#Bruce: I am not sure why I expected this Not to escalate but it's too far to go back now

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt in Memes 4

Another prompt, but in memes because trying to gather my thoughts is hard sometimes lol.

[keijislove]

Hi babe! I was wondering if I could request a Tony Stark x daughter reader? With lots of angst and her being locked in her room because she’s being bullied for her darker skin

(I understand if you’re not comfortable with this)

Safe Place: Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader

I think this turned out a bit longer than I expected.

Sorry :(

I hope you like this, I don’t really have a lot of experience with this matter, so I hope I captured the emotions right!

I AM APOLOGISING IN ADVANCE, THE HURTFUL COMMENTS MENTIONED HERE ARE NOT ONES I WOULD EVER USE IN MY LIFETIME.

GIRL, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY YOU ARE – YOU DON’T NEED DIMWITS LIKE RACISTS TO DEFINE BEAUTY. YOU WANT THE DEFINITION OF BEAUTY, GO LOOK IN THE MIRROR.

PUT A STOP TO RACISM.

WARNINGS: Slight EXTREMELY racial comments, mentions of death, toxic relationship, angst, Tony being a little... well, Tony.

Being Tony Stark’s daughter was nearly everyone’s dream. Well, everyone you’d come across at school, anyway. It seemed rational from their point of view – big house, big bedroom, expensive branded clothing, basically an overall exquisite lifestyle coupled with fame of being his daughter which was sure to earn popularity points anywhere and everywhere. A man rolling in that amount of money would make a great dad... right?

You thought differently. Which was one of the main reasons you did not tell anyone who your father really was and your teachers understood your predicament and played along to your story of being an ordinary girl with no scope for coolness whatsoever.

Your mother had met your father a long, long time ago – when Tony was still in university. Of course, he’d left her before he even knew she was pregnant, and they never saw each other again. You didn’t exactly love your life as his daughter. In fact, from what your mother had told you, he was (in your vision) a complete monster whom your mother had the sad misfortune to meet.

It was her untimely death that had forced you to go live with the man who was the reason you were born and the man who ruthlessly left your mother to fend for herself and a baby. You had tried for foster care, but the agents told you that your father was still alive and more than capable of taking care of you – being the famous Tony Stark and all.

So it would suffice to say that Tony was lowkey shocked when you turned up at his doorstep one day with a grudging expression and declarations of being his daughter. He actually didn’t believe you at first and asked you to piss off which confirmed your earlier assumptions about his character – asshole. After you’d snapped at him and showed him all the legal documentations stating that you two were blood-related as father-daughter after all, Tony was even more shocked than earlier.

Though he would rather die than admit it, he felt sad after seeing your fourteen-year-old self standing at his doorstep. He’d missed your birth, your first steps, your first words, he even missed helping you with homework in preschool – basically all precious moments you enjoy with a child. But you made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to be here – something that made Tony’s already overlarge pride swell like a bullfrog and stopped him from ever getting close to you. While you were busy thinking he didn’t want you, you overlooked a small detail – he took you in.

If anyone had the power to bribe an adoption agency to get rid of their kid, it was Anthony Stark, yet he never gave you away. The simple explanation (that he would never, in a million years, admit it to you) was that he didn’t want to lose you – around the only blood-related family he had left.

And so began your life as Y/N Stark. It functioned surprisingly well for your expectations. Pepper was really nice to you and those few occasions when the Avengers came over, you were able to talk to Natasha about ‘girl things’, her presence reminding you of the mother you had lost only too young. You sometimes even asked Bruce for help with homework, too proud yourself to go to Tony. Overall, you stayed out of his way while he stayed out of yours – an arrangement you were both satisfied with.

The worst part was that you never talked. Ever. You would wake up and walk to school, refusing Jarvis’ continued protests of letting you use the self-driving car, came home the same way where you did your homework and grabbed a snack before you ��father’ came back upstairs from his little man cave in the basement and a small ‘good-evening’ passed between you two as you went your separate ways. This cycle repeated itself every day. Recently, your life at school hadn’t been going great.

You’d known that your skin tone was a notch darker than the others at your school – something you had gotten from your mother – and this was not something you really cared about. That’s when they started coming – the comments. What were originally small, snide retorts of ‘wash your face, ew!’ (A/N: I AM SO SORRY) had now escalated to them calling you obscene names you’d never heard before and asking you to leave ‘their’ school

Which was why, instead of being at school today, you were locked in your bedroom, sobbing into your pillow.

It had started out as a very unusual morning. After getting comments hurled at you left right and centre the previous day, you’d had enough. You’d woken up and declared to Jarvis that you were skipping school and he was to, under no circumstances, notify your father about this. After that you tried to eat some cereal, but the bubbling dread in your stomach made it taste like dry carpet, so you gave up and stomped into your room, locking the door before flinging yourself onto the bed and crying your heart out.

It was in times like these that you felt the need for something – a gaping hole in your chest. It seemed foolish to even admit it to yourself, but you really wanted someone like a parent. Someone who listened to your problems and comforted you accordingly, someone who actually cared about you. And since Tony Stark filled neither of these requirements, you gave up the foolish dream and sunk, once again, into your self-fashioned depths of misery.

-------

Tony casually sipped on his wine, putting one last screw into place to make the latest piece he was testing out. As he powered the device on, it vibrated for a moment before the words ‘model failed’ appeared on the screen Tony was examining.

He swore loudly and shoved it ungracefully aside before running his hands through his hair. There had been many an occasion where Tony seriously considered going to your room to just say something to you that wasn’t a monotonous ‘good evening’ or ‘the milk’s finished’ or something else like that. He wanted to talk to you. To you.

He wanted to get to know the real Y/N – what you were like when you weren’t too busy being bold and refusing to appear vulnerable. As if reading his thoughts, Jarvis’ voice filled the room suddenly.

“Sir, I do believe that Ms Stark is currently locked inside her bedroom. She refused to go to school just this morning.”

“What?” Tony exclaimed, “Why, did she tell you anything else?”

“Just this, Sir, along with a few obscene warnings of not informing you about this occurrence. If I recall correctly, Ms Stark told me she would rip out my sockets with her bare hands had I come to you.”

Ignoring the small smirk that was growing on his lips at the thought of you behaving exactly as he would, Tony wiped his tired hands on a nearby cloth before sprinting out the door and up the stairs to your bedroom.

He knocked on the door.

“Go away Pepper, not in the mood,” came your muffled voice. It was weak and raw – evidently, you had been crying.

Ignoring the poking feeling of dread bubbling in his stomach, Tony knocked again.

“Open up, kid, it’s me,” he shouted.

“Definitely not in the mood, thanks.”

Tony sighed. This was exactly what he had tried so hard to avoid –turning out like his own father. Not knowing how to deal with a daughter properly, he just let you go about your business as you wanted, hoping that it would yield better results than what his childhood had been like. Now, looking back at how much he’d neglected you, he suddenly realised that he had done the exact thing he was afraid of – hurt you.

“Y/N Y/M/N Stark, open the door. Please.”

Perhaps it was the please at the end or the way he acknowledged you as his living, breathing daughter for the first time that made you stagger limply over to the door and push it open.

Your eyes were puffy, red and swollen from bawling nonstop and your brows were knitted into a disapproving frown. It broke Tony’s heart to see you like this.

“Listening,” you sniffed, crossing your arms.

“Okay, why don’t you sit down,” Tony frowned slightly.

You gave another hearty sniff and led him to your bed where you flopped down and watched as he took a seat beside you.

You both sat in a very painful, deafening silence for the next few minutes.

“You didn’t go to school today,” Tony casually remarked as you played with your pillow, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I did,” you said simply.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Tony offered.

“I really don’t,” you admitted as he burst out laughing and you gave a grudging giggle despite yourself.

“Seriously, kid,” Tony said in an undertone, “You’ve gotta open up a bit more. I mean, it’s been like what, two years since you moved here and you never bother telling me what’s going on. And look where that got you – come on, tell me what’s going on. Is it school?”

“Partially,” you quietly said to which he cocked an eyebrow.

“Completely,” you amended, sighing, “Kids, you know, they’re just being – well, mean.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded slightly, “You want to talk about it?”

“They... they make fun of me,” you admitted, “About – about my skin colour and stuff. And I know I’m being stupid, getting upset over this –”

“It’s not stupid,” Tony broke in, “It’s not stupid at all. Nothing gives anyone a right to talk to you that way.”

“Try telling that to them!” you burst out, final letting go of the pent-up emotions you’d been holding for days, “What did I ever do to them – it’s not my fault I look like this, maybe if I could choose what to look like, I’d choose something they want! Just about everyone seems to have a problem – what the hell do they expect me to do? It’s unjust, unfair, unsettling and unkind, but of course they don’t care, do they?!”

Tony didn’t even flinch throughout your entire outburst until you broke down and tears began rapidly pouring out of your eyes once more.

“Hey, hey, stop, listen to me,” Tony sternly said, seizing your shoulders and turning you to face him.

“You’re a Stark,” he said, gazing you dead in the eyes, “You are beautiful, you’re smart and you’re kind. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

This was too much for you to handle and you started sobbing again – sobs of partial happiness and partial guilt that didn’t look like they would stop anytime soon.

“Come here, kid,” was all Tony could say as he pulled you into a hug, allowing you to sob into his shirt while he stroked your hair, trying to calm you down.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever been mean to you,” you whispered finally.

“It’s okay, kid,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m sorry I haven’t been a great father all this time.”

You two sat in a now comfortable silence, occasionally clearing your throats or sniffling a bit before Tony finally spoke.

“If anyone says that to you again, I will have them cut up and fed to the fish in my house in Malibu.”

“Thanks, dad.”

[toastedside]

Valentine Blurbs

Batboys (+ Bruce) Valentine Blurbs.

Note: Happy valentine! It’s a month full of love, meaning I can find reason and indulge myself in these fic while pouring my heart for my boys. I hope you find the warmth of love and a little bit of happiness in this.

Prompt: Different ways to say I love you.

Bruce – “I’d rather just hang out with you, if I am honest.”

The ballroom was lavish, gold and black glittered around the room like a prideful emperor march around the city. It was filled with people dressed like they’re going to flaunt everything they have in their pocket, polite laughter and chatter mixed together in the air. You smiled politely as you tried your best to follow Mrs. Harris’s conversation about whatever it is about the latest gossips of the Gotham Elite. She’s an old lady that never learn how to stick her nose into where it belongs, and you hate to admit that some of her stories are indeed interesting.

Champagne on your hand was half empty, and your feet started to get hurt from standing too long. Even after a long way of attending galas and rich parties alike, you’d never get used to it. Maybe you get better at it, sure, but galas are suffocating and painfully exhausting.

You excused yourself after finishing your champagne, eyes darted around to find a slightest sight of your husband. It no longer surprised you, or anyone really, that he had a knack to slip away undetected from this kind of event. You walked through the empty and dark hallways, knowing exactly where he would be as your feet brought you into the balcony.

“I believe we have guests and party to attend, Mr. Wayne,” you greeted him as you inhaled the cold breeze. It was a welcomed change from the suffocating ballroom.

You saw Bruce’s lips twisted upwards. His hand stretched out in a silent invitation for you to join him, in which you gratefully accepted. “I’d rather just hang out with you, if I am honest.”

“It’s an important one. We worked days and night for this.”

“There’s no way to convince you to sneak out from this party, no?” he raised an eyebrow. You wanted nothing but to scowl at him for able to read you like an open book.

“If we go back a little while for ten minutes top, you’d get to hang out with me alone for the rest of the night.”

Bruce smiled. So wide and bright that you were sure the moon above was ashamed of his smile alone. He pulled you gently closer to him, planted a soft kiss into your hairline as he muttered, “Sounds good to me.”

Dick – “I dreamt about you last night.”

Dick pressed his phone lazily into his ear. His eyes still closed as he battling away the drowsiness that kept pulling him in and out of sleep. He could feel the sunlight slowly seeped into his room through the blinds as he listened patiently to the monotone ring on his phone.

“Hello?” you answered after the fifth ring. He figured you’d be out for work by now, but he couldn’t risk to wait for another minute. He smiled as soon as your voice blessed his ear.

“Hey babe,” he greeted. Voice still thick with sleep. “I dreamt about you last night.”

He could hear your breathless chuckle, as if the air had been sucked out of your lungs out of surprise. His lips involuntarily tilted upwards upon hearing your chuckle. Dick reckoned it’s a muscle memory at this point that the corner of his mouth would immediately turn upwards at the sound of your laughter.

“Oh yeah? What was it about?” you asked. Dick could hear the wide smile on your face. He closed his eyes and the image of you smiling with raised eyebrows popped inside his brain.

“You.”

“Hmm, I hope it was a nice one.”

“It was!” he said as he sat up on his bed. Suddenly felt more awake as his brain wrecked hard to replayed the pleasant dream he had. “I slept good and happy. Thanks to you.”

Jason – “I did the dishes.”

Truth to be told, you didn’t know what to expect. You hadn’t had any particular expectation upon how your day would end up be like. The exam waiting for you in two days and endless list of deadlines had been the only thought that plagued your mind. Eating you alive as you tried to hold into the strands of sanity you had left.

You didn’t expect Jason to show up, standing in your kitchen with a sheepish smile as he said, “I did the dishes.”

To think about it, you just realize you haven’t seen him in three days.

You blinked at him. Brain still unable to process the event displayed in front of you. You had come out from your room and head to the kitchen to grab an ice cream. Instead, you found a tall man stood in front of your kitchen sink and your three-days’ worth of dirty dishes done. All squeaky clean and neatly tucked in the cabinet.

“Why?” was the only thing your exhausted brain managed to muster.

Jason shrugged. “I know your study can be overwhelming. Especially since exam week is coming.”

Suddenly, the thought of him filled your brain to the brim. There was no such room for words. Only overflowing thought of him and the feelings you harboured in your chest. Jason stared at you alarmingly, his eyes wide.

“I am sorry,” his voice was above whisper. “Did I upset you?”

You shook your head as you let out a wet chuckle. You hadn’t realized you had been crying. There’s no other place you’d rather be than his arms right now, so you headed straight away into your desired destination. You felt Jason relaxed underneath your touch, and you felt him smile as you captured his lips as you wordlessly said thank you.

Tim – “It reminds me of you.”

No, he had no reason. His eyes merely caught the glimpse of periwinkle and baby’s breath on his way for photo hunting. So bright and pure underneath the sunlight, tucked in the middle of concrete jungle. Like an oasis in the middle of a desert, bright and cheery and inviting. Almost looking like it was out of place.

Tim had subconsciously walked himself towards the flower shop. His camera in his hand, eyes staring straight into the periwinkle and baby’s breath placed next to one another. He couldn’t understand why he had held his breath upon such a mundane sight.

Flowers in a flower shop. Yet it was the most mesmerizing sight he had seen all day.

“What’s the occasion?” you let out a surprised laugh as he showed up and presented a bouquet of periwinkle and baby’s breath.

Tim pressed his lips together. He couldn’t put the dots on why he did what he did. Surprisingly enough he was content with the gnawing fact he had act on his impulse to bought you a bouquet of flowers. It was mesmerizing, beautiful, and he was left in stunned silence upon seeing it for the first time.

You looked up from your present to meet his eyes. A smile still persistently painted across your face. Tim sucked a breath in and held it altogether. Beautiful, he silently thought to himself, almost like it strung out of nowhere. A beauty in a such misshaped place his room is.

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning in the daylight. He smiled as he shook his head. He knew he wasn’t the most romantic boyfriend in the whole world, but he would be dammed not to let you know.

“Nothing. It reminds me of you.”

Duke – “Call me when you get home.”

You watched him pouting from the doorframe. You had to physically restrain yourself from pulling him into your embrace and smoothen out the pout on his lips. But knowing Duke, that probably would end up cost you another hour of him clinging into your side.

Duke watched you with arms folded in front of his chest. He looked so mesmerizing underneath the twilight. The sky above was a hue of orange and pink, a hint of black appeared on the line of horizon. Yet your eyes locked into his.

“Stop pouting!” you reprimanded him with a laugh. “You’ve hogged my attention for two days.”

“You’re absolutely mental if you think it was enough.”

“I have my own apartment,” you pointed out, “that I need to occasionally visit and clean.”

Duke knew it was true. He always knew when to back out and when to stood on his feet from an argument with you. Something he had learned fairly fast and well enough. You watched him shook his head with a smile.

“Come here,” he said as he spread his arms. “Give me one last kiss before you go.”

You complied with rolled eyes. His embrace was warm and inviting, you almost not want to let go. He leaned closer to capture your lips and you met him halfway. It was a quick and short one, left you wanting for more.

“Call me when you get home.”

Damian – “I hope you like it.”

Damian clutched a small canvas to his side. He frowned at the sensation of his heart thump inside his ribcage painfully. The sound of loud chatter of his classmates had been drowned by the ringing on his ear. His fingertips felt uncharacteristically cold. Was it the air conditioner?

He let out a quiet sigh. Was it the symptom of flu? Did he accidentally got exposed to a poison during his patrol? He was pretty sure he was fine in the morning. Days before that as well. So, what’s with the pounding heart?

His eyes darted around the packed hallway; mouth pressed together as he silently muttering your name. It was a tedious and hard job to find a person in a packed crowd, let alone a bunch of loud students on a break in a school hallway.

“Damian, hey!” it was you who had spotted him at first. Looked around like a lost and kicked puppy in the middle of a bustling city.

It has always been a funny thing between you two that he hadn’t understand. For some reason, you always had a knack to spot him in a bustling crowd when he hadn’t able to spot you. One thing that escalated almost immediately as soon as friendship blossomed between you and him. He approached you silently, the coldness on the tip of his finger had spread throughout his arms.

“I made you this,” he said as he discreetly shoved a small canvas into your hand. It was a beautiful painting of Alfred’s rose bushes in the garden. He had vaguely recalled you nonchalantly said wanting to see a rose bush in person. “I hope you like it.”

Damian immediately walked away towards his next class before you had a chance to speak. He knew eventually he had to talk about his painting and let you properly said thank you. But for now he would need to find a place to tame his erratic heart and his cold fingers.

[catxsnow]

PROTECT YOU D.W.

Request:  Could I request something with angst and fluff for Damian Wayne please? One where there's a mission that he isn't involved in because he's injured but his s/o is on it but then he freaks out when her coms are off bcs reader might have been injured or dead but when they all get back to the cave s/o is fine. Thanks!

Warning: angst, fluff, Older!Damian

A/N: I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of writing for Damian

GIF not mine

Word Count: 2.5k

Damian hated being left out of a mission. No matter how damaged he was, there was always still argument that he could pull his weight on the team. The time that he had a concussion he had convinced Bruce to still let him go out, and another time when he had a sprained wrist. Damian always found a way to make sure that he was still going out as Robin, especially when you were going with them as well.

You and Damian had been dating just under two years. He arrived at the manor just about a year after you did. It took a while for him to warm up to you, to anyone there, but you seemed to be the easiest to get along with. Damian found himself allured by you. Your skills were comparable to his and when you had put him on his ass in a matter of minutes, he had some respect for you as well.

The more you trained together, the more he was impressed by you. It didn't help that the longer you spent time together, the more you realized that you had grown immense feelings for him. Feelings that were too stubborn to go away or be ignored. It was why, when Damian had won a spar against you, arms pinned to the mat and hovering above him, you had acted on impulse and kissed him.

He was shocked at first, unsure of where this had come from. It didn't take long for his grip on you to loosen, leaving you just enough wiggle room to flip your positions. Damian wasn't sure if he was more surprised by the fact that you had kissed him or that you had used it again him to win your spar.

Either way, it had led to more kisses, more time together, and a relationship that Bruce was weary about. Damian had already acted so high and mighty when he was fighting as Robin, he couldn't imagine what he was going to be like when the two of you fought together. And he was right to be worried.

Damian became protective of you. He wouldn't let you leave on a mission, or even patrol, without him. He would be the one to constantly have your back because there was no one he trusted more to keep you safe than himself. Damian had fallen in love with you and he couldn't bare the thought of losing you to anything.

It was why Damian had once again tried to convince his father that he was healthy enough to go on a mission. His arm was in a cast, but that didn't stop him from wanting to go along side you against a dangerous mission. It was the first time that you were going without him since you had been dating and he was terrified.

It lead to comments about keeping you safe, being there to protect you, and how useless his brothers were. You couldn't stand by and watch any longer as Damian continued to be spoiled with getting what he wanted. This behavior that he had - about only him being able to keep  you safe - it drove you crazy.

"Damian Wayne!" You bellowed. Your voice echoed through the walls of the cave and had caused everyone to freeze in their spots. Damian was yelling at his father to let him go with them as well. He desperately wanted to be there for you, there was just something in his gut telling him that you weren't going to be safe that night.

Damian stopped arguing with Bruce and winced. He slowly turned to face you with his mouth still agape. You stood there with your suit on and hands on your hips, nothing but disappointment fell in your eyes.

Dick looked wearily between Tim and you, unsure of what was about to go down. It wasn't very often that you had yelled at him, much less using his whole name. The tension in the batcave grew as you continued to say nothing until it got unbearable.

"I am a grown adult, I can take care of myself without you being there all the time!" You finally snapped. "I'm tired of you acting like I'm less of a valued member of this team. You go around making it seem like I can't take care of myself! It's degrading. I don't need you to protect me, I never needed you to protect me."

"Beloved, that's not-"

"Save it, Damian," you cut him off, pulling the cowl above your head. He watched silently as you got on top of you bike, revving it up to leave. "Listen to your father, stay here."

Even when you and Damian went on missions together, before leaving the cave, you had always told each other you loved them. There was always the chance that something would go wrong and that someone wouldn't make it back. It wasn't a risk that you were willing to take about missing a final 'I love you'.

However, as you sped out of the cave without another word, Damian had the words hanging off the tip of his tongue. His head hung low as the rest of his family looked at him. They had all known that he was protective of you and that sometimes he did push the limits to keep you safe.

He had never known that you felt that strongly about this. Damian groaned in frustration at your fight, he hated arguing with you, especially right before a mission. You were more reckless when you were angry, and this time he wasn't there for you. No one was there for you, this mission had you going solo.

Bruce looked down to his son, unsure of what to say to him to make things better. He simply squeezed his shoulder before jumping into the batmobile. Tim got in beside him and Dick on his motorcycle.

"Damian," Dick called out to him as the other two left. "They're going to be fine out there, okay? (Y/N) is strong. They aren't angry with you, trust me."

"Better catch up, Grayson."

><

Damian was freaking out.

His father had announced half way through the mission that your comms had been turned off. He wasn't sure if you had done this yourself or something worse. Either way, if it wasn't for Alfred nearly tying him down to the chair, he would have been off searching the city for you. Damian was terrified about what was going on with you.

He knew that this feeling in his gut should have been something he worried about more. Damian should have known that you shouldn't have gone out on your own, he knew that something bad was going to happen. Bruce had full faith that you were fine, he wasn't worried about your comms being off - which had only frustrated Damian even more.

They should be out searching the city for you to see what happened, not come back to the cave where nothing was being done. The mission had been successful, there was no need for worry about where you were. You were the farthest part from the city, it made sense that you would arrive last.

Yet, even Dick was starting to get a little nervous about your whereabouts. It wasn't common for you to turn your comms off, at least not for this long. Whatever happened to you out there, it had to have been for good reason. There was no point in poking the fire with Damian and getting him more worried about you.

It was different for Dick to see Damian so worried about someone. Of course he worried about the rest of his family, but nothing like he worried about you. In Damian's nineteen short years of life, he never expected to love someone so much. It was an unbreakable love between the two of you, no matter how much you argued.

"Where are they!" Damian yelled. He wanted to take his father's vehicle and race out in the streets to find you. He would have too if he wasn't constantly held back.

"(Y/N) said that they were fine right when the mission was over," Tim tried to reassure his brother. "There's nothing to worry about, Damian."

"Bullshit, Drake," Damian snapped. He paused his pacing to glare at his brother. "(Y/N) never does this. Something must be wrong." It was true, you never turned off your comms unless you were meant to go dark. Damian only hoped that you were doing this because you were mad at him still, not because you were injured.

The only thing he hated seeing more than you getting hurt, was you being mad at him. Whenever the two of your fought, there was always a very short period of time before one of you apologized. Damian prayed that this wasn't going to be escalated. He didn't know that you felt so strongly about this, otherwise he would have been less over protecting of you.

The echo of your bike bounced off the walls of the cave. Damian eagerly perked up from his place to wait your arrival. He had no idea what kind of shape you were going to be in when you finally got here, he was worried about you. Damian stood just beside the place you parked your motorcycle with an anxious look.

The second you put the kickstand down and removed your helmet, Damian had thrown himself in your arms. He pulled away from you only to to place his lips on yours. All the concern and anxiety he was feeling melted away with your touch. It was always you that was able to calm him down.

"I was so worried about you, beloved," Damian admitted to you. His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the small cut along your cheek and the frown on your face. The pad of his thumb gently wiped below your wound. It was then that he noticed the blood dripping down your neck as well. "What happened?"

"Nothing that I couldn't handle on my own," you assured. The tightness in your voice caught him off guard - you were still mad at him. That was confirmed as you pushed past him and everyone else waiting for you. Just as you were about to leave the cave, it was Bruce that stopped you.

"Why were your comms off," he asked. Damian wasn't the only one worried about you. Not to mention that turning them off could have endangered the whole mission - lucky for you, it hadn't. Without another word, you ripped off your cowl and tossed and threw it backwards for him to catch.

The earpiece in your cowl had been damaged. Lucky for you, the bullet shot in your direction had just grazed your suit, not your head. The cowl seemed to satisfy Bruce's question enough, he didn't say anything else as you left to your room.

"I think you messed up," Dick pointed out the obvious. Damian shot a deathly glare at him and stormed out of the cave as well. At that moment, he didn't care if you were mad at him, he was just glad that you were alive.

He hovered by your door for a moment, debating whether or not to knock or just walk in. As he heard the shower going, he decided to just wait on your bed (shared bed at that point, Damian rarely slept in his own anymore). For once, the room seemed foreign to him, like he shouldn't be in there without you.

This fear that resided within him wasn't fear that he normally had when you went on missions, this was a fear that you had finally had enough of him. This kind of fear overpowered every other emotion trying to break through. It left him unable to sit still and cowering from his own thoughts.

The second that he heard the shower turn off, Damian felt as if his heart was going to burst through his chest. His leg bounced up and down as he waited for you to walk out.

"Damian," you spoke as you opened the door. A towel was wrapped around you and water droplets fell from your hair. You knew that he was waiting in your room for you, and yet the surprise of seeing him so nervous shocked you. 

"Beloved, please," Damian stood up to meet you. "I'm sorry that I made you fell this way. I know that you're capable of taking care of yourself, I know you don't need me to protect you."

You said nothing as you continued to pull out a pair of pajamas. Damian sighed at your silence. He hastily grabbed both your hands and forced you to face him. The fear in his eyes took you back. Damian didn't show fear, he always exuded confidence. Seeing him like this, you knew that he was being truthful.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Damian told you. "I only argued to go on these missions because... because I'm petrified that one day something is going to go wrong and that I'm not going to be able to say goodbye, or you to I. If I'm ever going to die out there, I want to make sure that your face is the last I see."

Your bottom lip wobbled as he spoke. You tore your hands out of his so you could pull him into a hug. Tears spilled down your cheeks - you couldn't bare the thought of losing Damian. "I love you, Damian. So, much. I'm sorry that I was angry with you, I know you just want what's best."

