her neck.

"I missed you." Marinette mumbled, feeling warm and safe in Damian's arms she struggled to stay awake. Damian stayed silent, slowly rubbing her shoulders as her worked the knots out. Marinette was now laying on her stomach, sighing as he worked. The Parisian always melted under his touch. Finals had been stressful, thankfully she didn't have to deal with Hawkmoth anymore. Ladybug was still active, with Selina now wearing the miraculous of the cat, but she only dealt with normal crimes or the odd super villain when she was in Gotham as Ladybird.

"Father thinks we should stay in tonight, with Drake, to avoid suspicion." Damian mumbled softly, still rubbing Marinette's back through her warm shirt. Marinette hummed in agreement, her body only felt more tired as time went on, her eyelids drooping.

"Of course, we'll have to entertain your parents until they go to bed but after that we have all the time in the world." Marinette could hardly register the words but she caught his tone. He wanted to snuggle, never willing to say the word out-loud.

"Wanna snuggle?" Damian snorted.

"I believe the proper term is cuddle." Marinette rolled her hardly open eyes, they always argued about this.

"Why can't it be both?" Marinette softly slurred, her eyes feeling heavy as lead. Damian gave Marinette a kiss on the cheek as he cuddled close to her, keeping her warm.

"Because that would mean I'm partially wrong and that's impossible." The world faded to black as Damian's warm arms pulled Marinette comfortably against him.

Damian looked down at a sleeping Marinette, her shallow even breathing soothing him, her adorable rosy cheeks now matched her pink nose. Marinette hated the cold but she always looked adorable decked out in winter gear, over dressing to the point where Damian had to coax her out of some of her layers.

Damian looked down at the beautiful, strong-willed, stubborn, terrifyingly tiny girl in his arms he only thought of one thing: he was going to marry that girl.

Selina was guiding the Dupain-Chengs and the rest of her family from the dining room to the living room. Damian and Marinette who were tasked with helping Alfred take everything to the kitchen. Suddenly, the feline woman got an adorably funny idea and led everyone on a short detour to the hallway filled with family photos and portraits.

Marinette was pushed up against a wall, Damian had one hand holding her neck and tilting the girls head up while the other snuck under the girls shirt and gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him. Damian was unyielding, ravaging Marinette's lips as he kissed her senseless. Marinette's hands were in his hair, softly scratching against his scalp or simply running her hands through his soft locks, her hands having a mind of the own as Damian's lips stole all of Marinette's attention.

Damian's malleable lips worked against Marinette's, somewhere far in the back of his mind Damian was thanking Alfred for insisting on his doing the dishes, this gave the couple time to escape from their observant family.

Damian let Marinette breathe as he moved from her lips to her cheek, not stopping as he eventually moved south towards her neck. Marinette was trying to focus on her uneven breathing but Damian was not one to be ignored, his hand on her hip keeping her close as he continued to greedily kiss her neck marking it as his. Marinette's features relaxed slightly her eyes hardly opening, her thoughts foggy but seemed to have a common factor: Damian, it was either Damian's lips as they worked the sensitive skin of her neck, or Damian's smell of peppermint and earl gray tea, or Damian's family staring in shock- WITH HER PARENTS AND JASON!

Marinette tensed as her eyes flew completely open, she squeaked. Damian seemed to notice the change of atmosphere and paled as he saw the murderous look in Jason and Tom Dupain's eyes. Bruce looked so done, as if he'd seen it a million times before. Selina and Sabine shared an amused smirk, Tim and Stephanie just looked away, Dick had noticed and covered Mar'i's eyes before leaving the room, Kor'i with them, blushing intensely- embarrassed for the Parisian, she had been in Marinette's shoes before and did not miss it.

Damian swallowed dryly. Tom and Jason shared a look, Jason was about to grab Damian and Tom, Marinette but Sabine stopped them short.

"Tom! Leave them alone, how else am I supposed to get grandkids?" Marinette was quick to blush, trying to hide in Damian's arms, only securing his guilt in Tom's eyes. Jason was snapped out of Big Brother Mode™ by Tim. Sabine and Selina jokingly ushered the boys and girls out, telling them to give the young couple their privacy.

Marinette wanted to die of embarrassment but once everyone was gone Damian just picked up where he left off, taking his love's mind off the intrusion.

The couple walked into the living room more than a few minutes later. The lights were off and a movie playing so no one payed them any mind when they silently sat in the empty loveseat. No one noticed the hickies that decorated Marinette from her jawline to her right collarbone, a feature Damian practically worshiped, or the love bites on Damian's neck.

Marinette blushed when she saw what Damian had done as they got ready for bed, Damian shrugged before laying on their bed and opening his arms- begging for cuddles.

Jason asked to be Damian's spar buddy for training the next morning and kicked the assassins ass- literally, but the actual spar was a tie. Tom was heard grumbling about hormonal boys for days, luckily Sabine kept him in check.

That Christmas was an interesting one, to be sure. Luckily some things stayed the same, no matter how hard Damian tried Marinette still out did him. She, as always, received jewelry Damian had been stockpiling to give her on one of the few days she couldn't refuse and a very special pendant he'd handmade for her, after taking a jewelry making class.

Mari' insisted the bluenette try everything on, not giving the girl time to take anything off. By the time Marinette was wearing everything she was literally dripping in jewels.

