#Escape from Terror City | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

purple-obsidian · 4 months ago

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unconditional (18+, red hood jason todd x fem reader) wc 1.5k

⭓ this post contains explicit sexual content and is not suitable for minors. reader is afab and described as shorter than jason. established relationship. if you sense a theme in my writing, what can i say. i'm a sucker for sleepy sex. dedicated to @janybabyy who is always down to proofread my work at a moments notice.

You awaken with a start, the familiar creek of your front door closing, pulling you from your uncomfortable half-slumber.

The hall light flickers on, casting a tall, dark shadow over your perch on the oversized recliner in your shared living room.

“You actually used the door.” You mumble sarcastically, recognizing the hulking frame as your boyfriend.

Your greeting is reciprocated by a raspy exhale, followed by a heavy footstep, then another. “You should be in bed.”

He's already rid himself of his helmet. You admire the outline of his shaggy hair as he stalks closer, your heart beating stronger when he pauses several feet in front of you.

“Says who?” You ask, a coy grin itching at the corner of your mouth.

“Me.”

Exhaustion is apparent in his voice. You can practically feel it radiating off his body. Jason reaches a heavy arm to massage away an ache in the back of his neck as you stand up and approach.

He’s leaning into your touch before your palm even reaches his cheek. Another long exhale escapes him, your touch akin to a cool drink of water after a long run in the heat.

”Can’t sleep without you here.”

“Huh. Yeah right,” he presses his lips to the skin of your wrist briefly before continuing, “I know I wake you up. Don’t lie.”

His arm snakes around your waist, the most natural movement in the world to him. Muscle memory. That’s where you belong, in his arms, by his side. Even so, you know he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that some people are worth losing sleep over. That his love is worth the occasional sleepless night, whether it’s staying awake from worry, or comforting him through his ever-present night terrors.

“Jason…” You bring your other hand to cup his face gingerly, feeling a pang of guilt at the dark circles under his eyes.

He works so hard.

Before you realize it’s happening, you’re guiding him down into a slow kiss. His lips, warm and familiar, are tinged with the taste of salt and blood. You allow yourself to indulge for a beat before shying away, wanting to check him for injuries. But as you rescind, needy lips follow, an almost desperate groan rumbling in his throat.

“Don’t.” He mumbles, lips flush against your own. Rough hands grip you closer at the small of your back. “Please, sweetheart. Need you. Missed you.”

You swoon, allowing him to consume your senses. Eyes closed, lips entangled once more, Jason Todd never needs to ask more than once for your affection. Ever since the day you confessed your love for each other, you give it to him, freely and willingly. You are his safe space, his haven. The one person he’s finally let himself be vulnerable with, where there’s no need for his reticence.

And in return? You have, in him, a best friend. Your protector, your lover, the only man who can make living in this hellhole of a city worth it. There are very few problems in your life that he cannot solve. Nevermind that most of those problems are caused by dating him in the first place. Dating a vigilante has its dangers, but Red Hood seems to be at the top of the ‘food chain’ when it comes to Gotham’s criminal underworld.

All that influence, all the money and power that comes with it, and he still chooses to come home to you. In your mediocre flat, with spotty internet, expensive heating, and a dishwasher that never seems to stay not broken, no matter how many times he fixes it.

Several articles of clothing, discarded in a tired haze of affection, lead a telling trail to the bedroom. Jason lifts you effortlessly, laying you down on the bed, keeping himself close so he’s on top of you. Cognizant of his size, he remains propped on his forearms, caging you in but graciously allowing you to breathe.

“Need you too.” You whisper up at him, basking in his attention. You bite your lip, and reach down for the waistband of his boxers, the only remaining article of clothing keeping him modest.

“M’gross.” He mutters, voice tinged in hesitation. “It’s been a long night.”

But he doesn’t stop your fingers from tugging on the elastic. He helps you, kicking them off, and settling his frame over yours again, allowing his lips to rest against your forehead.

“Don’t care.”

You turn your head, allowing your breath to fan over the scarred skin of his neck.

“I couldn’t be more proud of you, Jay. Besides…” You nudge your nose against him, inhaling deeply, savoring his musk, eyes rolling back at the rush of feel-good hormones that flood your brain from the familiarity.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “Yeah? Besides what, hm?” Peering down at you with lustful eyes, his deep tone sends a tingle down your spine. Nerves on fire from the closeness, you reach for him, slow yet confident, not disappointed when your fingers wrap around his length to guide him to the space reserved for him and him alone.

He knows what.

“No prep? You sure, sweetheart?” His voice is tired, strained, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in how he addresses you. You know he doesn’t have the energy to get you warmed up. He barely has the energy to be on top.

“I can handle you, handsome. Just take it easy on me.”

With no willpower to contest your assurance, Jason's heavy eyelids flutter shut as he slowly lowers himself flush on top of you. Chest to chest, skin to skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes his aching cockhead inside the familiar warmth of your body. Your velvet walls weep from his intrusion, the sting in your inner muscles one you’ll never quite get used to. It’s a bittersweet pain that you've come to associate with this behemoth of a man you share your home with.

Jason takes his time. His movements are slow, languid, letting you grow accustomed to him an inch at a time. He keeps close, exhaling little praises into your ear every time a pained whimper escapes your throat.

“Good girl, shhh, nice and slow.”

“Been thinking about you all night.”

“That's it, relax for me, beautiful.”

His unhurried thrusts, tender and deliberate, are slow enough that the cool air of the bedroom has enough time to cool your slick along his shaft before he pushes his progress back in. Your strained panting fills his ear, the way you cling to him urges him to continue on despite the stretch you feel. You don’t want him to think he’s too much.