Damian shook his head - you were right to be angry, he just wished that he had known about it sooner. Your hands rest at the back of his neck as you pulled him in for a heart-warming kiss.

"Stay with me tonight?" You asked, playing with the few baby hairs at the back of his neck. Your touch sent a chill up his spine. The lingering water on your skin left you cold and you craved the warmth that Damian always had radiating off of him.

"Of course."

"You might not always be able to protect me out on the streets, but you always keep me safe from the nightmares that haunt me."

At the end of the day, that was the protection that you needed the most. You didn't need him to hover over you like a child when you were protecting Gotham. You needed him to remind you that your nightmares weren't real, that they were nothing but a figment of your imagination. Damian was real, and he knew how to keep you safe.

You would always need Damian, even if it wasn't in the way that he imagined.

[aceofshitposts]

Happy Valentines Day everyone!!! This wasnt actually what I initially planned and it technically... isn’t v-day themed but it DOES feature idiots in love so that’s good enough, right? No beta we die like robins okay hope you enjoy! (will probably throw this up on ao3 tomorrow too)

ALSO a reminder that you can totally send me prompts for little drabbles/ficlets!! a sentence or dialogue or just an au you think might be cool (i adore aus) or if you just wanna say hi!

-

Jason's not stupid. It's just that. Things can sneak up on you sometimes, okay? They all have that habit of getting lost in the details or not looking for what isn’t expected. And boy, is this not expected.

"Please," Tim is imploring in the same tone a child asks their parent for a candy bar at the grocery store checkout, "Bruce isn't even going to be there so you don't have to worry about him."

That's. Really not the problem. The problem is Jason has no idea why Tim is asking him, of all people. Not that he doesn't like hanging out with Tim, as a matter of fact he probably likes it too much. Seeking Tim out had become a bad habit, if he’s honest, that has escalated from working on cases together to eating meals after patrol and even occasionally meeting up during the day to whisk Tim away from the office for a proper lunch.

They're friends, right? But that doesn't explain why Tim is inviting him to an important social gathering and not, say, one of the Titans if he needs a second that badly. Hell, Dick or Stephanie are better choices than Jason is. Asking Jason is. Is. It’s-

It feels a little like Tim’s asking him on a date. Which is absurd for all kinds of reasons, least of which is that Tim doesn’t like Jason like that.

"Why are you asking me?"

Jason winces. That sounded harsh even to him and the way Tim’s expression goes from distinctly hurt to completely closed off has Jason cringing even more.

“Okay,” Tim says, turning towards the open window.

“Okay?” Jason repeats, already forgetting that Tim hasn’t answered his question.

“Mhmm, don’t worry about it,” he says in a tone that suggests Jason should absolutely worry about it.

With that Tim slips out the window and into the early Gotham morning, leaving Jason with an extra breakfast burrito that they’d never even got around to eating before Tim had… whatever the hell that had been. Jason stares at the open window for a moment more, the wind blowing a napkin into his face, and decides he’ll deal with it after sleeping.

-

“What the hell did you do??”

If the sound of Jason’s bedroom door violently hitting the wall didn’t wake Jason up then Stephanie’s indigent yelling would have done the job just fine.

“What the hell do you want?” Jason asks, then shoves a pillow over his head in the vain hopes she will go away.

“Get up!”

The covers are pulled from his body which wouldn’t be so bad if this didn’t also give Stephanie better access to punch him squarely in the stomach. Jason snarls, leaping out of bed to tackle Stephanie to the floor. They grapple around on the floor for a while, Stephanie succeeding in nailing Jason in the throat with an elbow and pinning him to the floor.

“What,” she says pointedly, “did you do to Tim??”

Jason wheezes, only half due to the pressure still on his throat. Stephanie stares down at him furiously.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Jason says hoarsely. 

Stephanie’s eyes narrow.

“Well, you better figure it out because he showed up at my apartment and has spent the entire morning moping under my blankets and obsessively redesigning Redbird on his tablet.”

Stephanie gets up in one smooth motion then offers a hand to help pull Jason up from the floor. Jason rubs at his sore throat giving Stephanie an incredulous look.

“I dunno what his problem is; he asked me to some fancy dinner and I just asked why he wasn’t asking you or whatever-”

“You what?”

“What! What did I do?”

“What did you do??” Stephanie shrieks in lieu of answering the question. “You have to be joking.”

When Jason just stares at her for a good minute Stephanie’s expression breaks and she starts laughing.

“Oh my god, please tell me you got dosed with something from Ivy or took a blow to the head recently,” she wheezes through her laughter. “Oh, noo, this is too stupid.”

“If you’ve figured out whatever is going on, could you clue me in?” Jason implores which only makes Stephanie laugh harder.

“Nope!” she says, popping the P, “this is too fucking funny. You’re on your own, bro.”

Before Stephanie leaves she makes sure to steal some of Jason’s leftovers and laugh at him some more, giving a two fingered salute as she leaves through the same window Tim had earlier that morning.

Over the course of the day Jason tries to busy himself cleaning his weapons and kitchen but he just end up stewing in the echoes of Stephanie’s laughter. He’s slumped on the couch rereading the same paragraph of a random paperback he’d grabbed when around four in the afternoon he receives a text from Cass that’s just a smiley face. It’s the only warning he gets before Tim comes stumbling through his window, laptop tucked under his arm.

“Okay, so, I’m still mad at you,” Tim starts, which is great, “but I want you to watch this.”

He sets his laptop down on Jason’s coffee table and maybe Jason can finally find out what this is all about.

On Tim’s laptop screen he opens what looks like a power-point presentation, and isn’t that just incredibly Tim, with the title: “Reasons We Make A Good Couple and Shouldn’t Break Up”.

Wait-

Back up.

“Break up??” Jason asks incredulously.

Tim’s head whips around to look at Jason, the slide on the screen changing to a picture of the two of them in uniform at the local 24 hour diner, probably taken by the waitress and posted on some social media platform, Tim reaching across the table to snag a piece of Jason’s bacon. It’s got several heart emojis all over it.

“You- yes? Isn’t that?” Tim sputters suddenly turning a bright shade of red.

“To break up don’t we have to date first?” Jason asks in a rush before his brain has really caught up with the situation.

Tim gets impossibly more red, muttering, “oh my fucking god,” while slamming the laptop shut. He runs a hand through his hair, looking as nervous and off kilter as Jason currently feels.

“I’m. I’m so sorry, Jay, I thought-” Tim starts rambling, words flowing together into an incoherent string while Jason’s brain tries desperately to parse what’s happening.

Like a lightbulb finally turning on in the middle of the night, Jason understands.

“Tim. Are we dating?”

Tim stops, jaw audibly snapping shut. He looks at Jason for all of two seconds before his gaze darts away miserably, looking at the floor.

“Yes?” he ventures, sounding unsure. “I just. I assumed you wanted to take it slow.”

Jason can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes his throat.

“Do I look like I do anything slow, Babybird?”

Tim growls in frustration, throwing his hands in the air and then pointing an accusing finger at Jason.

“We go out all the time! I hang out in your apartment! But whenever I’d try to initiate something more, you’d back off! I was trying to be considerate!”

Oh holy shit. Stephanie is right, this is stupid. Jason had thought he’d been projecting his own desires onto Tim, that there was no way Tim would want to be close to him like that. Even after all this time, Tim still finds ways to surprise Jason.

“Well, this explains why Stephanie punched and then started laughing at me this morning,” Jason laughs while draping an arm over his eyes. They really were Batman’s kids if their complete inability to communicate like normal people was anything to go by.

“God, Jason, I am so sorry,” Tim says, dropping down beside Jason on the couch with an oof. “I never should have assumed anything.”

“Hey, Babybird?” Jason shuffles over so he can throw his arm over Tim’s shoulders.

Tim startles, looking at Jason with wide blue eyes.

“Shut up and let me kiss you.”

Yeah, okay, maybe sometimes Jason is stupid. But he can at least find solace in the knowledge that sometimes Tim is also. Besides that, Jason tells himself, what really matters is that they got their shit together in the end. Even if that realization is undoubtedly going to come with a large amount of their family all pointing and laughing at them for being idiots.

“So,” Tim ventures after they’ve spent half an hour making out on Jason’s couch, “does this mean you’ll come with me to the dinner?”

Jason muffles a laugh against Tim’s collarbone and says, “yeah, sure I’ll come.”

“Okay, cool, cool. We’ve got to be there in an hour then.”

[lils-writes-stuff]

The Lesson

Spencer Reid x reader

Best Years Season 2 part four | part three | part two | part one | season one

summary: the week that changed everything

warning: normal criminal minds things, angst, sadness, gore, fun stuff

A/N: based on season 8 episode 10; you’re all going to hate me, im sorry, i promise it gets better the is the storm before the rainbow

 The cool Georgia air hit Y/N’s face as she stepped out of her rental car. The scene in front of her seemed so foreign after years of being away. Her childhood home stared her down as she stood in its driveway. She almost didn’t want to go in. Every time she saw her mom, she came to visit her. So the last time she was truly home, was almost six years ago. 

 She walked up to the front door, duffel bag in one hand and the other raised to knock. However, that wasn’t needed, because her mom swung the door open the minute she saw her. 

 “Y/N!” She exclaimed, wrapping her in a tight, motherly hug.

 “Hi Mom,” she whispered, her cheeks squished against her mother’s shoulder. 

 “Come in, come in,” she ushered her daughter into the house. Y/N looked around the home she once called her own. The walls were a lighter color then she remembered and there was new furniture and decorations scattered throughout. 

 “So I have it all planned out, I know you’re only here for a couple of days, but tonight, you’re aunt and uncle are coming over for dinner, along with some of our friends. Them for the other two days we can do whatever you want.” Her mom was standing on the opposite side of the island from Y/N, a smile absorbing her face as she looked at her daughter. 

 Y/N just looked at her mom, a watery smile on her face. She wasn’t upset at all though, she was just so happy to see her mom again. 

 “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Her Mom walked to the other side of the counter. 

 “Nothing, Mom, I just am so glad to see you,” she whimpered. 

 Her mom gave her the same watery smile and wrapped her in another hug. 

 The two sat in the kitchen, coffee cups in hand, laughing about her mom’s stories at her restaurant she worked at. Y/N told stories of the team and how much they loved her mom from her visits up there. 

 “So have you done it yet?” Y/N’s mom asked, pointing to her left hand. 

 “No, not yet.” 

 “Why not?” 

 “I don’t know, I just haven’t found the right time I guess,” Y/N shrugged.

 “Well, I think that when you get back you should just do it.” Her mom laughed taking another sip of her coffee. “You talk about how perfect he is and me and London are waiting in anticipation for that call, so just do it. The next time you see him.” 

 “We’ll see mom, we’ll see.” 

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

 It had been two days since Y/N had left to go home for a visit. After the night where Spencer gave her the idea, she waited about three weeks before actually executing it. Spencer kept pushing her to go, telling her the team could survive without her. So she finally went. 

 “You know, now I know how you felt when I was gone on your leave,” Spencer laughed during his confession. His phone was pressed against his ear as he passed back and forth in their living room. 

 “Oh yeah, but I learned to survive, how are you holding up?” Y/N asked through the phone. She stood in the kitchen of her childhood home, leaning on the island with her coffee sitting in front of her. “And besides it’s only been like what? Three days?” 

 “Two days twelve hours and thirty-six seconds,” Spencer corrected. 

 “Ah, forgive me. And here I thought you didn’t miss me at all, clearly, you do.” 

 Spencer chuckled at her remark, “So much.”

 “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I miss you too,” Y/N admitted. “And my mom misses you too, she says that we both need to come down here and visit together sometime.” 

 “I think that’d be fun,” Spencer said.  

 “Hey, Spence, so listen I was thinking when I get back we could go out to dinner, you know like a fancy restaurant maybe?” Her voice was hesitant at her request. Her heart pounded in anticipation as she waited for Spencer’s answer. 

 “Sure, that sounds great. Rossi was telling me about this great Italian place yesterday that we could go too,” Spencer responded. His mind raced at the thought of them going, knowing it would be the perfect opportunity to ask her the question he’s been waiting for. 

 “Perfect,” she responded. He could see her do her little jump of excitement through her voice. 

 Spencer was quiet for a second and looked up at the larger than average sized clock in the living room. He was late. Then his phone pinged, pulling it away from his ear, he saw the message from Penelope about a case.

 “Damn it,” he muttered. “Y/N, I’m late and we’ve got a case, I love you, I’ll talk to you later?” He rushed around the apartment, grabbing all his items and go-bag so he could head out the door. 

 “Yeah, sounds good bub love you too,” she responded. 

 “Bye.” 

 Spencer pocketed his phone quickly and rushed for the door of the apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the black box he left out. Quickly, he picked it up and put it in his satchel. He opened the door and rushed to make it to Quantico in time. 

 “Sorry I’m late, guys, I had an appointment,” Spencer rushed, taking his bag off and sitting in his chair. 

 “Uh-huh, did this appointment have to do with a Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, who you so dearly miss,” Derek teased, making kissy faces at Spencer.

 Spencer muttered a small ‘shut up’ and pulled the file on the table closer to him. 

 “Alright let’s get started,” Hotch said as he quickly entered the room. 

 Maybe I wasn’t as late as I thought, Spencer thought to himself. 

 “Yeah, okay,” Penelope said, standing up from her chair. “Three days ago, Bruce Phillips was found dead with his blond hair dyed black. He had been put in a box and left on a busy street.”

 “A custom-made box,” Rossi noted as the picture of the box came up on the screen. 

 “Maybe our unsub was a carpenter,” Blake posed, twiddling with a pen in her hand. 

 “He stuffed him in there practically folding him in half,” Derek added. 

 Spencer looked at the pictures of the man in the box. His legs bent and broken at the knee and his head leaned back against the box. 

 “He had also been hung and restrained and that’s where the plot thickens like a bad soup,” Penelope explained as she pulled up the next two victims. “Yesterday, Justin Marks and Connie Foster, who were dating, they went missing two miles away from the first abduction site.” 

 “A couple? He’s escalating,” JJ remarked at the new information. 

 “Yes, this morning Justin’s body was found. He had been hung, he had been stuffed in a box in an alley. Officers say his brown hair had been dyed black. Connie is still missing,” Penelope continued. 

 “So he probably still has her,” JJ said. 

 “Why would he reject Justin overnight but keep the first male victim for two days?” Derek asked, not understanding the escalation. 

 “Something about him didn’t work,” Rossi responded, looking up from his file to the TV with the victims. “Look at his neck. He was hung multiple times.” 

 “The question is, what does he do with Connie?” Blake asked.

 “He could make her watch him abuse the men or have asphyxiated sex with them,” Spencer posed a theory. 

 “Well, a brunette male and a woman are crucial to this guy's fantasy,” Derek said. 

 “Well he’s kept Connie, maybe she’s the object of his desire,” JJ said. 

 “Well, our first order of business is finding her and then making sure he doesn’t do this again.” Hotch closed his file and stood up. “Wheels up in thirty.”

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

 Spencer sat on the coach of the jet, his head resting on the backside of his hand as his eyes followed the clouds that rolled beneath them. He thought about all the ways the dinner with Y/N could go, his fear of rejection showing itself as he thought about her saying no. But then he thought of her saying yes, a smile shining bright on her face and it allowed some of his anxiety to wash away. 

 Still, he was nervous. Penelope and JJ had tried to reassure him many times that she would say yes, even Blake thought so, but he was still scared. But isn’t everyone when they’re about to propose? 

 “Alright let’s go over victimology,” Hotch said, gaining everyone’s attention.

 Spencer peeled his eyes away from the window and back towards the group. 

 “Both male victims had their hair dyed black, and the woman is a brunette,” Hotch began the topic. 

 “The guys are similar, same ages, same builds,” Blake added. 

 “Hey were also abducted outside their homes, which were all in the same area,” Rossi continued. 

 “So they were probably being stalked,” Derek noted.

 “Was Connie with her boyfriend when she was abducted?” Spencer asked quickly. 

 “It looks that way,” JJ answered, then began to read from the file. “Her purse was found on the ground outside of his house.”

 “So this involves some kind of ruse,” Derek said.

 “It’s difficult to lure most people from the security of their own homes,” Spencer added, not sure about the ruse thing. 

 “Well, some people let their guard down,” Blake countered. 

 For some reason, Spencer started to become very defensive about this. “Yeah, but stalking victims vary their routes home. They enter and exit through different doors, they wear disguises. They don’t talk to anyone in their driveway. They hardly talk to anyone at all, They’re-they’re terrorized.”

 Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about that. But he couldn’t help but spew the stuff he had learned about victims of stalking onto everyone. He couldn’t help that instinctive feeling inside of him. 

 The team looked at him, confused and shocked gazes on their faces. They did not expect that outburst from him.

 “Okay, so maybe they were followed, Reid,” Derek said in hopes to have him back down his front he was putting up. “I mean, the bottom line is the unsub escalated. The first male was abducted alone, the second was with his girlfriend.” 

 “We, what do we know about her?” JJ asked, hoping to find some new information to help them. 

 “Connie was in her thirties, baked cakes for a living, she never had a run-in with the law,” Blake answered. 

 “Assuming he kept her, what’s the reason?” Rossi posted the new question. 

 “She’s the necessity, somehow she fits into his fantasy,” Blake replied. 

 “And so far, that need may be what’s keeping her alive,” Hotch added.

 “So what we know is that we have an unsub with a fantasy or a deep desire that requires the man to look a specific way,” Derek said, going over what they so far had. 

 “Since he rejected Justin so quickly, he’s probably looking for a replacement as we speak,” Spencer added.

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

 The doors of the elevator opened with a ding as Y/N reached the sixth floor of the FBI academy building. When she stepped out, a hand grasped tight on the strap of her bag, she was met with the familiar smell of coffee and paper. She had made it back earlier that day,the apartment her and Spencer shared empty when she arrived. So, not being able to deal with the quiet again, she decided to head to the office. 

  She was supposed to be in Georgia for another day, but when she heard there was a case, she really couldn’t help but come back. Her mom understood, she would have been leaving in the morning anyway. So before she went to the airport, Y/N visited her brother's grave like she had intended to do. 

 She stood about ten feet away from the headstone, fear of stepping on his body in the ground made her stomach turn. She told him all about her job and how proud she thought he’d be of her. How Derek had become an older brother to her when she moved up there. And she told him about Spencer. All about how she was planning on proposing to him and how excited she was to do it. 

 “Hey, I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” Penelope’s question brought Y/N out of her memory. 

 “Oh yeah, but I heard there was a case and I was leaving in the early morning tomorrow so I just decided to catch an earlier flight,” Y/N answered, pulling her lips into a line. 

 “Oh, so you get to hang out with me on this one!” Penelope excitedly took Y/N’s hand and pulled her to her office. 

 “So catch me up to speed,” Y/N said as she sat in the extra swivel chair in Penelope’s office. 

 Penelope explained everything she did to the team before they left and added in the details of what they told her so far on their victimology. With only some of the broader picture told to her, she was able to fill in the rest of the victimology herself.

 “How was Georgia?” Penelope asked after she finished typing on her computer. 

 “It was good, got to hang out with my family, go visit some old friends, wasn’t too exciting,” YN said, her eyes still trained on the tablet in her lap as she looked at the photos of the case. 

 “Cool,” Penelops’s eyes wandered the office. “ So, did you figure out how you’re going to propose to Spencer?” 

 “Ah, so that’s why you’re making small talk,” Y/N laughed, closing the tablet now. “Yes, I have. When they get back from the case, we’re going to go to dinner and I’m going to ask him.” 

 “Oh my gosh, can I be there? No, that’d be weird he’d be suspicious. But I want to see his reaction and you’re reaction and-” 

 “Garcia-” Y/N put her hand up to have her stop rambling- “You will see tons of pictures, and I am sure you are going to convince Rossi to throw some sort of party.” 

 “Good point, Penelope whispered. “I probably will have that done.” 

-----------

 “I’ve been getting lame GSWs, a few bus crash victims, but a hanging? This is fun,” The M.E., Dr. Cross, said to Rossi and Spencer after she brought them over to the body. “You think it was sexual?”

 “Not in the traditional sense,” Rossi responded, slightly weirded out from the woman's excitement. 

 “Well, look-” she pointed to the victim’s body- “there are numerous ligature marks on the neck, indicating he was hung multiple times. The ones without abrasions were probably made by something soft, like fabric.” 

 “Any idea how long it went on for?” Spencer asked, looking up from the victim's body to Cross.

 “Based on the different varying coloration of the bruising, I’d say about twelve hours,” Cross answered, then pointed to another mark on the body. “This ligature mark with the abrasion is the final one.” 

 She moved the light in her hand down the neck of the victim to point out what she found next. “There’s an inverted ‘V’ in the back. He was hung with a leather strap or belt, which is what killed him. Oh, we also found ketamine in his system.”   

 When Cross mentioned the final hanging, Spencer stood up from his hunched position and walked over to the x-rays on the light board. 

 “Well, ketamine acts quickly, so he must have used a ruse to get close to our victim,” Rossi said. 

 “Look at this,” Spencer held up the x-rays, “The bones were perfectly disjointed.”

 “Could have dislocated from the fall after hanging or when he shoved him in the box,” Rossi said, trying to give some ideas as to why they were dislocated. 

 “Well, actually, the bones were dislocated antemortem.,” Cross corrected. Her attention quickly advertised the two men wheeling in the next victim. “Oh,” she gasped excitedly. “Goody, overtime.” 

 “Can you check to see if the bones were dislocated in the same way?” Spencer asked her as she walked over to the next victim.

 She pulled the sheet back on the victim. Her hands reached for his arm to check the dislocation. “Yep, the same way.” She removed her hands from the body then crossed them. “This guy’s sicker than my last girlfriend.” 

 Rossi turned to look at Spencer. “The question is, why is he doing this?”

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

 Y/N sat with Penelope in her office still, she wasn’t really planning on leaving though, since the rest of the team was away. She held one of Penelope’s many figurines in her hand, this one was a small unicorn that squished. While it was very childish, Y/N couldn’t help but be entranced by the object. 

 “Oh yay, we have a call,” Penelope said as she answered the phone. “Garcia and Wonder woman at your service.” 

 “Can you find anyone in the area that might sell or rent medieval torture equipment?” Hotch asked, getting straight to the point as usual. 

 “Besides a friend of mine in a knitting group?” Penelope asked jokingly.

 “Try S&M suppliers, we’re looking for a stretching rack,” Rossi elaborated. 

 “Spanking the keys as we speak,” Penelope began typing. 

 “Ew,” Y/N said in disgust with Penelope’s phrase.

 “Don’t worry they like it,” Penelope reassured her. “Okay, I have cross-checked stretching equipment with S&M equipment and I found something that stretches something…”

 “I don’t think this is something that we’re looking for,” Y/N said as she looked at the photo. Her head turned at the item in confusion. “How does that even work?” 

 “Maybe he made his own,” Spencer’s voice was heard as he came up with the new idea. 

 “That would be pretty elaborate,” Rossi remarked.

 “Okay, me and Y/N will keep looking, we’ll get back to you soon,” Penelope said, her pen hovering over the hang-up button. 

 “Hang on Garcia,” Hotch stopped her from hanging up. “Y/N when did you get back?” 

 “Couple hours ago sir, I caught an earlier flight home,” Y/N responded. She hoped Hotch wouldn’t say anything about her being back earlier, she knew Spencer would call her later about it though. 

 “Alright, hit us back when you get something.”

 “Will do,” Y/N said and then Penelope hung up. 

-

 “I thought you said she wasn’t coming back until tomorrow?” Hotch looked at Spencer. 

 “I thought so too,” Spencer replied, having no clue that she was home early. 

 “I just went to the latest abductee’s home,” Derek said as he walked up to the three standing in the conference room. “Not only did our unsub use fake blood in some kind of ruse, but the front porch security cameras were also disconnected right before the abduction.”

 “So he cased the site,” Rossi observed from the information Derek had given. 

 “Well, it’s residential streets-- a lot of people coming and going, that’s high-risk behavior,” Derek mentioned.

 “Yeah, the unsub didn’t care. He needed him and it was worth the risk,” Hotch added. 

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

 Spencer peeled the tissue paper inside the box they found back. It’s light airy pink color contrasted with the dark horror inside. 

 “The box is wrapped this time,” Spencer said as he looked at balled up tissue paper. 

 “What is this, a gift?” Detective Marks asked. 

 Spencer pulled back some of the tissue paper from the top. He pulled back about four pieces before the face of the latest victim was revealed. The man that had been taken the day before. 

 “His natural hair color is black and still he kills him,” Hotch remarked as Spencer pulled more pieces of paper away. “And, look, no neck wounds.” 

 “Then how did he die?” Marks asked. 

 “Maybe he bled out,” Hotch suggested.

 “Or he fell from something,” Spencer argued as he examined the body more. “Look at his hands. He bored holes through the hands that ripped, and then he moved them to the wrist.” 

 “Reid, check the feet,” Hotch ordered, getting a hunch on what it could be. 

 Spencer pulled the victim’s shoe back, seeing the same type of hole. 

 “Stigmata?” Spencer asked as he had a theory forming. 

 “Hanging and then crucifixion,” Hotch explained the meaning of the word for the detective. 

 “So this has to do with religious beliefs,” Marks said. 

 “Maybe he just found a new way to torture them?” Spencer suggested. 

 “And still he’s keeping Connie. Something about her is working,” Hotch said.  

 Spencer’s eyes kept on the body. He went over every detail in his head, comparing it with the other bodies. Then he came up with a hit. 

 “Hotch look-” Spencer pointed to the jeans on the victim- “These are the exact same jeans that victim number two was wearing. Look at the trim.” 

 Spencer reached his hand into the box, pulling on the color of the shirt the victim had on. When he pulled it around enough, he could clearly read the tag. “Bonner Brothers. Is that a local store?” 

 “About five miles, half thrift store, half yuppie mart,” Marks answered.

 “I’ll have JJ and Morgan check it out after we give the profile,” Hotch said. 

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

 “Okay, so we’re looking for a white male, at least thirty due to the sophistication of the crimes,” Y/N began to deliver the profile to Penelope. She sat in the swivel chair behind her, her head leaning on its back. She held a pink pen in her hand as she twiddled with it to keep her somewhat entertained. 

 “He’s torturing his victims. From what I’ve discussed with the team, he’s trying to perfect a delusion, which he’s failed. Three times.”

 Penelope sat, her hands laying on her thighs as she listened intently to the profile. She only usually got a small paper description to help her search parameters, so it was really cool for her to see a profiler at work.

 “With most delusions like this, the reality never lives up to the unsubs expectation.” 

 “That is the truth with anything though,” Penelope commented on Y/N’s last statement. 

 “Yeah, anyway, his fantasy involves the torture and stretching-”

 “Okay, you can skip that part, my perfect, pure, and gore free office space doesn’t need that,” Penelope said, holding up her hands to stop Y/N and her face contorting in disgust. 

 “Okay,” Y/N laughed before she continued. “Before he kills them, the unsub fixes their hair and paints their nails. The last victim he escalated to crucifying him, I’ll spare you the details of that. Crucifixion was used for serious crimes, so the unsub probably believes that his victims have wronged him.”  

 Y/N sat back in her chair, making it spin in circles as she kept thinking. “Something isn’t working though in his fantasy, because he keeps discarding the men…”

 Y/N stopped the chair and grabbed the tablet off the table beside her. She pulled up the picture of the latest victim in the box. “He kills them, then ritualistically places them in a box with tissue paper, which is weird.” 

