Bug Like Angel

If I can't have you baby, no one else in this world can!

SYNOPSIS: The Batboys & Cass at their most unhinged, most protective, and most devoted. TAGS: FEMALE Reader! Fluff! Jealousy! Fake Marriage, Mild possessive behavior, Mild innuendo / suggestive banter, Mentions of weapons/violence + Older! Of-Age! Damian NOTE: Don’t take the content or characterizations too seriously! It’s literally just a goofy, for-fun fic :ppp AO3: yenwayne Ko-Fi: buy me a coffee!

જ⁀➴ RICHARD GRAYSON

“I hate these missions,” came Dick’s voice, petulant and immediate in your earpiece.

You didn’t pause. Instead, you stepped delicately around a marble column, your heels tapping rhythmically across the ballroom floor. Your dress shimmered with every movement, a slinky midnight blue number that hugged your form like it had been stitched by jealous gods. Your fingers grazed the low curve of your hip, pretending to adjust the fabric, when in reality you were activating the mic hidden beneath a faux diamond brooch.

“Nightwing,” you said calmly, smiling at a champagne server as they approached. You took a glass with a graceful nod, flipping your hair over your shoulder with casual elegance. “We’re at a gala. There are hors d'oeuvres and a string quartet. Try not to combust.”

“I am combusting,” he muttered, like he was personally being subjected to torture. “You’re pretending to be married to Barry Allen. That’s basically infidelity.”

“We fake-filed a fake tax return together like, five minutes ago,” you said dryly. “Relax.”

Dick huffed—huffed—and you could practically see him brooding on some rooftop, arms crossed like a bat-gargoyle. “I just think I, your actual husband, should be there.”

You let out a quiet sigh, walking toward the ornate staircase where Barry stood chatting up a senator. You could already see the knowing glint in his eye as he spotted you, lifting his glass like a man trying too hard to appear casual.

“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath, smiling sweetly as you closed the distance. “You are literally in my ear. You’re more present than Barry is right now, and he's the one touching me.”

“What?!”

You glanced sideways at Barry. He shifted, his palm resting in the safe, polite territory of your lower back as he leaned in to whisper something to the senator. “Arm, Dick. It’s just an arm. We’re blending in. No need to send in the Batjet.”

“I swear to god if he tries the forehead kiss thing—”

You blinked. “What forehead kiss thing?”

“He does this thing,” Dick said, his voice a little breathless with outrage, “where he smiles all slow and soft and tilts his head, and he leans in like he’s gonna whisper something but instead he does this little forehead press like he’s in a rom-com. I hate it. That’s how he seduced Iris that one time!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a laugh, shifting your weight subtly as you allowed Barry to guide you toward the center of the room. The music shifted into a softer waltz.

“Pretty sure they were already dating when that happened.”

“Not the point. I should be the one fake-forehead-kissing you at fancy galas.”

You stepped past an older couple slow-dancing near the fountain centerpiece and turned, giving Barry a small apologetic smile as you pretended to be distracted by something in your clutch.

“Would that make you feel better?” you whispered.

“Immeasurably.”

You were about to respond when you caught the faintest flicker of movement overhead. The security camera nearest you pivoted. Just slightly. Just enough.

Your smile vanished.

“Did you just hijack the camera feed to watch me?”

Silence.

“Dick.”

“…No?”

“Dick.”

“Camera’s just doing its job.”

“You are the camera.”

There was a beat of long, silent guilt on the line.

“It’s a security sweep,” he finally muttered, defensive. “Totally standard.”

You turned and stared directly up at the rotating lens, narrowing your eyes. “You’re pouting, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said, full pout in his voice.

You glared at the camera, already knowing the exact pout he was pulling behind the cowl. Barry chuckled beside you, still in his gala-husband role. You looped your arm through his and leaned in with a soft smile, playing along for the watching donors. Wealth glittered across the ballroom. Pearls, tuxedos, and dresses worth more than a small country’s GDP.

And then Dick dropped the line.

“You just had to wear that gown, didn’t you?”

Your eyebrows twitched.

“It’s a dress.”

“It’s a crime scene, actually.”

You nearly snorted champagne up your nose. “Are you okay? Do you need to go punch a mugger and walk it off?”

“You don’t understand,” he hissed. “There are at least six guys pretending not to stare at you right now. One of them dropped a canapé. I watched it happen. I’m seconds from pulling the fire alarm.”

You hummed in amusement and tilted your head, letting the chandelier light catch the sheen of your lashes.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

You swirled the champagne in your glass, then took a slow, knowing sip, the bubbles tickling your lips as you smirked. “Are you gonna rappel in through the ceiling and punch Barry in the face mid-waltz?”

He didn’t answer immediately. And that was the worst part.

“…Maybe.”

You laughed under your breath, drawing curious eyes from across the floor. “You are the most dramatic man I’ve ever married.”

“I’m the only man you’ve ever married!”

“For now,” you teased.

Dead. Air.