He’s never too much for you.

Never.

“Jason… Please.”

You clench around him when he pushes deeper, your body finally catching up and leaking your desire around his girth that’s splitting you open.

“Fuck.”

The muscles in Jason’s back tense and release. He pauses his hips, biting into the pillow behind your head, adjusting one arm to hold a bit more of his weight.

Desperate for more of him, you shift your hips up and buck him deeper inside you in short thrusts, digging your fingertips into his back. You’re careful not to use your nails, having promised yourself long ago that you would never be the cause of one of his scars.

But deep down you know, this man would wear a scar from you proudly. He’s proved on more than one occasion that he would die for you.

Just because he would take it, doesn’t mean he deserves it. Which is why you use your self control to restrain yourself while you cling to him gently, crying out in pleasure when he finally starts moving again to match your rhythm, heavy breathing shaking his whole body.

The friction from the increase in pace has you flexing your feet and writhing, nodding your head, stuttering out his name.

“I love when you’re like this…” He admits. “Fuck, you feel so, ugmmmph!” Jason loses his breath, his orgasm hitting him unexpectedly, like an ocean current that sweeps you away so quick, you don’t know which way is up. All he can think about, all he can perceive while the pleasure spasms down his legs is you.

“Y-yes!” You stuffer, helping him bottom out deep inside you, his tip kissing the entrance to your womb, decorating it with his essence while his climax peaks.

Taking advantage of his euphoria, you wrap your legs around his strong abdomen, and hold him closely, showering his neck in fervent kisses.

The noises he makes in response to your affection sound guttural, like you’re fulfilling a primal need of his that he’s been deprived of for too long. A need all humans have. Something Jason Todd, specifically, was lacking most of his life, until he met you.

Enthusiastic, genuine, tender affection. Love that’s unconditional.

The type of love that doesn’t care if he’s dirty and scarred. The kind of love that understands not every instance of intimacy will be an epic performance. It’s the love that finds it endearing when his gentle snoring fills your ear less than a minute later, still one with the most intimate parts of you.

if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment!

please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

⭓ masterlist ⭓

#[purple-obsidian]#jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #red hood smut #red hood x reader #sleepy sex #smut #jason todd x you #red hood x you #please be kind to me #dusting the cobwebs off my brain #trying to get back into my flow #i hope u love it #[xoxo sid]#sorry for the quick nut #hes tired ok #so am i tbh

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mohammedfamil · 5 months ago

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Halle 👋

Dear friends around the world,

Greetings to you from Gaza, the land of peace and love.

Please take a moment to read my story.

I am Mohammed Al-Dahdouh. I currently live in the completely destroyed city of Gaza. Since the war on Gaza began on 7/1/2024, my family—my father Nasif, my mother Asmaa, and my siblings Khaled, Ahmad, Muhammad, and Malak—have been living in constant fear, crying, and suffering due to shrapnel, shells, and bullets.

We have no food, no electricity, no cooking gas, no schools, no homes, no cleaning supplies, and no clothes. Our house was completely destroyed. My school has been bombed, and my brother Khaled's university is now rubble, depriving us all of education. The war has forced us to live in displacement centers, which are just tents unsuitable for living, especially in winter.

Every day we live death, terror, and panic a thousand times because of the ongoing bombardment of my city. The war has killed more than 50 of my relatives and neighbors. At the start of the war, we sought refuge at my aunt's house, but it too became rubble. Imagine: we have survived imminent death more than 20 times and have been displaced among shelters more than 13 times. My siblings and I have suffered from many illnesses due to malnutrition, and we need medication continuously.

If we stay in Gaza, we might lose our lives. Recently, we have been seriously considering leaving Gaza for a safe place. However, travel costs are extremely high. We need over $50,000 to leave Gaza. Due to exorbitant prices, rampant unemployment, lack of security, the ongoing siege, and relentless bombardment, we have lost all our money. How can we live in such insecurity, with constant shelling and shrapnel flying above us? Dear compassionate friends around the world,

With your generous donations, even if small, you can save 7 people from imminent death, allowing us to start a life outside Gaza filled with love, peace, and hope.

With my warmest regards from the city of Gaza,

#free gaza #gaza #gaza genocide #gaza strip #gazaunderattack #free palestine #save palestine #palestinian genocide #i stand with palestine #all eyes on palestine

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malakfamily · 5 months ago

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Halle 👋

Dear friends around the world,

Greetings to you from Gaza, the land of peace and love.

Please take a moment to read my story.

I am malak Al-Dahdouh. I currently live in the completely destroyed city of Gaza. Since the war on Gaza began on 7/1/2024, my family—my father Nasif, my mother Asmaa, and my siblings Khaled, Ahmad, Muhammad, and Malak—have been living in constant fear, crying, and suffering due to shrapnel, shells, and bullets.

With your generous donations, even if small, you can save 7 people from imminent death, allowing us to start a life outside Gaza filled with love, peace, and hope.

With my warmest regards from the city of Gaza,

#free gaza #gaza #gaza genocide #gaza strip #gazaunderattack #free palestine #save palestine #palestinian genocide #i stand with palestine #all eyes on palestine

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itzpookiepooh · 1 month ago

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Anyone but You

Zayne gets the call

Don’t steal my work

You ask and you shall receive <3

The blaring ring of his phone goes off waking him from his deep slumber. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep because he was waiting for you to get off work. He came home and showered due to just getting off of a 12 hour shift. You told him not to worry about waiting for you because you were assigned an important task right before getting off work. He groggily looks at his watch to see it was the middle of the night, 2am to be exact. He got home at 9 and stayed up an extra hour but his body could barely hold on.