 “Why is it weird?” Penelope asked, on the edge of her seat like Y/N was reading her some sort of novel and was reaching the climax. 

 “Well his initial behavior dehumanizes them, so it means his victims he values more when they’re dead,” Y/N answered. She looked back down at the photos again. “But if he's keeping Connie, does that mean she’s dead and he is doing ungodly things that I shouldn’t even think of, or is she still alive?” 

 Penelope looked at Y/N with a puzzled look on her face, not knowing the answer to her questions.

 “I was asking myself, Pen,” Y/N eased Penelope’s thoughts.

 “Oh good.” 

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

 After the team delivered the profile, Spencer had moved back to a quiet room to work in. Well, he wasn’t really focused on his work, he was worrying about proposing to Y/N. 

 All-day, the team had noticed his behavior. Of course, they would, they’re profilers. Spencer’s odd behavior on the plane, his constant whispering under his breath, and his nervous breaths.

  Blake took extra notice of this though, she had formed some sort of motherly bond with Spencer. And Spencer was glad to have it, she was someone he could relate to intellectually also so it was nice to have her to talk to. 

 Spencer sat in a small office, writing on some paper to help with his geo-profile. He was trying to narrow it down to an area where the unsub might be keeping his victims. He was hard at work, but his mind kept going back to Y/N. 

 She was all he could think about. His nerves from proposing, going over every possible way the evening could go. He couldn’t help himself but feel nervous. 

 “There you are,” Blake said as she saw Spencer in the room. “How's the geographical profiling going? And why are you doing it here?”

 “It’s going good. I’m just having trouble concentrating out there, is all, so I came in here.” Spencer gestured vaguely with his pencil around the room. He quickly looked back down to the map and continued to work. 

 “Hmm,” Blake hummed. “So what’s with you today?”

 “Hm,” Spencer said, not understanding what she meant. 

 “Is this about the black box in your bag?” 

 Spencer opened and closed her mouth, he really hadn’t told anyone about his plan to propose. Only JJ and Penelope. JJ because she’s his best friend and Penelope because she could help him find out what Y/N would like and she was also really close to him. “She asked me the other morning, for when she gets back, to go to dinner. And I-I decided that’s when I decided I’m going to do it.”

 “Awe, Reid,” Blake gushed. “She’s going to say yes, you know.”

 “I know, it’s just, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world to me, and I don’t want to mess it up,” Spencer confessed. “But what if she says no? What if she doesn’t want to marry me?” 

 “Spencer,” Blake scorned and then took a seat in the chair across from Spencer. “Why wouldn’t she say yes?”

 “Because I’m weird,” Spencer said. “I slouch, my hairs to long, she always has to fix my perpetually crooked tie-” 

 “Your hair’s fine.”

 “Really? Thanks, my mom thinks it’s too long and so does my Aunt Ethel,” Spencer admitted. 

 “Well, you’re not about to propose to them,” Blake laughed. 

 “I just don't want to ruin something so special, over something so trivial as looks.” Spencer was showing how insecure he was and it truly broke Blake’s heart. “She’s beautiful, Alex, she’s all I could ever ask for, inside and out. Her smile is contagious, her heart is so big, and her eyes sparkle.” 

 “Spencer, I think you’re excited but afraid,” Blake told him.

 Spencer nodded, agreeing with her.  

“But I have only known you two together for four months now, and the way she looks at you, with such love and adoration. Tells me she’s going to say yes,” Blakes gave him a serious face.  

 Spencer gave a half-smile, her words comforted him.

 “So don’t second guess yourself, just do it, because she is not going to say no,” Blake gave him one last word of encouragement.  

 “We’ll see.”

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

 “You know what’s crazy,” Y/N blurted into the quiet space of her and Penelope. 

 “What’s crazy?” 

 “The way that these victims were tortured. The dislocation seems so...moving? Like he wants to control them.” Y/N looked at the M.E. report. The dislocation just seemed odd and yet so familiar. 

 “Movement, control, crucifixion…” Y/N was muttering these words under her breath as she continued to think why she knew this case. It seemed like something she read before. A book? No. A Reddit scary story? Possibly. An old case? 

 “Penelope there was a case, uh around 2010 I think, I can’t remember the unsubs name but it had something to do with a woman drugging her victims and...oh and she dressed them up,” Y/N listed off what she could remember from the case file she read before she joined the BAU.

 “I think I remember that one, but let me look it up just to be sure.” Penelope began to type on her computer quickly and look up the case. “Here it is, Savannah Malcolm, thirty-two at the time of her arrest. She kidnapped and drugged women to look like a line of dolls due to a frontal lobe problem from electro-shock therapy prescribed by her father, who was a serial molester.”

 “Okay, the doll thing that’s what I’m looking for.” Y/N pulled her phone out and quickly scrolled to Spencer’s number. 

-

 “The M.E. just called, not only were ligature marks on victim three’s arms, but his jaw was dislocated as well,” Rossi said to Hotch after he hung up the phone. 

 “His jaw?” Spencer asked as he and Blake approached the two men. 

 “Why would you hang someone, dislocate their joints and their jaw, and then crucify them?” Hotch’s confusion was received all around by the group. 

 Spencer was thinking, long and hard. His eyes became focused on a Newton’s Cradle that sat on a deputy's desk. The wheels in his brain turned and he was so close to connecting them but he couldn’t find the last little bit. 

 “I can see your wheels turning, don't hold back,” Rossi said, bringing Spencer out of his head.

 “Maybe he’s dislocating their body parts so that he can manipulate them himself,” Spencer said, explaining to them what he was thinking. 

 As soon as Blake was about to ask a question, Spencer’s phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his back pocket and saw Y/N’s name light up the screen. 

 “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” Spencer said when he answered his phone. 

 “Spence put me on speaker.” 

 “Okay, one sec.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and did as she told him. “You’re on speaker.” 

 “Savannah Malcolm,” Y/N said, confusing everyone in the room. 

 “What about her?” Hotch said as he recognized the name. 

 “She was a collector, she kidnapped women so that she could be a part of her doll collection she was missing. What if this guy has something like that, a male and female set of dolls, stuffed animals, even I don’t-”

 “Marionettes.” Spencer cut her off thinking the same thing she was. 

 “Yes! I know it’s crazy but-” 

 “No, no I see it,” Spencer agreed with her but when he looked around he could see the confusion on the other’s faces. “Think about it for a second. If you add the dislocation, the holes in the hands, the strange clothing, and the odd makeup, it sounds crazy, but our unsub could be turning our victims into human marionettes.” 

 “That makes sense, and it’s the best lead,” Rossi agreed, looking to Hotch who had a posing look on his face. 

 “The Greeks translated ‘puppets’ as ‘neurospasta’, which literally means string-pulling,” Spencer said as he gave more insight on the marionette theory. 

 “Oh and throughout time they’ve been used as a method to tell kings a story so the subjects didn’t have to speak to him directly,” Y/N piped in since she had some knowledge of the matter.

 Penelope looked over at her from her chair, a confused look on her face. 

 “What? I like history,” Y/N defended herself. 

 “She’s right,” Spencer said, a small sense of pride forming in his chest. 

 “It was a way to hear the truth,” Rossi said as he was taking in the information. 

 “It seems like this unsub is doing something similar. Using his puppets to tell his story,” Hotch added. 

 “He can’t be controlling them by hand,” Blake said as she thought about how the unsub would control two humans. 

 “No, he probably built some sort of contraption,” Hotch agreed. 

 “And he’s trying to lift his victims,” Spencer added.

 “That could explain why he discarded the men,” Rossi said as he looked at the victims’ charts. “They were too heavy.” 

 “Wait, Rossi what do you see?” Y/N asked, pushing her chair back so she could grab the copies of the victims’ charts she had. 

 “Well, I’m checking the licenses of our victims, and each weighed less than the previous one,” Rossi noted as he picked up each one to compare the weights. 

 “You know, if he’s making human marionettes, that also explains why he’s stuffing his victims into boxes,” Spencer said, his eyes bouncing between the three around him. “It’s like a sick toy chest.” 

 “So he is dehumanizing them,” Y/N noted.

 “But he’s not killing them, he’s turning them into his playthings,” Hotch said. 

 The four at the station turned as they heard steps approaching. 

 “A father and son were just abducted from a parking lot at gunpoint,” Detective Marks said when he reached them. “A witness saw a man force them into a car.” 

 “Dave, you and Blake go check it out,” Hotch ordered. “Garcia, you there.” 

 “Yes, sir,” Penelope piped up to be heard over Y/N’s phone. 

 “I need you to start looking for theater owners and puppeteers in the area,” Hotch said. 

 “Will do sir,” Penelope responded. 

 “We’ll hit you back with some results,” Y/N added and went to hang up the phone. 

 “Hey, Y/N wait,” Spencer said, pulling her off of speaker and putting his phone to his ear. 

 “Yeah, Spence,” she responded, doing the same as him. 

 “We're still on for dinner when I get back?” 

 “Of course, I already made the reservation.” 

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

 “Okay there are five puppeteers/marionetters in the area,” Penelope said quickly, seeing as there were two new victims.

 “Any recently released from prison?” Hotch asked. 

 Penelope quickly typed into the search engine and got no results. 

 “No,” Y/N answered when she read the screen. 

 “Yeah, they’re all working kids’ parties and at hospitals,” Penelope added. 

 “What about someone who had a traumatic incident with a brunette girl?” Spencer gave a new set of parameters. 

 “That’s kind of specific,” Penelope muttered as she began to type. While she was typing, she got a call from JJ and Derek. “Hold on let me patch in JJ and Morgan.” 

 “Hey, we’re at the clothing store,” Derek’s voice said over the phone. “And we got the names of five people who left numerous messages for Tucker this week.”

 “Give them to me and Wonder Woman,” Penelope said, hands at the ready to work her magic. 

 “Alright, we got Sam Holby, Terrence Crammer, Vincent Lang, Matt Parker, and Jill Olger,” Derek said, reading off the names he found.

 Penelope typed swiftly on her keys, doing cross-checks with all the things she’s been given so far. “And no, and I’m cross-checking those with Hotch’s list of puppeteers. And no.” 

 “So I’ve got eight more names, some written on pads in the back, others are frequent customers,” JJ’s voice was heard next. 

 “All right,” Derek said to JJ. “Penelope we need you and Y/N to trace the phone lines here, too, see if this guy Tucker called the unsub today.”

-----------

 “How’s your vegetarian pad thai?” Y/N asked as she gathered more of her own food in her chopsticks. 

 “Amazing,” Penelope took another bite of her food. The phone began to ring. Penelope used the ends of her chopsticks to answer. 

 “Garcia,” Hotch’s voice was heard through the phone. 

 “Yes, sir,” Penelope answered, swallowing her food.

 “Were there any incidents involving a father and son in the puppeteers’ histories that you found?”  

  Penelope set down her box of noodles and began to type on her computer. “Father and son. Okay, no, it’s coming up empty.”

 “What about twenty or thirty years ago?” Rossi’s voice asked. 

 At the new parameters, Penelope got a hit. “Well, there was a pretty famous puppeteer in the late fifties, named Alex Rain.”

 “He died in a robbery,” Y/N read from the article on the screen. 

 “Yeah, his son witnessed it.” 

 “What was the son’s name?” Blake asked. 

 “Adam Rain, mom died ten years ago,” Penelope answered.

 “Cross-check Adam’s name with the names of the patrons in the clothing store,” Spencer ordered. 

 Penelope began to type again and a huge list of callers appeared on the screen. “Oh, I got a big ‘ole hit. Okay, so Mr. Rain called Tucker, the owner, forty times in the last month.”

 “Damn, I don’t think I even call my mom that much,” Y/N commented, taking another bite of her food. 

 “Yeah, check this-- his father was most well-known for a pair of puppets named Mitch and Steph, the male one had dark black hair, the female was a redhead.” The picture of the two puppets was on the screen as Penelope began to describe their features. 

 “And they’re creepy,” Y/N sang as her eyes widened at the picture. 

 “Do you have an address?” Rossi asked. 

 “Last known was a building on Pine Street, that used to be his father’s theater,” Penelope said as the information on Adam Rain came up on the screen. 

 “And guess what he drives,” Y/N said. 

 “A blue van, call us back in the car,” Hotch’s voice said as he began to walk out of the room. 

 When Penelope hung up the phone, the sound of her door opening startled them. Y/N instinctively reached for her gun on her belt and Penelope jumped. Walking into the room was Erin Strauss, her normal pristine self. 

 “Agent Y/L/N, may I speak with you in my office please,” Strauss said. 

 It wasn’t a question, it was an order. Y/N nodded and stood up from her chair. “I’ll be back,” she said to Penelope who just nodded absently, not sure what was going on. 

 When Strauss entered her office, Y/N followed a few paces behind her. She was very confused about what was happening at the moment. Strauss knew they were on a case and she wouldn’t pull her away unless it was important. 

 “Have a seat.” Strauss gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. 

 Y/N slowly walked over to the seat on the left, nervous about what was happening. “Okay, I’m going to be blunt, ma’am, what’s going on?”

 “Well, I really didn’t want to do this,” Strauss began with a sigh. 

 Y/N’s mind jumped to the worse. “I’m not fired am I?” 

 “Oh no,” Strauss reassured her. She was a bitch, but Y/N was too good of an agent to fire due to budget cuts. “When I asked you to move to fugitive task force, I was hoping you would say yes so we could use that as your cover.” 

 “My cover? For what?” 

 “A couple of months ago, there was a letter left here, it told about how someone in the FBI was being watched,” Strauss began to explain. “The Director and I wrote it off as a simple ‘trying to scare’ type thing. It wasn’t until later that we realized that wasn’t the case. We received another note, with very specific detail about how someone wanted to hurt not just this one person in the FBI, but their whole team.” 

 “Do you think this has to do with Caroline?” Y/N asked, curious if that was a road Strauss had traveled down and looked into. 

 “We looked into it, it’s not.” 

 Y/N let out a sigh of relief, glad she didn’t have to deal with her again. 

 “This unsub has been stalking a member of your team, the last letter we received was about someone in the BAU.” Strauss handed the letter to Y/N in its evidence bag.

 Y/N took the letter from her hand, looking over the neat handwriting. “Well, by the handwriting I can tell this is probably a female.” 

 “Yes, I also thought that. There’s one other thing, if you notice in the letter, she mentions everyone on the team except you.” 

 Y/N looked closely at the letter, reading over everyone’s name except hers. “Do you think I am the one she’s after.” 

 Great, not again, Y/N thought to herself. 

 “Well, that was my initial thought, but then we got a break,” Strauss said. “We found out that these letters were coming from a student who attends George Town, due to a series of mysterious suicides that we believe are connected to this. George Town is a school we frequently have guest speakers at, especially from the BAU.”  

 Now Y/N was beginning to catch on. “Except me, I have never guest spoken.” 

 “Yes. We are assuming this unsub has only done research on those who have spoken at the school. This is where you come in. I would like you to go undercover as a girl’s advisor to get some insight and hopefully find out who this unsub is.” 

 Y/N looked at Strauss with wide, surprised eyes. “Oh-uh-okay, is this a ‘you can if you want to?’ or a ‘this is what you’re doing now’ thing.”

 “A little of both, but I believe you are the best hope of finding out who this is with little to no injury involved.” 

 “How long would I be undercover for?” 

 “Depends on what you find and how close you’re getting.” Strauss leaned on her desk, seeing that Y/N’s last question prompted that she was interested.

 “Okay, and will I have contact with my team?” 

 The sigh Strauss let out was not giving to Y/N’s hope. “This is the part where I believe you were going to say no. You would start tonight if you say yes, you would get some things from your home, leave your cell phone with me, I give you a new one and you will have no contact with your team unless absolutely necessary for an extended period of time.” 

 “What determines this extended period of time?” 

 “Your findings within the first month.” 

 “So at least a month.” Y/N knew she had to do this, after everything the team did to help her with Caroline, she couldn’t let this unsub get to them. But what about Spencer, or JJ, or Penelope? This was a hard decision she had to make, but she knew she’d be back. 

 “Okay, I’ll do it. But on one condition.” 

--------------  

 Adam Rain had been caught. He had been in a coma for a long time due to a car accident. He had a Peter Pan syndrome where he woke up as a young boy again. 

 Spencer was bouncing on his toes. After his talk with Blake, he had found a new sense of confidence for the evening and he couldn’t wait to pop the question. He had the ring out the whole flight home, the box in his hands and absent mindedly played with it. He opened the box, admiring the ring he looked for for so long. It was simple, a thin gold band that had three small diamonds in a line on the top of the ring. It was perfect and he was so excited to give it to her. 

 The team arrived at Quantico that evening. Tired from the long case and excited to get home.  

 “Hey guys,” Penelope greeted everyone when they walked in the door. 

 “Hey Baby girl,” Derek greeted her, giving her a hug. When he pulled away he looked behind her and then back at her. “Where’s Wonder Woman?” 

 “I have no clue, I was hoping Boy Wonder knew because Strauss called her into her office earlier and I haven’t seen her since,” Penelope explained. 

 Spencer walked up to the two when he heard his nickname. “She hasn’t talked to me since we last called you.” 

 The three were now worried and confused, no knowledge of where Y/N was.

 “I can answer that for you,” Strauss’ voice was heard as she walked into the room. Her announcement gained everyone on the team’s attention. “Agent Y/L/N has been assigned to an undercover assignment by me, starting right after the meeting we had earlier today.” 

 The team stood shocked, some with wide eyes and others with slack jaws.

 “I’m sorry, what?” JJ asked strongly.

 “The case is strictly need to know, but she wanted me to tell you that is where she was so you wouldn’t have to worry about her running off or having you think she left you.” The last part of her announcement was directed to Spencer, who Y/N knew would need to hear that until he got home. 

 “Erin,” Rossi said, anger and annoyance rising in him. 

 “Dave, the decision has been made, she was the best person for this job. You will have no contact with her unless extremely necessary for at least one month-” Strauss held up her pointer finger- “She told me to tell you that this was an extremely hard decision for her to make but she needed to do it to protect lives.” 

 With that, Strauss gave a curt nod to Hotch and started to walk to his office. Hotch followed, his walk angry as she had pulled someone from his team without telling him first. 

 “Reid,” Penelope said when she looked over to the man in shock. 

 He stood still, mouth closed and eyes pricking with tears he wouldn’t let fall. The ring in his pocket felt heavy now, like it carried all the weight of the world that just left him. 

 “Spence,” JJ reached her hand to touch his shoulder. 

 Spencer jerked at the touch and began to walk away. “I need to get home.” 

 His whole trip home, his hope was that what had just happened was just some fever dream. It was all fake from his nerves over the past couple of days and he’d get home and she’s been on the couch waiting for him.   

 But when he walked in the door, he was met with a quiet empty apartment. He let out a breath. It sounded like a scoff almost, and then he wanted to start laughing. Because this was fucking hilarious and crazy.  

 This was crazy, Y/N was gone. 

 When he closed the door and flipped the light switch, the corner of his eye caught a glimmer. His head jerked in the direction of the sparkle. 

 Sitting on the table was a white sheet of paper, folded in half and ‘Spencer’ scrawled on the front of it. Beside it sat the gold band Y/N had gotten him. 

 Slowly, Spencer dropped his bags by the door and walked over the letter. He picked up the letter, not daring to touch the gold band that sat beside it. 

 “Dear Spencer: My love, my sweet angel, my bub, I know you’re very confused right now, I am too. As Strauss told you, I was pulled away on an undercover mission. Sadly I cannot tell you what this is about due to the fact I am liable not to and technically I wasn’t even supposed to write this letter to you but you know me, I couldn’t leave without leaving something for you.” 

 Spencer laughed, a small tear he let escape running down his face. Of course, Y/N wouldn’t leave without giving him a goodbye somehow.

 “I know it isn’t fair that I am leaving you a letter, and trust me I didn’t want to leave you one. You’ve been left too many from people leaving you-- Gideon, your dad. But here’s the one thing that’s different, I am coming back. After this is all over I will be back.” 

 Spencer’s lip quivered, not letting any tears be held back anymore. 

 “Tell the team that I love them and I’m sorry that I had to leave like this. I know they were all probably shocked and some were probably angry. Hell, I would understand if you were angry. I would be.” 

 Spencer was angry. He was angry that she was chosen for this, that she had to leave. 

 “So you’re probably wondering, ‘why is there a ring here?’. Well, tonight I was going to propose to you, and it was going to be so great. Penelope and I have been discussing it all day on my speech, the delivery, the whole nine yards. But I guess that won’t happen now, but if you want to hear about it then ask her, she’ll tell you.” 

 Spencer looked down at the ring. The simple gold band sat there and was screaming at him to pick it up. Like if he wore it, Y/N would be right beside him. 

 “I don’t know if you’ll wear it, but I left it as a promise to you. So you’ll know I’ll be back to marry you soon. That this is just a bump in our story, and the rest of if we will spend together.” 

 Spencer danced the ring between his thumb and index finger. He looked at it all around, noticing their initials on the inside. He smiled at them, making his heart soar at how thoughtful she was. 

 “So, technically I am not supposed to do this, but I can’t stand the thought of not being able to talk to you for a month. I’ve thought about the safest way to do this. It’s the same way I’d talk to London in college when Caroline was...anyway. At the end of this letter is the number of the cell Strauss gave me, it’s in code but I know you’ll figure it out quickly. I want you to go to a payphone, call the number, let it ring twice, hang up, and then wait for me to call back. It’s safe and we can only do it maybe three times a week just to be cautious.” 

 Spencer made extra sure to remember each step, already excited to use it so he could talk to her. 

 “I have to go now, Spence. I love you more than anything you’ll ever know. I found a quote that is fitting for when I was going to propose, so I’ll just leave it here: Thomas Merton once wrote, ‘Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone, we find it with another.’  See you soon, Y/N.” 

 At the end of the letter was the code for the number. It was easy for Spencer to decipher, he didn’t even need to write anything down. He took a mental note of the number and was ready to use it first thing in the morning. 

 He then looked back at the ring. He had set it back down at some point and picked it back up again. It sat in the palm of his hand. 

 He was almost scared to put it on now. Then he thought about her words, it’s a promise I’ll be back. With slow, cautious movements, Spencer slipped the band on his ring finger. The ring felt at home there and he had no plans of taking it off.  

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

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[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 27

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary:  Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​

Loki dipped a soft brush in the powder again, using it with deadly precision. 

"It's going to take you a week," you noticed while painting the nails on his other hand. 

"It will be a week well-spent then," he said, barely moving his lips. He had nice cheekbones, but they could always look nicer.

"Only if you use more glitter. You promised." 

"The silly bet you insisted on only covered the part of using 'some' glitter. There was no word specifying the amount or placement." 

You looked at your work. Loki had really nice hands, and the deep green polish you found seemed to be a perfect choice. You were sure it would match the suit he chose from the seemingly bottomless (and actually enchanted) bag that now laid near the bed in your room. If only, of course, he would hurry up and put it on. 

He must've noticed your impatience in the mirror. You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the tiny confines of your bathroom, and it would be very hard for Loki not to see you from so close. 

"We'd have more time if I didn't have to fix your face first." He pointed the brush at you accusingly. 

"My face was just fine." 

"Except for that marvelous bruise on your jaw. And that scratch on your brow. We surely wouldn't raise any questions if we went there looking beat up." 

"I told you the glitter would fix it and it did." You appraised your looks in the mirror, pushing Loki away. "The more glitter the better."

"It's not—" 

"The best time for glitter is everyday and the second best time is now! Embrace that simple truth, you coward." 

"...that literally makes no sense."

But he'd rather run his throat dry than successfully explain that to you, so Loki didn't bother. Besides, surprisingly, he wasn't as frustrated as he would usually get at this point. 

The hand wielding the brush stilled for a moment. It was a shame his mind didn't, and instead jumped to a few very far-fetched conclusions and realisations that hit him like a punch to the gut. 

Sure, he had spent a lot of time with you lately, and it actually wasn't that bad and he enjoyed quite a few moments, but to think that, maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny, unthinkable possibility that he… 

A sense of dread filled him, and a shiver ran down his spine. 

Nope. 

He'd think about that some other time. Right now, he had to look his absolute best, and that was something worth focusing his whole attention on. 

With a sigh you didn't know the source of, he put down the brush you 'borrowed' along with a few other handy items. He had no idea what the fake face the filthy enchantment put on him looked like, but the one he was seeing in the mirror was absolutely marvelous. Loki carefully combed through his hair, noticing a few glittering speckles that he was sure weren't there just moments ago. 

He sent you a knowing glare, but it didn't seem to work. He must've fallen out of practice. 

"You're really good at all that," you gestured to the cosmetics. "There's no sign I got my ass beaten only a few days ago." 

"Of course I am,” He said. "You have no idea how many times it has saved me from trouble." 

"Oh, do tell," you grinned, fanning your hand over his drying polish. 

"Let's just say that trying to convince a few unfriendly beasts being held at the stables to have a good time in the gardens where a feast was being held was definitely worth it."

You looked at the brushes and pencils. "I don't see the connection." 

"Altering your appearance through magic can be detected. But changing your features temporarily using means that can be wiped clean in a few seconds—well, that's a different story." 

Loki smiled a little at the distant memory. He remembered the feast very well, as he did the warrior whose name it was being held for. Said warrior was often posted with other guards near the central area of the palace, and he made it very hard to sneak around undetected. Some of the other guards, especially the older ones, at least pretended to look the other way, but he never did. 

Your laugh warmed something in him, but Loki didn't dwell on the feeling. After all, there was a party to crash. 

"How is the boy faring?" he asked while changing a few minutes later. 

"Busy," you said, waiting on your bed. "He's really into that project. I'm pretty sure he wants to impress MJ and that's why he's so… restless. I hope it all goes well."

"Will he be joining us tonight?" 

"No, he wouldn't pass—he's too young, remember? And besides, he'll probably be spending the evening working out the details of his project. He told you that at dinner, didn’t you listen?" 

"My bad."

Loki didn't sound guilty. You weren’t surprised. Still, if he didn't care at all about Peter, he wouldn't ask about him. Someone seemed to be growing a soft spot. 

"Just to make sure," you said, fixing your shoes. "You do remember you have to act like a human for a while? We have to blend into the crowd." 

"Oh dear," Loki opened the bathroom door dramatically. "I shouldn't have showered then." 

You ignored the sarcasm and whistled as you appraised his look. Asshole or not, Loki knew how to dress up. 

"Don't say a word and keep on looking like this and we actually stand a chance of not getting thrown out after five minutes." 

Loki huffed, whipping his hair over his shoulder with a practiced gesture. "I'm a delight. They should be grateful I laid my eyes on that rathole at all."

"I'm sure they will be." 

You linked arms and marched out of the room that had become a little more chaotic in the past hours. It took you a long time to finally put up a look that had both of you satisfied. What clothing didn't make it to the final round, ended up abandoned on various surfaces. 

The evening painted the skies over the city black. As you passed the huge windows, you noticed no snow speckles dancing on the wind. It was a shame from an aesthetic point, but would make the way to the party easier. 

Loki was in an amazing mood—right until the two of you were noticed. 

"Where the hell are you two going this time?" Tony's question echoed in the corridor as he stopped dead in his tracks. 

Bruce was right beside him, with a handful of papers and a coffee, but he stayed quiet. The memories of what had once happened between him and Loki must've still been fresh in his memory from the look on his face. 

"We," you cooed with the sweetest smile you could muster. "Are going to socialize a little." 

Tony blinked. "Over my dead body." 

"That can be arranged," the soft velvet of Loki's voice caressed the unspoken promise. 