Marinette gave Damian four sweaters, each in a different size. They were for a picture of Damian with Alfred the Cat, Titus, and a very small one that Marinette said went with her other gift. It was a guinea pig Damian was quick to name Adrien, seeing as how both were small rodents, saying Adrien the hamster was far better. Marinette chastised him and Damian relented eventually naming the small animal after Circe, explaining that just like the sorceress bewitched sailors that visited her island, turning them into pigs, Marinette had enchanted him.

~~~ 6 years later ~~~

Marinette quickly ushered her parents through the crowded airport, past customs and Christmas decorations as she hurried to meet up with Damian, Marinette had spent the last month in Paris helping out with the bakery when her mother had an accident and couldn't work for a few weeks. Thankfully, Sabine recovered quickly and the Dupain-Chengs decided to visit Gotham for the holidays. Marinette hadn't seen Damian in weeks and missed him terribly, he always complained about how empty and cold their apartment (penthouse) was without her there.

Damian checked his watch, he still had an hour before Marinette's plane landed. The man walked to where Jason and his father were standing, looking over the nights patrol routes. He'd already received permission from his father, Kyle, and the Dupain-Chengs, all he needed now was Jason's approval.

"Father, Todd." Damian greeted, fidgeting with the box in his pocket. Jason eyed Damian suspiciously.

"What'd you do this time, brat?" Jason asked, a look of annoyance flashed onto Damian's face before he controlled himself, taking a breath Damian showed him the box. Jason's eyes widened in understanding.

"Well, brat, looks like you're gonna beat her when it comes to presents this year. What could be better than your last name?" Damian relaxed at Jason's reaction to the black velvet box, Damian's father spoke up.

"You know what you're going to say?" Damian nodded.

"Where and when you want to ask?" Damian nodded again.

"Well, then all that's left is that you actually do it." Damian knew his family would approve but it still felt nice to hear it.

Marinette immediately hugged Damian when she saw him, her parents patiently waiting behind them. Both Marinette and Damian heard the quiet exchange between the married couple.

"When do you think we'll get the grandchildren?"

"I think they should talk about getting married first, Sabine." Marinette blushed softly, they'd discussed both at length and seemed to want the same things the only discrepancy being names. Damian was dead set on naming a girl Amora, Marinette liked Emma. Marinette loved the names Hugo and Louis, Damian thought they were meaningless and simple. He favored boys names like Aaron or Alfred. Marinette joked that he was obsessed with the letter A.

It was Christmas morning, the whole family spent the night at the manor. Word of Damian's gift spread among the ranks like wildfire, a nine-year-old Mar'i could hardly keep it to herself. After the usual Christmas breakfast everyone crowded around the tree, giving each other gifts. Marinette and Damian had yet to give each other their presents, Marinette went first.

"TADA!" Every year, Marinette hand knits sweaters for Damian and all of his pets, so they could take a cute picture. As time went on, Marinette went from cute to ugly Christmas sweaters. Damian smiled as he rolled his eyes, this year's had intricate reindeer patterns. She always surprised him, and he knew she had a secret place to make his gifts because Damian knew every nook and cranny of their apartment and searched it regularly for hints as to what his gift was.

Marinette's other gift for him was, as always, amazing and would have easily topped almost anything Damian got her- but this time he'd win.

"Marinette, you are light of my life, the reason I wake up in the morning. You are such a beautiful and determined woman, and the care you put into everything you do is part of what makes you the most terrifyingly amazing person I have ever met. Your heart is filled with such genuine kindness, compassion, and empathy that the world does not deserve you and neither do I, but I'd like to spend the rest of my life working to be worthy of your love. 'If love is a labor, I shall slave away to the end.' Would you allow me the honor of becoming your husband?" Marinette stared at Damian, his right knee on the ground with his left foot firmly on the ground as he opened the velvety black box.

There were two rings in the box, one was a simple silver band, something that wouldn't get in the way as she worked, running successful brand like hers was a lot of work. The other was a gorgeous sterling silver ring with a beautifully cut diamond in the center, it was clearly vintage. Marinette felt tears of joy sting her eyes as she tried to get her body to move, finally Marinette was able to speak her voice thick with emotion as she hugged Damian.

"Yes!" Damian couldn't believe the words that left his girlfriend- no, fiancee's lips. He was engaged to Marinette, the love of his life. Damian was spurred into action, hugging Marinette back before pushing her away so he could put the rings on her finger, the first was a simple band, the other his grandmothers. At first, Damian had purchased a new ring for Marinette but Selina and Damian's father gave him is grandmother’s engagement ring and it was perfect. Just like Marinette.

Marinette kissed Damian, the feeling of her left hand on his neck, the cool rings against his neck seemed to ground him. Damian never had to worry again, Marinette would always be with him.

Jason smiled as he saw the pure joy in his little sister's eyes, he had been wrong. Damian wouldn't be the reason Marinette's eyes would look broken, he'd be the reason they swelled with love, with contentment. There was no trace of the broken Marinette from all those years ago, she finally became the person Jason was determined to see her grow-up to be.

She was happy, and that was all that mattered.

#Daminette #Maribat #Jasonette #DamianWayne #MarinetteDupain-Cheng #JasonTodd #AU #LittleSisterAU #DC #MiraculousLadybug #miraculous fandom #Miraculous #Ladybug #Fanfic #Crossover #Robin

141 notes · View notes

louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Text

Spooky unpredictableness

31 Days of Spooktober

Day 4/31

Cassian fully believed his girlfriend was a demon.

Not in the bad sense of the thing, even though whenever he told her that she would reply by saying that there wasn’t a good sense in that. No, Cassian just believed that Nesta could not be human. There was a series of reasons to that, but the biggest one was that his girlfriend couldn’t be scared.

Haunted houses, horror movies, pranks, jump scares… Nothing drew more than a simple frown from Nesta. Cassian just knew that she could walk into Hell itself and probably scare the Devil before being scared by him.

And so obviously, Cassian spent the whole month of October trying to scare her.

He didn’t do it as much during the rest of the year, but there was something about Halloween season that just made him insanely tempted to giive Ness a good fright. She wasn’t like Feyre who hated scary pranks, or like Elain who would scream and laugh seconds later. Nests didn’t react, and so she didn’t particularly care if Cassian tried to scare her or not.

“I’ll get you this year.” Cassian said, eyes narrowed as he stared at Nesta.

She only smiled sarcastically over her coffee mug, reading the news on her phone. “You couldn’t make me gasp from surprise even if your life depended on it, sweetheart.”

Cassian jaw fell slightly, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry?”

Nesta raised her icy grey-blue eyes to him, a light-brown eyebrow raised. “We know each other for seven years. We date for four. Tell me one time you got a reaction like that from scaring or surprising me. Let’s be honest, Cass, I can’t be scared and you have become predictable. It’s ok, it’s how our relationship works.”

“I will surprise you.”

“Uh-huh.” Nesta murmured, going back to her coffee and news.

“I mean it.”

“Of course you do.” Nesta’s ironic smile only grew. “Why don’t you go to Halloween spirit buy a Michael Myers mask? You can try catching me when I’m getting out of the bathroom. No, wait, this is not very original. Haven’t you done this already too? Like three times.”

Cassian huffed, getting up from the table. “You’ll see, Nesta Archeron.”

“Want to bet?”

He, stupidly and recklessly, assented. “Yes, I actually do.”

“Very well, name your conditions.” Nesta’s face was probably hurting from her smile.

“If I make you obviously surprised, and I mean even a gasp, I win. If by the end of the month this doesn’t happen, you win. The winner can ask anything and the loser has to say yes.”

Nesta raised her eyebrows, low laughs coming out of her. “Oh, I’m in. You’re so fucked.”

He walked out of the kitchen, Nesta’s laughs following him until he closed the bedroom’s door.

He would never admit it to anyone, especially to Nesta, but she was somewhat right. It’s not that Cassian had never tried to surprise her, but Nesta was always one step ahead, always noticing stuff he thought he had hidden well. She knew him way too well, and getting anything that would be actually surprising to her was near impossible.

And then there was the fact that Nesta couldn’t be scared. It wasn’t something solely based on Cassian, but just in general. Both Feyre and Elain would always tell the rest of their friend group that Nesta was never scared, especially during Halloween when she knew things were fake. She had been a serious kid, and nothing, absolutely nothing, would even force a surprised gasp out of her.

He was dating a goddamn evil genius, and he would need to step up his game a lot if he wished ti get Nesta to at least widen her eyes.

And so Cassian paced his room all throughout breakfast time. He mentally annotated some ideas for actual scares, but nothing that he truly believed that would make Ness surprised. After thirty minutes of nothing, he sighed, throwing himself on their bed.

At least he hadn’t bet with her.

Oh, wait.

—————

Nesta adored Halloween.

People usually believed that because of her serious demeanor, she was the type of person to hate the holiday, but to be honest, since she was a kid Nesta had loved Halloween time. She liked the autumn aesthetic, the elaborated decorations, the horror movie marathons. She loved the candy sales and how everyone was minding their own fucking business and not shoving their noses of hers.

Above all, Nesta adored Halloween because it never scared her.

Since she was little she would watch slasher movies and while her sisters squirmed and screamed, she was intently watching the story. Haunted houses in amusement parks were fun because of other people’s reactions, because they also always failed to make her jumpy. Spooky prank wars with her sisters was easy because they could never scare her, but were easily scared by her.

In short, Halloween was Nesta’s holiday and she made sure to enjoy every single second of October.

It also didn’t hurt how hilarious she found her boyfriend trying to scare her every year. At this point, he had already tried everything from masks to fake insects, jump scares to fake blood. He would even sometimes run out of ideas and repeat the same prank as if she would have magically grown terrified of plastic spiders. She found his dedication both cute and funny, but also effortless. She had gone twenty four years without falling for these pranks, and it was very unlikely that things would change now.

Sometimes she thought about asking Cassian to stop doing them. It was a waste of his money, but he seemed to enjoy them so much that Nesta just couldn’t bring herself to burst his bubble. There was also a very smug part of her that thrived on always winning their unspoken Halloween matches, but she’d never say this out loud if only to maintain her cold and detached nature about these childish pranks.

All those factors together were what made her, in the following morning, taste her sugar before pouring it into her coffee.

She turned to Cassian who was sitting at the table and intently not looking at her. “Really, Cassian? Salt instead of sugar? Not even my dad would fall for that one.”

Cassian scolded, but refused to look at her. Nesta simply smiled and laughed smugly, looking around the cabinets for what was labeled salt but was actually sugar.

“You got it on a Buzzfeed article, didn’t you? I told you those things will fry your brain and it’s not like you have neurons to spare.”

His head whipped in her direction, eyes narrowed and defiant. “I will surprise you, Nesta Archeron. You’re in for a fucking ride if you think not.”

Nesta smiled coyly, letting her coffee mug on the counter as she slowly walked to Cassian. “Really?”

“Yes.” His jaw was tight, but there was something about his expression that was slightly off, that was slightly different.

Ignoring the fact that she was probably being paranoid, Nesta laughed, sitting on Cassian’s lap and putting her arms around his shoulders. He was stiff under her, something that only made her laugh once more. “Cass, our relationship is not based on surprises. As much as it pains me to say, since the beginning you understood most of me, and I understood most of you. And that was a long time ago. There isn’t any aces to play, no rabbit inside the hat. Our relationship is transparent and it’s good that it’s this way.”

“You can still surprise me.” He grumbled.

“You are easily impressionable.”

“Fuck off.” Cassian’s brood broke, and he let out a huffed chuckle. “This has not convinced me to stop, just so you know.”

Nesta jumped off his lap, smirking as she went back to grab her coffee. “I never hoped it would.”

——————

It was October 31th finally.

As much as Nesta still believed she couldn’t be surprised, Cassian sure as hell was trying. Worst was, he wasn’t trying hard, he was just trying a lot.

In the past year the pranks were elaborate and hard to build, but this time they were… classics.

Fake bugs inside your drawers, mayo instead of toothpaste, garlic inside the Oreos. The type of shit that would make you want to throw the thing away, but not really the type of stuff to frighten you. He did buy some masks and put them in random places of the house to scare her, which obviously didn’t happen. He tried to get her scared by doing jump scares after they watched a horror movie, by turning on and off the lights whenever she was alone in a room. He tried the whole mirror thing that, whenever the bathroom was too hot, the words “help” would show up in it.

It was funny and he obviously thought about it, but there was something missing. There was something that was essentially Cassian not being put into those pranks. It’s like he was actually getting his ideas from Buzzfeed, and he would definitely know that none of those things would actually surprise her.

To be honest, she was somewhat disappointed. Nesta would never say it out loud, but she liked the pranks. It was a part of her relationship with Cassian since they started dating— before even— and this year it had been… boring, predictable.

Exactly what she had said it would be.

As she padded to the kitchen on Halloween morning, Nesta wondered if Cassian was doing it on purpose because of what she had said. Wondered if he had made it purposefully predictable to make her regret her own words.

She stopped in front of the fridge, shaking her head. This wasn’t Cassian’s style, no. If he was pissed about what she had said, he would have talked to her. The one in the relationship that usually brooded and was middle vindictive was her. A lot less than she was in the beginning of the relationship, and something she was constantly working on. It wasn’t that she was a mean person, but Nesta had learned to bottle her emotions so much, had learned to treat everyone so coldly as a defense mechanism, that sometimes she would panic and those would be her initial reactions.

It was a slow process— becoming more and more the person she wished to be. A lot of it had been done because of the amazing support she had from Cassian and from her sisters, but Nesta was also proud to recognize that a lot had to do with only herself.

No, Cassian wouldn’t be cruel and do something like that. Nesta knew this because, during the years that she took to overcome her trauma and get to know herself more, she had also gotten to know Cassian more. And he was never cruel, never mean.

Nesta shook her head, clearing her head of thoughts as she opened the fridge.

She could only stare at the jar in front of her, torn between sighing or laughing. She grabbed it, turning around to look at Cassian who had just entered the kitchen. “Really, Cass?”

Cassian huffed, spreading his arms. “Not even a gasp?!”

Nesta chuckled, setting the jar down on the counter. It was big and filled with a green liquid. What was supposed to be scary was the head inside that looked a lot like Rhysand’s. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be happy if this was actually Rhys’s head.”