You could feel it through the silence. The precise moment Dick’s jaw clenched, the way his hands probably curled into fists on some high-rise ledge. You almost felt sorry for the next criminal who looked at him funny.

“Sweetheart,” he said finally, voice dropping into that dangerous purr he only used when he was 70% teasing and 30% ready to commit felony assault. “If Barry so much as breathes too close to you, I’m driving over there and disguising myself as a waiter just to strangle him with a linen napkin.”

You giggled again, covering it with the rim of your glass and a quick flutter of lashes.

“Relax. You’re still my real husband.”

“I should hope so. I signed that marriage license in blood.”

“You pricked your finger opening the envelope.”

“It still counts.”

જ⁀➴ JASON TODD

The dim light of the bookstore warmed the space, the faint scent of old paper mixing with the musky air of Gotham’s streets. It was the perfect Saturday afternoon. You and Jason had been to this little corner bookstore a few times, tucked away near the flat you shared, where no one bothered you, just the way you liked it.

Today, the place had a sale. And you were taking full advantage. Because, books.

You bent slightly, pulling another book off the shelf. Your fingers lingered on the spine, the title catching your eye, but your gaze drifted briefly to Jason beside you.

He was holding a stack of books you'd already picked up, his strong arms braced beneath the weight. His other hand was occupied, casually flipping through the pages of a suspense novel. His worn-out motorcycle helmet hung off his elbow, the strap digging into his skin like it always did when he wasn’t too concerned about making a spectacle of himself.

The sight of him in his usual attire, tight compression shirt, cargo pants, and those damn ratty boots, was almost enough to make you forget why you were even here. You couldn’t help it. Your husband, who exuded that rough, untamed charm that always made your heart skip a beat, even after everything.

You coughed, quickly pulling your focus back to the shelf, cheeks flushed. You weren’t here to ogle at him. You were here to buy books, to stock up for the upcoming winter nights in your cozy little flat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance over at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he noticed the way you’d momentarily gotten lost in thought.

“You okay there, doll?” His voice was low, but that teasing drawl was there, practically sending your internal warning system into overload.

You snapped back to the shelf, cheeks now officially flushed. “Fine. Just… you know, checking out some new releases. That’s all.”

Jason took a step closer, his hand reaching out to adjust the stack of books he was holding, brushing against your side. You could feel his eyes on you, that damn teasing look in them. He knew.

"Uh-huh," he muttered, clearly amused.

You shot him a glare. “Stop being so obvious.” You grabbed a couple more books, pretending they were the most interesting thing in the store, while mentally trying to avoid imagining how good he looked in those pants.

The moment passed, and you made your way to the counter. But, of course, Jason insisted on carrying all the books for you, despite them weighing next to nothing. Which, really, wasn’t a huge shock. The man could bench press a car if he felt like it.

The cashier, a young guy in his twenties, greeted you with a friendly smile as he began scanning your newest babies.

“Oh, you read The Cruel Prince?” the cashier suddenly asked, lifting the book from your pile with excitement. “I’ve been dying to meet someone else who loves it.”

You couldn’t help but grin, excited to talk about one of your favorites. “Yes! It’s amazing. I love Jude as a character. She’s so strong, and the plot twists? Wild.”

The cashier, clearly eager to engage, leaned in slightly, his elbows resting casually on the counter. “I know, right? I just finished The Wicked King,” he said with a boyish laugh.

“I’m almost done with The Queen of Nothing now.” His eyes flicked up, lingering a moment too long on your face. “You into high fantasy like this, or was it just a one-time thing? ‘Cause if you’re looking for recs… I’ve got a few I think you’d really love.”

You smiled, delighted by the conversation. “Oh, I’m always open to fantasy suggestions. I love character-driven stuff with sharp worldbuilding.”

Completely absorbed, you missed the way the cashier’s eyes dipped briefly down your frame before flicking back up to meet yours. "Lucky for me, you stopped by today.”

Jason, who had been standing just behind you, tensed. Subtly, he stepped closer, the warmth of his body brushing your back as he shifted the weight of the books in his arms. His free hand settled on your waist, low and firm.

It was casual, at least outwardly, but there was nothing casual about the way his fingers flexed slightly against your coat.

The cashier, oblivious or ignoring the shift in energy, handed you the receipt, gaze still lingering. “Seriously, though. A doll like you geeking out over The Cruel Prince? That’s rare. Real rare. Kinda makes a guy believe in fate.”

Jason’s voice cut through the moment, cold enough to make the air around you drop a few degrees. “Yeah,” he said, eyes locked onto the cashier’s now, unreadable but intense. “She’s one of a kind.”

The cashier blinked, clearly feeling the shift, but tried to laugh it off. “Right, of course. I’ll, uh, finish ringing this up.”

Jason didn’t move, didn’t blink. “You do that.”

A moment later, the books were bagged, and the cashier’s enthusiasm had visibly dimmed. He offered a half-hearted smile, handing you the bag. “Enjoy your books.”

Jason took it before you could, his hand brushing against yours as he did. “We will.”