There was a part of you (a big one) that wished to see Tony take that one small step for the situation to escalate. An equal part of Bruce, tugging on Tony's sleeve, wanted the precise opposite—and it won. 

Tony pointed a finger at you. "Don't disappoint us."

You laughed and resumed walking with Loki by your side. 

"Trust me, whatever your expectations of us are, we'll best them." 

"...that's what I'm afraid of," was all Tony said, a bitter edge in his voice. 

On any other day, Loki might've laughed at that, but the night was young and full of possibilities that for once didn't bother him much. The arm linked with yours seemed to steady him as much as push him forward. Loki had no talents regarding predicting the future, but for the first time in a while, the unknown didn't bother him. Little seemed to bother him lately, and he enjoyed the feeling. 

You left the building behind you and entered the winter chill. Your steps fell into sync as you entered the snow-covered streets and only then did Loki dare look at you. 

The night was indeed young and full of possibilities. Even ones he was only beginning to realize. 

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (13)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

Warning(s): angst, emotional and mental turmoil, brief reference to past sexual abuse and trauma

Chapter Summary: At some point, everyone’s gotta just move on...

“Maybe it’s too soon,” Steve says, his voice dripping with that mother knows best quality. Bucky actually finds himself letting out a small, crooked grin when he recognizes Sarah in his best friend’s words.

Maybe it’s too soon for you to go back to school. You’re not yet recovered. Maybe it’s too soon for you to be thinking about a career. You’re still just a boy. Maybe it’s too soon to –

“You sound like your mom,” he tells him, head hanging low. He looks up and sees the pained smile on Steve’s face, the pitiful look in his eyes. He knows he’s trying to help, but… “I shouldn’t have come here,” he says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

“Bucky, this is your home. You can always come here. And if you’re upset, I want you to wake me up.”

Bucky nods hesitantly. He looks down at his hands, still tightly gripped around the mug of hot tea. Another memory slowly filters to the surface. “Your mom used to make chamomile tea. At night, when she got home from work.”

Steve’s face almost begins to glow as he moves further into the kitchen and leans his hip against the counter to the side of his friend. “She used to threaten us with it. When we wouldn’t calm down.”

“Running around the apartment like little hooligans,” he says with a laugh, quoting Sarah’s words. He can see her face, and while he had remembered her before, vaguely recalling her presence in his childhood, he now for the first time actually recognizes her. He lets out another short chuckle before the image fades from his mind and his face falls once more. “I really fucked things up,” he says, shaking his head.

Steve sighs. “It’s just gonna take time,” he tells him simply. “You need time to forgive yourself. And she needs time to heal. To… get over things.”

He sets down his mug with a harsh thunk. “That’s the thing, though. I thought she had. I mean… we talked things out. We’ve been talking things out. It’s not like I just went back over there and decided to stay the night and ignore what happened. Hell, the first couple of nights I slept on the couch and made her lock the bedroom door.”

Steve looks up at him, genuinely surprised. “You did?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well, both mornings I woke up and found her curled up in the chair in the corner, so it’s not like she listened.”

Steve lets out a small chuckle. “Yeah, that’s more what I’d expect.”

The two men lock sad, tired eyes. “If I could take it back, I would,” Bucky tells him.

“I know that,” Steve says, his brow furrowed. “Everyone knows that.”

“She came to a therapy appointment with me,” he lets out casually.

“Really?” He shifts his weight and stands up straight. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Bucky shrugs. “Seemed like a good idea.” He swallows deeply and begins shaking his head again. “She seemed okay,” he says, voice cracking just a bit. “I mean… I didn’t think…” He pauses and tightly shuts his eyes. Then, “Do you think it’s too soon?” he asks, words spilling out in rapid succession. “Do you think I should… stay away for a while?”

Steve’s eyes widen, his face hardening. “Honestly? Yes, I do. I think it’s way too soon. And I think you should stay here for a while.”

Bucky looks up at him in shock. Clearly he had expected him to disagree, to reassure him that everything would be fine. “But…” he starts, seemingly at a loss for words.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to shake his head. “You didn’t see her, Buck. That night. You didn’t see the look in her eyes… the fear, grief… the guilt. And the pain. You didn’t see how much it hurt her to swallow or talk, or just breathe.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to the floor, his mouth falling open in a helpless gape.

“Bruce was scared,” Steve goes on, reliving his own fear as he relays the experience. “He was…” He clamps his mouth shut for a long moment, thinking better of sharing the rest.

“He was what?” Bucky asks slowly, tone low and commanding.

“He was scared to treat her. He wanted to take her to the emergency room, admit her to the hospital. He was honestly afraid that she was going to die. Right there. With us. In the med room.” He waits for Bucky to look up at him, then locks onto his eyes. “Yeah, Buck. I think it’s too soon. I think she needs more time. I think you need more time. I think we all need more time.”

Bucky drops his gaze again, hair hiding his face as he gives him a tight nod. “Okay,” he says softly before turning and shuffling off to his already packed-up bedroom.

Steve stays up. He watches infomercials and sitcom reruns on TV for a few hours, then he heads out for a run. He knocks on Bucky’s door before he leaves, asks him if he wants to join. A clipped, “No.” is all he receives in response.

When he gets back, he showers, changes, makes breakfast. He knocks on Bucky’s door to see if he’s hungry. “No,” again, bites through the closed door.

He starts on some work. Now that they’re moving into the new facility, they have the ability to upgrade the team, create sub-tiers of soldiers and set up non-combatant clean-up crews. Potential new recruits are coming out of the woodwork. FBI, CIA, NSA… well-trained field agents and operatives. And Tony’s tasked him with choosing the best of the best. He knocks on Bucky’s door, asks him to help.

“No.”

He’s only able to make it through one file before he’s on his feet and out the door, making a bee-line for Tessa’s office two floors below. It’s barely 10 AM, but it feels like it’s already the end of the day. And the minute he sees her behind her desk, her head in her hands, he’s sure she must feel the same way. He knocks on her open door, asks if he can come in, and for the first time today is met with a, “Yes.”

“You look exhausted,” he tells her as he moves a full file box out of the chair across from her and lowers himself into the seat.

She gives him an assessing look, begins to absently twirl her pen between her fingers. “What do you want, Steve?”

He pulls in a deep breath and cocks his head to the side, gives her a small, sad, knowing smile… says nothing.

She rolls her eyes. “I had a nightmare,” she tells him with more than a hint of annoyance. “One fucking bad dream. So what?” The pen drops, clattering to the desktop.

“Bucky’s pretty upset about it,” he says plainly. “I think he’s just gonna stay with me for a few days.”

She gives him a look that starts out as confused and quickly escalates to irate. Jutting her chin out defiantly, she asks him, “Why the fuck would he do that?”

“Tess,” he intones, shaking his head.

“No,” she interrupts, rising from her chair. “I told him. It had nothing to do with him.” Steve widens his eyes in a skeptical look. “It didn’t!” She looks around frantically for a path out from behind the desk, but she’s managed to somehow hem herself in with various boxes and piles of files. After a couple of failed attempts to step over the mess, she gives up, shoulders drooping as she lets herself fall back into her seat. She leans forward and rests her elbows on the desk, drops her head into her hands, and speaks in an almost indecipherable mumble, “So fucking arrogant.”

“Sorry, what?”

She looks up and notices the slightly amused look on Steve’s face. Of course, he would think that her being trapped by all of her work was funny. “I said, he’s so fucking arrogant. You both are.”

“Whoa, what did I do?”

Now it’s her turn to give him an incredulous, disbelieving look. “You didn’t tell him that he should stay with you?”

Steve knows he’s caught, and for a brief moment he actually wonders if she’s developed some sort of mind-reading powers. But still he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve…” She shakes her head slowly, a barely controlled rage emanating from her. He can see it in her hands, splayed flat on the desktop in front of her. He can sense it in her piercing gaze as she locks onto his eyes. He can hear it in her voice when she says, in a short clipped tone, “I lived a life outside these walls. I lived a life before I met you. Not everything is about what happens here. Not everything is about being fucked up over Ultron. Or about working too much or too hard. Or about that damn night terror that James had. It wasn’t about him.” She slaps the desk on the last word.

They sit in silence for a moment, Tessa slowly bringing her anger back down to a manageable level, Steve sifting through her words in his mind. “What was it about then?” he asks finally.

She sighs, drops her head back into her hands.

“Tessa?”

“Did you tell him he should stay with you?” she asks, voice low.

He nods. “Even if your… dream was about something else, you can’t tell me that Bucky attacking you didn’t bring whatever that was back to the surface.”

She doesn’t deny it. She doesn’t say anything at all, in fact. She simply looks over at him with sad, tired eyes and lets out another deep sigh. She looks defeated, he thinks. She looks miserable.

“I told him that you both probably need a little more time. That’s all. We’re set to start moving next week. Maybe waiting until then… at least until then… maybe you can have a clean start in the new compound.”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. Then, straightening her posture. “No.” She rises up and crawls onto the desk, flings her legs over the lamp and computer screen, almost taking the monitor down with her as she scurries over the top of the desk. “No,” she repeats, seemingly to no one at all, as she dodges a couple of boxes and makes her way out the door.

Steve jumps up and follows her in stunned silence. He slides into the elevator just as the doors are closing and watches as she punches in his floor. When they arrive at his apartment, she stands by the door with her hands on her hips, tapping her toe impatiently. He gets the hint and hurriedly scans his card to unlock.

She bolts through the door and Steve follows hot on her trail, coming to a startled stop when he sees Bucky at the breakfast bar, spoonful of cereal frozen in his hand. She doesn’t seem at all surprised to see him, but his eyes are blown wide in shock as he shifts his gaze from the woman before him over to Steve.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asks slowly, narrowing his eyes accusingly at his friend. Steve simply shrugs.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Tessa says, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two men. “And then we’re never talking about this again. Understand?”

Bucky drops the spoon into his bowl of cereal and swivels in his seat so that he’s facing her. “You don’t have to say anything,” he tells her. “I just think – ”

“No,” she interrupts, tossing a silencing hand out towards him. “Just… listen.” The room is quiet for a long moment as she gathers her thoughts. “That dream… it wasn’t you.” She looks Bucky in the eyes, holds his gaze as she says the words, trying to assess whether or not they’re sinking in. “I promise you, it wasn’t.” She turns to address Steve for a quick moment. “Maybe what happened reminded me of it… triggered a memory. Maybe.” She looks back at Bucky. “But it wasn’t you. I’m not afraid of you. I’ve never been afraid of you.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he takes in her words. “Who then?” he asks, voice sharp. He stands up and looms in front of her. “It was a memory? That was a memory?”

She nods carefully, takes in a deep breath, and looks him right in the eye when she says, “There are things in your past that I know you don’t want to talk about. And I have never made you talk about them with me. Never. This is one of those things. For me.”

He visibly tenses before her, lips pressed in a firm, straight line, hands slowly fisting and unclenching. But in his eyes, she can see that he’s not going to argue. He’s thinking it all through. He’s processing. He’s –

“It was a long time ago. And I’m fine now,” she tells him, taking a small step forward. She tilts her head to look up at him and slowly raises her hands to his shoulders. “I’ve had nightmares before. Not just about this. And I’ll have more… I’m sure of that. I’ve had some shit happen in my life. You get that, right?”

He nods sharply, shoulders still tight beneath her hands.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to talk about it. Okay?”

Again, he nods.

“I’m going to go check in at the lab and finish packing up my office.” She drops her hands from his shoulders and takes a few steps back. “I have a meeting with Tony at two. But after that,” she says, turning and heading for the door, walking backwards to hold his gaze, “I’m coming home. And I expect you to be there. You said you’d help me pack.” She looks into his eyes for a long moment, her small smile never fading. “I love you.”

He nods his head again, letting his posture finally relax. “Okay,” he relents. “I’ll get more boxes.” He gives her a small, exhausted-looking smile of his own. “I love you too.”

The minute the door closes, Steve spins back around to Bucky. “What the hell was that?” he asks in a  stunned tone.

Bucky takes his bowl to the sink and rinses it out. He comes back around the corner and scoots past the dazed-looking man as he makes his way for the door. “I think…” he pauses briefly before looking Steve in the eye. “I think we’ve had the time we need. That was us deciding to move on,” he says, patting his friend on the back. “You should probably try it too.”

[aconitemare]

[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter Four

AO3

Previous Chapter

Dick kicks his foot in the air repeatedly, inspecting the pink flowers on his white Oxfords. He’s pretending to ignore the people around him — possibly, he is actually ignoring them, as the outlines of their bodies blur around his fancy footwear. He leans farther back on Jason’s desk, conjuring the picture of ease. To his left rests Jason’s Red Hood helmet in a gargoyle-fashion. Everyone here knows Jason Todd is the Red Hood, but Dick is just Richie Grayson, D-list celebrity. The sleeves of his pretentiously silk bomber jacket, embroidered with colorful roosters, slip slightly down his shoulder. 

“Is this really the best time to be hiring people? Specifically this person?” This question comes from James — or “Wingman,” as Jason earlier informed him of. James is up-and-coming, bat-themed, Gotham-based vigilante who believes the Red Hood is absolutely critical to public safety. Dick has not yet shared this detail with Batman, having only received it an hour before this current meeting, but he’s hoping they’ll share a good laugh over that.

“No time like the present,” Jason says without much concern. He stands beside the desk, a few feet from Dick. 

Dick catches James crossing his arms from the corner of his eyes. The defensive body language convinces him to focus more on the arrangement of people. Suzie Su still sits on the recliner, seemingly indifferent. Her sisters, one of which Dick recognizes as the waitress who intercepted him and Miguel earlier, flock around Su either on the couch or near her armrest; all except for Night, Dick’s blackjack dealer yesterday, who now occupies a distant corner of the room by herself. Miguel sits in the recliner opposite Suzie Su, playing with his tie. James stands the closest to Dick and Jason and busies himself with looking like he eats nails for breakfast. 

“The son of Bruce Wayne is hardly a sound addition to the Outlaws,” James points out. 

Suzie Su’s head swivels towards Jason. “Oh, no,” she says, suddenly invested, “Whatever ‘the outlaws’ is, count me out of it. I’m going legit, you promised!”

Jason takes a page from Dick’s book and seats himself on the corner of his desk. He grips the edge, knees spread, so that he looks like he’s riding a horse. For an unstably diverse crowd, he’s rather at ease at the head of it, Dick notes. Jason holds up a silencing finger and begins his address, “Firstly, the Outlaws are too legit for any mere mortal to handle, that includes you, Su, so stuff it. Secondly, James, you can also stuff it because no one’s inviting Richie Rich onto the team except you, it would seem.”

So, does that mean I don’t get to see the Super Secret Clubhouse and make friendship bracelets? Dick almost says. Instead, he receives a text alert and checks his phone to see Bruce left him a message. 

What is your plan of action? it reads.

Dick quickly shoots back a non-committal text, wary of Jason sensing Batman’s concern through the phone. Luckily, Jason doesn’t pay Dick’s texting any mind, preoccupied with his stand-off against Wingman. 

James persists, undeterred by Jason’s skilled dismissal. “Batman isn’t exactly in your corner, Todd. He is, however, in Wayne’s pocket. As is Richie Grayson.”

Dick frowns; his current persona is apparently no longer a good fit. He will need to adjust accordingly. Dick sits up straighter on the desk and tucks his legs. “I have my own funds, as a matter of fact,” he speaks up. Jason’s eyes slice into him — oh, right, Dick’s not supposed to talk while meeting the in-laws. Oh, well. He continues, “I work for the Bludhaven Police Department.” 

Dick touches his jacket collar and inspects the interior fabrice. “I try to dress nice when there might be cameras so I don’t make Bruce look bad, but most of it’s bought off-price at Marshalls.” This last part is a lie as he rarely buys his own photo op clothes. Bruce has a personal stylist who keeps everyone’s wardrobe at the Manor stocked. Dick hit up his old bedroom on the way to the hotel. 

“You’re a cop,” James repeats. 

Dick holds back a wince. So much for Agent 37’s kick-ass undercover portfolio. “Every cop’s a little dirty in the ‘Haven,” he says, hopefully smoothly.

Unfortunately, James does not find this comforting. “So not only are you a cop who knows about the Iceberg’s business, but you’re not even a good cop?”

Dick points at Jason. “He murders people,” he deflects. 

Jason sighs obnoxiously loud. “Richie has information and contacts,” Jason increases his volume when James looks like he wants to say something else, “neither of which are anyone’s business at the moment but mine. Believe it or not, but I’m pretty attached to my life, in both a literal and figurative sense, and so if I say the guy from that one lady-service Pantene commercial is going to keep my organs safely inside my body, rest assured, I have done my research.”

This standing ovation inspires Dick to wonder whether Jason saw that commercial on cable or some other venue. He tries and fails to imagine Jason watching Friends reruns. Maybe he caught it off some gun review video on Youtube. This is the kind of media Dick assumes Jason consumes. 

“Great to know,” says Suzie Su flatly. “So, Richie, who’s trying to whack our boss?”

“No one yet. There have been no attempts on his life thus far,” Dick responds. Then, “Also, you can just call me Dick.”

“Shouldn’t be too tough,” Suzie Su remarks.

“The situation will escalate, though,” James states,  “There is no doubt that Red Hood is the final target.”

“Correct. Which is why it’s important that we trust each other,” Dick says. He levels a gaze at everyone in the room except for James, which should indicate to him that he’s the object of criticism without presenting Dick as outwardly hostile. “If we are too busy suspecting each other without any evidence, we allow for outside threats to slip past our radar.” Dick can only hope they will take this to heart; it will be harder for him to investigate Jason’s people if they’re also investigating him.  

“Truth,” Miguel agrees as he stands to his feet and walks towards Dick. “Although it kind of worked out for us this time, right? You following me, us following you?” As he approaches, he extends a hand and Dick dismounts from the desk. “Welcome to the team, Dick,” Miguel says, clapping Dick on the shoulder as they shake. His smile is warm and sincere. Dick feels an equally genuine grin spread across his face. 

“Alright, alright,” Jason says, leaning from his spot on the desk to bat an arm at them. “What did I just say about teams, dude,” he gripes. Miguel shrugs rather blithely before he returns to his chair. Dick appreciates what he hopes will be the one easy-going personality in this tense bunch. 

Jason claps his hands together and stands. “Okay, here’s the deal: I want someone always watching my vehicle for the next, fuck, two weeks, I guess? One week?” He looks to Dick for confirmation. Dick mouths, ‘longer.’ “One week to start, cool,” Jason locks in his answer. “I don’t mean from the cameras, as I really am hoping to catch this person ASAP and get back to my regularly scheduled gangbanging.”

Dick watches the crowd: Miguel gives a whoop, Suzie Su rolls her eyes, one of the sisters not standing in the corner laughs. 

“So, that means I need you,” Jason flourishes his arm in the air and brings it dramatically down like a hammer, finger pointing sharply at Miguel, “to physically be in the parking lot.”

Miguel looks around in bafflement. “I’m the owner. That would look weird,” he says, gesturing towards himself.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure everyone is lining up for your autograph, too, now come off it. No one here is instantly recognizable except for me, and that’s mostly to do with the helmet,” Jason pats the helmet beside him emphatically, “giving me serious red Darth Vader vibes.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. Jason hears him anyway, but that turns out to be not so bad. Jason’s eyes flicker towards him but they’re absent of reproach, which is how Dick realizes he had expected to be growled at for his humor. But Jason made the joke, didn’t he? He goes so far as to smile, not threateningly, but pleasantly. Dick wants to call it soft even. 

Jason’s eyes are back on the ragtag team within the second. He explains properly his reasoning to Miguel. “The subject’s abilities and target range are unknown to us. You’re our safest bet for handling whatever he might be capable of. And you can wear whatever you want.” Dick assumes that last bit is weighted with the implication of a supersuit, although Miguel’s secret identity may very well be known considering the lack of visible confusion on anyone’s face. Of course, that could just be indifference; no one in this room seems particularly interested in each other. 

“If you see someone snooping, wait it out. If you see someone put something on my bike, apprehend them and bring them to me where I can then proceed to shoot their brains out,” Jason instructs. Dick tries to say something, but Jason says over his attempt, “If they’re guilty.”

“Not really the problem,” Dick mutters. 

“The Su Brigade can, I don’t know, keep doing what you’re doing, I guess? Keep an eye on suspicious figures.”

Dick chimes in, “This time, however, immediately report to Jason or myself. Don’t rush in unless the threat is urgent. Don’t,” he motions to James, “text James, or whatever it is you guys did. That was sloppy and uncoordinated.”

James shifts his weight more evenly. Dick instantly recognizes the implicit challenge and straightens his back. “Text you, huh? What, you the boss now?”

Dick files through his possible responses, weighs the best tone to take, the stance to adopt. Should he pick up the gauntlet and try to assert dominance, or go for diplomacy? He doubts this will come to blows, but the direction he takes this could have later consequences, could affect Jason’s safety even in the long-run. 

Dick almost misses the change in Jason’s posture, but it’s instantaneous. “He’s close enough,” Jason has already spoken, no longer leaning against the desk but standing with his hands deceptively plunged into his jeans pockets and his searing green eyes locked on James. “More the boss than you are, at any rate, so yeah, I’d text him.” He sounds almost casual, accent set in a lazy Gotham drawl, yet there’s an angered click to how he sets his teeth. He’s intimidating, alright, the sharp cut of his cheeks complementing his strong jaw. He’s quite Hollwood-esque actually, Dick thinks — at least before he realizes Jason is looking right back at him. Jason raises his eyebrows and spins his fingers in a prompting manner. “Well? Anything else you’d like to derail the meeting with, Dick?”

And just like that, Jason manages to personally undermine the power he just gave him. Dick is bordering on impressed, restrained only by his sudden irritation. Dick simply smiles and says, “You’re the boss.”

“Fantastic. James! How do you feel about interrogating people you can’t beat up?” Jason proposes to the next member of the non-team. 

Dick thinks James could question people without beating them up just fine, especially after the practice he got in while interrogating Dick. James doesn’t comment on whether he’s up to the task, however, but replies, “Who am I interrogating?”

Jason grins and quickly bows his body. “A witness. Exciting, right? Unfortunately, no, not exciting. This will suck for you. Daniel Garcia, the second victim, should be at Gotham General Hospital — fingers crossed he has insurance, because otherwise you’ll have to find out where he lives and talk to him there.”

Dick could be projecting, but he thinks James puffs up his chest at this. “I can find anyone anywhere,” vows James.

“I’ve no doubt, buddy. I just would prefer he not have to relive everything the second he gets home because a stranger wants to hear the gory details,” Jason explains. His tone is slightly scolding. There might be some decency in him yet. Dick immediately feels guilty for being surprised. Jason is a good guy. A good guy. He’s said as much to Bruce. Did he forget to tell himself the same thing?

“Bring some flowers to soften things,” Dick suggests.

“Flowers don’t soften a crowbar, Dick,” Jason disagrees. Still, he adds for James, “But yeah, bring flowers. The family won’t like you for it, but they’ll hate you even more if you don’t.”

“Do we have to do anything?” Suzie Su asks, a little unhappily, it would seem. Dick doesn’t trust her. Then again, would she be so openly disloyal if she was double-crossing? The only person in this room Dick trusts is Miguel — and even then, if there’s one thing Batman has been trying to drill into him for half his life, it’s that trust is a liability. Anyone here could logically be a mole. Anyone here could be loyal, too. 

“No, Suzie Su, I expect absolutely nothing from you and that’s why I dragged you to a staff meeting, so you could sit on your ass and pick at your nails,” Jason intones. Suzie Su drops her manicured nails to her lap and glares at him. Jason sticks his tongue out in response. “You and your lovely sisters of questionable bloodline are my ears to the ground.”

“So, same as before?”

Jason cocks his head, shakes it up and down as if weighing the question, and says, “K-i-i-i-i-nd of? It’s like what you were doing before, but not complete garbage. Need I remind you that you let this idiot into my office.” Jason jabs his thumb in Dick’s direction.

Miguel raises his finger. He’s properly relaxed in his cushiony recliner, legs crossed and arms spilling over the back. “Ah, but you let the idiot stay,” he reminds Jason. 

Dick twists his lips. “Thanks, Miguel. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Jason decides. “Alright, everyone out of my office and onto the things I demand of you. Dick, you’re coming with me.”

The crowd is already dispersing. Dick hops off the desk and pats the wrinkles from his pants. “Why’s that? I thought you didn’t want me breathing down your neck.”

Jason’s back is to Dick as he fastens his Red Hood helmet over his head, which tips Dick off that some of his people outside the office might still not know who’s under the mask. Jason’s response is rougher than before. “You saw the tapes, didn’t you?” The energy from only a minute ago has melted from his voice. The helmet lights up then and Jason’s next words are modulated, shrouded in static. “That makes you the expert.”

Dick does not miss the irony of this statement. 

  ___________

  Dick has Jason drive him to Bludhaven. Jason has many cars and not a single one is worth less than $80,000. “How do you blend in?” Dick asked on the way to his shitty apartment across the pond, Jason looking absolutely put-upon by the half-hour drive.  His Red Hood helmet has been stowed away in a personally customized, hidden compartment. “I don’t,” Jason simply replied. Dead guys, according to Jason, don’t need to feign poverty. Especially if those dead guys are better known for their underground empires and resort casinos. However, two rich men in a luxury vehicle don’t have much business commiserating with the family of boys like Terry Weind. So, the two stop by Bludhaven to pick up Dick’s Saturn and allow him to change into less flamboyant clothes. 

Dick chooses a threadbare BPD t-shirt and jeans. Jason stays in his signature ensemble of leather jacket and combat boots. He raises his brows at Dick’s outfit, but Dick insists it’s a good choice. Even if they don’t like the police, he’s still out of uniform and unarmed, and they’ll know this isn’t his territory. He’ll seem like a commuter, which might even win him some subconscious sympathy; many people in downtown Gotham have to commute to Bludhaven, albeit usually for a fishery job and not the police department. 

Jason waits in the car for Dick to come out. Dick invites him in, but secretly he’s relieved. The place is a mess. If how he keeps his office is a hint, Jason’s habits are immaculate. They would put Dick to shame. Dick taps Jason’s window to signal they’re switching to the Saturn. Jason takes an excessively long time to part with his car, all but cooing at it, but does eventually make it over. He settles into the passenger seat, looking Dick up and down.

“What?” Dick asks, perhaps defensively. He should’ve said something like, “Like what you see?” but it’s too late for that. 

Jason shrugs casually, but his eyes flicker to Dick’s hair. “Nothing. You just look normal now.” 

Dick jams his keys into the ignition, because he has to be rough for the car to start, and rolls his eyes. “You mean my hair’s not gay?”

“Eh. Less gay.” And then Jason is reaching out and ruffling his hair, fingers curling through the still-damp waves. Dick stuck his hair under the bathroom sink’s faucet before putting his shirt on. He got water everywhere, but he needed to get the product out. He weirdly hopes Jason doesn’t feel any lingering stickiness, that his hair is soft to touch. 

Jason’s face abruptly screws up in confusion as if he isn’t sure how he got here. Slowly, he retracts his hand and sits straight in his seat. Dick didn’t notice how open Jason’s body language was just a moment ago, but he notices how it closes. His knees no longer point towards Dick but to the windshield; his arms, once extended towards him, now fold across his chest. Dick stares at him for a moment, trying to piece together the puzzle he suspects they almost had. 