Cassian laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve got to let the grudge go.”

“I have!” Nesta deadpanned, examining the jar. “Most of the times, at least.”

“Well, looks like I failed.” Cassian said, and Nesta raised an eyebrow at his tone. He didn’t sound defeated, he sounded smug.

“Yes, you did.” Nesta announced, eyes narrowing at Cassian. “What the fuck are you smug about?”

His smile widened. “Nothing.”

“Fuck off, Cassian. If you honestly think I’ll let you surprise me on the last day, you’re mistaken.” Nesta rolled her eyes, turning back to the fridge to grab some grapes. “If you honestly think I’ll—“

And right there, for the first time in her entire life, Nesta found herself absolutely shocked when she turned around. A loud gasp left her mouth, the grapes she’d been holding falling to the ground and rolling all the way to where Cassian was kneeling, a complacent grin on his lips. He was holding a small black box, a simple silver band with small black diamonds on it.

“Well, well, well, Nesta Archeron. If that gasp wasn’t like fucking music to my ears.”

She placed a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Cassian…”

“If I remember our bet correctly, which I do,” he winked at her, holding the velvet black box higher. “I believe I had the right to anything I want and you have to say yes.”

Nesta let out an incredulous laugh, her head shaking. “I should have guessed that your shitty pranks weren’t because you were tired.”

Cassian threw his head back and laughed. “No, they weren’t. I thought that by making your expectations for pranks this year be lower, this whole thing would be more surprising.”

“Are you proposing to me only to win a bet, you asshole?”

Cassian grinned again, hazel eyes shining against his brown skin. “No, but you need to admit it has come in handy. I had been planning this for weeks, and then you asked if I wanted to bet I could surprise you. Honestly, you set yourself up to this. And I haven’t proposed yet, chill a little, woman.”

Nesta laughed again, eyeing Cassian. He was still wearing only the shorts he wore to bed, his shoulder-length hair a mess of curls. His face still looked slightly puffy, his usual sharp cheekbones red from happiness. Nesta guessed she wasn’t much better; she was wearing one of his white shirts, light brown hair falling down to her shoulders.

“So, are you going to ask or not? I don’t have all day.”

“So bossy, what am I getting myself into?” Cassian said ironically, but soon his face softened, smile becoming loving. “Nesta Archeron, even though you don’t have another option that it’s not a yes, would you give me the pleasure of marrying me so I can spend the rest of my Halloweens trying to scare you?”

Nesta chuckled merrily, nodding. “Yes, and even if I wasn’t forced to say yes because of this bet, I would have said it nonetheless.”

Cassian got up, immediately sliding the ring into Nesta’s finger, his other hand sneaking around her waist. He pulled her against him, a huge smile overtaking his mouth as he pressed his lips to hers. “I know you would. You’re not that unpredictable either, sweetheart.”

A/N: Oh, hello Nessian, it’s been a while... I had this idea during September and didn’t know who to give it to, but I realized today how good it fits what I imagine the Nessian long term relationship would look like! Hope you guys like it and about the kinktober: I know it was supposed to be Sunday but I was procrastinating so it’s gonna be here around 3 AM probs

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sayosdreams @justgiu12

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writingblock101 · 4 years

Text

Old Memories (Jason Todd x Reader)

Request for anonymous: “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” and “You’re proud of me?”

I hit 700 followers? Holy shit? Thank you! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,000 words

Warnings: Gore, violence

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish, @mayahoelland2013

Red Hood grimaces under his helmet at the sound of the familiar, maniacal laughter. His hands tighten into fists as his skin burns with the heat of a bomb and stings from the blows of a crowbar. Keep breathing. You’re not in Ethiopia. His fingers ghost over the word “HA!” carved repeatedly into skin that isn’t his. The memory makes Red Hood’s stomach boil with rage.

His hands brush over one of his guns strapped to his thighs. The heavy metal brings him comfort, knowing he’s not a scared kid, beaten and chained to the ground in an abandoned warehouse. He’s highly trained and heavily armed with a chip in his shoulder. While Red Hood may have agreed to not kill in Gotham, he’s certainly going to deliver some pain to the Joker.

“Help patrol Gotham, they said,” Red Hood mutters to himself. “B would appreciate it so much, they said.”

“You good, Wing?” Nightwing asks over the comms.

“Peachy,” Red Hood growls, his teeth grinding at the sound of the laughter again. “Where the fuck is this crazy son of a bitch?”

“Dunno. The upstairs classrooms are clear.”

Red Hood grumbles under his breath as he checks an empty kindergarten classroom. While he’s happy Joker decided to hole up in a school at night when there weren’t any kids present, there are about twenty million different ways he’d rather be spending his evening than hunting for the Joker with Nightwing and all of them include you.

You and Dick, of course, were the ones who talked him into helping patrol Gotham. With Batman and Robin on bed rest after getting caught in an explosion and Red Robin abroad, that left Nightwing and Red Hood to make sure Gotham didn’t go to hell. And of course, just with Red Hood’s luck, Joker decided tonight was a beautiful night to break out of Arkham.

“I hate this fucking city,” Red Hood grumbles.

“Clearly not that much ‘cause you never left,” Nightwing quips back.

“Yeah, well, sorry for not fucking off to a completely different city because B pissed me off,” Red Hood snaps.

“We’re not all dramatic enough to die instead.”

Red Hood grins under his helmet, glad that his siblings are finally catching on to how much fun it is to make death jokes.

The intercom crackles to life, Red Hood’s grin melting off his face.

“Looks like old Batsy seems to think he’s too good for my games,” The Joker sighs. “Instead, he sent me Old Boy Wonder and the Defective,” He laughs loudly. “I’m sure we’ll still have some fun!”

Red Hood grinds his teeth, but finishes checking the last classroom.

“Downstairs is clear, anything upstairs?”

“All clear,” Nightwing confirms. “That just leaves the gym.”

“Great,” Red Hood sighs. “Meet in the west stairwell.”

Nightwing swings around the railing, dropping onto the floor next to Red Hood. Show off.

“Shall we?” He asks.

Red Hood grumbles but follows Nightwing out the stairwell and toward the large gym. Red Hood shoves open the door to be immediately met by gunfire near his head. He curses, ducking left while Nightwing sprints right.

“Hiya, boys!” Joker exclaims, firing another round of bullets into the wall above the bleaches Red Hood is hiding under. “I thought you two would never find me!”

“I’d rather find you in a cell in Arkham!” Nightwing yells from opposite bleachers.

“Arkham?!” Joker sounds deeply offended. “Boy Wonder, when did you turn into such a party pooper?”

“You want an alphabetized list?” Nightwing growls then his escrima sticks crackle to life with electricity and he leaps out of his hiding place, hitting a nearby goon in the face.

Red Hood takes that as his cue and comes out shooting. They make quick work of the goons, sending the Joker sprinting toward the back of the gym.

“This party isn’t over yet!” He exclaims, pulling out a different, strange-looking gun.

“What the…” Red Hood frowns at the toy looking weapon then Joker points it at him and fires. “Shit!” Red Hood exclaims, rolling out of the way from a dart that’s sticking into the floor.

Joker fires again, this time hitting Red Hood in the shoulder. He curses, yanking the dart out, but feels strange. Joker laughs again.

“I hope you like my new concoction!” He exclaims.

Jason feels the room spin around him for a moment, a floating feeling rushing throughout his body. A giggle builds in his stomach then comes tumbling out of his lips. Another follows, spilling like bubbles out of Jason’s mouth. Bubbles, that’s funny. He laughs more, the idea of bubbles coming out of his mouth seeming hilarious.

He looks down at his chest, expecting to see bubbles. Huh. He’s on the ground now. Isn’t that funny? Jason thinks so.

He looks down at his chest, wanting to find the bubbles. Maybe they’re a pretty color! Wouldn’t that be funny? Bright green and purple bubbles spilling out of Jason’s mouth. That would be hilarious!

Jason laughs more, tilting his head to see the bubbles, but he doesn’t see bubbles. Dark red blood gurgles down his chest, oozing from his split open stomach. Those aren’t green and purple bubbles. More blood gushes out of his stomach as Jason laughs harder. Blood? He’s bleeding? When did he start bleeding? He needs to stop the bleeding, but he keeps laughing. What is so funny? Jason isn’t sure, but he keeps laughing.

Deep cuts on his arms begin dripping with blood. HA! HA! HA! HA! carves itself into his skin. Jason laughs harder, feeling tears rush down his face. He hears the smack of a crowbar against skin, the ticking of a clock, the smell of gunpowder. He feels the burn of an explosion, a sheen of sickly green covers his eyes. It bubbles around him, forcing his skin back together.

“Jason?” You stand in front of him, blood spurting from your slit throat. “Why did you do this to me?”

It’s not funny, but Jason can’t stop laughing.

“Why did you do this to me?” You hiss, more blood spurting from your throat.

As blood dribbles from your throat, it catches the scars on your arms. HA! HA! HA!

“You did this!” You scream. “Jason! You did this! Jason! Jason! JASON!”

“Jason!” Nightwing exclaims.

Jason jerks awake with a gasp. He shoves Nightwing away from him and rips his helmet off, breathing heavily. His hand flies to his chest to find it perfectly dry. He isn’t bleeding, you’re not here. He’s on the ground in the gym. The Joker is tied up and unconscious. Isn’t that funny?

A familiar, maniacal laugh escapes Jason’s lips. His eyes widen at the realization.

“Hey,” Nightwing puts a grounding hand on Jason’s shoulder. “It’s okay, breathe through it. We have the antidote, let’s just go to the Cave--”

“No,” Jason cuts him off. “I’m not going to the Cave,” He giggles at the thought of bats, his anger quickly flushing away.

Nightwing sighs, probably not surprised by Jason’s resistance.

“Okay, fine. I can go to the Cave. Do you want me to take you back to your apartment?”

“No!” Jason laughs again, his chest tightening at the familiar laughter. He feels a crowbar smack his skin. His hands go to his hair, tugging. There’s no crowbar. Another laugh spills past his lips. “I can’t,” Jason manages as another laugh forces its way out. He tugs harder on his hair. “I can’t do that to Y/N… Not when I’m like this.” He laughs again.

Dick frowns, squeezing Jason’s shoulder.

“Okay, Jase, just breathe. You’re okay.”

Jason nods shakily, his heart rate speeding up with each laugh.

“My apartment is too far…” Nightwing frowns.

“I have a spare key to Tim’s apartment,” Jason giggles, his fingers tightening in his hair at the sound.

Nightwing narrows his eyes.

“Does Tim know this?”

Jason rolls his eyes.

“He’s the one that gave it to me, birdbrain,” The usual bite is wrecked by another maniacal laugh.

“Okay,” Nightwing helps Jason to his feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

. . .

It’s not just Joker Venom. Dick curses under his breath. It never is easy with Joker, is it? He looks over at his brother on the couch. The crazed grin has forced its way onto Jason’s face as more and more maniacal laughter forces its way out.

With each giggle, Jason’s nails dig into his hair. Luckily, Dick was able to get Jason out of his gear, but the sight on Tim’s couch was truly heartbreaking.

Jason is hunched over, curled in a protective position Dick guesses Jason used a lot before meeting Bruce. His hands are knotted into his hair, tightening with each giggle. His eyes are squeezed shut, tears streaming down his face through the laughter.

“No, stop!” He begs. He murmurs something low and panicked that Dick doesn’t catch. “Stop! Leave Y/N alone!”

Dick clenches his fist, his chest tightening at hearing Jason say your name again. If he had to guess, Joker laced his Venom with Fear Toxin. Because Joker Venom wasn’t already hellish enough.

Jason whimpers again, curling tighter on himself. Dick needs the antidote. This isn’t the first time Joker has combined his Venom with Fear Toxin so making the antidote won’t take long, but Dick can’t bear to leave Jason alone.

Kori is off-world, Roy is on the other side of the country, Bruce and Damian are the absolute last people Jason wants to see… Kyle is off-world, as is Donna, Tim is in Europe, Cass is in Hong Kong with Steph, Babs is helping the Birds of Prey with a mission, and Dick doesn’t have a single clue about how to get in touch with Jason’s friend, Artemis. While Dick understands why Jason doesn’t want you anywhere near him, Dick doesn’t want Jason left alone for any period of time… Which leaves you as his only option.

Dick sighs and fishes out his phone.

. . .

You stand outside Tim’s apartment, staring at the door. Dick gave you the full rundown. Jason has been hit with a mixture of Fear Toxin and Joker Venom, giving him terrifying hallucinations while laughing like the man who murdered him.

The sound of maniacal laughter, muffled by the door, sends chills down your spine. Your arms burn where the words HA! HA! HA! HA! are carved. The sound of screams echo distantly in your ears.

Although it has been years since you were trapped in that 3rd-grade classroom with that deranged clown while watching him carve into your classmates’ bodies, the memories still haunt you constantly. Some kids got Glasgow smiles carved onto their faces. Others got the Joker’s name carved across their chest. You got his laughter carved down your arms. Years of therapy is the only reason you can stand in front of this door without running.

Another laugh fills your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the sting of the cuts running down your arm, but you pause, taking a deep breath. Although the laugh sounds dangerously close to the Joker’s, underneath the high pitch noise you can hear Jason’s low timbre. He is in there, forced to be producing the last sounds he heard as a scared, beaten sixteen-year-old, and you’re not going to let him suffer alone.

You knock on the door.

Dick opens the door, looking a bit disheveled. He’s still in his Nightwing costume, mask and all, but judging by his messy hair, he’s been tugging on it and running his fingers through it, a nervous habit you’ve noticed most of the family doing.

“Hey,” He pulls you inside quickly. “I’m sorry to drag you into this--”

“I’m glad you called me,” You cut him off. A familiar laugh interrupts you, causing you to tense.

Dick frowns, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder.

“Hey, just breathe. You’re not there. You’re in Tim’s apartment.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nodding along with Dick.

“I’m okay,” You promise.

“Y/N?” Jason says quietly.

You break away from Dick and slowly approach Jason on the couch. He looks exhausted and terrified, dried tear tracks on his face along with the frozen, crazed smile.

“Hey, Jaybird,” You begin quietly. “You okay?”

“You’re...You’re not real…” Jason slowly backs away from you, curling against the couch’s opposite arm with a giggle.

“No, Jay, I’m here. I’m real,” You reach out to run your fingers through his hair.

He sighs, melting into the touch for a moment, then a deranged giggle forces its way out of Jason’s mouth. Your hand tenses slightly in his hair. It’s not Joker. This is Jason. Joker isn’t here. It’s just Jason. He would never hurt you.

Jason notices your sudden stiffness and slips away from your touch.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Anger tries to overtake his features, but the fixed smile makes Jason look even more demented. He glares at Dick. “I told you not to call! What the hell?!” He laughs loudly, his hands closing into tight fists.

“I didn’t want to leave you here alone and Y/N was the closest person,” Dick explains calmly.

“I would be fine!” Jason protests, another laugh forcing its way out.

“No, you wouldn’t be,” Dick responds tightly. “I have been watching you lose your shit on the couch for the past twenty minutes! I need to go make you the antidote.”

“I’ve survived worse!” Jason protests with a loud, maniacal laugh. “I’m already living through hell, I didn’t want someone else to be dragged in!”

Your face softens.

“Jay,” You reach out to touch his arm, but he jerks away from you.