You followed Jason out of the store, blinking at the sudden rush of cold Gotham air. You were about to say something when you caught the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes stayed forward.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Jealous?”

He scoffed, but didn’t deny it. “Nah. Just making sure it’s clear. You’re mine.”

You slipped your arm through his. “Always.”

જ⁀➴ TIM DRAKE

“Hi, Timmy Junior,” you crooned, crouching low to the penthouse floor with a dramatic sweep of your coat as it slipped from your shoulders. Your fingers found the cat’s chin, scritching gently beneath the plush fur.

The feline let out a noise of pure bliss, an undignified grrrrrr-rup purr as he leaned his entire ridiculous body weight into your hand.

“You’re so spoiled,” you whispered like a secret, ruffling his ears. “Where’s your dad, huh? Inventing new molecules? Hacking the Pentagon again?”

You padded deeper into the apartment, your heels left by the door, your coat sliding neatly onto the rack with one smooth toss. The air inside was warm and low-lit, cast in that signature honey-gold glow Tim always adjusted for you when you worked late at the hospital. Cozy, inviting. The kind of lighting that lured you toward rest like gravity.

Your gaze landed on him instantly. Folded up on the couch in a soft Gotham U hoodie and well-worn sweatpants, socked feet tucked beneath him, glowing laptop balanced on his knees.

The blue light framed his face like a crime scene photograph. His fingers flew across the keys, precise, fast, controlled. His brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched just slightly, like whatever he was typing deserved war.

You didn’t say a word.

Instead, you launched yourself forward like a sleepy jungle cat and collapsed into his lap, head-first, limbs folding as you burrowed in like you belonged there. Because you did.

Tim paused, but only for a second. Then one arm wrapped around your waist, locking you into place as his other hand resumed its furious typing like your sudden weight had simply activated some comforting subroutine. Like muscle memory. Like ritual.

“You’re late,” he murmured, finally meeting your eyes with that gentle, tired smile you’d always been weak for.

“Code blue,” you mumbled, curling tighter into his hoodie. “And two separate idiots who thought knife fights belonged in the ER lobby.”

He hummed low and familiar. “Gotham.”

You exhaled slowly, melting into him. The scent of him wrapped around you—green tea, clean soap, and ozone, like he hadn’t moved from this couch in hours. The safest smell in the world.

But something… tugged.

You felt it now. His body didn’t soften the way it usually did when you came home. His hold was there, but too controlled. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t gone away. He hadn’t kissed your forehead.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”

Tim’s lips parted like he wanted to deny it, but instead, he let out a breath that deflated his whole chest. “It’s nothing,” he said, almost too fast. “Just… internet drama. Dumb stuff.”

“About work?” you asked, brows raising.

“No,” he said after a beat, tone shifting. “About us.”

You stilled.

Tim blinked at you, then sighed. “You did an interview with Vicky Vale today?”

You blinked again, slower this time. “…Yesh,” you mumbled into his neck. “She was a nightmare in heels, but Bruce said something something ‘positive press,’ ‘curated coverage,’ PR speak, blah blah—”

“Right,” Tim cut in, nodding slowly. Too slowly. “And in that very public interview, broadcast to half of Gotham… you said Nightwing was your favorite vigilante.”

Silence.

You shifted.

“I stand by my words.”

He gasped in faux betrayal and grabbed your hand, holding it up like a piece of evidence. The diamond on your engagement ring caught the light dramatically.

“This is a literal rock,” he said, dead serious. “A shiny, cut-from-the-mountain, six-years-of-our-life-together rock. And that,” he gestured vaguely in the air, “is slander.”

You bit back a grin as he continued, spiraling.

“…Treason, even,” Tim added dramatically, eyes wide with mock hurt. “I should call Bruce. Or the League. Or Alfred. Someone’s has got to arrest you.”

You covered your mouth to stop the laugh threatening to bubble out. “You’re going to tattle on me to Alfred?”

“Damn right I am. He likes me best. He’ll understand.” He pointed a finger accusingly. “And you—you—are officially banned from Titans reruns, YouTube edits, and any content where Nightwing is in leather and doing that thing with his sticks.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “What thing with his sticks?”

Tim looked personally wounded. “You know what thing. The twirly thing! The one with the hip pivot.”

You smirked, throwing your arms around him like a blanket. “Hm. But you're still my favorite fiancé.”

He scowled into your hair. “Not good enough. I want it in writing. Signed affidavit. Notarized.”

“Fine,” you deadpanned. “I, under oath, declare Timothy Jackson Drake to have the second-best butt in Gotham.”

Tim pulled back sharply. “Second?!”

“Best fiancé,” you corrected with a squeal, kicking as he launched a tickle assault. “Best fiancé! Tim! Stop! I swear to—!”

He kept going, merciless and grinning, until you both dissolved into laughter and flailing limbs on the couch. Tim finally flopped beside you, chest heaving, arms still tangled around you.

You were still breathless, clutching your stomach, when he murmured:

“…Still should’ve been first-best butt.”

You reached over and kissed his nose. “You’re number one in my heart.”