Jason’s presence always has that mystifying effect on him, however, like he’s a monument to all the almosts they’ve been. When Jason was Robin, they were almost friends. When he was the Red Hood, they were almost enemies. Then they might have been brothers, could have been, maybe. There had been that night on the rooftop when Dick had managed to slip through Spyral’s many fingers — when Barbara had run away and Damian had embraced him and Tim demanded why, why — Jason had drawn blood as his voice broke because you don’t do that to your. Almost.

They are always on the verge of some new meaning. 

“Well?” asks Jason. “Are you waiting for me to set up the GPS? You know the address, let’s go.”

Dick quickly recovers and begins edging out from his spot between two other parked cars on the street. “What are we, drag racing? Jeesh.” They avoid traffic for the drive over but do swing into a corner store once they’re in Gotham again. Jason buys the most expensive bouquet available while Dick fiddles with a rack of playing cards. Pokémon? Magic? Would Terry care about either of those games? He sees Jason head to the counter and grabs a random card pack to check out. His phone buzzes in his pocket just as he finishes counting off the dollar bills. He hands the cashier $16 and unlocks his phone. It’s from Bruce.

Any progress?

Dick begins typing out an answer when he remembers the boundaries he agreed on with Jason. He said he wouldn’t share any details with Bruce unless Jason okay’d it. He could let Jason know Bruce is asking, but even mentioning Bruce tends to sour him. Dick would rather get through this meeting with Terry Weind first. He makes a mental note to inform Jason later and give Bruce a non-answer if he says no. 

Ten minutes later and they’re standing on narrow porch steps. The wooden planks are dark and splintery and covered in cigarette butts where an ash tray has been knocked down. Dick squats down and picks it up; ceramic, woodsy-green and leaf-shaped. He sets it atop the paint-chipped banister while Jason knocks on the door. The walls are thin enough that Dick can trace the sound of someone walking down the stairs. It’s summery outside today, the earth baked through by the sun, but he’s thinking of winters down here. Even with a good furnace, these walls must let the chill in. 

A woman opens the door in her nightgown, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame. Her eyes are red and the skin beneath them sags. Her skin is almost ashen. She looks tired. She is tired, she’s exhausted, Dick can feel it when he looks at her. Her exhaustion is a heavy substance that spreads out and sinks into his flesh. 

“Are you Terry’s mom?” Jason asks. He has the flowers already at his chest. His voice is stiff with emotion. Dick recalls his comment about Daniel reliving trauma and wonders if that’s what Jason is doing right now. 

The woman nods and says that, yes, she is, but little changes in her expression. Dick had been expecting confusion, but she accepts the flowers without hesitation. Evidently, they are not remotely the first ones to share condolences. “My name’s Laura,” she says, touching the waxy petal of a calla lily. Her voice is soft and deep as if it’s been anchored to the bottom of the ocean.

“I’m Jason.”

“Dick,” Dick says after him. 

Laura opens her mouth silently for a few seconds before carefully telling them, “I appreciate you boys coming here and wishing us well. It’s been hard, but we’re grateful to the community’s response, it’s been wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me not inviting you in, it’s just that I work grave and don’t get much sleep, and Terry’s resting.”

“We understand. But actually, we’re not just here to offer our sympathy — though you do have it, of course,” Dick conveys. He rushes the words of each clause so his speech comes out in quick, nervous chunks. He’s dipping head, taking up as little room as possible while moving closer to her. Jason takes a step back to accommodate him. He wants to represent himself as sincere, perhaps too sincere to the point of being clumsy. People often think inept and trustworthy are the same thing; the logic goes, you can’t be hiding any tricks up your sleeve if you’re more likely to spill them on the floor. 

“If you turn us away, we get it, don’t worry,” assures Dick, “but this is our city and our kids are getting snatched.”

Laura begins shaking her head. “Oh, no, he’s not answering any questions — ”

“We won’t ask as many questions as the police,” Dick hurries to say. “We don’t need to. We,” here, Dick breaks off his speech and looks uncertainly at Jason, feigning hesitance. Then he takes a galvanizing breath, readying for his big leap, this information he’s sharing only with Laura. “I work part-time at the Park Row Memorial. I’m a guard, similar work to what I do with the Bludhaven Police. We have it monitored 24/7 so it doesn’t become a high-crime area again.” Dick sighs in frustration and bites his lips. “Laura,” he says firmly, staring into her eyes. Her pupils have dilated along his story. Good. “I saw Terry that night. The police haven’t even asked Park staff yet, they don’t care. But I saw it happen and I think I can do something about it.”

The best cover story is always based in reality. The best lies are true. 

Laura’s eyes drop the ground as she thinks. She’s also biting her lip. Dick ponders over whether she does that often and Dick got lucky, or if she’s mirroring him. Either way, he’s won her over. She shuffles to the side and waves them in, her movements less languid than before. 

She leads them to the stairwell and says, “If he doesn’t want to answer questions, he doesn’t have to. I’m not going to force him, you got it? Get what you can and hope it’s useful.” With this, she climbs the steps to the second floor, Jason and Dick following at an appropriate distance. They pause at the top step while she enters Terry’s room and explains in hushed tones his guests. She relates Dick’s reason for being here and then there’s a long pause before Dick detects a faint, “Sure.” 

Dick and Jason share a look that confirms: they’re in. Laura places a light hand on Jason’s bicep and guides them to the door. “I’ll stand right here,” she says firmly and waves them forward. Dick looks around for a chair, sees none, and settles on the windowsill facing Terry’s bed. He’s faired better than the next two kids, all injuries considered. He was out of the hospital in a month. He lies in his twin-sized mattress beneath a crisp sheet, a blue comforter shoved to the foot of his bed. A square bandage covers his right cheek, there’s stitching over his right eyebrow, and there’s more stitches on the right side of his skull. His right arm and knee have been set in casts. Dick remembers him curling onto his side at one point in the video. 

In the wake of the other victims’ hospital records (courtesy of Oracle), Terry’s assault had been carried out with perfunctory brutality. Dick recollects the scene but recalls no hesitation in the attacker’s swings, yet their violence has clearly increased. Perhaps they are doing someone else’s dirty work and the job has just now awakened a taste for pain in them. Or maybe it’s one guy after all and they’re adjusting to the role. 

“So, you know the fucker who did this?” Terry speaks up first. His voice is a little rough and definitely fatigued. Despite his current infirmity, Dick can tell he’s a sturdy kid. He’s got the same build Jason had at that age, youthfully broad with natural muscle in the absence of training. A body with room to grow in. 

Dick shrugs. “Not personally. But we hold out hope. What did his face look like? Any defining features?” he attempts, even knowing that Terry’s report claimed to make out nothing from the night of the attack.

Terry was looking at Jason beforehand, which Dick can’t blame him for. Jason takes up most of the room as he stands by Terry’s feet, stock straight with his massive arms folded. Dick has a habit of downsizing Jason in his head. In general, Dick’s guilty of subconsciously diminishing certain people’s threat levels, letting his familiarity with them obscure the danger they still pose. He does his best to put himself in Terry’s shoes and see what he might see; he accomplishes this by summoning the first night he encountered the Red Hood before he was also Jason Todd, fallen boy wonder. Even without the vigilante get-up, the man’s intimidating. 

Now that Dick has asked a question, however, Terry’s eyes appraise him. Dick once again folds in on himself, tucking his arms closer to his sides and leaning back so he’s as out of Terry’s space as he can be. Then Terry’s eyes stray to the floor and he mumbles, “Looked like nothing. It was dark.” But he doesn’t say it like it was nothing. 

“You saw something,” Dick contests. He’s not going to wheedle or coax, he decides, because that would just leave Terry room to equivocate. “You don’t know what you saw, but you saw something, and whatever that is will help us more than pretending there weren’t streetlamps.”

Terry grimaces. The twitch of his battered face reminds Dick of his age and his heart aches. There should be a grace period for children, an exception made for those still new to this earth. He hates that pain is one of the first things they learn. “He was white, I guess,” Terry supplies. His good fingers have found a loose thread on the hem of his pushed-down sheets. He picks at it. “He never said a word the whole time. It was quiet. He — I saw his hands. I thought, I thought the police would find his thumbprints or whatever, on me, but that’s not how it works, they said. They were all fucked up.”

“The hands or the police?” Jason interjects.

Terry doesn’t look up from his loose thread, but one half of his mouth pulls up into a faint, flickering smile. It manages to be bright even so. “The hands. There were old scars all over the knuckles. Dry, too, like he never heard of lotion.”

Dick supposes the attacker could work in manual labor, but it’s unlikely if there were truly that many scars and all old. “Just the knuckles?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Dick guesses he’s experienced with combat. The ugly, close-up kind. Still, just the knuckles, that sounds more like punishment than accident. And the dry skin? That could easily be eczema, although wouldn’t a seasoned killer think to cover up, prevent skin follicles from falling into a lab tech’s hands? It is summer, but Gotham runs more humid than dry, so perhaps they’re dealing with a foreigner. “And the face?” he prompts. 

Terry abruptly drops his hand from the nervous thread and sighs raggedly. “Nothing, man. I couldn’t see anything, okay, it was,” Terry falters, “confusing.”

“Confusing how?” Jason asks.

“I don’t know!” Terry’s voice pitches in frustration. “It was weird, all swirly and shit.”

Dick can hear the criticism leak into Jason’s tone when he curtly repeats, “Swirly.” 

Terry backpedals. “I said I don’t know,” he mutters. 

Swirly voices sound familiar to Dick. He used to have one for a time when he played James Bond for Spyral. “I think we might have a contact, Jay,” Dick muses. 

“Really?” Jason says with noticeable surprise. “Swirly’s our big break?”

“Emphasis on the might and ixnay on the big.” To Terry, he says, “Tell me, does tsuchigumo ring any bells?”

Terry’s face scrunches up. “Does what huh?”

Dick will take that as a no. “Oh, well. Still worth looking into,” he says. Dick stands and retrieves the card pack from his plastic bag. He holds it up for Terry to see before setting it down on the bed. Terry takes it immediately and brings it up to his face for inspection. “Your mom has the flowers. I wasn’t sure what to get you, but let me know if you need or want anything. Oh.” Dick swivels his head around the room. There’s not much to it aside from a bed, a dresser, and a box T.V. collecting dust. “Do you have something I can write my number on?”

Jason chooses that moment to step forward, sliding between Dick and where Terry lies. He leans across, a crisp, laminated paper balanced between his index and middle finger. “Here’s my card. Let me know if you have any more information or if either of you need help,” he explains. Terry sets Dick’s gift down and gingerly accepts the card. He flips it over: no logo, just a phone number.

“That’s it?” says Terry. “What contact? Who did this?”

“It’s too soon to tell. I wish I had more to give you two,” Dick says sympathetically to Terry and Laura, the latter of whom hasn’t left her post by the door. She rests her cheek on the frame and watches on.

Terry has more questions though and he’s edging on excited. “Are you P.I.’s? Why do you even care? I bet you fucking did this, or one of your boys — ”

“I understand your distrust,” Dick says over him. He glances nervously at Laura to gauge what she thinks of the accusation and if she’s about to step in. She’s a little straighter, body no longer depending on the wall, but her face is still impassive if alert. Dick hurries to smooth this over. “You don’t know us well enough to understand why we care. We have to prove ourselves, I get that. And we will. Until then, you’ve got nothing to lose, right? All we know is you didn’t see anything.”

Terry stares at him silently, suspicion darkening his eyes. There is risk in coming here, of course, depending on how well Terry’s attacker can trace Jason’s footsteps. But Dick has already weighed the risks and he’s betting that Terry’s part is done here insofar as the criminal is concerned. Luckily, Terry can’t identify what he’s got to lose or how much he has told them between the lines, so the charges drop like that. 

There’s a few beats of silence before Jason starts fidgeting. “Yea-a-a-h, we’re going to go now,” he announces, pointing over his shoulder towards the window. Dick could cringe, he’s so awkward. 

“Thanks to both of you,” Dick says and smiles as warmly as he can. He trails closely behind Jason who shuffles towards the door, his body too tall and too broad to fit comfortably in the modest room. Unthinking, the pads of Dick’s fingers feather over Jason’s back as if to guide him forward. As Jason moves, Dick lets his fingers linger in the air, covering up the touch with empty space. He curls his fingers in and tucks them behind his back. Laura follows them out. 

“Thank you again,” Dick says at the door. “We’ll be in touch if anything develops,” he promises. And he will be; if not as Dick then certainly as Nightwing. 

Laura thanks them half-heartedly. Dick suddenly feels self-conscious about the Pokémon cards. He may as well have given them a box with nothing inside it or a flashlight without a bulb. He heads back to the car, feeling Laura’s heavy gaze on his shoulders the whole way. 

Dick is buckling himself in when Jason opens the passenger door. “Mind sharing with the class what information was so decisive you had no further questions?” he asks as he climbs into the car. 

“No questions Terry could answer. This is the best we can do for a lead,” Dick explains. He needs to make a call, but that will have to wait until they’re on the road and not idling outside a victim’s house. Maybe he can take them to a restaurant, buy Jason a drink, a friendly gesture. Would Jason want to drink with him though?

“Yeah, about that,” Jason says as the car shoots off, “what lead?”

Scratch the drink; neither of them are lightweights, but on principle, they shouldn’t drink during an ongoing investigation. Still, he could buy them some sub sandwiches. He used to buy food for Tim all the time back in the day, as a reprieve from the typical Batman and Robin style of accidentally fasting until the case is resolved.

They reach a redlight almost immediately. Dick drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Spyral uses this tech called ‘Hypnos 2.0.’ They slide in kind of like contacts? They’re eye implants basically, but they transmit information between your brain and the brain of whoever’s looking at you. Their most common application was hiding your identity. If someone looked at you, they’d just see a scrambled mess instead of a face.”

Jason’s face scrunches up as he stares out the windshield. He scratches his head. “Scrambled like Picasso or.”

The light turns green. “More like a spiral,” Dick says lightly, nodding conversationally. 

“Thematic,” Jason comments. 

“Very. And the uniforms weren’t too shabby either.” He adds the joke more to test the waters than anything, gauge how delicate a topic Spyral is between them. Everyone in their family has a slightly different relationship with Dick’s double life. Bruce and Damian’s have been the easiest, marked by faint curiosity about his activities and begrudging acceptance of help from associated colleagues. The others have been noticeably more dodgy and uncomfortable regarding for Spyral. Dick’s stint as as Agent 37 has made everyone evasive, even for bats. 

If Jason would normally have an emotional reaction to Spyral, he’s too preoccupied for one now. Dick can practically see the gears in his mind turning as his eyes narrow and his chin falls to rest on his hand. Dick feels simultaneously relief and shame; of course, Spyral is just a lead. Spyral may have been Dick’s life at one point, but to Jason, it’s just an organization. At best, contacting Spyral could save his life. At worst, well, Dick’s not expecting Jason to unpack whatever baggage Dick left in Gotham. 

Dick resists the urge to grimace at his own thoughts. He’s overthinking. Can one overthink a ruthless spy agency that up until a year ago controlled his every movement? 

Jason’s voice, slow and thick with the sound of a city that’s always been his, reels Dick back to shore. “Dare I ask what the uniform entailed?”

“Cargo pants,” Dick answers simply. He’s watching the road ahead, but he can hear Jason make a pleasantly surprised noise. They pass a fire hydrant painted to look like a sunflower. Dick thinks it’d be nice for Bludhaven to do that and makes a note to push the idea at city hall after the case. 

“So, you think that this guy is from Spyral?” Jason asks. 

Dick shrugs. “That, or he’s connected enough to snag some tech. We should check first with the other two victims, see if their descriptions match up with Terry’s. If they do, it’s probably Spyral and not some low-grade black market street vendor. Nine of out ten optometrists do not recommend mind control contact lenses.”

Jason slams his hand down on the middle compartment. “Mind control?” he exclaims. When Dick glances at him, Jason’s expression is mostly shock with a sliver of what might be plain rage. But that would be an overreaction considering all the other crimes Spyral is guilty of. All the crimes they’re guilty of, especially Red Hood, although making that argument would be more trouble than it’s worth. 

Dick tries not to let Jason’s sheer judgment weigh on him. Dick has far more pressing guilt elsewhere to torture himself over. Still, it’s hard not to feel righteous rage on Jason’s behalf. He often forgets this part of Jason’s character, this abrupt sense of justice that powers him, but it’s no less prominent than it is in Bruce or himself. It might actually be stronger in Jason, a little left of center, but bleeding red nonetheless. Unfortunately, car safety dictates Dick not be on the receiving end of justice, so he replies as casually as possible, “Well, that’s what Hypnos is, essentially.”

“No way.” Jason points an accusatory finger that Dick sees from his peripheral. A street corner features a hot dog stand. Dick nearly pulls over, but the finger might kill whatever buzz a chili dog can offer. “Don’t ‘that’s-what-Hypnos-is-Jason- obviously ’ me. You just said it transmits info.”

Dick did not think his tone had come off condescending in the least. But if that’s what Jason got from it, then perhaps he missed casual and landed on dismissive. Bludhaven must be eroding his tact already. “Sorry. When I said it transmits information, I meant it as a blanket statement for everything it does. Hypnos can alter memories, which is more-or-less how the identity protection works, by modifying one’s memory of a face. It can send someone a location address or really anything you have stored in your own memory, which is helpful. It can also send orders.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s helpful, too,” Jason derides. He looks like he smelled something bad. Was Dick this perturbed by Hypnos when he first joined Spyral? He doesn’t think so. He had been so quickly embroiled in so many terrible things. What was a little crowd control in the face of cold, efficient, and constant murder? 

The guns. The feel of one is his hand like death itself, how they loomed in his bedroom and among his gear, beckoning him closer to an edge everyone wanted to push him off of. The guns had overshadowed all else for him. 

“Either way,” Dick carries on, “it’s unlikely this guy has his hands on Spyral tech without Spyral knowing something about him. They keep close enough watch over people that have nothing to do with them, let alone people that have access to their technology. He could be anywhere from an engineer to a passing contact, but he’s no ghost.”

“Terrific. Exactly what I need, a mind-controlling stalker from an quasi-omniscient spy organization hellbent running around on the streets of Gotham.”

Dick shrugs. “Gotham’s had it worse.”

“Have I?”

“I don’t know. Have you?” Dick retorts. 

Jason scowls. “Wouldn’t be my first assassination attempt, I suppose,” he concedes.

Dick perks up and offers him a grin. “And it won’t be your last!” he crows. 

Jason just stares at him, utterly perplexed. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is curled above his teeth in bewilderment. 

“Because you’ll be alive,” Dick hurriedly explains. “You know, like, woohoo!” He takes one hand off the wheel to pump the air triumphantly. 

“Woohoo,” Jason repeats hollowly. “Insanity.”

“What?” asks Dick. They will be coming up on the grinder shop soon. Should he suggest lunch to Jason or just drag him in? He’s leaning towards dragging. That seems more effective.

“That we’re all just living to hopefully get killed a day that’s not tomorrow,” Jason observes. 

It’s not more cynical than funny, but something in Jason’s tone — the utter resignation, perhaps — makes Dick laugh anyway. “Everyone on earth’s on borrowed time, really,” he says, not unhappily. Death hasn’t frightened him since he was young. Exposure therapy, he called it once during some Titans mission that feels a lot farther in the past than it is. “The reckless and foolhardy like us, we’re just more aware of it.”

Jason blows air out from his nose in a mix between a snort and a laugh. “And here I thought vigilante-types were less aware of their own mortality.”

“Are you kidding? You have to know you’re walking towards death to find that exact path each night. Snatched purses, drug rings, elitist assassins dressed as owls, fear gas and escaped convicts and murderous clowns — and we run right towards them with open arms,” Dick says, irony guiding his grin as Jason smirks back at him. 

“And open chest cavities, half the the time,” Jason tacks on. 

Dick nods fervently. “Yes, let’s not forget that,” he tries to say seriously, but laughter trips him on the last word. “I don’t know. I think it’s all very sane, actually, to see what’s going on and get involved, do what you can to make everything a little bit better. But too much sanity can look like insanity, for sure.”

Jason does snort this time. “Keep moralizing like that and you’ll sound straight out of a conversation between the Joker and B.”

Dick wrinkles his nose. “Ew. I hope not.”

“‘We’re the same, you and I,’” Jason croons in a wispy, sing-song voice. “‘Sane and in-sane.’”

Dick can make out the small, white-background-red-letters sign of Hester’s Grinders a few yards down the road. There’s just enough room before the fire hydrant — this one plain, chipped red — to safely park. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll keep my philosophies to myself. And so long as we’re changing the subject — hungry?”

Previous Chapter

[justicealwaysprevails]

decisive inaction.

WHO: Bruce @justicealwaysprevails and Jason @thatsjasonfkntodd WHERE: The Manor WHEN: April 30th, 2020 WHAT: Jason is forced to move back to Wayne Manor once Joker makes Red Hood’s identity public.  

Jason: The longer he waited to relocate, the higher the chance that someone was going to start looking for him in the right place. Jason gave himself a day after the puppet show to pack up most of his things, or at least the important ones, and showed up at the manor with two suitcases. Everything else had been put into storage, and he’d already given notice that he was vacating the apartment. Anyone looking for Red Hood there wasn’t going to find a damn thing.

What he hadn’t done ahead of time was tell anyone where he planned on going instead, mostly because he loathed the idea of it entirely. He left the suitcases in the foyer and considered looking for Bruce, but he wasn’t stupid enough to actually believe he didn’t already know he was there. Instead, he spread his arms out to the sides and did a half spin. “Are you going to come welcome me home or pretend I’m not here?” He’d hear him. Bruce: After what happened at the theater, Bruce considered reaching out to Jason and asking that he come to the manor. Jason would turn it down, he was sure of that, so he made a conscious decision not to. He would rather say nothing and not completely eliminate the option. He wasn't ever ignorant when it came to Jason's line of work and the choices he made, although it would seem so by how little he interfered. It wasn't a fight worth having, not right now, and Bruce told himself it was something he could handle any time. Now that his identity was public knowledge, it made everything much trickier.

He saw him arrive. Before Jason even finished speaking he was there, exiting the kitchen just down the hall from where he stood. "Welcome home." The tone was hard to read in being nothing but matter-of-fact and direct. His gaze was more scrutinizing. "We need to talk." Motioning for Jason to follow, he turned to lead the way to the cave. This wasn't something he wanted anyone overhearing. Jason: “I see the detective work is in full swing today.” Obviously they needed to talk. He had plenty of things to say, as he always did when it came to Bruce, and no more reason to hold back. His problems had finally directly and irreparably interfered with Jason’s life.

He followed him down to the Batcave. He’d been there a handful of times recently with Dick and Tim, but it always had a different feel with Bruce. They were stepping into his space, his element, and it always gave Jason a little stab of something. Resentment, maybe. “Are we drawing straws or are you going to go ahead and give me your one sentence review of the situation?” Bruce: The only response to Jason's barbed comments was no response. Bruce learned that a long time ago. It encouraged them otherwise. He'd given up discouraging them a long time ago, but at least the back and forth didn't escalate this way.

"No." He sat down, not bothering to ask Jason to do the same. He would choose to sit or he wouldn't. "I need you to tell me if I'm missing anything." Nodding to the screen, he opened up a file that contained the information on each and every person that had a reason for a grudge. There were many. Jason: Jason did not sit. He didn’t feel like acting comfortable there, because he wasn’t. Not with Bruce. Not with the situation they were in. Not with any of it.

The file as large enough that it took a second to load. Of course it was. “Can I sort this by country or...?” Jason folded his arms and stared up at the screen and for a few seconds he did entertain the notion of going through the whole exhaustive list to see who was on there and who might not be, but he gave it up quickly. “You’re missing plenty. I don’t need you to put my life in a bunch of neat little files so you can think you’ve got it all figured out and taken care of. None of this should be happening. Do you get that? Did you give one single fuck about dragging all of us down with you when you threw your name out? It was just luck that we’ve had this long without all of us getting announced.” Bruce: Instead of responding, Bruce pulled up a simple sorting system that was simple to navigate. He demonstrated twice before moving back so Jason could have access to the screen.

He was expecting this. The others hadn't said anything, not yet, but that didn't mean they weren't thinking the same thing. In the past he'd learned the hard way that some of his responses weren't be acceptable. There was a time when he stopped trying to consider how Jason might receive what he had to say. He never saw results from the effort. Sometimes it seemed to make it worse. Alfred advised him against "giving up", even though that wasn't the way Bruce looked at the situation at all. "You're right, Jason. But it's always been that: luck, and we were running out. Too many people knew my identity before the carnival. Joker certainly knew." He no longer shied away from the name. "I had more control of it this way. My biggest regret is that I did not talk to everyone before it happened." Jason: “No, it hasn’t always been luck. I worked my ass off staying under the radar all these years. I’ve got safehouses in places nobody would think to look. If anybody tracked me, they didn’t track Jason Todd, who got buried ten damn years ago in Gotham City. They tracked Red Hood.” Jason raised his hand, one finger pointed at Bruce, “Here’s a free tip for you, Dad, your control over a situation isn’t the most important thing in the world. It wasn’t your control that should have mattered.”

It didn’t matter how much distance Jason put between himself and Bruce or between himself and the rest of the family. He could never actually get away. Bruce always thought he was owed some kind of say, some kind of consideration, some kind of control, just as he’d said. “I built something for myself, something you didn’t want, and now your ‘biggest regret’ is that you didn’t get to give a heads up before you fucked all of us? What a joke.” Bruce: “It has, because your name is tied to mine. No matter how careful you are, you can't change that." Bruce maintained a quiet, even tone despite Jason's obvious anger. "The most important thing to me was to minimize the impact as much as I could. That required having control over the circumstances. No amount of caution prevents a telepath from reading your mind, or the minds of those who know who you are, and even if you eliminate all loose ends the risk remains. It is naive to believe otherwise."

There were plenty of times when Bruce hadn't said to right thing to Jason or Dick and received a similar response. He knew by now there was no point in trying to anticipate what the expected answer was. Sometimes it could make a difference with Dick, but Jason could find malevolence and surmise meaning when none was meant. "What do you think my biggest regret should be?" Jason: “No, I can’t change that,” the sudden shift to bitterness implied that he’d wished several times that it wasn’t the case. What would have happened to him if he hadn’t tried to boost those tires? He had no idea. Maybe Crime Alley would have eventually killed him, maybe he would’ve met Batman in a whole different capacity later on. He had a lot of what ifs and maybes he’d never have answers to, because it was just as Bruce said...he was all tied up to him instead. The Wayne name was inescapable and Jason didn’t even wear it, really. He was not, had never been, and never would be Jason Wayne. He fixed Bruce with another flat look. “Yeah, that’s me. Naive.”

That question had a fresh wave of irritation bubbling up like he never felt around anyone but Bruce. “Oh, I’ve got a laundry list. You can take a little column A, a little column B, mix and match...” Where should he start? With the obvious? Making it about himself and only himself would be letting Bruce off the hook too easily, though. “But why don’t we start with what you just said. Once you touch something, once you pull someone into your fucking,” he made a vaguely round gesture in the air in front of him, “orbit, you take away any shot they’ve got at any other life. And for what? To be part of your cause? The big legend? I’m sick of going down with this ship, Bruce. I’ve done it too many times, and so has everybody else.” Bruce: Bruce did think that Jason was still naive in some ways, but he didn’t bother explaining or clarifying. He had no doubt of the implication Jason made, nor did he question his sincerity, but it still affected him. That was something that he had accepted wouldn’t fade or change with the passing years. The only thing he could do was minimize interference in Jason’s life while still upholding his personal sense of justice. He’d turned a blind eye more frequently in the recent months.