“No!” He protests loudly with another laugh. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Tears form in his eyes. “I don’t want to… to turn into him.”

“Jase,” Dick frowns. “You’re nothing like the Joker. You’ll never be the Joker.”

“You… You don’t get it!” Jason yells with a laugh.

Dick opens his mouth to say something else, but you interrupt before he can.

“Dick. Go to the Manor, I’ll stay here,” You order.

Dick shoots a worried glance at Jason but nods and walks out of the room. You turn your attention back to Jason.

“Jay,” You cradle his face, wiping your thumbs under his eyes. “You’re not the Joker. You never will be.”

“I know, but I didn’t… I didn’t want you to see me when I sounded like this,” Jason giggles again, your shoulders tensing for a moment. “See! I know you’re scared of me! I never want you to feel like that around me!”

“I’m not scared of you,” You tell him sharply. “I know you would never do anything to hurt me. Yes, the laugh brings back some bad memories, but you don’t bring back those bad memories. You help me replace them with something better.”

Jason’s eyes squeeze shut for a moment, his hands coming up to hold your wrists.

“I saw myself standing over you so many times. You were bleeding and I was holding the knife,” He pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I saw myself hurting you,” He giggles, his hands momentarily tightening on your wrists at the sound.

“Jay, have you ever had any desire to ever hurt me?” You ask.

Jason’s eyes fly open.

“No!” He quickly says.

“Then what makes you think you’re suddenly going to start now?”

Jason says nothing, looking down at the floor. You move a hand to his chin, forcing him to look at you.

“I’m proud of you,” You tell him.

His eyebrows furrow with a crazed laugh. Both of you tense for a moment.

“You’re proud of me?” He asks hesitantly.

“Every day,” You tell him. “You never cease to amaze me. You’ve experienced the worst of the world, but still put yourself in danger to help others. You have so many reasons to be angry, but you still find some way to love everyone around you. Tonight, you faced off against a man who has hurt you and so many people that you love. He tried to break you, turn you into what you hate, but you are still standing here strong. I am proud of you.”

Tears freely flow down Jason’s face then he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you close to his chest.

“I’ll never hurt you,” He promises into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know,” You whisper back, despite the giggle that escapes him.

. . .

By the time Dick makes it back to the apartment, you had coaxed Jason on the couch where he was fast asleep against your chest. You idly run your fingers through his hair, whispering words of reassurance to him when his body goes tense from nightmares.

Dick holds up a syringe.

“How is he?” Dick asks.

You shrug, glancing down at Jason fondly.

“About as good as he can be, given the circumstances,” You look at the syringe. “Antidote?” You ask.

“Yep,” Dick nods. “Let’s wake him up.”

“Jay,” You whisper to him, running your fingers down his back. “I need you to wake up.”

Jason jerks awake, looking frantically around the room for a moment, but your hand in his hair directs his attention to you.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask quietly. “We’re in Tim’s apartment.”

Jason nods with a giggle.

“Dick got the antidote.”

“Thank God,” Jason groans, rolling his sleeve up.

Once Dick injects Jason with the antidote, you two move to Tim’s bedroom for the night. The smile is finally starting to fade from Jason’s face.

He collapses onto the bed and pulls down you with him, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“Thank you,” He murmurs into your hair. “I love you.”

You tilt your head up and give him a sweet kiss.

“I love you too,” You whisper back, making Jason hold you tighter.

Everything is okay.

Thank you guys so much for being patient! My parents are currently moving, I am transferring colleges, starting my summer job and trying to sort out summer classes. Those other request are coming up! I’m really excited to write the next one!

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #joker #panic attacks?#gore #tw: gore #violence #tw: violence #dc #batman #dc fanfiction #reader insert #request #dc request

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jemej3m · 4 years

Text

ghosts

this was unprompted but i dont care. all yall want is the wedding and i need an angst pallet cleanser before i can keep going with that. it’s so soft and sweet. blurgh, gross ;D

anyway!

remember in the first part, when neil said that drake spear’s case would forever remain unsolved?

yeah. this is that.

trigger warnings: implied/referenced sexual assault, i/r torture, i/r csa, i/r self harm/suicide attempts, i/r murder

(normal pre-marital problems, i assume)

Neil traversed their kitchen as he threw together a curry Renee had recommended, whistling very poorly with the TV on in the background. An Exy game was always playing, much to Andrew’s dismay.

They’d been living together for about a year and a half, and engaged for nearly a week now. Neil thought he couldn’t possibly get any happier, which was odd and unfamiliar in his tragic life. As he rinsed the starch off the rice and threw it into the rice cooker (gifted to him by Allison because once he’d served her undercooked, burnt rice and she’d never forgiven him since) he heard the front door unlock and twist open, the familiar shuffle of his fiancé arriving home making Neil smile.

That sentiment was lost when he turned around to greet him.

“Andrew,” Neil managed, watching Andrew fall onto the couch. He looked at the television, eyes so distant that they couldn’t register Neil even as he crouched down in front of him. “Andrew?”

His hands were shaking, curled into fists by his sides. Neil had never seen his skin so pale and lifeless.

“Andrew,” he continued. “Can i sit next to you?” When he didn’t answer, Neil slowly moved to sit on the couch, giving him enough time to shove him back. Neil kept at least a centimetre between them at every point.

“I’m making dinner,” he said, trying to think of something mundane to draw him out of his head. “Curry, one of Renee’s. You said you tried it and liked it. It has lamb, and I've snuck in some peas, but the sauce tastes good enough that we should be able to ignore them.” His fists relaxed slightly, the longer Neil talked. “You remember that cat shelter that I said was a front? Well, it’s still a cat shelter. Maybe we could check it out, see if there are any hairless ones. I know you like the hairless ones.”

Andrew reached out for Neil’s hand and closed his eyes. His thumb traced the scars on Neil’s skin. The pattern was familiar and comforting for Andrew: Neil sighed with relief.

“I’ve got those off-brand icecream sticks you love,” Neil continued, leaning in closer. “There was only one box left that weren’t those coconut-raspberry ones. Pure chocolate, just for you. Maybe we could dip them in sprinkles.”

Andrew hummed softly.

“Hey,” Neil said under his breath, leaning closer. He never asked if Andrew was okay, if he was alright, how his day went: not when he was like this. Asking a question meant requiring an answer, and providing a template meant forcing a restricted response. Andrew didn’t need to give Neil falsities. They were past that.

“Drake is being let out on parole.”

Drake fucking Spear.

Andrew told Neil the story a year into dating. He was in college, with his cousin and his brother. They’d moved to South Carolina, lived under Betsy’s roof as a reprieve from their biological family, and then congregated at their local college. All was fine until Andrew’s foster-home past caught up with him, the last time they’d gone to visit Nicky’s mother and father.

Drake had been waiting for Andrew in Nicky’s old bedroom. It was safe to say that when Nicky and Aaron found them, it wasn’t pretty. Andrew had intentionally fucked with his biological mother’s car when he figured out she was treating Aaron like shit: in return, Aaron had wrenched Drake (a marine seal) off his brother and kicked the life out of him.

Only he didn’t die. He went to jail. Aaron went to trail and claimed self-defence on his brother’s behalf. Everything was meant to be fine.

Eight years later, Andrew was here, sitting on the couch as he reminisced upon horrid memory after horrid memory, knowing that his old demon was loose once more.

“I’ll kill him.” Neil murmured.

Andrew finally looked at him. “Neil.”

He looked up. “I would kill him a thousand times over, Andrew.”

Andrew said nothing, his head falling to rest on Neil’s shoulder. By the amount of tension coiled in Andrew’s shoulders, he must have been holding this in all day.

Neil set his jaw, unwillingly to lie to himself. He was going to commit a self-serving, premeditated murder.

His father would be so proud.

When it finally happened, Andrew was coming home from dinner at Nicky and Erik’s. Neil was still working, somewhere in the depths of the city, but it was fine. Andrew had been able to distract himself from the weight pressing on his shoulders for a few hours with his cousin.

A whole month since Drake - no, Spear - had been out on parole, and Andrew hadn’t heard a peep. For a while Andrew had thought that perhaps Spear would go to Aaron instead, the man who’d bashed him but not good enough to avoid jail, but Aaron had heard nothing. Chicago was way too far from South Carolina, where he’d been held for his crimes.

But Baltimore wasn’t.

He unlocked his front door and felt the way it was loose, too loose, observing the scratches on the bolt’s screws. Andrew grit his teeth, pulling out the knife from his armband and wishing he’d brought home his gun, to swing the door open.

As expected, the apartment was dark. But not empty.

“Evening, AJ.”

“Isn’t this dramatic,” Andrew insisted, though his insides were twisted with fear. Don’t lock up. Don’t lock up. Don’t -

“I was waiting for you. I’ve missed you.”

Andrew punched the lightswitch hard enough for the wall to buckle: it held, and instead revealed something worse than Drake and his sneer.

Neil was bound to a dining chair with cuffs Andrew kept, just in case, a tie around his mouth. He looked incredibly woozy. Andrew wanted so desperately to go to him, but Spear himself was sat on the arm of their new couch, elbows braced on his knees. Andrew hated his slick grin and his knowing smile and his soulless fucking eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d almost killed himself over this man, thinking at least he would die knowing what a mother’s love felt like.

A mother’s love shouldn’t have cost Andrew a thing, let alone nearly everything. Those scars on his arms were warped with time and a long journey to healing, and Drake wasn’t going to take that away from him again.

“You learned a few tricks in prison,” Andrew acknowledged.

“You snatched yourself a husband-to-be,” Drake sneered. “How cute. I knew you’d liked it all along.”

Andrew’s hand twitched. “You’re in violation of your parole, Drake. I’m going to arrest you.”

“You’re a cop?” Drake spat out a laugh. It was guttural and wrong. Neil winced. “Well, ain’t that just funny.”

“Funny how I, the boy who’d had nothing and was still taken from, ended up with a fulfilling life, finding family and friends and a purposeful occupation, whilst you, a boy who’d had everything and more, took your life for granted and ended up in the slammer for eight years, with more to come? Hilarious. I agree.”

“I should’ve crushed your skull eight years ago,” Drake laughed. “No matter: I’ll make up for it now.”

Neil met Andrew’s eyes as his hands fiddled with the cuffs. Keep talking.

“Why, Drake?” Andrew’s voice cracked. “You had Cass. School. Friends. Everyone liked you. What drove you to ruin your own life?”

“I did have everything I could’ve ever needed,” he said, teeth oily as he grinned. “But what I wanted was something I couldn’t have. Till it occurred to me that I didn’t need to have it. I just needed to take it.” He sneered, putting his hands to the arm of the couch as he readied to stand. “Did it hurt you, little AJ? Because I hope it did. I always liked it best when you bled -”

“Then I’ll make sure that you get what you’re owed, Drake Spear,” Neil said softly, balancing his knife between his fingertips. Its blade rested against Drake’s throat, Neil free of his cuffs and gag.

The man froze.

“Best practise is putting things away after you use them,” Neil advised, lifting a cloth to Drake’s mouth and nose. The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he slumped over, falling to the ground with a heavy thud.

Andrew sucked in a gasp of air, watching as Neil cuffed the man’s wrists behind his back and stood with a boot pressed to his neck, should he wake up.

From under the couch, Neil drew out a large tarp and his knives. Andrew closed his eyes momentarily. By the time he’d opened them, the coffee table had been flipped as a make-shift torture device, the tarp covering the carpet beneath. Neil was testing the sharpness of his cleaver against the tip of his finger: satisfied, he turned around to look at Andrew. “Help me roll him?”

Andrew looked at the man, hollowed out. “I was going to take him in.“

“What good is that?” Neil demanded, throwing the cleaver back into his pile. “He’ll go back to jail for another four to six months for violation of his parole, unless he tries to -” Neil screwed his eyes shut. “No. No, I won’t let him touch you again. And if you suggest some sort of self-sacrificing bullshit to have him locked up for good, I won’t buy it.”

“He won’t get out on parole again -”

“That is not worth a fifteen year sentence that he’ll worm his way out of again, letting the cycle will just repeat itself. No, Andrew. He is never going to touch you again. He will never look at you again.” His fists shook with a quiet fury. “I won’t let it happen.”

“Neil,” Andrew stepped forward. “You need to let me do my job.”

His fiancé brandished a knife from god-knows-where. “You need to let me do mine! Leave if you must. If your morals put you above killing a horrid man to keep my family safe, then go. But this man is not leaving here alive and whole. I am not letting the man I love subject himself to ruination via an old demon.” He finally looked Andrew in the eye. “Not if I can help it.”

Neil bent over to drag Drake’s unconscious body over to where he needed it, locking his ankles and wrists to the four metal legs of their coffee table. The chloroform wasn’t strong enough to keep him asleep for long, but it didn’t matter. He was secure and doomed by the time he blinked his eyes open.

Andrew watched Neil spin a knife between his fingers.

“Wh - “ Drake coughed. “What? What happened?”

“Not much,” Neil said, lightly. “You merely threatened to maim and kill the man I love, right in front of me.” His smile was the most frightening thing about him. “I don’t like that.”

“No,” Drake struggled against his restraints. “No!”

“For now, I’ll shove this in there,” Neil said, grabbing the tie. “But later I’ll be sure to sever your vocal chords, so you can try and fail to scream, just like you tried to keep him quiet for years. No gag required. Neat, right?”

“AJ,” Drake panted. “Andrew, get this psycho away from me. AJ -!”

Neil shoved the tie into Drake’s mouth. “No. Stop looking at him. Look at me. I’m your biggest problem right now, aren’t I?”

“I’m going to the study,” Andrew muttered, lightheaded. Neil glanced up at him, so he nodded, so minutely that anyone but Neil would’ve missed it.

Neil’s expression softened slightly around the eyes as clear understanding passed between them, bright as day.

Thank you for doing what I couldn’t, Andrew said.

Thank you for letting me, Neil returned.

With a deep breath, Andrew turned away to put the kettle on as Neil got to work.

WOW okay. twiiiiiisted. i did promise that this would all be fluffy and nice, didn’t I? well, oops.

i hate drake enough to feel that its warranted tho. srry not srry.

back to your regularly scheduled program a-next time!

#andreil #mobster/cop au #dark #murder #torture #you know #fun stuff #all for the game #butcher!neil #cop!andrew #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #drake spear #tw: discussions of rape #tw: csa #BIG warnings yall #jem writes

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buns-with-a-book · 4 years

Text

Deflowered

A sequel to Flowers of White, completely spicy. So much spice. Includes SDT spice.

There’s two poems in this fic. The second one was written by furyeclipse

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC/Vergil, Dante Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz

Summary: Vergil despises the scent of another man, of Draco, on the person he considers his. The scent infuriates him, enough to make him act on more base desires.

Days after they crashed her ‘wedding’, he can still smell him on her.