You still weren’t home.

He grabs the phone seeing it was Akso Hospital. They might be calling him in for a late shift. Nothing he wasn’t use to, he answered waiting for the person to speak. It was Grayson, he sounded panicked making it hard for Zayne to hear him let alone understand him. Grayson didn’t know how to calm down and speak calmly in this situation.

“Slow down, I can barely understand you.” Zayne tried to reason with Grayson.

“They need her primary care physician.” Grayson’s voice trembled. Zayne was confused still drowsy from his slumber.

“Wait—primary—what’s going on?” His voice low and confused as he pinches the bridge of his nose trying to wake up.

“They brought in your girlfriend. She’s badly hurt and I mean bad. We had to call you, you’re her physician and her emergency contact.” Grayson spoke quickly, his eyes shifting as he watches them put pressure on her wounds.

Hearing this Zayne perked up, every ounce of drowsiness evaporating from his body. He couldn’t move fast enough, put on shoes quick enough. He couldn’t change into scrubs at the hospital but he needed to get to you immediately. Zayne has never felt this much emotion not in a long time. He sped out of the driveway, running every light and dodging every car to get to you.

When he arrived he was swarmed with doctors. They explained the situation to him as quickly and as simply as they could. You were put on a last minute assignment and it was imperative that you completed it. You were fighting the biggest wanderer you’ve ever encountered and boy was it strong. It was four times bigger than you.

It escaped a no hunt zone and began to terrorize the city. You should have waited for back up but there were civilians at risk. You had to lure the wanderer away and fast. It nearly cost you your life, as you led it away it powered up and shot at you striking you in the chest. You staggered but luckily for you back up showed up at the right time. You collapsed due to your major and minor injuries on top of your body being drained of energy because of how much of your evol you used.

The surgery was long but Zayne remained calm as he did his part. The ticking of the clock was loud, louder than the beeping. He tried his best to be as steady as possible, he didn’t want to make this any worse. He waited for the rest of your wounds to be patched up. He paced his office waiting for updates.

He should’ve called.

He shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

He should have picked you up.

Something. He should have done something.

His mind raced endlessly. He wanted you to wake up. He needed you to wake up. What would he do without you? He didn’t want to think that way. A life without you was a life he couldn’t imagine. It was a closed door with an iron lock for him. Never to be opened under any circumstances.

Bless his heart when he found out they had to resuscitate you on the way here. The shock was too much for your body. A cold shiver runs down his spine at the thought of you slipping away from him. It felt like he was chasing after you but you were getting farther and farther away. He needed a coffee, he needed to be awake.

When you were done he rushed to see you. Ignoring everyone who called out to him he ran towards your room. Your eyes were shut as if you were sleeping making him feel a bit of relief. He slowly pulled up a chair next to your bed and clasped his hands around yours. He sighs shakily before kissing your knuckles.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispered, his voice quivering from the events of the last few hours.

He moved your hair from your face and sighed. He felt hopeless because all he could do was wait. He didn’t want to wait he wanted you awake and aware. He wanted you to talk his ear off. He wanted to hear you laugh and talk about your day. He wanted you to nag him about working so much. Most importantly he needed to hear how much you loved him.

“I’m here.” He mumbled into her hand with his head down. The only sound filling the room is the soft beeping of the heart monitor along with Zayne’s aching heart.

So sad I know :(

#zayne #zayne fic #dr zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #doctor zayne #zayne x reader #lnds zayne #zayne x you #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love & deepsace x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds #zayne x mc #pookie n’ lads °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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earlgreylatte · 2 months ago

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When You’re Small

Where you run into the Teen Team. Mark continues to be annoying.

You’re seventeen. It’s been a year since you swapped out your white and mint green suit for black, and your ‘silly’ goggles, that resembled a snowboarders more than a hero’s, for a equally dark gas mask.

…You look a bit spooky.

(Art watches you take in your new outfit, “A bit…dark, don’t you think? Especially with the red lenses. Be careful, or you might be confused for a villain, kid,” He comments.

“I’d rather not be seen to begin with, and it’s cool. I look like the Courier from Fallout,” you reply, taking off the mask. “And good job, I can actually smell less for once.”

Your father found it a bit amusing that your nose was particularly sensitive. It was honestly overkill when paired with your advanced hearing.

“Fallout?”

“You’d love it, Art, not much fishing though, but there is crafting.”

“If you say so, kid.”)

You’ve started to work late into the night, so the black suits you just fine.

Cecil is reliable, you think, and even nice, sometimes.

He doesn’t toss you out to fight dragons and powered terrorists, instead having you deal with crime where you actually feel like you’re making a difference. Beating down scum that hurt women, children, and animals left you satisfied. You were confident that this work was good. And not just because they couldn’t fight back and use your own strength against you.

(Sometimes you want to stop holding back against them. To kill them. They’d deserve it. You don’t. Instead you beat them within an inch of their life. Just an inch.)

You know that he knows. That you ended a civilian’s life with your carelessness. He doesn’t comment on it. You don’t even know if they were able to ID the remains, you’re too scared to ask.

Your dad gives backhanded remarks on how you’re wasting your time. You’d reply that by his logic, every hero is wasting their time. He only grunts in annoyance when your mom shoots him a look.

You think he’s just acting all sulky because your costume no longer resembles his.