“I know.” There was no use in denying simple truths. It wouldn’t do either of them any good and Jason would see through it. “If you’re asking if I regret putting you in danger, then yes. I do. If you’re asking if I regret adopting you as my son, then I am unable to give you the answer you're looking for." There didn't seem to be a way to separate the two. He'd kept Dick away from the batcave for some time, but Jason knew him as Batman first. Jason: Jason ran his hand back through his hair and couldn’t help the sharp, humorless laugh that slipped out. “It’s funny when you say shit like that, because from where I’m standing...it was more like I was a pity project and then a sidekick, not a son.” On paper, sure. Sometimes it seemed to dawn on Bruce and he remembered, like he had right then, but all the other parts for them never lined up. He’d wanted a father, in the beginning, but he’d been quick to figure out that he wasn’t going to get one in Bruce Wayne. He was going to get Batman. It was Batman’s opinion of him that mattered, and Batman’s opinion that he could never live up to.

“But I think maybe congratulations are in order, because you’re getting what you want now. Red Hood is down for the count for awhile, and I’m stuck here until I have a better option.” He turned his back on him like he meant to walk away, but all he did was take a couple of steps and keep talking.  “After all this time and all this bullshit, you’re still letting Joker do this to all of us.” Bruce: "You weren't the first orphan I found living on the streets of Gotham, or the last. I didn't pity you." Bruce had plenty of projects and a myriad of ways to help. There were a dozen other routes he could have taken. "And if I only wanted a sidekick, there are much less complicated ways. I wanted you to be my son, or I would have taken you in as a ward." Dick was his ward for several years before Bruce officially adopted him. It wasn't a move he made thoughtlessly.

It always came back to Joker. Bruce had turned away, as if he were looking at the screen, but the very name made his body stiffen. "I had hoped revealing my name would take away that power." He never thought Joker would take the extra step to reveal the identities of everyone around him, even though it was a step realized now he should have anticipated. Jason: I wanted you to be my son. Jason tensed and curled the fingers of one hand hard against his palm. “Could have fooled me.” It wasn’t as if Willis Todd had given him the best gauge for what a father was supposed to be before he’d been killed, but he was still damn sure that Bruce had missed a lot of marks. If he hadn’t seen him pull it together for Tim and Damian, maybe it would’ve been a little easier to stomach, but he knew now that Bruce was capable of it and just...hadn’t.

“You can’t take power away from him!” he snapped. “The only way it’s gone is if he’s dead!” Just because Bruce had changed the stupid fucking game he played with Joker didn’t mean that the clown was ever going to stop playing it. Bruce: It wasn't a sentiment Bruce ever expected Jason to believe. Alfred encouraged him to say it anyway, for reasons he didn't fully understand, but it was advice he'd chosen to take. "You were never afraid to challenge me," he continued, as if he hadn't heard Jason's comment. That was the quality that caught his attention in the first place. It was also what made the role of Robin so difficult for him to handle. Robin was there to support Batman, unquestioningly and obediently, and that never came naturally to Jason.

He knew Jason would never understand why Joker was still alive, why Bruce didn't choose to put an end to him once and for all, and there were times when Bruce would be hard-pressed not to agree with him. "Perhaps," he said simply, quietly. "But it has never been that simple." Jason: "You don't want a challenge. Not this kind. You want a challenge from fucking...Superman, not from me." Because Jason challenged too hard, got too far from what Bruce wanted, and in the opposite direction. If he was actually out of his mind enough to join up with the League, there was no way in hell Bruce would've ever actually listened to him. He was kidding himself if he thought otherwise.

Jason gritted his teeth so hard he felt his jaw ache until he relaxed it. "It is that simple. You just don't want it to be. The only reason Damian isn't dead is because Joker decided to use him for a different kind of message. How many bodies do you need to hold, exactly, before you stop making excuses?" Bruce: Bruce shook his head. "I asked you to join the league for a reason." He didn't know what motivations assigned to it, if any, but it wasn't an invitation he extended without fully intending to see it through - despite knowing what Jason's probable answer would be. "We don't often agree, Jason, but that doesn't mean I'm not listening."

That earned a longer silence. He hadn't anticipated what happened with Damian, but it made him more determined to rein the Joker in before it continued. Frowning, he looked up at Jason with an unreadable expression. "If you and Dick had managed to capture him, what would you have done?" Jason: “You wanna tell me what good listening does if nothing I say ever actually matters? Because all it means to me is that you’re not deaf.” Bruce didn’t bend, and if he did he definitely didn’t bend to or for Jason. He still couldn’t really comprehend why he’d asked him to join the League, but he knew damn well what it would have been like if he’d agreed to do it. It would have been him compromising, him bending, not Bruce, not the rest of them.

Jason turned to face him fully again. “I don’t know what Dick would have done, but I would have put a bullet between his eyes where it belongs.” He’d said it so many times, yet it still wasn’t done. Bruce: "It matters." Bruce couldn't say for certain how much influence Jason would have over the league, not when it came to certain points, but there were other discussions that could yield different outcomes. "You are more similar to them than you think. It is easier to see the differences." Killing was the glaring difference, even though Bruce was well aware of which members were not wholly against it.

It was what he thought Jason would say. He sighed, his gaze shifting back to the computer screens. "And you believe I have never wanted to do the same thing." It was a statement more than a question. "It isn't so simple for either of us." Jason: “Because the differences are what bite me in the ass, and they’re exactly why I’m only here because I don’t know where else to go.” Because Bruce had fucked it all up and left him scrambling again. “You know, sometimes I think maybe I really am an idiot, because I’ve never been able to figure out how you can look at me and spend your precious twenty words a day to just lie.”  Bruce wouldn’t call it that, but how was it not a lie to say things, make claims, and then not follow through on any of it?

“It doesn’t matter if you wanted to do it a thousand times, because you never did!” As soon as Bruce looked away from him, Jason cleared the distance between them so fast it looked like he meant to hit him. All he did was grab his shoulder instead. “Don’t act like I’m not standing right here. You’re going to keep looking at me this time, dammit. This is still happening because you’re letting it happen.” Bruce: "I am not lying to you." It was the only response he could give to cut through the accusation, but it wasn't something he could make Jason believe. At the end of the day, it didn't matter what he said or did - if he couldn't get through to Jason, then it all just fell on deaf ears. Bruce knew better than to give up, but that didn't mean he knew how to navigate the situation any better than before.

He did turn to face Jason, his expression stoic and grim, and he put his hands on his arms. It wasn't to keep him back. The gesture was instinctive, something he would have done with Tim, Dick, or Damian, and there was barely any strength in the grip at all. "I never did, but it wasn't because your life wasn't worth it to me, Jason. That will never be true, no matter how many times you say it, and I will never claim otherwise. That would be the lie." Jason: "Oh, really? So when the time comes and I put my mask back on and go enact justice my way, you're going to let me come right back here and you'll nothing to say because you're cool with it now?" Letting him into the League was condoning it. At the very least, it was complacency. When had Bruce ever actually been complacent? When had he actually let any of them just be themselves?

"If I was worth it then you would have done it, Bruce. I don't care how many times you say otherwise. I don't even care if you actually believe you're telling me the truth." He probably did think that, even. Jason knew how deep his convictions ran. Bruce might very well be utterly convinced that he meant what he was saying, but that conviction didn't change the reality of it - that Joker had killed him, he'd hurt all of them, and he was still out three walking, talking, breathing...

Bruce: Although he would never condone Jason’s methods, Bruce was more than aware that turning a blind eye to his actions in Star City suggested a level of complacency he rarely exhibited. “You and I will always have different ideas of justice, Jason. But perhaps that is what the world needs. There are enough heroes.”

He shook his head, frowning, but his tone remained even. “If I were to kill Joker, he would never die. His blood on my hands guarantees his immortality. There are greater punishments than death. And there are other ways to kill. You have your ways and I have mine. That doesn’t make what I said any less true.” It was a conversation they would never see eye to eye on, but he would continue to have it, as often as necessary, despite an instinctive urge to shut it down. That was a tendency he did his best to curb in recent years. “We have had enough conflict. I want to work with you, not against you.”

Jason: He half wondered if Bruce had been brainwashed. Maybe having his identity out to everyone had forced him to change the way he did things, but Jason wasn’t as naive as Bruce thought, and he wasn’t buying into his act of compromise. He didn’t believe it for a second. If he went along with it, the only thing that would happen was Bruce realizing his “mistake” as soon as he was actually confronted with it. Where would that leave Jason? Even more screwed.

Even if he had been entertaining the idea, the continued belligerence over Joker did away with it. “His blood on my hands guarantees his immortality. That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. His blood on your hands wouldn’t kill and torment your family or terrorize and poison random citizens, would it? Stop trying to be poetic about cowardice.” Bruce: Disagreements like this always ended poorly, especially when  they were with Jason. There was little point in repeating himself when he knew Jason could never understand or be satisfied; it didn't matter if it were the truth or not. Bruce didn't know what Alfred expected to happen from his efforts, but he was confident this was not it.

"It could." The response was immediate, but he didn't intend on offering an explanation. "And it has the potential to do much worse, even now." Moving back, he returned to the computer. He would work on the leads he had with or without Jason's help. "Let me know when you're ready to hear the truth. I refuse to entertain your exhausting inaccuracies on my motivations any longer." Bruce: “Your truth is just that. Your truth.” Jason turned to go, even if he was stuck at the manor on a short term basis. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I’ve got something else set up.” There was nothing else to say, and he didn’t bother to look back again before going back upstairs.

[ticklikeabomb]

Convincing Loki to help you out - Part 3 (Finale)

Pairing : Avengers x Gender Neutral Plus Size Reader ;  Loki x Gender Neutral Plus Size Reader (platonic)

Warnings : Language, Endgame events altered, Death of character

Word Counts : 1.9k

Once the teams have been split, everyone got into those terrible red and white Quantum Real uniforms Tony designed and circled the entry of the device. "Everyone knows what they're supposed to do", said Steve looking at everyone warmly before his eyes narrowed on your figure to which you grazed at him with a smug smile. They nodded and Natasha commented "See you in a minute" to which you made a grimace, not feeling like it. "Come on Loki Luke, let's get this junk started", you grabbed the God of Mischief and traveled back to 2013 Asgard, ending in the prison district. You saw Loki's room and turned to the present version telling him, "You could at least clean your room." He rolled his eyes before turning towards you, justifying that it wasn't his room but his cell. "Hmm…even in jail you have to be a fancy bitch, don't you?", you commented while passing the cell. 

You saw Rocket and Thor hide and in the middle of a commotion. And then you snapped when seeing Rocket's hand lift. "Don't you dare slap him!", you said through greeted teeth and preventing the hit. "Y/N the mission", whispered Loki. "If I know that you did it, you can say goodbye to that furry thing between your legs", you threatened the Guardian. He swallowed harshly and dropped his hand. "We'll gonna check out what's happening in New York", you said softly to Thor and calmed his anxiety down with some of your powers. Giving a deadly look to Rocket, you grabbed Loki once more and disappeared. 

You ended next to Tony who slightly jumped, "God, you scared me." "What's happening? Tony?", you heard Steve on the comms. "Y/N and Loki are here", answered Scott. Tony commented on Steve's ass and you checked him out. 2012's Loki version began impersonating Rogers once more during his life time and you turned towards him, "You surely like impersonating Steve in particular, hein" and saw Loki's cheeks turn a slight pink shade. "It's ok if you wanna bang him, he surely must be righteous in ALL the places", you joked. "Would you Stop!", he greeted through his teeth making you chuckle and Tony smirk. "I hate you", he tuned towards you. "Yeah, yeah, love you too". Passing him a Pym Particle you told him you were going to check on the events in Vormir.

You arrived after the Keeper finished his famous 'One soul for a soul' part. "Alright Kim Possible what's going on?", you chanted while seeing them fighting each other. You rolled your eyes and sighed before paralyzing the two Avengers. You nodded at the Keeper and said "How's life, Skully?" "Long and empty", he responded. "Yup like my sex life. Happens. " You marched at the former SHIELD agents and they seem in pain. "What are you doing?", asked Clint. Your tone got solennel, "My job." Natasha's eyes widened and she whispered, "You gonna jump aren't you?" "It won't work, it must be someone you deeply love", said Clint. "No shit Sherlock." Turning to Red Skull, you saw him nod. You looked down the cliff and exclaimed before jumping, "This is gonna hurt like a Motherfucker." The only thing that was heard next was your skull fractured on the stone. 

Natasha and Clint woke up, water surrounding them and the most beautiful sky they've ever witnessed. Inside her palm, Natasha had the soul stone in her possession. They sighed and activated the Pym Particle to get back to the present timeline. As planned, everyone arrived at the same time with the Infinity Stones. Some of them let out a happy scream of joy for achieving the Heist until Loki noticed your absence. "Where's Y/N?" He looked at Natasha and Clint and repeated his question with a firmer voice. "Where are they?" They bowed their head and said, "They sacrificed themselves for the Stone." The room quieted down, everyone giving you a minute of respect for what you've done. Loki left the room and ended near the compound's lake. "Why did you do it?", he mumbled to himself. 

In the meantime, Tony carefully inserted the stones on his Gauntlet and Hulk reverse snapped everyone back. They felt the air around them shift and truly realized it worked when Clint's wife called him. Their joy quickly vanished when Thanos' ship shadow rotated above the compound and bombed the place. Recovering their senses, Tony, Steve and Thor marched at their nemesis. The fight 2.0 began. Thanos was on the verge to get Thor when Steve wielded Mjöllnir. "YESSS", shouted Thor. Thanos and Steve fought until it was only The Captain facing Thanos and his army. "On your left", he heard the comms. Two simple words warming his heart. Portals opened up, the World's Mightiest Heroes joining each other for one purpose. One order and everyone ran into battle. 

Before crashing against the army, the right fling was decimated by an unknown force. "ProtoVision" by Kavinsky was blasting in the air. You appeared in a grand entrance, sword in hand, decimating everyone in your passage. The Avengers seeing you alive, proudly shouted into battle. "Hello Thanos, long time no see", you faced the Titan, who tensed at your presence. You didn't give him a chance to respond and attacked. Steve, Tony, Thor and Loki joined you. Each taking a turn on the Titan. At the corner of your eye, you saw Peter fleeing with the Gauntlet and decided to give him a hand. He didn't see the Alien coming behind him at full speed. You intervened the moment the monster was about to stab him but ended stabbing you instead. You fell to the ground, bleeding out. Loki was by your side, "Y/N, hey it's gonna be ok. I'm here." You shook your head and told him to go gets his revenge before, once more, passing away. 

The fight escalated. Doctor Strange had to control the breach before it drowned the place while Thanos called for back-up. The Avengers were on their lasts ressources when Carol Danvers came crashing the Alien Spaceship. It was her turn to face off Thanos. She was keeping the Gauntlet from him while standing her ground. Thanos managed to take the upper-hand and take the Gauntlet back. Tony pushed further by attacking Thanos but was projecting to the ground by the Titan. "I am the inevitable", he proclaimed before snapping his fingers. When he saw it didn't work, you let the masquerade fade away and transformed from Tony to yourself, the Stones glowing on your bare arm. "And I am the beginning and the end", you said with a piercing gaze and snapped. 

You felt the Stone's powers invading you, burning you whole. Thanos and his army vanished while you laid on the ground, breathing weakly. The Avengers kneeled before you and asked how you managed to come back. "I was created to keep the Stones safe and hidden. In doing so, I managed like a cat to have an amount of life chances. Six stones, six lives. I just used the last one. No coming back anymore", you spoke slowly, a silent tear sliding down your face. While you were telling them how you managed to come back, you traced a code in the dusty ground. Natasha noticed your move but quickly focused her gaze back on you dying. "I got my wish. I won't die alone", you said before slightly pushing your sword to Loki's direction. "You're worth it", and with that your body glowingly faded away. 

————-

5 months later

The compound has been in reconstruction after the Grand Battle. Natasha recovered your code left on the dusty ground, tracing every formula with Tony and Bruce's help. Until now it was a dead-end. "If they left this behind it's not a coincidence", said Tony, while scratching his neck. "Sir, there is a delivery guy outside the compound's door", exclaimed F.R.I.D.A.Y. Confusion was written all over their features seeing that the package came from you. They intercepted the delivery guy and asked them about the package. He checked his notebook and declared that they that received instructed to deliver it today. Tony called everyone on their provisory conference room. "Why today?", asked Rhodes. No one had an answer. Inside the box, Tony recovered an USB drive to which he uploaded on the main screen. 

It was a video recording of you facing the camera.

"Hello, if you see this message it means I am no longer. Obviously, otherwise that would be weird me watching this with you. So dramatic, right?", they heard you chuckle and couldn't help smile at the screen. "I know you all loved me and will miss me so much to the point of questioning if life is worth living without me in it, but it is. I would like to use this tragic moment to leave my last impressions and directives to you." 

"Rhodes…would you slap Ross for me. Pleeeasse. I can't stand that one. Squirrel if I find out you slapped him, I will come back and cut not only your furry D but both your hands", you said with a piercing look. "Alright, I get it no slapping, Jeez", spoke Rocket in the room. The others looked at each other confused except for Loki who laughed out loud. "Little Ant, never stop growing, the stars aren't the limit." "Awnnn so cute", exclaimed Scott with a dorky smile on his face. "Clint I have been willing to ask you this for some time now. …WTF is that hAiRcUt ?!? Bruce, Hulk…Hulce, the new look definitely threw me of the grid. Wasn't expecting it but as long as you're in peace that's what matters. And ohh by the love of the cosmos NEVER DAB AGAIN." "Bro what?", Tony turned towards his friend who only shrugged. 

"Thunder Thor out here killing all the humans with that amazing smile. Never stop doing that. Hmm who next? STEVIE-OHHHH, I know what happened in that office. No, I wasn't creeping around like some", you said insinuating it about him. "She knows she means everything to you, trust me for once. The past should stay in the past. It's time for the world to meet the Nomad *winks* you know what you gotta do." Steve's gaze briefly landed on Sam.

"Tony, Metal man himself. You can go rest now. You did good. It's time for your second journey, tiny and cute Morgan. Natasha, the spy of it all. I think I left you a task didn't I. Here let me give you one more hint. 'What you're looking for is closer than you think'. And finally, the one and only God of Mischief, Low-key. It was fun hanging out with you. Who thought you were more than just an amazing haircut. Don't do anything stupid but in case you do, don't forget about me. Take care of our baby."

"Anyway this is fucked up. If I had to choose a song to describe my life it would be Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. It started slow, hesitant, simple before unexpectedly accelerating. The Rock'n'Roll notes overflowing my existence. Yeah you better be ready, sometimes I'm deep ok. Well 'was'. You were my Rock'n'Roll part and I would like to thank you for that. For a small fraction I didn't just exist but I lived. Bye Losers and live freely you little birds. " 

The video ended with you smiling at the camera. 

"Oh I almost forgot, btw, Nick Fury and Maria Hill are Skrulls. Peace!', your voice was heard for the last time on the tape. 

The audience turned towards Fury and Maria, who felt very uncomfortable. They revealed their true identity before 'Fury' declared, "We can explain." 

* gifs not mine, credit to owners*

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[manawhaat]

Welcome to Womanhood

Title: Welcome to Womanhood

Characters: Steve x Reader, Tony, Sam, Wanda, Natasha, Bruce, Pepper. 

Summary: When you’re faced with seeing a gynecologist, Steve and Tony don’t understand your hangups.

Prompt: No One Believes Them - for @star-spangled-bingo

Warnings: Angst, feelings of panic/fear/anger, brief mentions of past mental trauma, doctor’s offices, gynecologists/ gynecological descriptions, tmi, slight fluff, slight sexy vibes? 

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Written for Star Spangled Bingo. This fic stems directly from personal history and experiences and it’s an overshare and super specific but writing it has helped me so fuck it. FYI, any dramatization or exaggeration of time in this fic are based on the exact wait times of my own gyno visit last month. Thank you @thelittleredwhocould for the beta and thank you to anyone who reads this 👍

“Ms. Y/l/n, Mr. Stark has an appointment for you today.”

“Does he, now? Cause I don’t remember having Dr. Stark and Banner in my calendar, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“This appointment was scheduled today.”

“Well how ever am I supposed to know if I have time for an appointment if it’s scheduled at the last minute?” you tease, voice all sing-song and high pitched. Steve and Sam smirk at your back and forth from the kitchen island.

Before the program can respond Tony rounds the corner with Wanda and Nat on his tail, knocking on the counter top to get your attention.

“Speak of the devil.” Sam winks in your direction and your mouth draws into smile.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Tony snarks at Sam. “Anyway, I’m gonna need to steal you away for a bit, Y/n. Doc’s waiting.”

“What kind of doctor am I seeing today, Anthony? I thought you and Bruce were gonna do all of our check ups, and last time I checked, you were done with me.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think Cap, here, would want me or Banner up close and personal with your fun bits, even with all of my-” he clears his throat and paints on a cocky grin- “experience in the field. So I’ve brought in one of the best. Pepper’s doctor already did those two-” he waves a finger at Nat and Wanda at the other side of the island with Steve and Sam- “so we’re just waiting on you.”

A pit forms in your stomach and a lump fills your throat. “A- a gynecologist?”

“Yeah, last stop on the Health Express. Now, all aboard,” Tony jokes, completely amused by himself as he fake toots a train horn, oblivious to the panic in your eyes.

“No.”

Steve’s eyes lift from his notebook at your answer. The moment he takes in your stance, defensive and scared, he knows something is wrong.   

“Oh, come on. You’ve sat there for every test we’ve done. Don’t get doctor shy on me, now. He’s great, right girls?” He claps his hands and opens them to the women behind Sam.

Wanda nods. “Very gentle.”

“Probably the best I’ve ever seen,” Natasha agrees.

“See? He’s stellar, so let’s go and we’ll get it over with and have you back here in a jiffy.”

Your head shakes back and forth in disbelief. “This can’t be happening.” It’s a whisper that no one hears and when Tony reaches for your wrist you snap and lose any semblance of cool you’d been holding onto. “Don’t fucking touch me!” The tone of your voice and fire in your eyes is enough for the guys to stand from their chairs as the girls look on with concerned eyes.

“Easy, tiger,” Tony coos, hands up in surrender.

“How dare you, Tony?”

Tired of your ‘outburst’, he deadpans, “It’s just a check up, Y/n.”

“How could you just decide this for me? Without even asking me or giving me time to-”

“Y/n, sweetheart,” Steve coos, walking around the island to de-escalate the situation.

“This is my body. Not yours. Goddammit! You have absolutely no right to grant anyone access to my body, to something so intimate,” you rage, torn apart with anger that Tony could make you feel so violated.

“Y/n, hey, look at me.”

When Steve is shoulder to shoulder with Tony, you freeze. As comforting as your boyfriend usually is, he’s too big and he’s caging you in, only adding to the fear filling you to the brim. It’s a defense mechanism, but your fists curl at your sides as he slowly approaches.

“Stop,” you plead, eyes dangerously close to spilling tears.  

He does, and before anyone can blink a red hue fills their eyes. The posture they’d adopted to make themselves look smaller fades away and they turn to walk out of the room. Eyes darting from person to person, you find Wanda with energy flowing from her fingertips, mercifully removing them from the situation long enough for you to dart out of the room with Sam on your heels.

Sam calls after you, a gentle hand wrapping around your upper arm. “Hey, hey, hold up. Are you okay?”

“I- fuck!”

His hands wrap around your shoulders, his soft, concerned eyes anchoring you as he takes a breath that you mimic. “It’s okay. It’s just me. Do you want me to take you somewhere for a while?” he asks, knowing you need something but not quite knowing what exactly that is.

“Sam, I know you wanna help, but I can’t, okay. Maybe later, but for now, please just let me go,” you ask, shaking in his hold. He instantly takes a step back and raises his hands for you to leave, shooting you a small nod at the silent ‘thank you’ in your eyes.

Wanda and Natasha find you on the rooftop, face buried in your knees where you sit curled up in one of the plush deck chairs set out for sunbathing. The two take seats on either side of you, offering comfort that only another woman can provide.

Nat breaks the silence. “You okay?”

A wave of uneasiness fills you but slowly subsides into a feeling closer to guilt. “Uhm, I don’t know. But I’m sorry for all of that. And thank you for what you did, Wanda.”

“I saw what they couldn’t, so I’m happy I did the right thing.”

“When did Tony tell you guys about this?”

“About a week ago?” Wanda nods in agreement with Nat.

“We thought you knew about the exam today but apparently you didn’t. It took you by surprise and you showed that but you don’t need to apologize for that feeling,” Wanda explains.

Head falling, your eyes scrunch closed. “I know, I just, I feel like I freaked them out.”

“To be fair, Tony freaked you out first. Sooo….” Natasha smiles a little when you accept her words. “So, do you wanna talk about it?”

A heavy sigh leaves you and you sit up straight between them, fingers fiddling in your lap.

“I know that it’s just part of my health, but having someone down there-” you shudder- “inside of me, when they aren’t there for consensual romantic reasons….I  just- it’s a hurdle I can’t get over. My body, my sexuality, it's always been something I was raised to keep hidden. I get that my parents were trying to protect me, but they drilled it into me so deep in such an unhealthy way. ‘No boys, no romance, don’t even talk to boys. No sex until you’re married. Your body is yours and is NEVER to be shared with another person unless you’re married.’ And then one day my childhood doctor physically unbuttoned and unzipped my pants while I was laying there on his exam table. I freaked out.”

“Naturally,” Nat chimes.

“Naturally. I didn't let him do the exam so we left and my mom yelled at me the whole way home for not letting him look. Like, how the fuck can you tell someone their entire life not to share their body and then one day just say 'open your legs and let him see.’ and expect them to be okay? It’s so- I don’t know- personal? But it’s not personal the way it is with me and Steve, and that’s the only way my brain can process anyone down there. So the only thing left for me to label it as is invasive. No matter how much time I have I can never fully prepare for it, and the thought of Tony overseeing something so….so wrong,” you squeak, “God, it makes me want to vomit.”

“Hey.” Natasha’s voice has you lifting your chin to meet her eyes. “It’s not wrong. There’s nothing wrong with gynecologists. Tony is, well, Tony- and it was kind of a dick move of him to thrust that on you. But you do need to see someone.”

Eyes narrowing in her direction, even she can see you starting to crack. “Why are you always fucking right?”

“Me? Right? Is that even possible?” she grins sarcastically.  

“So you’ll see someone?” Wanda asks.

A grimace paints your face, but you nod. “Yeah. I know I have to, and at least if I set it up myself then I can be in control of it.”

“Good. And we’ll be here as long as you need us,” Nat smiles, wrapping her arm around you as Wanda hugs you from the other side.

Sandwiched between them, you sniff and let out a laugh. “Thank you.”

An hour later the three of you are just getting up to go back downstairs, find some ice cream, and watch chick flicks when a tall figure looms into view. Your back straightens, but the look in his eyes allows you to deflate.

Flashing a smile to Nat, she and Wanda leave you alone with Steve.

“Hey.”

You step into his space, reaching out for his hand. “Hey,” you sigh, playing with his fingers.

“I- I’m sorry for making things worse. Tony asked me this morning if you were available today and I told him you were. I figured he or Bruce or F.R.I.D.A.Y. would fill you in on the appointment.”

Dropping his hand, you take a step back. “You knew?” Venom laces into your voice and he stands straight. “You knew and you just volunteered me for that?”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“You and Tony ambushed me, Steve. What the fuck!”