“And in Alfred’s rankings.”

“Exactly.”

જ⁀➴ DAMIAN WAYNE

The wind bit at your exposed skin, Gotham’s chill cutting through every crack in your suit, making you shiver despite your best efforts to hide it. You tried to pull the oversized cape tighter around your shoulders, Damian’s cape, and flicked it dramatically, hoping for a bit of extra warmth. It made you feel a little ridiculous, but god, it was warm.

You glanced sideways at Damian, the stone wall of a man beside you, not even acknowledging the cold as he stared down at the street below, his jaw set and his posture as rigid as a statue.

You raised an eyebrow. “You know, I’m freezing my ass off in your oversized cape, and you’re standing there like a stone wall, making me look like a damsel in distress.”

Damian flicked a glance at you, his lips barely twitching into a smirk. "You do look ridiculous."

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the cape again. It really did swallow you whole. You felt like an overgrown child in a giant’s cloak.

"Well, at least I’m warm," you muttered, "unlike some people."

“Tt. I’m fine, beloved,” he said, but there was a little something extra when he said beloved.

Something warm. Something intense. And despite the cold, your heart did a little leap.

Sexy stone statue, you grumbled to yourself. You were so not above it.

The night air crackled with tension for a moment before Damian broke the silence. “Something’s off. Stay close.”

You straightened, your body on high alert, instinctively leaning closer to him. You followed his gaze toward the flickering lights…A bank alarm.

The unmistakable shriek of Gotham’s most wanted sound—bank robbery.

“Trouble,” you said, giddy with the thrill.

“Indeed,” Damian replied, voice low and dangerous. Before you could respond, he vanished into the night, melting into the shadows.

“Show-off,” you muttered, launching a web and following him across the rooftops.

You landed beside him, crouched above a black van outside the bank. Thugs were unloading duffle bags—money and cologne, Gotham’s finest.

“Someone’s making a withdrawal,” you whispered.

“Then let’s make sure they don’t get too comfortable,” Damian muttered. With a single flick of his wrist, a Batarang flew out, slicing through the air and knocking one of the thieves out.

“Smooth,” you swooned, eyes wide with admiration. “Hey, this might be the best date night we’ve had all month.”

“Tch. I prefer less… crowded dates,” Damian shot back, already taking down another guy with a fluid motion that made it look effortless.

Fast. Precise. Unfairly hot.

You couldn’t help but grin, heart racing as you jumped into the action, doing a flip over one of the thieves to disarm him mid-air. You were all set to land on your feet, ready to keep up the momentum, when suddenly, a shadow slammed into you from nowhere.

The impact knocked the wind from your lungs, sending you crashing into the rooftop with a grunt.

Damian’s head snapped your way, eyes dark, hand flying to his blade. Ready to kill.

"Wait!" you said, breathless, as you pushed yourself up and caught sight of the person on top of you.

"Black Cat?" you breathed, disbelief flooding your chest.

She grinned down at you, that too-familiar cocky smile spreading across her face.

"Hey, Spider," she said, pressing a hand down on your shoulders, keeping you pinned, her fingers firm and possessive. "Long time no swing. You look… deliciously out of breath."

Your brain short-circuited. "Holy shit. What are you doing in Gotham?"

Before she could answer, a shadow dropped hard beside you. Damian. Radiating absolute fury in a tight, concentrated glare.

“Get. Off.”

Two words. Ice-cold.

Black Cat didn’t flinch. In fact, her grin widened.

"Ooooh," she said, drawing out the syllable like she’d just tasted something expensive. “You must be new. You gotta get in line, cutie. Spider’s got fans, you know.”

“I am not a fan,” Damian snapped. “I am her partner.”

You sat up. “Aw.”

Damian flushed.

“In combat,” he added stiffly.

You winced. “Less aw.”

Black Cat howled. “Oh, this is so much better than I hoped. You got yourself a territorial one, huh?” She leaned in close to Damian, eyes twinkling. “Tell me, do you bite?”

“I don’t bite,” Damian said coldly.

“Oh?” she said with a smirk. “Shame.”

“I maim.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” Black Cat tsked, her hips swaying as she walked forward with that signature, cat-like confidence. “Relax, Bird Boy. Just saying hi to my favorite Spider.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Guys! Seriously? We are not doing this right now. We’re literally in the middle of a robbery!”

Black Cat flipped her hair over her shoulder, unfazed. “Handled it already, sweetheart. I snagged the bank’s security drive, webbed the goons to their getaway van, and took care of the heavy lifting before I jumped you. You’re welcome.”

“…You webbed—my web fluid?!” you gawked.

“Borrowed,” Black Cat said airily. “Don’t be stingy.”

“I made that with bio-polymers and blood, you kleptomaniac bat-licking menace—”

“Oh, please,” she rolled her eyes. “I'm sure you can make another one of your web knick-knacks.”

Damian’s eyes flashed. “Those cartridges are proprietary.”

“Pro‑pri‑e‑tar‑y!” you echoed, stabbing a finger at her. “He means off-limits, you thieving furball!”