Despite the petty arguments, you continue to live your life day by day.

You meet your superpowered…peers after school, when you’re outside of costume. You had just been at comic book store, picking up the newest issue of ‘Seance Dog’ when you heard a crash from outside, followed by screams and cries. Peaking out, you immediately notice a snake like beast terrorize the streets.

You don’t really want to do this, but you’re not a big enough piece of shit to just walk away.

You duck out of the shop, pulling your costume from your bag, zooming to a nearby alleyway to change.

Flying out and feeling slightly uncomfortable having to wear your outfit in day hours, you zero in on the snake, its mouth open and elongated to a horrifying degree.

Huffing, you dive down fist first, hitting its centre, diverting its attention to you rather than the escaping civilians.

“I…really don’t have any quips prepared for snakes,” you note, dodging the beast’s tail, before grabbing it, lifting the snake into the air.

Rearing its head around, the snake bares its fangs at you, hissing.

“That’s not going to do anything,” you reply.

You’re quickly proven wrong when a second smaller, but still freakishly large snake exits its mouth as a projectile, causing you to drop it in surprise as you swerve out of the way.

“Oh, what the fuck,” you breathe out.

Sighing, you press a hand to your temple as you realize you now have to deal with two snakes hellbent on destroying the city.

Before you can act, a pink figure and a flying car whiz past you, small explosions distracting the snakes as pink energy pulses and duplicates fill your vision.

You know them. Kind of. Mark follows them on instagram.

Huffing, you swoop down grabbing the larger snake once again by the tail before tossing it high in the sky, flying after it, quickly contorting the snake’s body into a knot as you descend, finally placing it against the shattered road. Watching it writhe uselessly, you feel a bit guilty.

Turning around you notice the second snake is also contained, concrete molded to keep it in place. Definitely the work of Atom Eve, you guess.

You’re grateful your face is covered when the four heroes approach you. You want to go home, but it would be a dick move to just fly away.

The android greets you first, extending a metal hand, “Singularity, we have not met before. I am Robot.”

You shake his hand, “…I’ve heard of you all before. You do good work.”

“Oh! You’re Singularity? I didn’t even realize with the new costume!” Atom Eve blurts out. “It looks good! Sleek and serious…”

She’s young. You already knew they would be because of their team name, but she’s Mark’s age. She looks like a kid to you. You wonder if you looked so young. If you still do.

The red and yellow clad hero at her side, Rexsplode you think, scoffs, “You look like an edgelord, is this, like, your emo phase or something?”

Yes, you think.

“Or something,” you respond.

“Well, you look like you stepped out of Bloodborne—ow!” He’s cut off when Atom Eve punches his arm, “What was that for!?”

“You’re just acting pouty because you can’t stare at her ass anymore!”

Even while wearing his goggles, you could tell his eyes were frantically flickering between you and the pink clad hero.

“Wh-what? No way, why would you even suggest something so—“

“Rex, your following list is public, we all know you follow an account dedicated to zooming in on the asses of female heroes.”

“Ahhh, what? I must have accidentally misclicked—-“

Maybe you should pay whoever runs that account a visit.

“I wouldn’t mind them too much,” The black haired girl speaks up.

“Them arguing is pretty common,” an exact copy of her follows up. Dupli-Kate.

“If you say so,” you blankly say. Are you socializing?

“Still your new costume is a pretty drastic change, I don’t think anymore would be able to link you to being…you,” she continues.

“I do more stealth work these days, the white was too attention catching.” You explain. “And having criminals freeze when do they see me is pretty convenient. Darkwing probably gets a kick out of it too.”

“Heh, I certainly wouldn’t want to run into you in a dark alleyway.”

“Singularity,” Robot begins, “I had been waiting for a opportunity to offer—“

Whatever he says is interrupted when you hear the buzzing of your phone from the alleyway you left your stuff in.

“Sorry, I have to go.” You dash into the alley way, grabbing your bag before shooting into the sky.

(“Ohhh, Robot got rejected!” Rex laughs.

“It is a shame, I had simply wanted to offer her a place on the team.”)

“Finally, what took you so long?” Mark asks, eagerly snatching your bag to root through it before triumphantly retrieving his comic.

“Ran into some people I know,” you sigh, sinking into the couch next to your brother, William who sat on his other side wordlessly passes a controller to you.

“You? Talking to people?” Mark stares at you as William chokes on a laugh.

“They needed directions,” you fib.

“That makes more sense,” he nods.

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who only has one friend,” you scowl.

“She’s got a point,” William grins.

“Well, that’s still one more than you! You literally play Street Fighter and Tekken by yourself all the time! Like at least play online or something,” Mark retorts.

“I,” you start, “have friends.”

A beat of silence passes.

“You’re really good at fighting games,” William consoles you.

“Yeah, you’re the best one here,” Mark places a hand on your shoulder.

“Fuck you, guys…”

(The next day at school, after flying you and Mark a block away from school, you arrive at the entrance and enter the too loud hallway.

“I’ll see you after class, mom said we could order something for dinner tonight, but I was thinking we could maybe go to Seoul or—“

Out of the corner of your eye, a flash of orange hair catches your attention for a moment.

“Hey, are you even listening?” Mark asks, irritated.

You shove him into a locker, “No going overseas.”

“Ah, come on!”)

Bonus:

“There you go, just let yourself float,” your dad praises you, hands holding you up as he hovers miles above the ground. “Don’t be nervous, I won’t let you fall.”

You grip his hands, shakily trying to keep yourself up.