His demonic blood gave him heightened senses, hearing and smell and speed. It usually was a blessing but, in this moment, it was a curse. He can smell that scum, the scent of silver and sage and too-expensive cologne, still lingering around her. A part of him, a deep base beast that he sometimes wishes would just quiet down, snarls every time she passed by him before promptly filling him with shame for snarling at her when the whole affair was no fault of her own.

How dare Draco, a pathetic excuse of a man who had shown nothing but disapproval and dismissal, believe himself worthy of Cassandra? Cassandra was nothing short of extraordinary, the blood of a warrior-saint in her veins. A part of him was always in awe of how she maneuvered herself on the battlefield, brave and bold and unafraid of the demons they faced. That fool would never know the joy that burned in those deep green eyes of hers when they got paid for exterminating demons, the determination when they clashed in the training room, the way they sparkled with amusement at whatever foolery Dante got into. Draco would never know that and he was certain he didn’t care.

Cassandra was far more than just her ancestor, far more than just the daughter of a warrior-saint. She was a queen. A queen that Draco would never respect, would never appreciate, never be worthy of. (And, if he was honest with himself, he wondered if he himself was worthy of her as well).

“Verge? Earth to Verge?”

Vergil blinked, seeing Dante’s hand waving in front of his face. He was sitting on the couch in Devil May Cry, the setting sun casting long shadows across the shop. Dante was hovering next to him, a curious but playful smile on his face.

“Dante, I’m right here.” Vergil slapped his brother’s hand away from his face.

“Yeah, sure you were.” He smiled and sat down, the couch dipping as he settled next to his twin. “I know that look of yours when you’re thinking really hard. What’s stewin?”

“The best way to get rid of you.” Vergil replied dryly, a spectral sword appearing by his will and pointed at Dante. Dante laughed, of course he would laugh.

“Nah, I feel like trying my luck.”

“Your very horrible luck, you mean.” Vergil raised an eyebrow. Despite his mild irritation, it wasn’t enough to skewer him yet. “I believe even Lady can attest to how rotten it can be.”

“I can be lucky every once in a while!”

“Like a broken clock can be right twice a day.” Vergil snapped his book shut, finally admitting defeat. “I’m...afraid my mind still wanders back to the day we crashed Draco’s wedding. I can still smell him and it infuriates me, like an unwelcome stench that refuses to leave.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Dante hummed. “You two should go on a date.” Vergil could feel heat rising in his cheeks.

“A...date?”

“Yeah! Get your mind off the whole wedding shit.” Dante waved his hand. Vergil closed his eyes in thought.

“Perhaps star-gazing. It’s nice and relaxing, a reprieve we need from...that event.” Even mentioning it left a foul taste in his mouth, Vergil thought with a scowl. Dante let out a soft chuckle, seemingly unaware of Vergil’s inner turmoil...but Vergil noticed the mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“Well, there’s this nice forest outside of Red Grave. You can hike to the top and maybe get some ac- OOF!” Vergil promptly whacked him upside the head. “OW! Jeez, I’m trying to help...”

“Your idea of help is not actually help.”

“Look, I know what’s going on with you. You’re pissy another dude touched Cass when that’s your job. God Verge, you’re so easy to read when you’re angry.” Dante crossed his arms. Vergil just stared at him, not sure what to say. On one hand, Dante wasn’t wrong: the thought of Draco touching Cassandra in any capacity infuriated him to no end. On the other hand...did he have to say it so brazenly?! It always infuriated him that Dante had no shame. While Cassandra was more than willing to encourage him in his shamelessness (because she found it hilarious when that very shamelessness got him in trouble), Vergil had to draw the line somewhere.

“...if she consents.” Vergil said, standing up stiffly. “I will ask about...a date.”

“If you don’t run away from being awk-” And that was when the sword slammed down into the floor, barely missing Dante’s knee. “Hey!” Vergil ignored his exclamation as he made his way into the kitchen, where he saw Cassandra enter. Sliding his book into his jacket, he entered the kitchen to see Cassandra hard at work. A savory scent wafted through the kitchen as Cassandra stirred up waffle batter for baking. Aside her stirring bowl was cheese, tomato sauce, and herbs. He smirked, knowing that tonight’s dinner was pizza waffles.

“Hi Vergil.” Cassandra said quickly. “What do you need? As long as it’s not pestering me to finish up din-”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Vergil shook his head, earning a confused noise from her. “I would like to know if you would like to go on a date with me.”

“You sound like you’re trying to ask me out for the first time.” Cassandra said with a soft chuckle. Before he could object, she continued. “I’d love to go on a date. A nice simple date, maybe we can go stargazing on the roof.”

“On the roof of Devil May Cry?” He asked.

“Not in the mood to go anywhere for a bit. If we can stay home, I’d go for it.” A part of him, that hungry beast inside him, purred appreciatively at the idea. He watched her work on dinner.

“As you wish.” A faint smile crept on his face as he watched her work. It seemed like that little affair was nothing more than a bad memory, a memory that was rapidly fading. As she poured the finished batter into the waffle-maker, Vergil’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned against the doorframe. The sound of her making dinner was...surprisingly soothing. The fact that he could indulge in domestic scenarios like this was a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. He could only barely remember the last time he was this peaceful, the feeling of contentment with his life being foreign to him. If he had to recall, it would be back in his childhood, before the attack that changed his fate forever. But now, he had that...peace in his life. Reunited with his brother, slowly bonding over the son he only recently found out existed, and with a woman who cared about Nero just as much as he did (but more openly. Vergil being open with his emotions remained a struggle that he tried hard to work through), he was just...happy.

He opened his eyes, watching as Cassandra finished with the waffles. She drizzled tomato sauce, cheese, and basil all over them. Setting the plate on the table, she walked past him. His nose caught her scent, of herbs and morning mist and too-expensive colog-

No. That was Draco. The beast roiled at the scent. He flinched, thankful that Cassandra wasn’t nearby to notice it.

“Dante! Dinner!” She called before slipping back into the kitchen, followed by Dante padding his way after her call. He rounded around Vergil, pausing next to his brother.

“Did you ask her out?” He asked, ice blue eyes glimmering mischievously.

“Yes.”

“Did she say yes?”

“Of course I did Dante.” Cassandra huffed. “We’re gonna go stargazing on the roof of Devil May Cry in the future.”

“How romantic.” Dante hummed. “I mean, aside from the whole ‘sitting on the roof’-”

“I’m sure it’ll be romantic somehow. Vergil’s very good at reciting poetry.” Cassandra said as she prepared a second plate of pizza waffles. She ignored the sound of Dante gagging. “Yeah yeah, you keep gagging all you want mister ‘has rotten luck with the ladies’.”

“Ow!” Dante whined. “That huuurts.”

“It hurts because it’s true.” Vergil added.

“Beating up on your own brother…” He sighed in mock defeat. “You two are mean.”

“That’s our job.” Cassandra winked at Dante before handing Vergil the plate of pizza waffles. Vergil took the plate and the fork Cassandra offered before sitting down next to Dante. Cassandra made one last plate of pizza waffles for herself, humming softly as the waffle-maker did it’s work. Vergil closed his eyes, quietly eating what she had served. He remembered the first time she made this meal, and how quickly he made his distaste known until he actually tried it. It was this very dish that made him only occasionally question what Cassandra made (most of the time, as he had come to understand it, some of her more stranger options was just to get Dante to eat more than just pizza and sundaes).

His mind moved away from that memory, to that promised date. If the devil within decided to behave, perhaps it would be just a gentle and loving affair, as she deserved after such tribulation. But it all hinged on if the devil inside him behaved. And if even the slightest hint of that scum’s scent sent it into a huffy rage…

He wasn’t too sure how he would deal with that.

---

The skies of Red Grave City were clear, the summer stars shining brightly above them. As most of Red Grave had been ripped apart, the light pollution was not as strong as it used to be, providing one with a clear view of the stars above. Normally, every reminder of the destruction of the city stung Vergil’s heart with guilt, even if he wasn’t in the right mind when he did stab himself with Yamato.

It was here, on the roof of Devil May Cry, that Vergil found Cassandra. In his hand were three books of poetry, one of Shakespearean Sonnets, his prized book of Blake, and a small notebook he kept in his coat pocket. Cassandra had given it to him on his birthday (a day he usually forgot). He had taken that notebook and tried his own hand at poetry. It’s quality was...questionable but, according to Nero, it was passable. Cassandra was busy smoothing out a large plush blanket on the floor of the roof. Not too far away was a basket, full of sweet and savory snacks to pass the time. Very faintly, in the far distance, he swore he heard a piano playing. Returning his gaze to Cassandra, her attire was a simple deep blue dress, the thin linen fluttering with her movements.

He was right, he thought with a soft smirk. Blue did look good on her.

“Vergil, I can feel you staring.” Her words, accented with a tease, made his heart jump. He hid his brief surprise as he strode to her, sitting down on the blanket next to her. She smiled to him, laying herself down on the soft blanket. Vergil shed his coat, setting it next to the blasket of food. He set the books down on his coat. She laid down on the blanket, Vergil settling himself next to her as he took out his book of Shakespearean sonnets.

“Shakespear?” She asked, staring at the beautifully decorated book curiously.

“Why not?” He asked in turn. Cassandra laughed.

“You got me there, Mr. Poetry.” She pecked his cheek before laying down. Vergil settled down next to her and opened the book, flipping through the sonnets until he found an acceptable one. With that, he began to read.

Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest; But yet be blam'd, if thou thyself deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, Although thou steal thee all my poverty; And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury. Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, Kill me with spites, yet we must not be foes.

Cassandra hummed thoughtfully as he finished reading. “That’s not 18, is it?”

“No. Too overdone. This one is his fortieth sonnet.” Vergil explained.

“Hm. 18 is a classic for a reason.” She hummed.

“Every man woos their lover with 18.” He countered. “But you are no ordinary woman, Cassandra.”

“I’m the only one that’s knocked you on your ass.” She said proudly, earning a chuckle from him.

“I believe that was because you pulled a cheap tactic on me.”

“That was one time Vergil!” Cassandra playfully whacked his shoulder. Vergil sat up, placing the book of Shakespere away. His hand took his small notebook, to which Cassandra raised an eyebrow at. “What’s that for?”

“...I’ve been practicing poetry myself.” He admitted, flipping through the pages. “It’s a hobby I’ve been working on when I am not busy.”

“Aww…” She smiled, retaking her place at his side. She rest her head on his shoulder. “Which one are you going to read?”

“Reclaim. My 78th poem.”

“78!? You either have a lot of downtime or you have a lot of ideas to immortalize in poetic form.”

“A little of both.” He smiled at her surprise. “Shall I begin?”

“Yes, please.” She rested a hand on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting on her back, and began to read.

The rightful queen came home today. She came back with her head high, Proudly bringing the slain man's head for all to see. The dress of white was gifted to the winds and carried away. It's shameful imitation of fabric no longer touched her. Now she's taken back her rightful crown, The light basked in her glory as she came to her knight.

She tilted her head, just a little, and suddenly that scent came back to him. Caught off guard, he let go of the book. It landed on his face rather ungracefully, earning a surprised gasp from Cassandra.

“Vergil?”

“I...I’m fine.” He grumbled.

“I doubt it. You’ve been...stiff ever since we came back from Rothes.” She sat up a little. “What’s going on?” Vergil lifted the notebook off his face, meeting her dark green eyes. They were searching him, trying to find out the answer to his state. He let out a sigh, setting the notebook back with his books. He sat up, helping her into a sitting up position, and turned to her.

“That man...Draco, his stench clings to you. It infuriates the devil inside me. It is of no fault of your own. You did what you had to do to save Nero and I am grateful for your bravery.” He paused, taking in a breath. “It still does not change the fact that Draco dared to touch you, dared to be in your presence when he is not worthy of it…”

“You’re jealous.” And there it was, that simple succinct phrase. “Does that mean your devil considers me a mate or something?”

“Along that line, yes.” He sighed.

“So…” Cassandra’s eyes were closed, the spellblade warrior deep in thought. “Your devil considers me as a mate and Draco’s shit caused them to get jealous and see Draco as competition. Does that sound right?” She opened her eyes, seeing Vergil’s confirmation. He nodded. “Ok, so, how do we deal with this problem?” There was a quiet that fell between them, Vergil’s eyes fluttering closed to think. He could feel Cassandra’s gaze on him, intense and searching for an answer to the predicament. Vergil knew the answer but his pride refused to let him say it. “Is it sex.”

“What?” He blinked.

“If it wasn’t something like that, then you would’ve said it by now.” Vergil looked away, a blush on his face. “What? I’m not wrong. You never mince words about what needs to be done to solve a problem unless it’s salacious.” And indeed, she wasn’t wrong. Vergil let out a sigh.

“You are...correct. Specifically, it involves scenting.” He could feel his face burn as he spoke. “It’s...messy.”

“We have a bath. And we paid the water bill for the month.” Cassandra said. “Are you afraid I won’t like it? Or I won’t like what will happen.”

“No. It is the fact that all this was born out of a desire to possess you. And you deserve more than someone who refuses to let go.” Cassandra mulled over his words.

“Earthmother help me, you’re such a gentleman deep down.” She said with a smile. She gently took Vergil’s chin, guiding him to face her. “If you’re worried about me consenting, then don’t worry. Of course I’d consent. I know you know your strength and I trust you to not break me too much.” Her hand moved down to take his hands. “You wield Yamato so skillfully, after all. I’m sure you can control yourself or drive me mad with pleasure.” She glanced up and gave him a wink. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re insatiable.” He breathed.

“I know.” With that, she leaned forward to kiss him. Her hand rested on his hip, the other threading through his silvery-white hair. She gently nipped at his lips, earning a soft surprised gasp. She slid her tongue inside quickly, taking advantage of his surprise to establish her dominance. He chuckled into the kiss, slowly tipping her back onto the blanket. The hand on his hip moved to rub his groin, earning a low groan from the half-devil above her. He pulled back, earning a soft gasp from her. He leaned back, pulling the dress off her. She aided him in the effort, pulling the soft fabric off her. He leaned back, carefully pulling off his vest. He could see the hunger and appreciation in her eyes, she didn’t even try to hide it. Placing the vest next to her dress, he worked on sliding his pants off. His eyes flicked to Cassandra, who was reaching back to undo her bra. He took in a soft breath, watching as it fell away. He pulled off his pants, noticing how Cassandra’s gaze flicked down to his groin and thighs.

“Yes?”

“Lace underwear, huh?” Cassandra asked, quite obviously amused. He tensed for a moment.

“The other options chafe. It’s distracting.”

“I like it.” She leaned forward, pulling the waistband of his underwear and pulling it back and down, exposing his cock. “And it makes your dick look that much more appetizing.” She smirked at his blushing face, pulling him out of his underwear. “And those thighs? To die for.”