Black Cat rolled her shoulders, utterly unbothered. “I’ll return them. Hm… rented at a fair rate, of course. Maybe half a million an ounce?”

Damian growled low in his throat. “You—I'll—”

“Okay, okay, enough. Look. I’ll put them back before breakfast tomorrow, deal?” Black Cat offered, waggling her fingers like this was a brunch invitation and not felony-level theft.

You opened your mouth to protest because you absolutely did not agree to that, but it was too late. With a mock curtsy and a wicked glint in her eye, she vanished into the shadows, her laughter echoing like a warning shot.

You turned back to Damian, who stood tense, blade still in hand, every muscle in his jaw working overtime.

“I should have let her fall off the building,” he muttered.

You snorted. “You would never.”

“I could have accidentally loosened her grip.” He sheathed his sword with more force than necessary. “No one touches you like that. No one pins you but me.”

Your brows shot up. “So you do want to pin me—”

“Strategically,” he snapped.

“Strategically?" you purred, arms wrapping round his shoulders. "That’s what we’re calling rooftop makeouts now?”

“I—Tt—focus.” But Damian's hands settled at your waist anyway, traitorously warm. “We need to debrief. Secure the scene. Call in the GCPD. Recheck the vault—”

“Oh, Dames…”

જ⁀➴ CASSANDRA CAIN

You were no better than a man.

You were definitely not supposed to be staring. Or, at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you tried to focus on the workout in front of you. But there was no way you could ignore Cassandra right now.

She was… perfect.

Her form was flawless as she moved through her calisthenics routine. Push-ups, pull-ups, even backflips! Nothing seemed to faze her. And here you were, struggling not to turn into a puddle of goo on the gym floor.

It wasn’t fair, honestly. How was one person allowed to be so hot? You were supposed to be stretching, but instead, you were completely fixated on your girlfriend, who was now hanging effortlessly from the pull-up bar.

She wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, you were sitting here pretending to stretch, but your eyes couldn’t stop following her every move. How could you not? She was making calisthenics look like some kind of sexy ballet, and you were feeling some type of way about it.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you barely heard the guy who suddenly sidled up to you. You looked up, confused, to see him standing a little too close.

"Hey, uh…" He cleared his throat, clearly trying to sound casual. "I noticed you were watching your friend there… I could totally show you how to lift weights, you know. Maybe even you."

You blinked at him, trying to suppress a laugh. Your brain was still stuck on your friend? Was that supposed to be his pick-up line?

“Uh… really?” you said, raising an eyebrow as you glanced back at Cassandra, still breezing through her workout like she was in some kind of fitness commercial. You could barely keep your mouth from hanging open.

"Yeah!" He puffed out his chest like he was some kind of Greek god. "I can handle lifting your body weight, no problem."

You blinked again. "Oh??"

"Yeah," he said with a cocky grin. "I can totally do it."

You crossed your arms, trying not to burst into laughter. “Okay, then. Show me.”

The guy dropped to his knees in front of you and looked up, ready to lift you. You tried to brace yourself, but honestly, you weren’t sure what was going to happen. This was either going to be impressive or a disaster, and you were pretty sure it was going to be the latter.

He grunted. Nothing.

You raised an eyebrow, watching as he struggled. His face was turning red, sweat starting to drip from his forehead, and—yeah, this was as bad as you expected. He couldn’t even get you an inch off the floor.

“Need help with that?” you asked, barely able to hold back the giggle bubbling up.

“No—no, I’ve got it!” he snapped, lifting harder, but the effort only made him wobble like a newborn giraffe.

"Maybe next time, huh?" you said with a sigh, holding back your amusement.

Then, just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Cassandra appeared. You didn’t even see her coming. One second, the guy was still struggling with the whole “lifting you” thing, and the next, Cassandra was casually stepping between the two of you. She looked at him like he was a bug she couldn’t be bothered with, then lifted you effortlessly with one hand.

You froze.

One hand.

The guy’s face drained of color as Cassandra set you down like you were a stuffed animal she was tossing back on the shelf. She didn’t even glance at him as she flicked her hair back, returning to her workout like nothing happened.

Meanwhile, the guy? He was just standing there. Shocked. Maybe a little bit scared. His mouth was moving, but no words came out.

Could not have imagined a more embarrassing moment for him…

Turning to Cassandra, your grin only widened. “Baby… you just broke his soul.”

Cassandra didn’t even glance your way. She simply raised an eyebrow, then shot you a small smile as she signed, He should have known better.

As you were about to respond, the guy finally seemed to snap out of his daze. He stammered something about ‘his form’ and ‘next time’ before practically sprinting off, likely rethinking every choice he’d made that led him to this moment.

You chuckled under your breath, eyes flicking back to Cassandra. “Well, looks like you just ruined his chances of ever lifting a girl again.”

Cassandra shrugged, clearly unfazed, and went back to her pull-up bar. Not my problem.

As she started packing her things, she shot you a sly smirk. Let’s go home. I’ll give you a workout of your own.