“Pretend you’re a cloud,” he offers, slowly releasing his grip on you, watching proudly as you manage to support yourself. “Alright, now you’re getting it!”

“I’m tired, dad,” you complain, grabbing his outstretched hand, letting yourself rely on him to hold you up.

“Okay, okay, we can go home now,” he chuckles, “I guess you’re too tired to get any ice cream now…”

You perk up, “Well, I’m not that tired…”

“Come on, if you can make half the way by yourself, I’ll get you three scoops,” your dad smiles down at you.

You grin at him excitedly before zooming away.

He only raises an eyebrow. “And suddenly she’s flying like a pro…”

Alright, this was mostly some filler, next post is for the other Marks, and then I’ll get into Oliver and Invincible war stuff, I promise!

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

#invincible x reader #invincible imagine #mark grayson & reader #nolan grayson & reader #debbie grayson & reader #teen team #atom eve #rex sloan #rex splode #samantha eve wilkins #sister reader #platonic reader #invincible

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shortnspidey · 2 days ago

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THE VOID

Bucky Barnes X Fem!Stark!reader || WC: 5.4K

SUMMARY: What was supposed to be a quiet family weekend getaway at the Stark cabin is quickly interrupted by New York City being terrorized once more!

WARNINGS: Thunderbolts* spoilers! Angst, slight fluff, hurt-comfort, non-sexual nudity, talks of past trauma & HYDRA PTSD

A/N: Based on my Collateral Hearts series but can be read as a standalone! This was meant to be a short drabble but I couldn't help myself! It's safe to say Thunderbolts* is my new Marvel comfort movie! I hope I did this one-shot justice since we didn't get to see much of Bucky during the movie! 🫶🏻

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

As the soft glow of morning sunlight filtered gently through the sheer curtains, casting warm streaks across the hardwood floor. Your eyelids fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the familiar surroundings, the soft lavender hue of the walls, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air, and the peaceful silence broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird outside.

A small sleepy smile tugged at your lips as your gaze settled on the delightful chaos around you, a mountain of stuffed animals piled high near the window, polaroid pictures taped to the dresser mirror, each one a tiny fragment of a life well-lived and well-loved. Shifting to your side with a sleepy sigh, you expected to find the comforting bulk of your super-soldier fiancé beside you. His warmth, his steady breathing, maybe even the soft snore he always denied having.

But instead, a mop of tousled brown hair and a small frame tucked under a fortress of blankets greeted you. Morgan. Your not-so-little sister, who had clearly claimed the entire bed as her own sometime during the night. You let out a quiet chuckle, realizing you were perched on the very edge of the mattress, less than an inch from tumbling onto the floor. The covers had all migrated to her side, cocooned around her. She was somehow an even worse bed hog than Bucky, and that was saying something.

Even Alpine, with all her feline entitlement, hadn't managed to steal this much space. Your thoughts were interrupted as Morgan stirred, her little nose wrinkling adorably in protest against the invading daylight. She nestled even closer into your side, seeking warmth and refuge. "Morning, sunshine!" You chirped with faux cheeriness, knowing exactly what kind of reaction you'd get. Predictably, the nine-year-old groaned, burying her face deeper into your ribs with a dramatic sigh that made you smile even wider.

Definitely not a morning person, another undeniable Stark trait. "Morgan," You sing-songed, dragging her name out teasingly. “Time to wake up!” She grumbled in protest, clearly trying to lull herself back to sleep or at least tune you out. A soft giggle escaped you as you gently poked her side. “The only way I’m waking up is if you make me breakfast.” Morgan grumbled, her voice muffled against your side. You gave a mock gasp, clutching your chest dramatically.

“Demanding.” You teased, though your tone was soft as you reached out, brushing a few strands of her tangled hair away from her face. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary. Her skin was still warm from sleep, and for a moment, you just took in how small she still was, despite her growing stubborn streak and increasingly bold opinions. “How about I make you breakfast,” You offered, lifting your brows with a knowing smile, “and I’ll even let you sneak a juice pop before Mom makes us lunch?”

Her face twitched, trying to stay serious, trying not to give in to your irresistible offer, but you saw the small smile forming at the corner of her lips. “Promise?” She asked, lifting her head slightly and giving you those big, brown, soul-piercing eyes that always reminded you a little too much of your dad. You nodded, solemnly holding out your pinky. “Pinky promise,” You declared, your voice dropping to a whisper like it was sacred and in a way, it was.

Morgan didn’t hand out trust easily, but a pinky promise? That was ironclad. She hooked her little finger around yours, her smile breaking fully now. “Deal!” You grinned and pressed another kiss to her forehead, this one quick and full of affection, before leaning over to grab your phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up with a flurry of notifications, texts, emails, a missed call from Harley, but your thumb moved instinctively to the one name that always made your chest tighten in the best way. The most recent message read:

Bucky 🖤: Made it to the Capitol in one piece. Miss you already, doll. Tell Morgan I’m bringing her that thing we talked about.

You smiled at the screen, thumbs flying across the keyboard as you typed back a quick “I love you, stay safe.” Before you could even lock your phone, Morgan was peering over your shoulder. “Why couldn’t Bucky come?” She asked, her voice softer now, her fingers still tangled in the edge of your sleep shirt. You arched a brow, turning to face her with a mock pout. “Am I not enough for you anymore?” Morgan rolled her eyes with a giggle, but her cheeks flushed pink.