Pushing past him, he groans and follows you. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“Yeah, you sure as hell didn’t think, Steve.”

“Hey.” His voice is firm and all too Captain Rogers, but you stop anyway, turning on your heels to glare up at him. Broad shoulders are set high and those blue eyes are piercing.

“It’s just another doctor’s appointment. Ever since Pepper started riding Tony about his health we’ve all been going through it. I don’t understand what the issue is, Y/n.”

“Of course you fucking don’t,” you puff, completely defeated and unable to believe that this is your Steve standing in front of you. “A complete stranger opening me up and prodding around inside of me-” you shove at his chest- “physically feeling the most intimate part of me while I’m laying there on a cold, hard table, forced to just sit there and let it happen for the sake of my health….” Tears finally spill from your eyes and your voice wavers as you continue. “That is not ‘just another doctor’s appointment’, Steve. It feels like molestation, and I can’t believe you would knowingly volunteer me for that.”

Broken voice, spirit, and heart, you walk away before he can say another word. You thank high heaven when he doesn’t chase after you, and you find Natasha and Wanda again, bunking down in Nat’s room for the night.

Things between you and Steve are awkward and tense for the first time in years. You’re both at odds and as much as it hurts to not be with him like normal, it hurts more knowing that he was part of what caused it.

Natasha is kind enough to share her room with you for a few days and when you start to overstay your welcome your room feels like a prison cell. The bed you share is too small, but Steve mercifully keeps his distance. It’s a rough couple of weeks before you find a doctor that you can talk to over the phone and after discussing your concerns and listening with an open heart she sets you up with an appointment.  

When you tell Steve it settles some of the tension between you. He just wants you healthy and your hang ups aren’t something he can understand or relate to -even when you open up to him and tell him everything. He’s usually so empathetic and understanding, but for some reason there’s just a disconnect that he can’t bridge. He wants to understand. He wants to believe you, but he just can’t help but feel like you’re being dramatic and overly sensitive to it, so he keeps his distance on the subject. As long as you’re taking care of yourself he won’t push it.  

Between missions popping up and your irregular periods reigning down endless sabotage you end up scheduling and cancelling four different appointments. The waiting game is inconvenient, stressful, and has more and more anxiety settling in your gut. It’s a shift in you that Steve easily notices and is a little surprised by, but your fifth attempt appointment date finally arrives without a hitch.

The two of you leave Stark Tower with dark shades and hats on, just in case. The subway is dark and all too bright at the same time, everything about the strangers caging you in as you reach your final destination making you almost nauseated with worry. The office is nice but still smells like old paper and hand sanitizer, and Steve sits with you as you fill out the forms that seem to never end.

“I didn’t think there would be so many questions,” he says, flipping the already filled out pages through his fingers. “You’ve been here for almost an hour just filling out forms… do they really need to know all of this if they’re looking at just one part of you.”

“Welcome to Womanhood, Captain.” The sarcasm doesn’t erase your distress, it barely hides it.

When you’re finally called back by the nurse Steve follows behind you. She puts up a feeble hand before her eyes scan his face. Pink crawls over her cheeks as she steps aside, giddy and half-focused as she takes your height and weight.

Steve stands there with your purse and shoes in his hand, a polite smile on his face as she composes herself and leads you both to the examination room.

Her words are simple. “The provider will be in soon.” And when the door shuts behind her, silence fills the already uncomfortable room.

Ten minutes pass before a different nurse comes in to take your vitals and ask a series of questions that weren’t on any of the forms you’d filled out. She seems to be completely oblivious to who you and Steve are and explains what they’ll be doing during this visit before setting out the instruments needed on a sterile cloth on the counter top.

“Go ahead and undress completely. This is the top, to be worn like a vest, and this is a sheet for the bottom,” she explains, holding the flimsy items up for display. “The provider will be in as soon as she can.” The door clicks behind her and you let out a huff.

“Why do they keep calling the doctor ‘the provider’?” Steve asks as you start undressing and handing him each item of clothing to fold into his lap.

“It’s supposed to be more removed and less personal than ‘doctor’ so you don’t feel like you’re being touched intimately, I guess.”

“I get the idea, but ‘provider’ sounds worse. Like you’re being probed.”

“Welcome to Womanhood, Captain,” you sneer with a fake salute that has Steve stiffening in his seat.

The sound of crinkly paper fills the room as you wrap the gown pieces across your body and try to find a way to secure them so you don’t have to actively hold them shut.

Steve smirks. “Nice outfit.”

You do a few model poses and spin around for him. “Oh, thanks. Wanna try it on?” The fake smile on your face turns to a real one at the way he chuckles.

Minutes that seem like hours pass at an agonizing pace, the build up and anticipation only making you more of a nervous wreck. The exam table beneath you is too firm and uncomfortable, so with a huff you jump off and Steve moves your clothes and purse to the counter so you can sit in the chair beside him.

The room is cold and quiet aside from your deep breaths and the hum of the fluorescent lights. Steve is at a loss for words, but he tries to comfort you. It doesn’t work. Every shift you make is loud, and soon the temperature of the room clings to your skin and worms past the paper dress you’re in. His arm wraps around you in an attempt to keep you warm, but it rips the fabric along your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he spits out the second he realizes what’s happened.

A long sigh turns into grumbling as you get up and start digging through the drawer the nurse had opened earlier. He wants to help, to comfort you, but he can’t. Steve isn’t used to feeling helpless, so he stands and paces back and forth when you take your seat on the exam table, again.

A knock on the door has you perking up, and the nurse from before enters the room. “So, the provider is going to need a urine sample,” she says, holding up the plastic cup and alcohol wipe. “You can get dressed and use the restroom two doors down, and when you come back in I’ll have you get undressed and into a new gown.”

Your eyes roll but Steve jumps in, polite as ever as the nurse turns to leave the room. “Thank you.”

He hands you your clothes and when you come back from the restroom, pee cup in tow, the room is even colder than it was before.

“Jesus Christ, it’s freezing in here,” you shiver.

“I actually asked a nurse about it while you were gone. She said she’d try to fix it. I’d try to keep you warm, but-”

“Yeah, apparently Cap beats Paper,” you smirk, the mood light for a moment while you undress and re-robe.

Time passes like molasses. You’re looking at the purple hue under your fingernails when you finally ask, “What time is it?”

His brows knit together as he looks at his watch. “Holy shit. It’s almost three.”

“Language, Captain,” you smirk, all too unamused with this entire ordeal.

“We’ve been here for almost three hours. Why does this take so long?” he asks, voice quiet but appalled as he examines the tools set out on the counter.

“Gotta set the mood,” you laugh humorlessly, flopping back onto the table, not even caring about modesty or comfort anymore. Before you can speak, Steve takes the words right out of your mouth.

“This is exhausting.”

A breathy laugh leaves your mouth and another half hour passes before a knock on the door has you sitting up with a groan.

“Hello, Y/n,” the doctor smiles and extends her hand. “I’m Dr. Nakalah.”

Shaking her hand, you nod. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for speaking with me over the phone. Like I said, this is-” the words sit heavy on your tongue and your eyes begin to glass.

“It’s alright. Women’s health is a very personal thing and I want you to feel as comfortable as possible.” Her kindness and honesty warms your heart and she gives you a moment while she turns to Steve.

He stands and offers his hand, voice deep and soothing. It’s for you, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “Steve Rogers- Y/n’s boyfriend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve. Thank you for coming with Y/n today. These things can feel invasive and be a bit overwhelming, so it’s always nice to see partners supporting each other.”

Pepper’s doctor might be one of the best but you’re happy you went with Dr. Nakalah. She’s human.

“So, Y/n, we’re going to do a Well Woman Exam today. That includes a breast exam, pap smear, and pelvic exam. In a minute I’ll have my medical assistants step in to help me with the exam and record the data.”

Her eyes flit to Steve and you clear your throat. “Um, can he stay in during the exam?”

“We don’t usually allow anyone else in the room, but with what we discussed, if you would feel more comfortable with him here, then yes, he can stay. If not, there’s a separate waiting room just around the corner.”

Steve hides his smile when you say, “I’ll have him stay.”

Two gentle knocks on the door prompt Dr. Nakalah to stand, the two nurses from before entering the room with polite smiles. The one with the laptop stands by the door as the other goes to the counter, ready to help the doctor with the exam.

“Ready?” Dr. Nakalah asks.

Your brows scrunch together and you half laugh out the words, “Hell no.” Steve goes rigid, but your smile breaks the tension and has all of the women in the room chuckling. A begrudging groan fills the room and you nod to the doctor, her voice calm as she begins.

“Like we talked about on the phone, I’ll talk you through everything we’re doing. Go ahead and lay back, then lift your arm over your head.” Nodding, you do as she says. The paper crinkles as you move it aside and her hands are gentle as she starts applying pressure to your breast. “We’re gonna feel around for any lumps or differences in breast tissue. You can do this at home routinely, and if you notice anything contact us and schedule and exam immediately.”

Your head turns and you catch Steve’s eyes. They’re filled with concern, but this isn’t the part you have any trouble with. ‘I’m good’ you mouth, and his shoulders lower a little.

She examines each breast and nods down at you. “Ok, everything felt normal. We’re going to go into the pap, now. Please put your feet into the stirrups and scoot to the edge of the table. Your butt should be almost off the edge of it.”

A hard lump forms in your throat but you do as she asks. Your thighs are still shut tight and the thought of having to expose yourself so fully has you sucking in a ragged breath. The doctor waits patiently, giving you the time to do it yourself. At the edge of the table, you mentally prepare yourself and let your knees fall open a bit, your neck straining a bit to look at the doctor.

“Is that far enough?” you ask.

“Just a little more,” she instructs, asking you to scoot closer and open your legs more. “Ok, good.”

When you look again, Steve has stood and is off to the side of the doctor, wanting to watch the process that plagues you so painfully. The line of his jaw is set tight and his eyes are laser focused when the assistant behind her clicks open the cap and lubes the speculum, handing it to your doctor and grabbing the swabs.

“Alright, I’m going to insert the speculum and open it up, then we’ll get a swab of your cervix. Try to relax and take deep breaths for me.”

As she moves the tool toward you, you decide you can’t watch. Your head thunks against the padded table as you heave in a breath, trying to control it as the speculum tip is pressed against your lips. There’s a little bit of resistance, and you open your legs further before it starts sliding in. Wrenching your eyes closed and curling your fists into the thin paper, the plastic stops, caught on your labia.

“Just gonna push this in a little more,” she says, and then there’s a bit of weight behind her hand where it is pushed in as far as it needs to be.  

“I’m gonna open this up and do a couple of swabs. You’ll feel some little pressure, here, Y/n,” she warns.” The speculum opens, and the pressure isn’t too bad. It’s definitely not comfortable, but you aren’t in pain, so you risk a glance.

The look on Steve’s face is one you’ve never seen before. It’s a mixture of shock, mortification, guilt, worry, and fear.

Dr. Nakalah takes the swabs from her assistant and meets your eyes, shooting you an encouraging and comforting nod. The discomfort is temporary and before you have time to overthink and panic, she’s speaking again. “Done with that, just going to remove this.”

It’s an odd feeling that sends a shiver crawling up your spine and fluttering in your gut as the plastic slips out of you. As exposed as you still are, it’s much better than the vulnerability of being splayed open in front of everyone.

“Alright. Doing great. For the pelvic exam I’m going to place a finger inside and press down on your lower abdomen and pelvic area to feel for any irregularities and check your ovaries. Keep breathing, nice and even, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, watching as she stands from her stool. The assistant places lube on Dr. Nakalah’s gloved finger and then she’s standing between your legs. One hand placed atop your pelvis, her finger pushes into you, the hand on your pelvis applying pressure as she feels for any abnormalities. “Alright, and we’re done,” she says, easing her finger out of you and stepping back.  

Steve comes to your side, left a little dazed by what he saw, but he helps you to sit up as your feet drop slowly out of the stirrups. His hands are warm on your back and you pull the sheet back over your lap while the nurses and doctor collect the samples and remove their gloves. “Okay, Y/n, you can get dressed and one of the nurses will be back in a few minutes to schedule your follow up. We’ll give you a call when your results are back, and if you have any questions or would like to talk about the visit today please feel free to call any time.”

“Thank you so much.”

She shakes your hand again, eyes kind and warm, then shakes Steve’s hand and leaves. When it’s just the two of you in the room again, Steve’s deep voice is in your hairline. “You did great, sweetheart.”

Eyes shut, you��re able to let out the shudder that had sunk into your bones, a noise coming from your mouth as you let it go and shake your hands and head to get it out. Your posture deflates while you simply sit for a second and calm your racing heart. When you shift to stand, the excess lube slips through your labia and you wince, turning to your boyfriend.

“Can you, um, can you turn around for a minute?” He seems a little puzzled, but complies with your request.

Hopping off the table, you use the sheet you were wrapped in to wipe between your legs, then crinkle it up into a ball. There’s still lube down there, so you find the tissues on the counter and use a few to wipe away and scoop out what’s left from the exam. Steve is still facing the wall and when you pull the tissue away there’s a mixture of lube and blood. A flicker of fear ignites in your chest and you wipe a couple more times until the blood and lube are gone.

Tossing the paper and pulling on your clothes warmth seeps back into your skin and you let out a small, happy sigh when you’re fully dressed again.

“Ok, you can turn around, now.” He does, and you smile at him from the sink. “Thank you.”

You can’t wash your hands fast enough and you don’t even bother to dry them before crashing yourself into his chest. A hum vibrates against your cheek and his thick arms wrap around you, holding you tight.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t believe you. I didn’t think this was a big deal and I hate that I hurt you. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like to be on your side of that, but I have a better understanding of what this means to you, now, and I’m so proud of you for staying as calm as you did while you went through that.”

Tears cloud your eyes and you simply bury yourself deeper in his chest, happy that you have your Steve back. He exudes tranquility and you bask in it, evening your breathing to match his beating heart, not pulling away from his hold until the nurse is knocking on the door again. She sets a follow up for you and asks if you have any questions.

“Um, yeah. Uhh, when I cleaned up the lube there was-” you clear your throat- “I was bleeding…”

Steve’s eyes shoot open wide as the nurse nods. “Some bleeding or spotting and cramping can be normal after a pap. If it’s excessive then you’ll need to come back in or go to an emergency room, but it’s usually just the day of or the day after,” she explains, and your unease is sated.

You nod and smile. “Oh, ok, perfect. It freaked me out and I just wanted to check.”

“Yeah, it should be fine. Just monitor it. And here’s your next appointment for follow up.” She hands you an appointment card. “Dr. Nakalah’s number is on there, as well, so you can call the office or call her directly if you need to cancel, reschedule, or have any more questions. Thank you, and have a great rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” you and Steve chime in unison, smiles on all of your faces as she leaves.

When the two of you exit the building, the sky outside is gold and orange and pink with blue bits starting to fade in. The air is a little cooler on your skin and your hand finds Steve’s out of instinct. He sighs- full chested, tongue swiping quickly over his lips with squinted eyes.

When he looks down at you a residual shiver runs up your spine and he pulls you into his side. Breathing him in, his scent and warmth soothe you. With your feet moving together, slowly, but in sync, he hums, voice a little more timid than before.

“I’m sorry, again, Y/n. For all of it.”

“Thank you for coming with me; for seeing for yourself.”

Steve stops you, those oceanic eyes making you melt into him. He drops his mouth, lets the space between you linger. Then, he closes in with a weight behind his actions, fingertips slipping up into your hairline as he holds you there to make sure he’s getting it all right.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed in almost a month. It’s filled with apologies and love, one kiss to make up for all the time he didn’t spend kissing you. The sounds of the street fade away and in the middle of a busy world it’s just the you and your Steve- mouth to mouth, heart to heart.

The rest of the way home you keep yourself pressed up against his side, shuddering at random until you’re in the safety of your room again. Undressing each other slowly and kissing with no destination in mind, Steve leaves your needy lips to run a bath and when the water’s warm and the enormous tub is full, he pulls you into it, your chest pressed against his as he hums an old song into your hair.

“Ya know, if anything can make me forgive Tony, it’s this bathtub.”

Laughter echoes off the bathroom walls and Steve nods down at you, asking, “Will you talk to him?”

There’s an attempt to mask your pain, but he sees past it. You shrug. “Probably not.”

Steve lets out a sigh and you know he’s a little disappointed with that answer.

Knocking on the bathroom door has you both at attention and Steve going to get up from the tub when Tony’s voice filters in from the other side. “Y/n, you in there?”

Steve’s voice is teeming with intrigue and his eyebrow quirks up when he sinks back down into the hot water. “Speak of the devil.”

“Yeah, Tony. What’s up?” Your eyes roll and Steve shoots you a look that says, ‘give him a chance’, so you pull a face but listen when Tony starts talking.

“Ah, yeah, so I just wanted to say sorry for the whole, well, you know. And, uhh, I’m sorry if you felt like- ow.” Tony stops and the two of you look at each other, puzzled for a moment before the muttering on the other side of the door and an audible smack reach your ears.

“Start over right now, Tony,” Pepper demands in a harsh whisper.

Ear-to-ear smiles bloom on your faces when you and Steve lock eyes and Tony starts over again. “I’m sorry for not realizing that surprising you with a gynecologist isn’t a good surprise.”

“Jesus Christ,” Pepper hisses, making you and Steve suppress your laughter.

“And it was wrong of me to assume that would be okay?” He stops for a beat and you can practically see him on the other side of the door looking at Pepper to see if his words are the ones she wants him to say. “Yes. I shouldn’t have done that to you, aaaand-”

“It won’t happen again.” Pepper whispers.

“It won’t happen again.” Tony declares.

Silence fills the room and when nothing else comes from his end, Steve wraps his hand around yours. “Well?”

“With an apology like that?”

Steve shrugs and you half laugh, half sigh before calling out, “Thank you, Pepper.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re welcome, Y/n,” she replies.

“Um, no, sorry, Pepper isn’t here right now.”

“We left a few gifts on the bed for you. And sorry again, sweetheart,” she says through the door. Tony keeps rambling but the sound soon fades as she drags him out of your room.

Steve chuckles deep and pulls you back to his chest, strong arms wrapping around you so he can whisper in your ear. “Better?”

Steve won’t doubt you again, and even with Pepper coaching Tony through his apology, you can tell that he knows he was wrong. The two of them can’t erase what they did, but it sure as hell won’t happen again.

“Y/n?” Steve asks, blue eyes looking at you like you’re all that’s good in the world.

Warmth fills your heart and you nod your head. “Better.”

When the water is only mildly warm and your fingers are pruney Steve pulls you out of the tub and wraps you in a plush, warm towel. True to Pepper’s words, a spread of gifts is laid out at the foot of your bed.

“Champagne, chocolate, flowers?” Steve turns to you with a sly grin. “Looks like Tony’s done his fair share of apologizing to women.”

You laugh and Steve plucks a note from the flowers, handing it to you while he clears the bed.

‘I messed up and you deserved better than what I gave you. Sorry, Kid.’

It’s somehow exactly what you need to hear from him.

A pop startles you but you smile when Steve offers you a glass of champagne and puts on some music. Champagne kisses are shared while the two of you sway to the music in just your towels and when your glasses are empty you get comfy for bed.

When Steve’s blue crystals turn into bedroom eyes you crawl up the bed and into his open arms. Fitting yourself perfectly in his hold, he wraps you up in a powerful kiss that makes you forgive and forget all the hell he’d put you through.

He has just one thing on his mind, and he’s only just getting started making it up to you.

Tags for my marvel list and for everyone who said they’d be interested in reading this. Thanks guys :)

@sebbytrash @becs-bunker @curlyblondexoxo @ellen-reincarnated1967 @plaidstiel-wormstache @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @the-nonsenseblog @ilovefanfic86 @missnighttigress @feelmyroarrrr @abeautifulandterriblemind @thelilbutifulthings @gryffindorable713 @shannon124 @disney-fire-fox 

[alittlefoxedup]

An Unexpected Reunion p4

Yes, I’m still doing this thing. Life got in the way a bit, but I’m going to finish this story. Enjoy!

Day 4: aftercare/pampering | unconventional courting presents

Jason was beginning to like letting Roy plan dates. The weather was just right for a day at the beach. Roy would probably burn, but Jason had put a lot of sunscreen on him. The crystal blue waves had most definitely washed it all off since Roy refused to wait. They’d worry about it later.

Sitting on a blanket, leaning against Roy’s chest, and being hand fed by his boyfriend was Jason’s favorite way to dry off. He had eaten his lunch by himself, but he was too tired to carry on after swimming with an alpha that benefited from being shirtless. Roy hadn’t even questioned it. Alphas appeared easier to handle when satisfied. He could get behind this. Well, not behind.

“So, you know how I didn’t tell about what I did in Gotham?”

“If this is going to ruin my mood, save it.”

“I think you’re gonna get a little mad then be happy I did it.”

“I see you’ve conveniently waited until after my heat.”

“I was waiting for something that just happened to happen during your heat. Just read this.” Roy fed him another grape and his unlocked phone.

The text was one of the infamous patented Dick Grayson ramble texts. There wasn’t exactly a cohesive thought, but it made up for it in raw emotion. It was the kind of thing that would be read over a video of someone pathetically eating ice cream or cookie dough. Dick had run out of ideas and had too many emotions.

Dick had done everything he could to fact check the little bit of information Jason had been able to give before being shut out. He managed to give them a timeframe in the two seconds they’d let him speak. Dick had found the hospital records. He had Clark check the grave which explained the broken fingers. Finding any footage of Jason in their short meeting had been infuriating but not as bad as the countless fruitless scans for any matches. The only lead Dick had was Roy had been seen working with someone no one knew. It was a desperate cry for help.

“You need to tell me what happened.”

Roy sighed. “I went to the Manor. Alfred met me at the door so I told him I didn’t have Dick’s number anymore and asked if he was around. Dick came upstairs after Alfred started giving me food. It started nice then Dick got tired of me not answering him in detail. He demanded to know how I got out so I told him. Alfred heard and took over asking. They didn’t tell him. Alfred asked for my number, gave me the cookies, and asked me to leave so he could speak to Dick. I don’t know if I made things better or worse. Dick at least wants to know what happened. Did I mess up?”

“I think… I think you did the right thing. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to do it, but it’s not like they listen to anyone.”

“Maybe I should have gotten more cookies out of it.”

Jason smiled and tried to relax into Roy.

“What do you want me to tell him?”

“What if we go to the New York safe house next week?”

“Sure.” Roy kissed Jason’s cheek and got to planning.

Waiting was the best idea and the worst idea. Jason’s nervous energy manifested in cleaning. Somehow it escalated to Roy eating chips over the bathroom sink. A small fight occurred that was easily resolved in the bedroom along with some amount of nervous energy. Jason tried to be less crazy and appreciated Roy stepping in after he’d finish a room.

Convincing Jason to build a nest was the smartest thing Roy came up with that week. Cuddling with his boyfriend in a nest put all of his worries so far out of his mind Jason could actually relax. Being able to fuss over his shirt intolerant alpha was one of the best parts of the relationship. Roy soaked up all his attention and energy until the agreed upon day.

Jason couldn’t relax the night before or morning of. The usual way of working off nervous energy couldn’t be used since Dick would know. Jason didn’t like neutralizing scents in their bedroom and nest so he was frustrated on top of nervous. If Roy could stop looking so good for a couple of days, Jason would be able to handle everything better. All he really needed Roy to do was wear something with sleeves for once.

“Why do I have to wear a jacket today?”

“You just do.”

“If getting you Dick for a courting present was all it took, I would’ve done this sooner, babe.” Roy slipped on the jacket only to push the sleeves up.

Jason forced himself to not look at Roy’s forearms. “Do you have to say it like that?”

“Don’t worry. You can have as much as you want after he leaves. I might even let you unwrap it.”

“Shut up and go make breakfast.”

“Do you want sausage?”

Jason grabbed his pillow. Roy was out of their room and running into the kitchen when the pillow smacked into his back. His goofy laugh was the only thing keeping Jason from fully freaking out.

Roy thankfully didn’t cook sausage but did continue to make meaningful looks. Jason wasn’t sure if his face would ever resemble his normal complexion. His only revenge was bending over to start the dishwasher as the doorbell rang. The frustrated growl and oh so subtle swearing washed the embarrassment from Jason’s face. Roy always forgot Jason knew exactly how to get him back.

Jason could just barely catch Dick’s scent. Whatever greeting they were having was not something Jason wanted to interrupt. From the surprise in Dick’s voice, Jason was certain he hadn’t been expecting Roy to be present. Jason didn’t think Roy would have done anything or said anything to suggest otherwise. Dick must need to refresh his detective skills.

The moment Jason moved into the living room was awkward. Dick was only halfway inside before he froze. Jason wasn’t sure where to look. Roy eventually got tired of them staring at each other like deer in headlights and pulled Dick inside so he could shut the door. A head shake was the only explanation Dick got before Roy returned to the kitchen.

“Um, hi.”

Jason smiled a little. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I guess. It’s not like I have any point of reference. As long as I don’t do what Bruce did, I’m good, right?”

“I guess.”

“I am really sorry about what happened. I… I really messed up. I’m sorry, Little Wing.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve wished we could have you back? I got my wish and immediately screwed it up. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to fight about it.”

“I definitely didn’t come all this way to fight.” Dick closed the distance and pulled Jason into a hug.

Jason wasn’t sure when the last time he’d been hugged by Dick. It didn’t happen often, and he had actively fought it then. He didn’t know what to do except awkwardly hug back. Leaning his head down to rest on Dick’s shoulder strained his neck. Roy was a better height for that, but Jason didn’t want it to stop.

“How’d you get so tall?”

“Long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“You won’t like it, and Roy will kick you out if you get growly.”

Dick pulled back and took a long look at Jason. “You two seem really close.”

“Well, yeah.”

“I’m not following.”

Jason started to laugh before realizing how serious Dick was. “I thought he told you. He’s been courting me for months.”

“What?! What the hell are you thinking?”

“That I’m an adult and can make my own choices.”

“But—“

Jason took a step back. “It’s my choice. You don’t get to tell me what to do especially after just showing up. Roy’s been nothing but good to me so deal with it. I’m not dealing with alpha nonsense today or any time in the future.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I’m really going to let him kick you out for sure if you keep being an ass. Roy’s not going anywhere. You can deal with it or get out.”

Jason sat down on the couch. He took deep breaths to fight his rage. No one was going to walk into his life and criticize it immediately. As much as he wanted his family back, he wasn’t going to sacrifice his happiness for it. If they couldn’t put up with the fact he loved Roy, he didn’t need them.

“Okay, I can deal with it. Could we try that story?”

“Sure as long as you’re not an ass.”

“I’ll try.”

Roy laughed from the kitchen. “Like that’s possible.”

Jason laughed as Dick realized their conversation hadn’t been as private as it seemed. Roy quickly joined them with popcorn. It made the story not so heavy. Jason didn’t mind skimming through the rough parts so he could get to cute Damian stories and making fun of Roy. There were more good things to talk about than bad now.

[lucianalight]

I had a fic idea for a Loki and Valkyrie interaction. It can be shippy or platonic. The story happens in this universe. Loki and Valkyrie are not on good terms and they are barely speaking because Valkyrie is still angry at him for making her see her worst memory and the nightmares and reliving the trauma it caused. This is just a draft and it’s probably terrible. But I just couldn’t get it out of my head.