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile pulling at your lips. “That… sounds promising.”

And just like that, the gym, the only thing on your mind now was what your workout would look like tonight.

Goopyness... This was very fun to write!

My requests are open! Please...Uwu

OP hiding a whole poem in the tags

Eywa's fleecy little lamb — the blood sacrifice of Her chosen one

I'm dying to know Colin and Eloise's reaction to finally meeting Penelope again after she broke off all contact when she moved away from her mother. What do they think about her big friend group with so many different people. I can imagine Colin beeing annoyed at Michael for keeping it secret that he knew where Pen was, and Eloise is confused by Philip. Michael haven't had that much contact with the Bridgertons, but he could have mentioned that he LIVED with Pen!

So in defense of Michael while he knows Penelope knew the Bridgertons once upon a time he also knows that it was her chocie to leave and if she didn't tell them where she was than that was her choice and he was gonna respect it. Plus Francesca never brought her up in conversation and that's just kinda weird to announce out of no where that the family friend she has never brought up once is living with him.

Eloise assumed Hyacinth was teasing when she bragged about seeing Penelope again with Felicity. Colin thought his younger sister was trying to get under someone's skin again.

"The two men Pen lives with are quiet handsome," Hyacinth said when Violet asked about her. She then gets a mischevious grin. "I wonder if she dated either of them."

Eloise scoffed, while Colin pretended he didn't hear.

"Actually they were roommates in college and continued living together after," Anthony said, not looking up from his newspaper.

After that Eloise manages to get the address out of Hyacinth and drags Colin with her. Also much like her sister Eloise comes banging on the door at 7am.

"Again?!" Michael groans, rolling over to bury his face into his pillow. "Why does everyone show up when we want to sleep in?!"

The roommates had a movie night the night before and all ended up sleeping in the living room.

Phillip, being the only one semi awake, goes to open the door. There he finds two Bridgertons, one is talking a mile a minute asking about where Penelope was, the other was just observing the area around him.

"Why do you all come so early in the morning?" Phillip asked. "Like you all can't wait until at least ten?"

He walks back inside while waving Colin and Eloise in. "Pen it's for you."

Penelope sits up before groaning and laying back down. "Why are you both here so early?"

"Oh Pen!" Eloise rushed forward asking a thousand questions at once. Colin was still observing those and the apartment around him. Though he often found himself tracing over Penelope's form more than once.

At least until Phillip asked if they wanted some of the food he's making.

The Cowper's neighborgs AU (season 1)

I want to expand on this AU where the featherington are the Cowper's AU.

Like I said before, at first Cressida and Penelope weren't friend. Cressida was just another bully, just like her sisters. But being far from the bridgerton she had to confront them more often than not. I think in their childhood Cressida would value Prudence and Philipa's friendship more because they seem that they would be more popular once on the marriage market. I headcanon that in her childhood years her parents, mainly her mother, were nicer to her. But unlike Portia, lady cowper didn't want to shield her daughter from the harsh reality. She told her that her main goal before entering the marriage market was to surround herself with people that would elevate status.

Cressida would look down on Prudence and Philipa but with Penelope it was worst. She wasn't that unpleasing to the eye but her eloquence was lacking.

At some point Cressida's grand mother dies, she was the only member of her family who was affectionnate to her, it affected Cressida greatly and the only one who noticed was Penelope. She offered her a silent support that she needed most at that time. She acted less vile against her after that. They truly became friend close to their first season. I think during the first or second ball of the season. It had been really hard on both of them and Cressida was acting particularly vile that night wich had become rare. Penelope actually snaped and told her what she had on her heart.

They had a back and forth that made them realise they had more in common that they thought. They started to become friend after that. When Cressida's parent ask why she would surround herself with the likes of Penelope Featherington, she simply said that it would paint her in a better light and enhance her beauty. Her mother had doubt about that but her father couldn,t care less. The only thing he wanted was for his daughter to find a husband as quick as possible so he can get rid of her.

Their friendship is really diffrent from Pen and Eloïse's friendship. For Pen and El, their friendship was always comfortable, kind of like a refuge especially for Pen. But with Cressida it's more of an understanding, they are both in very grounded in their reality but with very diferent views of their futur.

I like to think that in their first season they were less worried about their futur. Penelope was still hopefull and dreaming that Colin would one day reciprocate her feelings, and Cressida was certain she would find a husband easily in her first season. Cressida wanted a high prize, she wanted the prince, she aim and she missed, witch was even more upseting concidering that Daphne didn't even marry the prince afterward.

The end of their first season was hard on both of them, but since Pennelope had shown support for her when her grand mother died Cressida decided to do the same. During that time, in-between season, they became really close.

The only reason they made Maddie a Noxian spy is because otherwise, she would've been a victim in this entire situation, and people would see how shitty Caitlyn's actions actually are.