“Are you going to spend the rest of the night showering me with compliments?”

“I might.” She winked. “But I’m not wrong.” She reached down, stroking Vergil’s cock. He let out a grunt, eyes fluttering closed. “That’s a look…” She murmured.

“You drive me mad.” She felt his hand grab her hair. “You insatiable harlot.” She grinned at him, meeting his smirk. Before she could reply, he forced her down onto her back. He presented his cock to her. Quickly getting the hint, she took the tip into her mouth and sucked, swirling her tongue around the slit. He let out a grunt, his hand gripping just a little tighter on her hair. He remained still, groaning softly as she leaned forward, bobbing her head on his cock. Vergil groaned as she worked, her hands moving up to massage his thighs, the very part of him she praised to high heavens.

Well, not that hers were lacking in any manner. But that was neither here nor there. His more immediate focus was on Cassandra, his ice blue eyes meeting her dark green. That half-lidded sultry look made him shiver, a look that shot down his spine and made his cock throb. That deep base beast rumbled with approval at the sight...and it wanted more. Despite his attempts to stay in control, the beast within refused. He could feel his body shift and change, slowly as his control loosened. He growled as his load poured down her throat. With the last of his control, he moved back. In moments, he transformed with a burst of demonic energy.

Cassandra stared at the now transformed devil hovering over her, wings flared out behind him. The chill of the oncoming night was gone, replaced by the warmth that radiated from the very devil she was admiring. The devil let out a slow exhale, blue meeting green. She looked up and down the devil’s armored body, the deep blue that pulsated like a glowing heart from his chest to his flared wings. She could hear his tail swaying slowly behind him, faintly seeing the sharpened tip from behind his wings. He shifted back a little, as if he was worried that he had startled her.

“Wow...hot.” Cassandra said, earning an amused rumble from the devil hovering above her. Cassandra sat up, her hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. The devil leaned into her hand, warm against her skin. She smiled at the sight. “What? You thought I would be running for my life at the sight of you?”

“...a little.” He rumbled, voice warped from the demonic energy. “From the shock of my transformation.”

“You’re such a gentleman.” She took his hand and gave the warm palm a kiss. With a pleased rumble, he slowly moved his way down to her thighs. He pushed her thighs apart, noticing Cassandra shiver at the claws that pressed into her skin. Vergil leaned forward, his tongue rubbing slowly against her cunt. It rubbed up and down her slick folds, occasionally rolling around her clit, before moving down to push inside her. She gasped out, her hand reaching down to grab his horn. She pulled him closer to her, wanting to feel more of his tongue against her. Her body shook as he gave her more of what she wanted, his tongue lapping up her juices. Cassandra began to grind her hips against his mouth, shivering at the sensations.

He pulled back, letting out a pleased rumble. Cassandra lifted herself up a little by her elbows, looking down to Vergil’s groin. The carapace protecting his cock had split open, revealing a girthy slick blue cock. The bulbous head was slightly larger than the ridged shaft and, at what she presumed was at the base of his sac, was a knot. The scent that reached her made her shiver, a wave of arousal washing over her.

“Shit…” She panted. What was it about the heady scent that just seemed to make her wetter? She was certain Vergil could tell she was more than aroused, more than ready for him, but he restrained himself. “Veergill…” She whined.

“Yes, my love?”

“Nnn...please, just fuck me.” She panted. She could barely think, the heat at her core was almost overwhelming. She faintly heard a soft but warm hum before the tip of his cock rubbed at her entrance. Her body burned with unbridled lust at the contact, a cry of pleasure ripped from her. The devil pushed the tip into her, earning breathy moans from his writhing mate. With the tip inside her, he paused and looked at her. Even with only the tip inside, he could sense her trying to pull him in. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. She reached up, holding tight onto his scaled body. She let out a whine as he pushed forward, sinking more of his cock into her. He could feel her walls squeeze and ripple around him, a sensation that made it difficult to not start thrusting right then and there. The devil let out a slow exhale, trying to not thrust with wild abandon, not yet.

Until she pulled him close, pressing her lips against his fangs. It did him in.

With an aroused growl, the devil began to thrust hard. He felt her legs hoist around his armored midsection. In the back of his mind, he knew she would come out of this scratched up. He would take care of that later, his mind too focused on the unbridled lust that was spurred on by her moans and cries of pleasure. His wings dug into the blanket below, growling as he thrust into her shaking form. The warmth that surrounded them felt as if it was pooling in his core, his thrusts devolving into short harsh movements. He panted as the knot at the base of his cock began to swell and with it, the oncoming orgasm.

“Vergil! I-I’m close!” He heard Cassandra pant. He could feel it, it was so close. With a final thrust, he pushed the knot into her and roared, warm seed pouring into her. With him, he heard her cry out and tense up around his knot, body shaking as her orgasm finally hit her. After a few tense moments, he felt her body go lax. He looked down, seeing her breathing heavily underneath him. His gaze moved down her body to her stomach, slightly swollen from the seed that he poured into her. If he was capable of blushing, he would be doing it. He stayed there for what felt like hours, the knot slowly deswelling. He pulled out, letting out a soft groan. Settling himself next to her, the devil disappeared with a flash of blue, revealing an exhausted flushed Vergil. She turned to him, reaching out to pull him into a brief kiss.

“Cassandra…” Vergil murmured. “I apologize-”

“Don’t.” She smiled at him. “That was...phew, that was something.”

“I could have hurt you.”

“Not much more than sore hips and some scratches, which isn’t a bad thing.” Cassandra slowly sat up, letting out a hiss. “Oof...can you go run a bath? I think I’ll be here for a bit…”

“And leave you alone? Never.” He swiftly picked her up, earning a hiss from her.

“Yowch! Jeez, rail my brains out and all that gentleman behavior goes out the window.”

“You were all for it.” He pointed out. She noticed the hint of a playful smile on his lips.

“Yeah yeah…” Cassandra waved her hand as he slipped back into the shop. Stepping into the bathroom, he laid her in the bathtub. He turned on the water, letting cool water pour from the faucet into the tub. “So, uh…” Vergil glanced at her. “Do I still smell of Draco?”

“No, thankfully.” Vergil sighed.

“Good. I’d rather smell of you than of an old bully.” Vergil wondered if she knew the implication of her words. He turned off the faucet. “I’ll be ok here, you should go get everything up on the roof.”

“Are you sure? It would be remiss if I left you her-”

“Vergil. I’ll be fine. I can bathe myself. You should get that basket of snacks and put it next to our bed so we can munch on those before dozing off.” Cassandra told him firmly. Vergil sighed and stood.

“As you wish.” He left the room. Cassandra went to work on bathing herself, humming softly. She swore she heard swift footsteps, perhaps Vergil pulling on some unknown demon ability. Super speed or something, she didn’t worry herself with it. She continued to wash her body.

“It’s done.” Cassandra jumped and looked up, seeing Vergil back by her side in pants. She stared at him, still shocked at his sudden appearance.

“...fucking hell.” She ran her hand through her damp hair. “I love you Vergil but there’s just some things that surprise me about you.” He chuckled at her mild frustration. Cassandra finished bathing and stepped out of the tub, right into a towel Vergil had for her. She leaned into his strong arms as he dried her body, relaxing. When her body was dry, she leaned against the wall as he drained the tub. As the tub drained, he picked her up bridal style and carried her to their bedroom.

“Would you like me to read to you?” He asked, setting her down on their shared bed.

“Of course.” She smiled at him. “But I’d like to hear some of your works.” Vergil blinked at her before nodding, sliding into bed next to her. He pulled out the notebook and allowed her to cuddle up against his side.

“As you wish, my wild rose.”

#devil may cry #devil may cry oc #devil may cry vergil #spicy #lemon

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years

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Psycho Analysis: Roman Sionis

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Birds of Prey is a fun, silly movie. So you’d expect a fun, silly villain for such a film, right? Well, we sort of get that… but this is an R-rated fun, silly movie, so the villain is going to cuss a lot and peel people’s faces off and be a raging psychopathic manchild. Roman Sionis, everybody!

Good old Roman Sionis, known to comic fans as Black Mask (he isn’t ever called that by anyone except Harley during his introduction, and he doesn’t even wear his mask until the end), is just an absolute raging lunatic. He gets mad at the drop of a hat, is creepily posessive of Dinah Lance, has a very close relationship with his murderous second-in-command Zsasz, and is just generally unpleasant to every single person who crosses his path.

But that’s par for the course for Roman Sionis, who is never really EVER portrayed as a charming, likable guy. The real question here is, is he an entertaining villain? Well he’s played by Ewan McGregor, what do YOU think?

Motivation/Goals: Roman is a relatively simple villain, but I think this works in his favor. You see, a big issue with Harley’s previous outing, Suicide Squad, is that the mission was way too high stakes despite the cast featuring a group of people who didn’t really have any powers beyond “fighting really good.” or “has weapon skills.” You’re telling me you’re gonna put Harley Quinn, Deadshot, and Captain Boomerang up against Enchantress and her army of ancient Aztec super-zombies? WHAT? Here, we have a street-level threat much more suited to Harley’s capabilities: Roman is just a very powerful gangster, and his goal in this movie is the simple “get this diamond that was stolen back to me so I can make fat stacks of cash.” That’s really all their needs to be here, a simple MacGuffin to drive along the plot to its various setpieces.

Performance: I love Ewan McGregor, so, really, he didn’t have to do much with the role of Roman Sionis to make him great. Still, this man went above and beyond despite having comparatively little screentime to Harley. Roman seems incapable of going a single sentence without cursing up a storm and is the epitome of a psychopathic manchild, tormenting people for the slightest of reasons. He forces a woman to strip and dance on one of his tables because she was laughing too loud when he was upset, and decides not to spare a girl’s life because she had a gross snot bubble on her face from sobbing while he had his crony Zsasz peel off her parents’ faces. As funny and hammy as he gets, the dude is a stone-cold ruthless bastard who has no line he won’t cross to get what he wants.

Final Fate: Cass hides a grenade on him and steals the ring, and then Harley kicks him off the pier while he panics. Before he even hits the water, BOOM! Never would I have expected to laugh out loud at the sight of Ewan McGregor being blown into bits, but this movie was just full of surprises.

Best Scene: I think that the honor has to go to his establishing character moment with Zsasz, as they cut off the faces of a family who crossed Roman, and then when Roman decides to spare the daughter, he notices snot on her face, says “Ew” like a petulant child, and has Zsasz cut her face off anyway. It’s a great way to establish that Roman is an awful human being no matter how you slice it, and firmly establishes that while, yes, he is a misogynist villain in a female-led blockbuster, his misogyny is just a tiny facet of how unabashedly terrible Roman is.

Final Thoughts & Score: So, this is gonna sound weird, but… Roman kinda reminded me of Justin Hammer. Hammer is a villain who I have greatly warmed to over time (mostly thanks to Nando V Movies on YouTube), to the point where I think he’s actually pretty funny but is held back from true greatness by the sloppy nature of Iron Man 2. The film was big, bloated, and didn’t know what to do with itself. And this film is KIND OF like that… but it knows what to do with Roman.

The movie has an undercurrent of female empowerment, so why not make the villain emblematic of things women have to overcome? Roman is creepy, misogynistic, and even a bit racist especially with his condescending actions towards Dinah. And he even throws a fit when she “betrays” him and decides to murder her. But the movie is smart so as to not make this hamfisted; the movie makes it entirely clear that even if you take away his misogynistic elements, Roman Sionis is just an utterly disgusting human being. Everything about him is just so hilariously vulgar and repulsive, but the way he’s performed helps lighten it and help keep him within the tone of the movie. He’s just dark enough and just hammy enough to work.

My big issues with Roman are mostly due to his utilization and the wasted potential, which is a problem that really hits a lot of stuff in Birds of Prey. He is great every time he’s onscreen, but his screentime is fairly limited, and then he dies at the end which robs him of any chance of coming back in the future as an antagonist. He actually functions great as a more grounded threat rather than some larger-than-life end of the world threat, but the fact he dies horribly – before even having his mask burned onto his face, even! - just kind of feels like a waste of a character. To be fair, Black Mask is not the best or most interesting Batman villain crime lord; we have the Penguin for that. But when you cast someone like Ewan McGregor and he’s clearly having a blast, it’s hard not to feel at least slightly bitter when he gets hilariously gibbed at the end.

Still, I can’t let Justin Hammer’s sacrifice go in vain; he walked so Roman could run, and Roman ran so that perhaps someday Hammer could sprint. Roman gets a nice, fat 8/10, which he definitely earns with the heaping helpings of ham he brings to the table, though he is held back at least a little by the wasted potential of his character.

But hey, if you want to talk about wasted potential…

Psycho Analysis: Victor Zsasz

I really like Victor Zsasz in this film. I really do. The angle they went with, the implied homosexuality, the actor… it’s all good stuff that helps make a disturbing character like Zsasz easier to swallow. But he gets hit with wasted potential harder than even Roman does.

Motivation/Goals: He’s Roman’s right-hand man, so basically his motivation is to do whatever Roman wants him to do. However, there is a bit of an implied thing between his boss and him; Zsasz seems undeniably irritated with the attention he lavishes on Dinah, and is very hands-on and affectionate with his boss. A lot of his later actions in the film and his cruelty towards Dinah does seem to stem from some place of anger towards her for taking Roman’s attention away from him.

Performance: I have to say, Chris Messina does a stellar job at portraying Zsasz as creepy and obsessive, and certainly showcases the fanatical loyalty he has towards Roman, making him something of a dark mirror to Harley’s former relationship with the Joker. I also appreciate that, despite not going with Zsasz’s original psychotic serial killer angle, they still made him a bloodthirsty psycho with a sort of nihilistic edge to him. Frankly, this might be the best possible take on a live-action Zsasz without things getting intensely uncomfortable.

Final Fate: This is probably the worst element of Zsasz: his death. Right before the climax he gets shot out of the blue by Huntress and then Harley just repeatedly stabs him with the arrow. And I have to make it clear here – Zsasz barely got to do anything. He never really poses any sort of physical threats to the heroines, never gets into a fight, and is never mentioned again after his death despite being very close to Roman (to the point where the two may have been lovers).