*********

They were called for a dangerous Avengers missions. At some point during the fight Loki covered Valkyrie against some attack but didn’t seem to get injured at all. This put Val in a foul mood because she can protect herself thank you very much. When they reached New Asgard, Loki excused himself and left the group. Bruce expressed worry that he might be injured and Thor joked that as the son of goddess of death, nothing can hurt him seriously. Realizing too late that he just told a secret. It wasn’t a secret per se but there was a silent agreement between him and Loki not to talk about it in front of others. But Thor was exhausted and forgot about it. Then he saw Val storming after Loki.

“Is it true?”

The venom in Valkyrie’s voice startled Loki. He turned just as she lifted her sword in a threatening manner. He stood with his scepter, ready to fight if things escalated.

“You have to be more specific than that Valkyrie.”

Valkyrie attacked.

“What is wrong with you woman?” Loki asked as her swords meet the scepter and they started to fight. Once they had fought and Valkyrie prevailed. But this time she couldn’t get an upper hand.

“Is it true? Are you the child of that monster?”

For a moment Loki stilled and it was all Valkyrie needed to disarm him and pin him against the wall. The edge of a sword on his neck, another on his heart. Loki laughed. Dry and humorless. A glint of madness in his eyes.

“Of which monster are you speaking off?” His voice was too calm. His face unreadable.

“Hela!” she spat. “She took away everything from me and you made me relive it all over again. I should send you to the same hellhole she went. So she knows the last of her blood was killed by the last Valkyrie.”

“Oh, That certainly is poetic” He mocked and Valkyrie pressed the sword harder. Drops of blood dribbled from his neck and Loki grinned. “But then why a monster should care about another...”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Thor boomed and Valkyrie almost didn’t hear Loki’s next word “...monster?”

“Let him go Val! Whatever your grievances are with Loki, I’m sure we can talk about it!”

“The best thing you can do Thor is shutting your mouth!” The next thing Valkyrie knew was that she was thrown by a wave of green magic. She hit Thor hard and both of them fell to the ground. Loki was gone.

***

Clouds were covered the night sky. Loki was grateful. He didn’t want to see the stars when he falls this time. Only clouds and the dark waves hitting the cliff. His feet dangleld from the edge he was sitting on. The wind hitting his face, moving strands of his hair. He sensed Valkyrie walking to him. He didn’t turn his head.

“Have you come to finish what you started?” He asked as she stood behind him. She sat beside him then and he tensed. He didn’t expect this. He looked her way suspiciously.

“No, I...I’ve come to apologize.” Loki frowned. “Look...I shouldn’t have reacted that way or implied that...no matter what you did...you didn’t deserve that...to be called a monster...I am sorry.” She looked at him then with a guarded expression but it spoke of her regret. Loki nodded once and she turned to look at the waves.

“I can lock your memories again so they don’t disturb you anymore...as compensation for my actions.” Loki said suddenly. Valkyrie looked at him. Sharp and calculating.

“I apologize for what my actions put you through.” She had never heard him talk so honest and open about his feelings...or anything.

“Thank you...”she thought for a moment “but I actually think it’s better to deal with them. I’ve avoided it for a long time.”

“That’s probably wise.”

They sat in silence staring at the sea.

“How come Thor couldn’t find you when you are sitting in plain sight?”

“He can’t see me.”

“And Hiemdall?”

“No one can at the moment. Except you.” Valkyrie frowned at that. She turned and opened her mouth to say sth. Only to stop and look closer at Loki and she noticed how he was sweating. His breathing was rapid and he looked pained.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Just fine.”

And then she saw it. The dark spot in front of his chest. She touched it and her hand became wet...with blood.

“You said you weren’t injured! What is this?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You need to see a healer! Now!”

“There is no point Valkyrie. It was a magical poison. If I couldn’t heal it, no one can. I’ll send your regards to Hela.” He smiled. A real smile. And for some reason Valkyrie felt her heart break.

“Oh, you idiot! and you didn’t tell anyone? Like hell I’ll let you die because of a wound meant for me.”

And then she brought Loki to healers and they found a way to save Loki by the help of Dr. Strange. And it was the beginning of Val and Loki’s friendship and possible romance.

***********

@iamanartichoke @gia-selene-baczewska Sorry this is awful but I know you like Valki so I tagged you.

[shandidellamorte]

~KISS AU writings 12~

Heading straight on into the next part of this fiasco! I’m really eager to move this story along cause a looooot of shit is about to go down~ Enjooooy~

~Shandi

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

~MODEL AU Part 3~

Featured Pairing: Bruce Kulick/Paul Stanley

Special Guests: Peter Criss, Vinnie Vincent, Dana Strum, Mark Slaughter, Bobby Rock, Mick Mars, Vince Neil

Summary: Paul invites Bruce to to a party for the magazine he modeled for..where things escalate even further~ (told from Bruce’s POV)

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

A few days later I return to the studio with the photos. As soon as I’m through the door I see Mr. Criss and Paul standing there waiting for me. Oh boy.

“Let’s see ‘em.”

Mr. Criss holds out his hand and I give him the folder. Please like them. As soon as he opens the folder he rolls his eyes, which doesn’t exactly fill me with a lot of confidence. Then he looks over at Paul who just smiles at him sweetly. “It figures that the first photo I see is of your naked ass. You really think the magazine is gonna print these?” Paul just tosses his hair. “Of course they will~ You know why? It’s me~” He’s got him there. I mean..they’ll definitely edit them heavily but they’ll eat those up just because it’s Paul. Mr. Criss sighed but he conceded. “Alright alright. I’ll submit ‘em but I don’t wanna hear any whining about how they’re edited when they’re published. Got me?”

“I’m not worried, Petey. They’ll show as much as they’re allowed to get away with~” That’s for sure. Someone would have to be crazy to not want to show off his..’assets.’ After looking through all of the other photos, Mr. Criss closes the folder. “It’s real good work, Kulick. Fantastic even.” He hands me an envelope. “I’m gonna submit these this afternoon. As soon as we have access to the first copies you can have one if you want.” It would be nice to see my work in the pages of a magazine. My heart is beating a mile a minute just thinking about it! “Thank you, Mr. Criss, I’d like that very much~” Paul of course is incredibly amused. “I am a work of art, aren’t I, Photopup? I’d be proud too~” You mean you aren’t already? I find that hard to believe. “Anyway..” Mr. Criss interrupts rather firmly. “..make sure your schedule’s open cause I’ll be keepin’ your number handy. You up for more work like this?”

“Absolutely!”

“Then we’ll be seein’ you again soon.” Paul blows me a kiss before turning to follow Mr. Criss back to his office. “Until next time, Photopup~” While I’m in my car I open the envelope. A check for $2,500! I think I’m gonna celebrate with a nice big pizza when I get home~

The next week passed by like normal. Normal and boring. As much as I hoped for a call one never came. Still, I kept my camera clean and ready for its next job. The following week however started off with a bang. Monday afternoon when I check my mailbox I find a brown package folded up inside. When I open it I see one of my photos of Paul on the front cover of Runway. “Finally!” I sit down on the couch and flip through the pages with a big smile on my face. These were my photos. My photos printed in a magazine for the world to see. They weren’t even edited as much as I thought they would be. Paul was perfect. I can kinda see why he wanted to do it this way now. If I had a body like his I’d want to show it off too~ The lighting was the best decision I ever made. No fluorescents would have been able to bring out the golden undertones of his skin or the highlights in his hair. I turn to the next page and WOW. There’s his ass in full view. How were they able to get away with this? Are models exempt from censorship? Either that or someone pulled a lot of strings. Or more likely an extremely smart executive decision. A spread as hot as this will make magazines fly off the shelves. Quite a business~

Late Thursday night I get a phone call..but not from the person I was expecting.

“Hello?”

“Well hello there, Photopup~”

“Paul..?”

He giggles. “Surprised~?”

“Yeah, a little. How did you get my number?”

“From Petey’s rolodex of course~ You busy Saturday night~?”

“Um..” Is he..asking me out..? No, that’s crazy. “I don’t..think so..?”

“You sound unsure. Are you or aren’t you?”

I usually play guitar on Saturday nights but..this could be important. I can always play some other night. “No. No I’m not busy.”

“Good! Come to a party with me~”

What? Is he serious? “A..party..?”

“Come ooooon~ The Executive of Runway magazine is throwing a little get-together and he invited me.”

“Why don’t you go with Mr. Criss? Isn’t he more suited for these types of things?” I hear a loud sigh.

“Petey’s gonna be in New York that weekend. Pleeeeeease? I don’t wanna go alone..”

Ugh he’s using that cute voice. I can hear him pouting over the phone. “Oh..alright..I’ll go.” Damn him.

“Wonderful~! I’ll pick you up at 6:00..and dress fancy~ Ciao, baby~!”

I hang up the phone and run a hand through my hair. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Saturday came much too quickly for my liking. It also didn’t help that I had nothing to wear that would classify as ‘fancy.’ I went for the next best thing. I dressed like I was just going to the club to play: a plain black tank top, black jeans and my favorite leather jacket. I’m not a fancy guy. I like things simple. I don’t see why I need to compromise myself for a bunch of people I’ll probably never see again. At 6:00 precisely I hear a car horn. “Well..here goes nothing..” I put on my jacket, grab my keys and head out.

Paul Stanley didn’t strike me as a guy who did much for himself besides his own hair and clothes..possibly not even that. I liked him, but he was a total prima donna. So it took me by surprise when I didn’t see a limo waiting out front for me. Instead there he was, sitting in a beautiful black convertible Corvette, with purple stars scattered across the rear of course~ It was immaculate, like it had just been driven off the lot. Paul smiles at me and waves. “Hey there, handsome~ Going my way~?” Hell, I’d go anywhere with him in a car like this~ “As a matter of fact I am~” When I get in and buckle up he starts the engine up again and revs it. “Mm..that sounds so good~”

“Like fast cars, do you~?”

“Ever since I was a kid~”

“Then hold on tight, baby cause we’re about to go for a ride~”

Boy was he not kidding. I actually hear the tires squeal as we take off down the road. It was fantastic~ “So..where is this party we’re going to?”

“In Malibu~”

“Oh great. I’ll fit right in with all the rich, pretentious assholes..”

Paul laughs out loud and pats my thigh. “I refuse to believe you’d give any kind of a shit about what they’d think of you. Besides you’ll be there with me so they won’t have anything to say..except compliments on your terrific taste~” I scoff but there’s no doubt a lot of truth to that statement, especially with the way he looks right now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen purple leather look so good on anyone in my life.

“You’re staring~”

I am staring. I don’t try to hide it. He’s made a career out of people staring at him. What’s one more? “What are you thinking about, Photopup~? Do you wanna fuck me~?” Okay..caught me straight off guard with that one. He just laughs at my reaction. “It’s alright if you do..a lot of people do~” There’s the shallowness I’d come to expect from his type. I cross my arms. “I’m not like that. Yes, you’re attractive but that’s not all I want in someone.”

“What do you want~?”

I sigh. What I want is to not have this conversation. But I don’t say that out loud. At least not with those exact words. “I have more important things to worry about than my love life. Like keeping a place to live for example.” After that he takes the hint, and the rest of the trip is uncomfortably quiet.

I don’t have the words to describe the place we pull up to. It’s like..if someone built a beach house and expanded it into a gigantic mansion. It’s just..absolutely breath taking. I could only wish to afford to leave near the beach like this. While I’m staring Paul silently gets out of the car and leaves me behind. Yep. He’s definitely still sore about the conversation we had earlier. I guess I’ll have to find a way to make it up to him later. I get out, lock to doors and run after him. “Paul please. I’m sorry. If..you wanna talk more later we can. It’s just..not an important subject for me..” He fluffs his hair a few times before looking at me. “I dunno..I think your annoyance was kinda justified. I tend to be too nosy for my own good sometimes~ Hm. Actually all the time~ Apologies all around, then..now let’s go party~” I let him take my arm and lead me to the door.

Everyone inside is ridiculously beautiful..and now I feel ridiculously outclassed. People shoot me disdainful looks as we walk past, clearly making it known that I don’t belong in their exclusive little fanclub. I have an overwhelming urge to beg Paul for his keys so I can drive back home. We approach a man dressed in gold from head to toe and holding a glass of wine. When he sees us Paul waves to him. “Vinnie~!!” Someone dressed that extravagantly just has to be the host. He waves back with a big smile. “Paul, you made it! How wonderful to see you!” He comes over to give Paul a tight hug with his free arm. “Have I got a lot to thank you for, darling~ Thanks to those delicious photos we’ve had the highest sales we’ve ever had in months!” Paul holds onto my arm tighter. “Glad to hear it! The photos were all thanks to this one right here~ This is Bruce Kulick, our new photographer~ Brucie, this is Vinnie Vincent, head of Runway magazine~” I take his offered hand and shake it. “Were you a model yourself, Mr. Vincent? You certainly have the look.” He laughs. “My, what a charmer you are~ As a matter of fact I was a few years back. I got my start at Catwalk just like Paul here~ Then personal life intervened and I lost my love for the stage. So I channeled what was left into this instead~ And please call me Vinnie. Everyone does~” It feels so strange calling someone I barely know but their first name..but if he insists.. “A-alright..Vinnie. I’m..very happy that you liked my photos~ That was actually my first time shooting with Paul.”

“Oh darling they’re masterpieces! I fully insisted that nothing be done to them by way of editing~” Just as I thought~ He reaches into his suit jacket pocket and hands me a business card. “If you’d ever like to do some editorial photos for me just give me a call, hm? I could use a photographer with your skill~” I look at the card in shock. “Would you look at that~” I hear Paul say, laying his chin on my shoulder. “Somebody might be moving up in the world~ Happy you came now~?” Vinnie smiles and takes my other arm. “Of course he is~ Come and let me introduce you to some of my friends~” He was absolutely right. I am happy I came~ It was more fun than I ever expected meeting Vinnie’s coworkers. Bobby was intelligent. Mark was friendly. Dana was funny. They admired my work and gave me advice on how I can improve. I could definitely see myself working with them if I decided to take Vinnie up on his offer, which I was seriously considering. I’d have to talk to Mr. Criss about it when he comes back. Paul makes a disgusted noise that snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Oh fuck. Why did he have to come here?”

I look down at him and he’s cringing, his expression twisted in annoyance and anger. “Paul? What’s wrong?” Paul pointed towards the door. Following the direction of his finger I’m pretty sure I see the culprit. How could anyone not see him? His hair was a bright blond. Definitely bleached. He made sure he stood out wearing a shredded pink tank top over a white mesh shirt, white patent leather pants and pink platform heels. He was hanging on the arm of a slightly shorter man dressed all in black leather with long black hair and red tinted glasses. His pants had MARS written down the left thigh in large white letters. An interesting..and loud way to make his name known to strangers. “Hey there, pretty people!” the blond yelled, catching everyone’s attention. “Can one of you be an absolute doll and get a drink for me~?” I don’t think I’d ever seen so many people move so quickly towards the bar. They crowded it, fighting each other to be the first to get a glass filled. I watch the spectacle amused, but Paul just rolls his eyes. “Selfish asshole..” My curiosity is piqued. “It’s obvious you don’t like him. Who is he?”

“Vince Neil. The self-proclaimed ‘hottest model in Malibu’.”

“He’s not?”

“Of course he is. He just has to make sure everybody knows it.”

“Who’s with him?”

“Mick Mars. His agent.”

“Creepy guy.”

“Mick is a sweetheart. I actually like him. Vince is an arrogant prick who thinks he’s the hottest shit in California. He’s trying to force some kind of rivalry with me..says he thinks it’ll boost our popularity. I can get to the top on my own, thank you very much.”

Looking back at the mob, it looks like a good looking red head got lucky. She pushes her way through the crowd with a glass of wine and hands it to Vince. He takes it from her with a grin. “Congratulations, baby..you win first prize~” The rest of the crowd just mind their own business and go back to partying while Vince practically makes out with the woman in the middle of the room. Quite a guy. Paul however is clearly fed up. “I don’t know about you but I’m ready to leave.” It’s not like I can say no. He’s the one who drove us here. “If that’s what you wanna do.” He nods. We say goodbye to Vinnie, Dana, Bobby and Mark and head for the door.

“Heeeeeeey leaving without sayin’ goodbye, Paulie~?”

Paul winces. Guess we weren’t getting out of here without Vince noticing after all..much to his dismay. “Don’t call me that.” he hisses, glaring daggers. Vince just gives him a cocky smirk. “Shoulda figured you’d be here somewhere. Were you hidin’ from me? “Ain’t like you to not make yourself the center of attention~” I can see Paul’s eye twitch. “Unlike you I don’t need to do such things.”

“That’s because everybody forgets about you when I’m around~ Who would notice you~?”

“How could I possibly compete with that tacky bleach job?”

“Like you haven’t had any work done on your face!”

“Maybe more people would take you seriously if you didn’t dress like a prostitute!!”

I have to grab Paul’s shoulders and pull him back. “Come on. I thought we were leaving.” Vince turns his gaze to me. “You his boyfriend? If you ever get tired of him being such a bitch I’ll be your Barbie doll~”

“YOU FUCKING SKEEZY TRAMP!!”

Paul pulls away from me but he’s stopped again by Mr. Mars. “That’s enough.” he says in a calm voice. “Vince, shut up and go mingle. You..” He hands Paul back to me. “..take him home. If those two get into a fight nobody’s gonna win.” I can’t argue with that. I take Paul’s keys from his jacket pocket and take him out to his car. “If you don’t mind I think I should drive us back.”

He doesn’t argue.

To be Continued!!

[jason-todd-deserved-better]

Bite Me - Tim Drake x Reader

Requested by @astressedwriter : “For the sexual tension thing, ""bite me." With Tim drake ?? Love you! ❤” (ILY2, thank you for the request!)

A/N: Hello my dudes! I am here with another Tim story. (You have only done two, you dumb ass.) I’m kinda annoyed with how long this took but I’m happy on how this played out even though I wrote way more than I was expecting to for this. (Though this did come out more angsty rather than sexual tension-y, so sorry about that, but I tried 😅.) Anyway, hope you guys enjoy and be sure to let me know what you guys think! Love Y'all. Also, I hope all my fellow Floridians up in Panhandle are safe and sound because it looks extremely ugly up there and I know hurricanes are no fun at all. Good luck my dudes, please stay safe and be careful!

Now to say that you didn’t get along with Red Robin was a major understatement. From the minute you guys were introduced, to this very second, you guys hated each other. The two of you just butted heads constantly, it wasn’t as apparent in the beginning but things slowly escalated as the months passed and it just got to the point the two of you couldn’t even be in the same room as the other.

You both were the smartest people on the team, but other than that you were polar opposites. He was more reserved and intensive, so focused on his work that he wouldn't stop for anything to make sure a case is solved. While you, on the other hand, were more energetic but laid back and was generally the type of person who would make sure all your friends were happy and healthy.

The final nail on the coffin though was your quick friendship with the devil himself, Damian. Oh, man were the two of you annoying, your guy’s friendship was literally a giant hate on Tim Drake club, and it seriously pissed him off. Plus, what kind of maniac could befriend Satan as fast as you did? Like what kind of crazy person are you?

But it was so damn hard to get you out of his mind, it was nearly impossible. You were there in the back of his mind, you were there at the forefront of his brain and you were there in the Cave way too much for his liking. Then on the other hand, you were no better, what thoughts went through his mind also went through yours and none of you had an absolute clue about it. Like it got to the point where you just don’t want to care anymore but here you were, going back to thinking he looked kinda cute with his focused gaze on the screen.

At this point, the two of you were obsessed with each other but neither of you wanted to admit to themselves, let alone with each other.

But the rest of the team, they just knew that something was going on between the two of you. While a couple ignored it to the best of their ability, others may or may not have made bets about whether or not they would either punch each other then kiss, or kiss then punch each other. Damian was a part of the ignore it at all costs and it might go away group. Then on the opposite side of the spectrum was Dick who was just praying at this point for you two to just kiss and make up already. Of course, there is also the Chaotic Neutral, Jason who really loved watching you guys go at each other’s throats, but also wants you guys to see that you both like each other. Everyone else was just scattered throughout the spectrum.

Either way, you guys were a frequent topic of conversation. This would also triple when Dick would pair the two of you for missions. To you, it felt like a punishment because don’t you see that me and him just can’t stand each other?! Was the main thought process that had gone through your mind. The same thought process was going through his. Today was one of those days.

This operation though was on an increase of gang activity around an abandoned elementary school on the edge of Gotham from some of Black Mask’s men. Everyone knew that there was something not right there so you guys were sent to go investigate to go see what was going down and to put a stop to it.

So sucking up your pride you guys go on your mission, but the entire time it was silent between the two of you. At this point, it was just unsettling to you, as the noiselessness of anything had always put you on edge. The entire ride to the mission’s destination there was completely soundless, not even the radio was on to help distract you from him.

Basically, your entire thought process was focused on him. So you observed him as he drove. You notice his jaw clenching after a while, but his focus never left the road. Was it weird that you wanted a little of that attention on you? Yeah probably, you thought.

What you didn’t know was that he was barely focused on the road, he might have been driving the car but his brain was studying the body language the body language off yours in the passenger side of the car that he saw at the corner of his eye. He knew that you were staring at him, he could feel your gaze piercing his face as he drove. Tim for a moment felt slightly giddy but he pushed those feelings down as he thought you were making a million insults about him and his imperfections. That gave a very bitter taste in his mouth.

“What.” He says, annoyance and a slight venom burning through his words.

With the silence broken by him, it left you a little clueless. “Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re staring holes into my head, what unpleasant thought is going through your pretty little-deranged head right now?” At this you scoff at his pettiness, eyes scrunching in displeasure.

You let out a harsh groan. “Who the hell said I was even thinking about you?”

“You’re undivided attention,” His eyes never left the road as you neared the abandoned school where the case led you to. “You have that face whenever you and the demon spawn start talking trash.”

“Woah, you’re completely full of yourself, Drake.” You state, annoyance and sarcasm filling your voice.

“(L/N), that's all you do when I’m around.” His glare maybe on the road but it is directed towards you. “You guys are the literal hate on me club.” Well, that threw you back a bit.

“My dude, you do that to me all the time.” You were feeling pretty vulnerable now “Complaining about me to Bruce behind my back. Picking my insecurities one by one when you want to make me squirm. Hell, you did this the first time I ever went out on patrol with you guys.”

That made him pause. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t complain-”

“Okay fine, you bitched your heart out of your pretty mouth.” You interrupt as he pulled into the school, crossing your arms across your chest, moving your gaze in front of you.

“No, I didn’t!” He exclaims as he parks the car.

“Yeah, you did!” With that, he turns to you with furry in his eyes only to meet to yours with as much anger.

“Why do you always have to always tell me I’m wrong?!”

“Why do you always have to contradict me?!”

“Why do you always have to make me feel like I’m doing something wrong?!”

“Why do you hate me so much?!” You both yelled at each other, and for a moment everything was still, both yours and Tim’s eyes opening to each other for the first time.

Tim opens his mouth to say something but nothing escapes his lips.

Having enough of this game, you look away sliding your mask down your face and unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing over your costume. You let your eyes wander back to him, seeing him do the same after a couple seconds. You even caught him glancing over at you too, but there wasn’t any malice there anymore.

Before you left the car, you whisper, “I don’t hate you.” Then before Tim could say anything you exit the car, leaving the conversation behind, your heart feeling lighter but at the same time being dragged back to him.

Yet you put it to the back of your head, getting your game face on, with the now dressed Red Robin following behind you.

Fast forward an hour or two later you and Tim after finding the base inside and putting a stop to the weapons operation there take down the operation. It was an extremely hard fight. Harder than any of you honestly expected but you guys took it down.

When it was finally over though, the two of you were out of breath. On the way back to the car you were extremely quiet and were lagging a good bit behind him. It was definitely out of character for you, and given the “conversation” you had with Tim before the mission, he felt something was off.

“(S/N)?” He questions, turning around and expecting to see your tired self walking behind him.

He saw you on the ground on your knees, grasping your side with one hand and trying to keep yourself up with the other.

Now your fatal flaw was making sure that you were a help instead of a burden. You felt the agony of the bullet puncturing into your body, embedding itself into your side. But you couldn’t stop fighting, you might die but so could Tim if you stopped so you kept going, the battle ending a few moments later. But you were having trouble as you tried to stay standing as long as you could, putting a hand to the slowly spreading stain of blood on your uniform, trying to steady your breathing so you could follow without letting Tim know.

Tim ran right for you, removing your hand to see the damage then cursing under his breath as he sees it, then immediately picking you up and dashing towards the car. Opening the door putting you inside, running around the car to get in and dashing back towards the cave.

“I’m sorry,” You mutter as he speeds across Gotham to Wayne Manor, fear shaking your voice across the car. “For everything.”

He could barely hear you, and it really scared him in a way he didn’t think possible. “Don’t say that like you’re dying (Y/N), that’s not going to happen.”

You chuckle, but there was no humor behind it, just pain. “Bite me, Drake.”

You could barely hear him at this point, your senses fading as you neared the Cave.

You were completely unconscious by the time Tim got you there.

It was a miracle that you even made it there alive. An even bigger one that you made it through the night in the infirmary. Hell, you shouldn’t really be breathing right now.

But you were and even though you were alive, it took a couple of days to wake up, then about a week until you were able to stand up and walk around. The healing process was a long one, but it was much better than being dead was your thought process throughout.

A couple months after the incident and you were back to fighting crime, and it was like coming home for the first time in years. God, you missed the freedom it gave you, the wind in your hair and the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

One thing that put you slightly off was that you now had a shadow in the shape of Red Robin trailing a couple rooftops behind you.

Now throughout the time that you were unconscious, he was with you almost the whole day according to Damian. (Who wasn’t happy about it, like at all.) But when you woke up, he faded into the background, trying to distance himself from you as much as possible. It wasn’t about hate anymore, no it was about guilt. Yet, he was never too far away from you, and this put you on edge, and maybe even a little remorseful on how you handled the situation back then.

With a sigh leaving your lips, you turn around just staring at him across the roofs in between the two of you. “I didn’t realize that I ordered a stalker by mistake.” It wasn’t said with annoyance but with a witty twist to it.

“You know, you do realize that you don’t order stalkers right?” He says with a dry chuckle as he jumps across to the rooftop your standing on.

“I know, but given the situation, it kinda feels like it.” You state, watching him walk across to you.

“Why do you say that?” He had a feeling he knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Because it was my fault that I got shot and didn’t tell you about it until it was almost too late.”  Okay, he got what you were saying but he didn’t like it.

“No it’s more on me than anything,” He says, resting his arms on the side of the building and facing the city lights. “I was the one who started the fight in the car beforehand and threw us both off our game.”

“I sure as hell didn’t help that, I was about ready to chew your head off.” You state, turning to face the view.

“Yeah, but nothing new there.” It wasn’t cruel when he said it if anything it was a joke and the growing smile on his face showed it.

You laugh, oh two can play at that game, you thought. “And you looked like you were ready to shoot lasers from your eyes.”

“While you were staring holes in the side of my head,” He says mid-laugh. “I thought you were planning on figuring out a way to help Damian shave my head in my sleep or something.”

You scoff, giggling soon after. “I plead the fifth on the involvement of that one.”

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t involved.”

“Bite me, Red. I didn’t say that I did and I didn’t say that I didn’t.” Your eyes travel to him as you speak, catching his eyes staring into yours.

It was quiet for once as if the world had held its breath for the second time in the past couple of months just to see what would transpire between the two of you. Then when the moment passed with both of your eyes locked together, ever so slowly you both lean in and when your lips finally meet, it felt like the universe shifted. Not in the bad cataclysmic way, but in a way to let the light shine through on the both of you.