“You know what I mean.” She grinned. It always amazed you how quickly Bucky had wormed his way into her heart, how naturally he’d settled into the role of her protector, bedtime storyteller, and co-conspirator in every bit mischief she could dream up. And truthfully, you loved watching the two of them together, even when you pretended to be jealous. “Believe me, sweetheart, he wanted to,” You reassured brushing her hair back again as she snuggled close once more. “But he’s just a little busy now that he has Congressman duties.” Morgan huffed.

“You should’ve brought Alpine at least.” You laughed, ruffling her hair. “If we let that spoiled cat in this bed, there wouldn’t be room for either of us. Plus, she’d steal your juice pop.” That earned a giggle from her. “C’mon,” You coaxed, stretching your arms and sitting up fully. “Let’s go make some waffles. With chocolate chips. Maybe even whipped cream, if you swear not to tell Mom.” She perked up instantly, eyes gleaming. “You got yourself a deal!” This kid was definitely going to be the death of you.

After scarfing down at least a dozen waffles between you and Morgan, each one stacked precariously with whipped cream, chocolate chips, and just a hint of syrup for good measure you both made sure to clean the flour battlefield you’d left behind. The kitchen still smelled like vanilla and melted chocolate, but the counters were wiped, dishes stacked, and evidence buried, for the most part. Just in time too, as Pepper raised an eyebrow when she entered but said nothing.

Only offering a suspicious glance toward the empty whipped cream can in the trash. With the scent of breakfast still clinging to your pajamas and Morgan cradling a warm cup of cocoa, the three of you curled up on the couch for your weekend ritual. Blankets, mismatched socks, and the faint crackle of old movie magic filled the living room. The familiar sounds of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone played in the background, Morgan mouthing lines under her breath, completely absorbed in the scene.

And then, it happened.

The screen glitched, colors flickering unnaturally before the film feed abruptly cut to a flashing Breaking News banner. Static crackled. Then came the footage. A live aerial shot of Manhattan, swallowed by what looked like a creeping black fog, only it wasn’t fog. It slithered like it was alive, climbing buildings, flooding streets, consuming everything in its path. Helicopters struggled to keep up with the growing shadow that rolled through downtown like a tidal wave of nightmares.

Your blood ran cold. A surge of déjà vu punched through your gut, memories of Thanos, of the Snap, of losing everything for a single moment in time. But this wasn’t dust. This was something else, something darker. Morgan leaned forward, her cocoa forgotten, and even Pepper tensed, lips pressed into a thin, worried line. The footage zoomed in closer. Through the billowing obsidian mass, faint shapes flickered, terrified civilians, abandoned cars and buildings.

The once-iconic Avengers Tower, half-swallowed and collapsing in on itself, like some monument to forgotten glory. And at the center of it, looming like a shadow torn from nightmares, stood a shadowy figure. He wasn’t entirely solid, more like a dark silhouette. With every movement, people vanished. Your hand trembled as you reached for your phone, a cold sweat already forming at the back of your neck. You didn’t even remember dialing, your thumb working on autopilot.

“Pick up. Pick up.” You whispered, heart hammering against your ribs, anxiety rising like bile. One ring. Two. Three, then static. Faint, fragmented screams filtered through. Car alarms. Crumbling stone. You heard staggering breath, sharp and uneven. “Bucky? Are you there?” You asked, voice cracking, eyes fixed on the chaos on the screen. A ragged exhale echoed on the line. Then voices, quick, panicked. Civilians? You couldn’t tell. “Bucky, please tell me you’re not in that mess.” You begged, voice fraying at the edges.

You weren’t even sure if he could hear you. A pause. Then finally, his voice, raw and distant. “I wish I could, doll.” Your breath hitched. “I’m sorry.” He added. Those two words carried more weight than you could bear. Every instinct in you screamed to fight, to argue, but your voice didn’t come. Not even a whisper. “Doll, I—” And then, the call dropped. Your phone slid from your hand and landed on the couch cushion beside you with a thud. Your chest was tight, lungs refusing to work properly. Noticing the shift in your demeanor, Morgan instantly wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Is Bucky okay?” She whispered, burying her face into your side. You pulled her close, holding her like she was the only anchor in the storm. “I’m sure he is, sweetheart,” You reassured softly, kissing the top of her head. “He’s strong and brave.” But even you couldn’t tell if you were trying to reassure her or convince yourself. You looked up. Pepper had already stood, face pale but composed. She met your eyes, her strength unwavering even now. “Mom—”

“I know,” She mumbled quickly, cutting you off. Her voice was gentle, but there was an iron edge beneath it, a quiet strength born from too many nights spent watching the man she loved walk into war zones with nothing but conviction and an arc reactor. Pepper Potts wasn’t a stranger to sacrifice, and now, neither were you. “Go.” You hesitated, guilt gnawing at your gut. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.” She added, her hand closing tightly around yours.

You nodded, trying to keep your face neutral even as your stomach churned. You turned toward Morgan, who stood silently by the couch, clutching a pillow to her chest like it was a lifeline. “Morgie,” You called softly, crouching down to her level as her tear-filled eyes locked on yours. “He’ll be okay. We both will. Stay here with Mom, alright? I’ll call you as soon as I find Bucky. I promise.” You extended your pinky once more. This promise felt heavier than all the others.

“Okay.” She whispered, her voice cracking as she surrendered to your embrace, small arms wrapping tightly around your neck. You held her close, kissed her temple, then leaned into her ear. “I love you, kiddo.” You breathed, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat. You felt her nod against your shoulder, and it shattered something inside you. With that, you quickly got dressed, grabbed your car keys and drove as fast as the speed limit allowed you into the void that was now New York City.