Cait is still Maddie's superior. The power imbalance is very much there, not to mention the way she treats Maddie outside of their affair. Imagine if instead of being a 'traitor that weasled herself into Caitlyn's bed to gain her trust', Maddie was just an innocent young officer who was manipulated and used by her boss. It just makes Caitlyn look way worse, which she is, because she didn't know Maddie was a spy, so in her eyes, the difference in status didn't matter.

The writers needed somone else to be the scapegoat while Cailtyn did her thing and everyone was already against Maddie because she 'got in the way of Caitvi', which is not true by the way, Caitvi was always going to be cannon. Personally, I think it's ridiculous, but I've seen it happen time and time again in fandoms, so I'm honesty not surprised.

Neytiri and Spider when they’re about to have an argument in front of their whole family:

another greens

Mania and Ludus

Two other oc of mine and are the origin of some kind of yandere curse. When I make yandere oc or when I include yandere in my stories I don’t like to attribute this terme to a certain mental illness for many reason. One I don’t like the association "mentally ill people = monsters" and two it give me more freedom in how I can explore my caracters without having to worry if my representation of a condition is accurate or not.

Now that it’s said, let me tell you the story of Mania and Ludus and how they became the Goddess of obcessive love and the god of playfull love.

Mania loved Ludus... in her own way

And Ludus loved Mania... in his own way.

It’s a shame they weren’t able to reconize the love they had for each other. They were traped in their own world, their own pain, unable to see the other as anything else but the role they needed them to play in their own life.

They were kids at first, born from neglecting fathers and either overprotective or uninterested mothers. The scars from their younger years left a hole where their hearst was suppose to be. A huge void, empty of feelings and compassion.

Doctors from all around the kingdom were called yo heal the young prince, the only heir to the throne. But none of them could do anything, the prince had to stay with this hole in his chest.

Mania’s mother was a witch, therefore she knew why this hole had appeared and she knew that the only person who could heal her was herself.

The whole in his heart kept Ludus from becoming a knight. He was unable to run, jump or laugh. Keeping him locked in this castle a silent castle. The rumors of his void in his chest driving people away and making him the hole in his chest grow larger as he grew up.

The two of them fanaly met when Ludus’s father, the king, decided that it was time for him to learn how to be a proper king. He move him in the royal castle, bigger than the one he grew up in. Mania’s mom was the right hand of the king, therefre the two of them lived in the castle since as long as Mania can remember.

It only took one look for them to reconize the familiar hole in each other’s chest.

They quickly became friends, bonding over what they had in common. Mania was studying magic with her mother. She was able to potions ans spells, allowing Ludus to run faster, jump higher and laugh louder.

Ludus’s cute attentions changed Mania’s frown into a smile, shocking the servants in the castle.

The holes in their chest closed slowly , progressively.

But nothing last forever, their intense feelings died down. Going from a explosive fireworks to a warm fireplace. Comforting for Mania but insufficient for Ludus. After spending such a long time in heavy silence calm didn’t please him. He looked for the fireworks, he had found with Mania, in others. Piercing the heart of his friend, who had previously healed him.

Ludus went after meaningless relationship, short love that he quickly grew tired of. The more relationship he had the less intense and fun they became.

While he ran around, Mania’s heart bled until it became as cold as ice.

Ludus didn’t deserve such a vivid throbing heart... not after wha he had done to Mania.

So she pulled it out ofhis chest. Still warm... still throbing... he couldn’t run anymore...

Soon Mania wasn’t able to run too, the ice of her heart frooze her flesh and bones... even her tears refused to spill out of her eyes.

thinking about spider hating his humanity because he only got to know the side that destroys not the side that creates. As much as the scientists try, they went to Pandora to scape, they'll never present to him fully what humanity is. He never saw a concert, never tasted human dishes, never went into a museam and SAW humans as a whole, the bad and the good. The image of a dying planet filled to the brim with monsters is the only thing he imagines when he thinks of earth.

I love the idea of the posh and wealthy Bridgerton siblings falling for their spouses in the spouse friend group au. Penelope and Simon constantly have to translate. They have a running competition about whose Bridgerton is the poshest. Eloise is offended at first until Philip points out that for his birthday she bought him first edition versions of some of his favorite books.

Eloise: Well I certainly wasn't going to give you a 2nd or 3rd edition! (shudders).

Philip: Just for that remark, you get another point.

OR

Sophie (staring at the ring Benedict is proposing to her with): I can not wear that thing.

Benedict: I told Anthony that I should have gone up a carat size!

Sophie: Ben, I'm pretty sure they could see that rock from SPACE! There is no way in hell I can wear that on my finger while working.

Benedict: Oh then that's no problem! I can reserve the store for us tonight to pick out a proper one! (turns around to call the jeweler).

Sophie proceeds to add two points to his score.

OR

Penelope (opening Colin's fridge): Colin, why do you have four kinds of cheese in your fridge?

Colin: I know it's sad but the store was out of the good Brie and Wensleydale so I'm a bit short today.

Penelope: I'm adding a point for every cheese in your fridge plus the two you mentioned.

This ask reminds me of @newtonsheffield lavender haze au, which I highly recommend.