Final Thoughts & Score: As far as henchmen go, Zsasz is pretty solid conceptually. He’s established early on as a psychopathic enforcer of Roman’s gang, he has an eerie air to him, and he has a lot of elements from the comics you rarely see on Zsasz in other media, such as being blonde. Messina does a fantastic job at making the character seem like a competent killer in the employ of Roman.

But the key word is “seem,” because Zsasz frankly never lives up to his hype. Despite being introduced peeling the faces off of a family, he is just never utilized to his fullest extent. He’s kind of just there in a lot of scenes, and while he isn’t unmemorable or anything he never really does anything that makes him into a worthwhile addition to the franchise. He’s honestly just a glorified mook with a few interesting gimmicks to help set him apart.

I’ve gotta give him a 6/10. While he’s definitely a step above average, he’s really not anything amazing, mostly because the movie refuses to allow him to reach his full potential. He doesn’t have any great quotes, his most memorable scene really serves more to establish Roman than anything, and he is dumped and quickly forgotten right before the climax. He would easily be a 7 or 8 if the story treated him with a little more weight or respect, but he just ends up underwhelming despite having so much going for him, and it’s frankly a bit depressing. It’s just a very sad state of affairs for the character, especially when he managed to be more intimidating in the Arkham games despite the fact that he posed even less of a physical threat than he does here.

Well, while we’re here, let’s go over THAT Zsasz briefly.

Portrayed in the games by Danny Jacobs (who you may know as Sacha Baron Cohen's stand in on The Penguins of Madagascar. Yes, Zsasz and King Julien had the same voice actor.), Zsasz is never really a major antagonist and is, in all honesty, a pretty weak fighter; you can always take him down in one punch. The thing with Zsasz in the games, though, is that it’s always tricky to get to him, because he usually has hostages of some kind. In Arkham Asylum, he appears twice, and you need to use stealth to take him out before he kills his hostages. In City, he gets a much longer sidequest where he requires you to pick up ringing telephones and then glide to another one across the city within a time limit. Once you’ve listened to all of his messages, Batman finds out where his lair is, sneaks through it, and whoops his ass.

I certainly can’t say he’s the best villain in either game he appears in, but he’s definitely scary. His messages and game over screens are really freaky and unnerving, and the Riddler even requires you to find some of Zsasz’s work as parts of riddles… and by “work” I am of course referring to corpses posed in life-like positions. There’s also the horrifying little tidbit that in City, Zsasz actually does kill one of his hostages and there’s nothing that can be done about it; if you switch to detective mode in his lair, you can see a corpse at the bottom of the water in the room.

I think how creepy and intense he is really helps make him stand out among the more colorful characters in those games like Joker, Clayface, and Riddler, so I think giving him a nice 8/10 for his appearances is well-earned. I feel like Birds of Prey could have learned a few lessons from this portrayal; if they wanted to make him more creepy than physically intimidating, that could have worked well and it would have made his anti-climactic defeat a bit more plausible. Instead, they kind of tried this middle ground where he’s creepy enough and intimidating enough physically that it just feels like a letdown when he’s offed.

Oh yeah, did you know he appeared in Batman Begins? He had a brief cameo and didn’t do anything significant and looked like this:

Pretty sure he’d get a low score if he wasn’t just a quick little reference.

#Psycho Analysis #Roman Sionis #Birds of Prey #birds of prey (and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn)#Ewan McGregor #victor zsasz #Chris Messina #Danny Jacobs #Arkham series #Batman

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ravenqueen89 · 4 years

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mistle

It is commission time! This one is from @princessbatteringram and for @agentkatie which allowed me to write in the wonderful universe of Katie’s The Two Commanders again. And this one’s utterly ridiculous fluff that hopefully provokes a smile or two.

Fandom(s): DA/ME

Pairing: femShep/Cullen

Rating: Gen

Summary: Shepard finds mistletoe, shenanigans ensue.

Notes: the original etymology for mistletoe combines the Germanic ‘mistle’ with the Old English tān, which means twig, which I’m using as an excuse to the name variation in Thedas. The wonderfully badass and amazing Mollie belongs to @agentkatie. Treat yourself to reading TTC, some of the best writing you’ll encounter.

Word count: 1560

also on ao3

Cullen hasn't slept in two nights. Not that she's keeping count, of course. She's just vividly aware of it when she looks at him, at the dark circles under his eyes, at the way his hands shake. He hasn't said a word to her, burying himself under mountains of work, hiding in that way of his that makes her want to blow something up. She goes into the courtyard instead, determined to smash some dummies to dust by throwing her biotics at them until everyone around her runs off in either discomfort or fear.

Her plan is thwarted when Cassandra looks up from her book, takes one glance at her, and leads her away with a very determined hand wrapped around her elbow in an iron grip. They're halfway across the bridge by the time Shepard starts swearing and protesting at once and all of it is soundly ignored.

'Where are we even going, Cass?' she asks, and even to her own ears her voice sounds petulant.

Cassandra gives her a raised eyebrow that says far too much, and leads her on the mountain path, away from the fortress.

‘I need some elfroot and I don't want to take it from the apothecary's stock. And the task will go quicker with you,’ she says with a smile that Shepard feels only the slightest urge to punch.

It’s a flimsy excuse: they pick more than enough elfroot every time they go on an expedition. Shepard can almost instinctively feel its presence now. The smell of it is always on her hands because she helps with making potions to ease Cullen's pain every day. Sometimes he kisses her hands and holds her palm to his cheek and looks at her like she's that god of his. He hasn't looked at her much lately, though. She understands the reason behind all this. It just doesn't make it any easier.

Shepard focuses instead on listening to Cassandra's voice, telling her about the book she's reading. The mountain air is as chilly as ever, but it's so sunny that there's an insinuation of far-off spring in the air. Snow crunches under her boots and she inhales the cold, lets it fill her lungs. She feels less angry already and she can't even resent Cassandra for dragging her along. Shepard gets easily restless at Skyhold. It's claustrophobic to be stuck in just one place for weeks. She's been grounded for so long but everything in her rebels at it still. Her ship could also be confining, but it was in constant movement between the stars. She misses that freedom. It's something Cullen will never be able to understand, even though she can see how much he would like to know the magnitude of what she feels.

Shepard doesn't notice the mistletoe at first, but then the corner of her eye registers redness against the snow and the shock of familiarity almost takes her breath away. She's not seen it anywhere else, but now here it is, right in front of her, in this nondescript place, curling around the branches of a drying tree. Shepard rushes over and starts gathering it under Cassandra’s astonished gaze.

'They have this where I come from! Mistletoe! I haven't seen it in years.'

'That's mistletwig, Shepard. It's a pest.'

Shepard mock gasps, loudly, and it echoes around them, making Cassandra's expression ever more sour.

'It's pretty. Don't you use it for decorating at Christ-uh, Satinalia? It's a very old tradition at home, very popular in old…uh, stories. If two people find themselves underneath it, they have to kiss. Surely you have something like that.'

'Absolutely not. Why would anyone do something like that? It makes no sense. ‘

'Because it's fun. Do you want to try?' Shepard asks, holding her bundle of mistletoe over her head and pouting her lips as much as she can at Cassandra until the Seeker is so flustered she trips over her own legs when she walks away.

By the time they return to Skyhold, Cassandra is so fed up with Shepard’s constant mistletoe jokes that she’s striding far ahead, clutching the elfroot she’s gathered so tightly that she has a trail of leaves following her. Guards patrolling the bridge turn to look at them as they pass, Cassandra muttering angrily about obstinate and obnoxious people, Shepard grinning wildly while holding her mistletoe like a trophy. It’s not the weirdest sight that Skyhold has ever seen.

She asks a scout dawdling in the courtyard about Cullen’s whereabouts and she is informed that the other commander has taken to his bed for a few hours, which is excellent in more than one way. Her plan must be carried out while he’s not paying attention.

Five minutes into the endeavour, Shepard finds herself longing for duct tape, that pinnacle of technology. Skyhold has many nooks and crannies, but it also has high ceilings and all the ladders seem to have vanished. The leaves of the mistletoe are leaving marks on her hands, and she decides that she needs help.

She bursts into Sera's room first, narrowly avoiding a dagger to the face for startling her.

'I'm planning some mischief that will annoy Cullen,' Shepard says before briskly walking back through the tavern with everyone staring at her.

The library is next, and she has to exert all her self-control to keep herself from throwing pokey mistletoe leaves at Solas' head. Dorian is much harder to convince, so Shepard steals the book he was reading and hurries away, the soft sound of silk robes following her, along with a steady stream of Tevene swearwords.

Her assistants end up being no help at all. Sera wraps Shepard up in all the twine they've stolen from the kitchens, and Dorian complains so much that Shepard sends him away to keep from flinging him off the battlements. There is twine in her hair when Cole finds her in the dust of one of the unused tower rooms. An awkward silence hangs between them, but then Cole tells her where the good ladders are and that is all the information she needs to make this mission a success.

Cullen emerges bleary-eyed from his office when she's just about done on the battlements. She hands two ladders to two different scouts and walks over to Cullen, who observes her progress warily. He's not shaking, though. Shepard will take that as a win.

'What are you up to?' Cullen asks when Shepard reaches him, his hands finding their way to her hips instinctively.

She grins at him and it only seems to make him more worried, but she kisses the look off his face, feeling him blush as she frames his cheeks with her hands.

'Sorry,' she says, when he sputters something about the guards seeing them. 'Mistletoe.'

She points above them, where she's managed to hang mistletoe from the doorframe. Cullen stares at it, then at her, and the lack of comprehension on his face is both adorable and hilarious.

'That's mistletwig and I don't see what that has to do with anything.'

She kisses him again before she explains.

Within a week, Skyhold descends into chaos as it learns of Shepard's mistletoe tradition. To save Cullen's face from constantly looking like it’s burning, she drags him to locations on her mistletoe map at random throughout the days and evenings and during one or two late nights. She does it when she's fairly sure no one will see them, but the entire fortress hears of it despite her care. The sprigs of mistletoe wilt but the red berries attract everyone's attention. Dorian and Sera share what they know one evening in the tavern, and couples new, old, and transient start following in Shepard's footsteps.

In the meantime, Shepard kisses Cullen under the staircase in the Herald's Rest. She kisses him on the battlements. She kisses him in front of Varric's fireplace in the Great Hall, and also behind the Inquisitor's throne. She kisses him in the hidden library, and then once more in the vault. She kisses him in the hall between Josephine's office and the war room.

She kisses him in the armoury, but she gets the timing wrong, and they get chased out by Cassandra's judgiest expression. She kisses him in the stables. She kisses him in empty rooms. Most of all, she kisses him in his bed, their bed, as mistletoe hangs over them from the barely-there ceiling (she'd needed to plead with Dorian for that one). Throughout it all, Cullen kisses her back every time. He laughs until all the shadows are banished from his face, and he sleeps far better than before. His hands aren't shaking when she holds them in hers. It's a silly distraction, and she's very aware of it, but it's worked as she intended.

Shepard isn't aware of the mayhem until Josephine summons her and informs her in much more diplomatic phrasing that the fortress is now full of couples making out everywhere at all times, which is, of course, not quite in keeping with the Inquisition's standards.

Shepard doesn't do well with exposure to Josephine's disappointed face so she dutifully gathers every sprig of prickly wilted mistletoe. She then burns it in the courtyard, holding Cullen's hand as he attempts to keep his laughter in check. Might as well make the ending grand too.

#commission #my writing #mollie shepard #i love these two so much #(both shep/cullen and aly&katie)#i know she'll kill me for using her first name

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fitzherbertssmolder · 5 years

Photo

Make Me A Masterpiece 4/?

In her final year of college, Rapunzel is struggling to create her final art project. That is until she runs into the beautiful stranger who’s hiding out in the library.

or the one where art student Rapunzel asks literature nerd Eugene to be her model (modern-day au)

read on a03

read on ff.net

(I thought it was fitting to post this for @newdream-week since today's theme is AU’s!)

eugenefitz started following you

Even though she tries to contain it, uses every last shred of strength she has, she can't stop the way her lips curl up at the notifications popping up on her phone.

They come in waves. Three rings then silence, two rings then silence and then three more rings followed by another stream of silence. She hasn't quite figured out yet why exactly he has decided to do it this way or why he has chosen to wait this long at all, especially when she already has the sneaking suspicion that this isn't the first time he has been checking up on her profile.

He never did give her an explanation of how exactly he ended up at the same cafe as her at the exact same time, but she's pretty sure she can figure than one out on her own.

Unlike the other times when she has had this happen to her, she doesn't find it creepy or too eager. With Eugene, it somehow feels exciting as if this is the real start to whatever's happening between them. Here in this moment, they've officially upgraded from disaster run in's to the potential of being friends.

And apparently, study buddies.

When she said yes to Eugene's proposal she really didn't have time to think it through, the words kind of slipped out before her brain had a chance to catch up with what was going on. There was a lot happening all at once and she can't really be blamed for her momentary lapse in judgement. So she said yes, just like that, and was left to face all the consequences of that agreement when she got home that night after her class.

She was only two steps into the apartment before she was spilling everything to Cassandra and it's safe to say that she wasn't entirely on board with her decision. It wasn't that she wasn't happy that Rapunzel had finally found some inspiration, but it was more concern over the fact that her inspiration was a boy. A boy she had yet had the chance to interrogate and haze in her own protective best friend way.

It was only when she had promised to let her haze him another day that Cass finally decided to listen to a helpless Rapunzel gush about how beautiful Eugene was. There were mumbles of his smile and his eyes and his jaw and "how on earth am I supposed to paint him Cass when I can't stop staring !"

That panic went on for at least another hour before she got herself into a more manageable state, which was partly due to a warm cup of tea and Cassandra's reassuring comments as she scrolled down Eugene's profile on her phone. Rapunzel really wasn't expecting anything life-changing from her love hating friend but she was grateful nevertheless when she gave her approval.

Nice choice was all she had muttered before plopping down onto the couch next to Rapunzel and wrapping her up in a white woolly blanket. She tends to get cold when she's nervous.