As you made your way into the city, weaving recklessly through the traffic, your hands clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Horns blared, lights flashed, but none of it registered fully, you were running on instinct and adrenaline. You fumbled for your phone at a red light, trying once again to ping Bucky’s location. Nothing. The screen flashed back the same message, unable to locate device.

You swore under your breath, the sickening realization hitting you like a punch to the gut, his phone must’ve been destroyed during all the chaos. There was no other choice. Without any clue where he might be, you had to go back to the apartment. Your chest ached with the weight of uncertainty, but through it all, a stubborn flicker of belief remained, he’d make it home to you. He had to. The moment your key turned in the lock and the door creaked open, the silence inside greeted you.

You didn’t need to call out to know, he wasn’t there. The emptiness clung to the walls, thick and oppressive, and did absolutely nothing to soothe the storm of fear brewing inside you. You closed the door quietly behind you, letting your forehead rest against it for a beat too long, before turning to scan the room with hopeful eyes. Then, a soft meow echoed from around the corner. “Alpine,” You breathed out, your voice cracking slightly with relief. The snowy white cat padded into view, her tail high as she trotted toward you, clearly happy to see you home.

You knelt down immediately, scooping her into your arms and pressing her warm body close to your chest. She purred against you, a soft, steady vibration that grounded you just enough to keep from unraveling completely. “Hi, sweet girl.” You murmured, your voice gentle as you carried her to the couch. You sank into the cushions, Alpine nestled securely in your lap, and stared out the window at the glowing city beyond. Every instinct in you screamed to go back out there.

To search every alley, every rooftop, every shadow, but instead, you sat still. Holding on to hope like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. After what felt like an eternity of pacing in the kitchen, organizing things that didn’t need organizing, and switching between news broadcasts that offered very little comfort and a phone that refused to light up with his name, you were unraveling thread by thread. Each second stretched, heavy and tense, your breath shallow. And then, you heard it. The familiar jangle of the doorknob.

Your heart skipped a beat, then thundered, and as the door creaked open, you let out a breath that felt like it came from somewhere deep in your soul. Your muscles, locked in anxious tension, began to loosen as you rose quickly from the couch. But the moment you turned the corner and saw him, really saw him all of that fragile relief shattered and the fear came crashing back in. There he was. Dressed in his signature all-black, the fabric of his clothes torn in various places.

Revealing angry red gashes and violet bruises beneath. His broad shoulders were pulled back in a rigid posture. His long hair was disheveled, sticking to his forehead and brushing his jawline, and his face, God, his handsome face was a map of pain. Scratches lined his cheekbones, one temple split and still weeping. His knuckles were bruised, skin split. And still, he didn’t bother to close the door behind him. His cerulean blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a brief moment, time stood still. He closed them slowly, like the sight of you was too much to bear all at once.

Relief, exhaustion, maybe even guilt, it passed across his face like clouds across a stormy sky. “James.” The name left your lips sharp and clipped, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest. There was frustration in your voice, more than that, there was hurt. At the sound of his given name, his eyes opened again, more alert, more present. He knew exactly what it meant when you used it like that. But he also knew this wasn’t about being in trouble. Not really. Cautiously, he took a step forward, hand raised, vibranium fingers trembling just enough to betray the storm inside him.

He reached for your arm, bracing for the rejection he was sure he deserved. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t pull away. When his palm met your sleeve and you stayed rooted to the spot, something in him broke loose. He took another step, his other hand rising to gently uncross your arms, and you let him. You didn’t meet his eyes, not yet, but you didn’t resist his touch either. He pulled your body into his slowly, grounding you with the firm steadiness of both flesh and metal, his touch familiar, grounding. You looked away, jaw tight, holding back tears or words, you weren’t even sure which.

He exhaled slowly, then lifted a hand to your face, calloused fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as he tilted your head up. You didn’t want to look at him because if you did, you’d lose what little composure you had left. Still, you let him tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your temple as he searched your face like it held the only truth left in the world. Your eyes met again, and for a heartbeat, the silence between you was louder than anything either of you could say. Then finally, you broke it, your voice low and rough around the edges.

“You’re still in trouble.” You grumbled, trying for stern but falling short, the corners of your mouth betraying you with the tiniest quiver. “I know, doll,” He murmured, his voice gravelly and soft in that way only reserved for you. “I know.” He rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as it ghosted over your skin. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness yet. He just needed this. You. “Just let me hold you.” He whispered, more of a plea than command.

And without another word, you let him.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, each breath shaky, uneven. His arms were tight around you now, no longer tentative. Flesh and vibranium wrapped fully around your waist, holding on like if he let go, everything would collapse. And maybe it would. You didn’t want to test that theory. He smelled like smoke and the faintest trace of blood, but underneath all that, you still found him. That scent you’d come to associate with home.

“Hey,” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, lips brushing your hair as he spoke. “I’m here. I’m okay.” You pulled back slightly at that, brows furrowing. “You’re not okay, Buck,” you scoffed softly, your hands coming up to cradle his scruffy cheeks. “You’re clearly hurt and you’re bleeding.” You swallowed hard as your thumbs traced the edges of a fresh cut along his jaw. “You scared the hell out of me.” His eyes closed again, jaw clenching as he leaned into your touch. You blinked quickly, fighting the sting in your eyes, but he saw it anyway.