I'm going to be completely honest I haven't thought that far into their relationships or the au in general, but I love the thought of the spouses only group chat just keeping score of whose Bridgerton does the most rich people posh shit. Anthony is currently in the lead. Daphne has the lowest score only because Simon won't add points for certain things because he has done some of those things. The others have to call red cards on him sometimes and then give Simon points. The Bridgertons never know their actual scores because their lovers will sometimes add points without telling them.

I have thought about how the two groups officially run paths.

I am also going to slightly redact one of my statements from my previous post. Michael and Francesca are friendly with one another. They were distantly acquainted at best when she was dating his cousin but when they got engaged and John later became sick, they bonded into a friendship. He doesn't know the rest of them though.

Lady Danbury throws a charity ball, and the boys have to go since they are the heads of their families. They beg and bribe to bring the girls as plus ones because going alone is just asking for matchmaking mamas to throw their daughters at them. The girls finally agree when Simon reveals that it's a masquerade ball so their faces will be covered.

Well guess who was also at the charity ball.

The group kind of splits off once they're at the party. Gareth and Lucy go raid the desert table before Lady Danbury pulls them to the side.

Standing next to Lady Danbury is a middle-aged woman with two others, her children most likely.

"Gareth, Lucy, this is Lady Violet Bridgerton and her children Gregory and Hyacinth," Lady Danbury introduced.

The group talked for a little while, mainly about the four in university and how their studies were going. Lucy didn't miss though how Gregory kept sneaking looks at her.

At one point Gregory whispered something to Hyacinth who only smirked at her brother and held out her hand. Gregory rolled his eyes before placing some money into the outstretched hand. Hyacinth counted it before nodding.

"Gareth I do love this next song coming on. Come dance with me." Without waiting for answer Hyacinth dragged Gareth off.

Violet only smiled and nodded. "Oh yes the next dance is so much fun. Lucy you must join in."

"Oh, I don't know the steps," Lucy said. Gareth how dare you leave her alone with his matchmaking grandma.

Lady Danbury taps her cane to the floor. "Nonsense! Gregory can lead you can't you boy?"

Gregory nods, holding out his arm for her to take. "Of course. Shall we?"

Phillip pulls Penelope off to go see what plants are around the conservatory.

"Look at all these plants Pen!" Phillip sounded like a kid in a candy shop. He excitedly pointed to some Penelope roses. "Here's your flower!"

Penelope giggled. "You know Pip I think you take the term wallflower to a whole new level."

"Hush Pen."

As Phillip continued to show her all the different plants, Penelope couldn't help but feel like someone was staring at her. Which was weird, she was never noticed at these things growing up. Discreetly Penelope began to look around and oh no. Here she thought she be unrecognizable now. The last thing she needs is for a scene to happen and her mother find out she's here.

Penelope grips Phillip's arm gaining his full attention.

"Pen?"

"I think I've been found out."

Phillip fully turns, blocking most of Penelope's small frame out of sight. "Your mother?"

"No, the Bridgertons." Penelope gestures.

Phillip follows and sees a young woman Penelope's age and a man about Michael's age. "Which ones are they?"

"Colin and Eloise."

Phillip looked back down. "Weren't you close with them?"

"You know after that huge fight with Mama I basically ghosted everyone, I knew from high society including them. If they find out I'm here now they'll make a scene. There is no sublte bone in either of their bodies, in the whole family."

Phillip begins to tug Penelope along again. "Well, I guess we'll keep moving.

Michael and Sophie head off to dance.

During one of the dances you are supposed to switch off partners. Sophie finds herself practically swept away with how quick her new dance partner switched her from Michael.

"I apologize," he said. "Francesca wanted some time to talk to Michael."

Oh, Sophie knew of Francesca. She was engaged to Michael's cousin when he passed. During that time period when Michael wasn't with one of them, he was with her.

Sophie looked over her shoulder. None of Micahel's usual flintiness was there as he whispered something to Francesca.

"I say those are some lovely tattoos you have."

Sophie turns back towards her new dance partner bewildered. Did he seriously say lovely and tattoos in the same sentence?

"Who are you?" Sophie asked.

"Benedict Bridgerton," the man said.

Benedict. Sophie's knows that name too. He was in some of Penelope childhood stories. "The nudist?"

Meanwhile Simon and Kate kind of take it all in from the side lines.

"I see why you wanted all of us to come along," Kate joked as she watched all the older women look on in disappointment from seeing her next to Simon. "They look absolutely visous."

"They most certainly are," Simon said, his eyes still on the crowd.

Kate was about to say something else when a voice cuts her off.

"Basset!"

Simon turns towards the voice, the first smile he had all evening lighting up his face. "Bridgerton!"

A man the same age as Simon rushes forward and the two embrace. Behind him is one of the most elegant looking young ladies Kate has ever seen.

Bridgerton. Kate has heard that name before, but where? Maybe a story from one of the others? Bridgerton, Bridgerton, Bridgerton. Oh. "Bridgerton? As in the eight siblings who all share one brain cell?"