So now here she was, three days later, fully accepting the idea that she is going to paint Eugene Fitzherbert.

And she would only be lying if she said she wasn't squealing with excitement on the inside.

The echoing of bells continues around her as she looks down at her screen, smile wider than ever, watching as one by one the notifications light up on her phone. It did surprise her a little just how far back he had gone and how fast he had managed to get there. But then again, he has probably already seen most of these photos before, he's just been waiting for the right time to let Rapunzel know that he has seen them.

He had started with a photo of her and Cassandra that was taken all the way back in freshman year and it has taken him approximately 5 minutes for him to reach her photo from only a couple of hours ago.

And in that time the smile on her face hasn't disappeared once. Which apparently is upsetting her roommate.

"You're doing it again."

She hears the mumble come from across the room and so she locks her phone for a moment to peer over to the kitchen counter. There, she finds Cassandra sitting on one of their wooden bar stools with her legs kicked up on another, boots still firmly on her feet. There's a book open on her lap, a pencil in her hand that she's been half chewing for the last few minutes and a scowl on her face that says she's mad she has gotten interrupted. Although, Rapunzel isn't exactly sure what she is interrupting because the book is certainly not one of educational value.

"Doing what?" she asks back, raising one of her eyebrows in mock confusion.

Cassandra rolls her eyes at that, stretching her hand out in front of her and waving it in Rapunzel's direction. Well, the direction of her face to be more precise.

"Smiling. It's distracting."

As if right on cue her phone comes alive again with a light ring causing her smile to widen that little bit more.

The groan that comes from Cassandra is priceless. She throws her head back, scrunches her eyes closed and lets it fill the main room of the apartment. It creates a hilarious image and if she wasn't already occupied she would probably be rushing to her room right now to sketch it and save it for blackmail.

It takes her roommate a few moments to let out all of her frustration, and probably annoy a few neighbours too, before she is recomposing herself and opening one eye to stare back at Rapunzel cautiously.

"Please tell me that was the last one."

She's not exactly sure what fate is on her side today but she is extremely grateful for it because the phone decides to chime again and she gets to watch her friend hit her breaking point.

Cassandra starts moving until she is sitting up straight, removing her feet from the stool to place them on the wooden floor and throwing her book carelessly onto the counter behind her. Both of her eyes are open now and have set themselves straight on to the phone.

There's a small pause, in which the phone rings again, and then she's finally opening her mouth.

"I'm going to kill him."

And then she's on the move, springing off of the stool and launching herself onto the couch, successfully crushing Rapunzel in the process. There's something that sounds like a war cry thrown in there but Rapunzel is too busy laughing to really pay attention.

It only takes her a matter of seconds before she has both legs on either side of Rapunzel and her hands are gripping at any limb she can reach, which is not easy since they're flying all over the place.

"Give me the phone!" Cassandra yells through her panted breath.

This girl is strong but after 3 years of dealing with things like this Rapunzel has learnt enough to hold her own. She manages to get out a small no through all of her giggles, throwing her arm behind her and extending it over the side of the couch with her phone secure in her hand. Her new strength that she has gathered over the years may be enough to keep up with Cass physically, but she is always underestimating just how clever Cass can really be, especially when it comes to getting something she wants.

Before Rapunzel can make her next move the chaos comes to a sudden halt and she watches as Cassandra sits back on her heels and beings staring. She seems to take a few moments to just stare and as the seconds pass it starts to turn into something a little more menacing, a little scarier.

Then she is grinning.

Her lips twist up into a sly smirk and her eyes are shining with nothing but evil ideas.

It only takes Rapunzel seconds to catch on to what her friend is about to do, suddenly sobering up and giving back a glare of her own.

"Don't you dare" she threatens, the words sharp and demanding.

Cassandra is still above her, waiting, watching, listening as the phone rings one more time.

And then she's charging into action, both hands finding home against Rapunzel's sides and attacking relentlessly.

" Cass " she manages to wine, her voice coming out strained. It's a mix between laughter and sighs of frustration and she can't tell what's worse - the pain of being tickled or losing to Cassandra.

She doesn't really get a chance to decide when she feels Cass literally climbing on top of her to reach out and grab the phone, only sitting back when it's now in her grip. All Rapunzel can do is lay there and watch as her friend unlocks the screen and starts smiling at whatever she finds. Rapunzels let's out a grumble as she swears to herself to never give Cass her password again.

"Library boy wants to meet up." Cass says flipping the phone around so she can see the message and confirm her devil friend is actually telling the truth. There's no denying that she is when the message is there, lit up in blue and clear for anyone to see.

eugenefitz:

Are you ready to paint?

With the situation she is currently in, her bottom half going numb with the weight of her roommate straddling her, she really shouldn't be in a position to smile. She also knows that smiling with said roommate watching her every move would only put her in more danger when she doesn't currently have control over her phone. But just like earlier she really can't help it and before she can even finish having this dilemma with herself a smile is already on her lips. It's not as wide as the one earlier, it's softer and more affectionate and filled with fascination more than anything else.

The funny thing is that she knew this would happen one day, knew that they would have to actually arrange to meet up at some point, but witnessing Eugene being the one to take that step is doing all sorts of things to her heart.

She's not exactly sure how long she staring at the phone for when she hears a scoff come from above her. Her eyes flick up just in time to see Cassandra give her best eye roll, relinquishing all control of the phone back to Rapunzel and sitting on her heels in defeat. She stays like that for a few moments, investigates Rapunzel with a questioning look for a few moments more and then she is crawling off the couch and making her way back over to her spot.

This time when she hops onto the stool she removes her own phone from her pocket and plugs in her headphones. After that she pretty much becomes a lost cause, slipping away into her music that Rapunzel can hear all the way from across the room. She doesn't mind too much though, it just means that now she can smile in peace.

Her eyes focus again on her phone and now that she actually has the chance to reply she realises that she doesn't even know what to say. This has never happened with guys before and it startles her slightly that Eugene has already ruined her to the point where she can't type out a simple message. She knows that it doesn't matter what she says, knows that he really doesn't care if she makes a typo or auto-correct takes control, as long as he gets some sort of confirmation that she wants to go actually go through with their deal he's okay.

And she does want to go through with it, she really does. There isn't anything she wants more right now than to spend hours locked up in the art studio with this boy drawing him until her hands physically can't draw anymore.

So she takes a small breath, prepares her thumbs over the keyboard and starts to type.

rap.unzel:

Do you have your model poses ready?

eugenefitz:

I always have them ready

rap.unzel:

It sounds like you have done this before

eugenefitz:

Oh, all the time!

Wait until you see my smolder

rap.unzel:

That sounds promising

eugenefitz:

I never break my promises Rapunzel

I only have one class on Monday, we could meet up then?

rap.unzel:

Sounds great

Just send me your room number and I'll be there

eugenefitz:

It's a date!

As it turns out, Monday comes a lot quicker than she had expected and as she turns down the same corridor for the fifth time she realises that she really isn't as prepared as she thinks.

Of course, she used the weekend to her advantage packing up all her of supplies needed for today and making sure all of her brushes were clean. But none of that preparation will really matter if she can't even find the room that she's looking for.

Eugene had messaged her a few hours ago to let her know that his class had been changed and that he was more than happy to supply her with the new information. However, what he doesn't know is that to her the room change doesn't really matter because she had no idea where the original room was in the first place.

At least now she would have an excuse as to why she was late.

As an art student, this side of campus is not one that she explores often or ever really. In fact, the only time she has ever walked this far east was all the way back in freshman year when - according to her professor- it was mandatory for her to take up another elective that wasn't related to the course she was on. After hours of flipping through pamphlets, she had opted for psychology which she was more than happy to drop when her first year came to an end.

Now, as she walks blindly through the halls she partly wishes that she kept up those classes in order to have some sense of direction over on this side of the campus.

After making her sixth attempt to find the right classroom, she finds herself in a courtyard. It's a small outdoor section in between buildings and despite it being a relatively warm day, it's mostly empty. There are a few students about, some sitting on the stone benches, one laying on a blanket on the grass, but none of them seem to be paying any attention to her. Not even when she spins in a circle a couple of times to indicate that she is in fact lost. The girl on the blanket even turns over in the opposite direction.

The bag of supplies she has slung over her shoulder is beginning to weigh her down and she suddenly has the urge to charge over to one of them and demand that they help her.

She has every intention to do just that, her feet leaving the cobbled path and stepping onto the grass when she feels a light grip on her arm holding her in place.

It's silly really how much she is startled by the touch, but it comes out of nowhere and she really is just a big scardey cat at heart. So instead of turning around as a normal person would, she jumps instead and almost loses her balance completely. Her feet become tangled up in each other, causing her to wobble and she is just moments away from falling flat on the grass when her saviour proves that he is one step ahead of her. She feels the grip on her arm tighten, pulling her in and keeping her upright.

It takes her a few moments to steady herself, placing both feet as flat on the ground as she can before she straightens up and adjusts the strap on her shoulder. She becomes too occupied with covering her fall that she almost misses the voice coming from behind her. Almost.

"Trying to beat my fall?"

It surprises her how quickly she recognises that voice, recognises the teasing tone within it. She doesn't have to turn around to know who it is that came to her rescue, but she does anyway and she is certainly not disappointed.

Eugene is standing there in front of her with a wide smile on his face looking at her like what just happened was the most interesting thing in the world.

She finally has a moment to look at the situation then, now she's not falling to her death, and she has time to take in what exactly he just said. It almost makes laugh at how every time they meet something just has to go wrong. She looks down at the ground then, sees one of her paint pots has slipped out of her bag during the trip and then does start laughing.

It's not long before Eugene joins in and it almost seems as if they are on the same page without either of them having to say anything. They're just in sync.

She finally looks up at him again and offers him a small shrug. "Can't let you have all the disasters now can I?"

Eugene purses his lip a little, nodding softly to himself. "I guess now we're even."

"I guess we are."

They both break into laughter again, a little softer this time and she takes this opportunity to let her eyes wander freely. She takes in his slightly ruffled hair and notices that he now has a faint line of facial hair that wasn't there the last time. Her eyes flicker down to his chest where she notices he's wearing a dark blue shirt underneath his brown jacket and it only takes her a couple of seconds for her to focus on the fact that a few of the buttons have been left undone. She's not sure if it was an accident or done on purpose but she's feeling a little grateful for whatever caused a sliver of his chest to be on show.

When her eyes finally stop their perusing and make their way back to his she finds him still staring back at her, eyes as focused as ever. His gaze is far too intense when they are this close to each other and she can only handle it for a few more seconds before she's straightening up and stepping back a couple of inches. He doesn't seem to mind though, simply lets her go of her arm and continues smiling warmly at her.

After a few more seconds of staring, it's almost as if he realises that there was a point to this meeting and this event in the courtyard wasn't part of the plan.

His lips turn up a little in the corner and she can't help but get excited when she sees that cute smirk appear again. "Get a little lost?"

He poses it as a question, but with the way his voice is teasing her and the way his eyebrows are lifting up she knows that he didn't mean it as a question at all. It was said for the sheer purpose to embarrass her.

Rapunzel shakes her head at that, rolling her eyes a little too, before giving him a sweet smile of her own. "Your directions weren't very specific."

"Ah, so you're saying this is my fault?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

The way Eugene laughs is like nothing she's seen before. His nose wrinkles slightly, his forehead creases and his whole face is lit up with amusement. It really is something beautiful and she wouldn't complain about seeing it more often, especially if she is the cause of it.

His laughs die out eventually and it's only then that she notices he has something in his hand. She really should have noticed sooner, he's been holding it in front of him the entire time but it's safe to say she got a little distracted staring at other things.

He must notice that her eyes have wandered off to somewhere else because he's extending his arm out and offering his hand to her. In it, he's holding a red take out coffee cup stamped with the Corona Coffee logo. Out of all the things to make her heart melt she never expected a coffee cup to be one of them.

"For you" he says nudging the cup in her direction. "I thought I owed you one."

She smiles at that, taking the cup off of him and bringing it up to her nose to confirm that yes, he did get her order right. Well, it's not like it's impossible to do so, it is written on her profile a few times, but it still means something to her that he even bothered.

"Thank you" she replies and really does mean it.

Not just for the coffee but for all of it, for agreeing to do something as crazy as to let her paint him. Ever since he suggested it she's been wondering what exactly his motives were behind this idea, but seeing him like this, watching him stare at her with so much awe, it's easy to not think twice about it. He may have his reasons but she's willing to be patient until he tells her in his own way.

He simply shrugs at her thanks, clearly not one to brag about his own kindness and instead tilts his head towards the direction of the building behind him.

"You coming?" he asks, already starting to walk backwards, eyebrow raised in question.

She replies instantly.

"Of course."

They walk back through the halls together after that, on the route towards the art buildings and she can't help but get excited about what's to come, feels the anticipation about where they are headed.

And when his arm brushed up against hers as they walk she knows she isn't just talking about the painting.

But that is a good place to start.

#new dream week #tangled fanfiction #tangled #new dream fanfiction

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