Without hesitation, Bucky leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, this time more firmly, grounding himself in the contact. Then, slowly, deliberately his lips brushed yours. It wasn’t a kiss full of hunger or urgency. It was soft yet purposeful. You melted into it instantly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his hands cupped your jaw, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones. His lips trembled against yours, not from fear but from sheer, overwhelming feeling. He kissed you like he’d been afraid he wouldn’t get the chance.

Like this kiss was a thank you, an apology, and a promise all in one. When you finally parted, he lingered, his nose brushing against yours, eyes searching yours with that soft, open ache that always made you want to protect him, even when strongly believed that he was the one built to protect you. You exhaled shakily, resting your hands over his heart. In that moment, no words needed to be shared. You simply pulled him close, this time wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder.

After a beat, your voice now more steadier broke the silence. "I hope you know you owe Morgan a call, she was pretty shaken after what she saw on the news." Bucky let out a long breath, one hand ghosting up your back in an absent, soothing motion. "Hopefully the bear plush I brought all the way back from DC will be enough for her to forgive me." Your brow lifted, eyes narrowing slightly as amusement flickered in your voice. "Seriously, Bucky. Morgan has enough stuffed animals to fill an entire daycare."

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop spoiling her," He offered a small shrug, the corner of his mouth quirking just enough to chase away some of the tension. "We should call." You nodded slowly, lifting your head from his shoulder without pulling away completely, your arms still draped around him in a gentle tether. "We should," You murmured in agreement. Your gaze swept over him, taking in the grime, the torn edges of his clothes, and the blood smeared along his jaw. "Might want to clean yourself up first."

Your fingers reached up, brushing lightly over the blood smeared on his cheekbone. The touch wasn’t firm, just the barest sweep of skin against skin, but it carried so much more than it seemed to. In that single gesture, you offered reassurance, a silent apology for whatever pain he endured, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone. He leaned into the touch with a subtle, almost imperceptible sigh, his eyes fluttering closed for just a beat too long. Like the warmth of your hand was more healing than anything could ever be.

His lashes lifted slowly, gaze locking with yours. The blue of his eyes, normally sharp and vigilant, had softened into something almost vulnerable. “Join me?” Just two words. So simple, but they cracked something open inside you. The sheer vulnerability behind them wrapped in a quiet plea and a need for closeness he rarely voiced ever made your throat tighten. You didn’t trust your voice to hold steady, so you simply nodded, the motion small but immediate.

His expression didn’t shift much, but you saw the way his shoulders eased, just slightly. He leaned in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead. He stayed there for a moment, his lips resting against your skin like he was afraid letting go too soon might shatter whatever peace had settled between you. Then, he stepped back, not far, just enough to reach for your hand. His fingers found yours with an easy familiarity, holding on like you were his lifeline. And without a word, he turned, guiding you slowly toward the bathroom down the hall the space you shared.

As you stepped into the space, a wave of protectiveness surged through you, catching you off guard with its intensity. It was more than just concern, it was an aching need to reassure him, to make it unmistakably clear that he was safe and loved. He stood quietly, as if waiting for something he didn’t quite know how to ask for. Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for the hem of his t-shirt, eyes flicking up to meet his, searching for any flicker of hesitation. The fabric was worn, soft beneath your touch, and you tugged gently, more a question than a motion.

His response was wordless but immediate, lifting his arms and granting you silent permission. You peeled the shirt upward, revealing inch by inch of scarred, bruised skin that made your heart twist. A sharp, quiet gasp escaped your lips as the damage came into view faint scrapes, livid bruises blossoming in purples and yellows, and the ever-present, jarring contrast where metal fused into flesh. You knew the serum would eventually do its work, knitting tissue and dulling pain, but logic didn’t stop the worry that clawed its way up your throat.

You leaned in, unable to keep the distance between you. Your hand wrapped around his warm, solid bicep, drawing him gently closer. He didn’t resist. Your lips brushed against the harsh line where his metal shoulder met skin, a place that too often bore the weight of his guilt and silence. You pressed a soft kiss there, then another, scattering them along his shoulder blade, the curve of his jaw, and finally to the corner of his mouth. Each kiss was a silent whisper: I love you. You’re not alone.

His breath caught, chest rising sharply, and in the next heartbeat, his lips found yours. The kiss was deep, unhurried, the kind that said everything neither of you could quite put into words. When he finally pulled away, it was only to mirror your earlier gesture, his hands slipping under your oversized knit sweater and lifting it with reverent care. It joined his shirt in a quiet heap on the floor. “I love you so much, Y/N.” He murmured against your mouth, the words rough and tender all at once.

What followed felt timeless, a slow shedding of barriers, both cloth and emotional, until you were stripped bare, wrapped in warmth and each other. Garments fell away between stolen kisses and whispered reassurances. Hands traced the map of each other’s bodies like a prayer, gentle and certain, until there was nothing between you but skin and steam. At one point, his fingers intertwined with yours, he brought your left hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

Then pausing, kissing the delicate glint of the engagement ring that rested there. His eyes met yours, soft and unguarded, and it said more than any vow ever could. Under the cascade of the shower, he held you close. You could feel the tension leaving his frame as your fingers threaded through his damp hair, massaging the soap in gentle circles. You washed away the remnants of blood and sweat, each pass of your hands careful not to press too hard against his bruises. Then it was his turn. He touched you as though you were made of glass.

His hands were hesitant and unsure, but so achingly tender it brought tears to your eyes. Every swipe of the washcloth, every stroke of his palm was deliberate, a silent apology for all the times he’d believed he didn’t deserve softness. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, surrounded by heat and steam and the quiet hum of water. Time didn’t matter. All that did was this, the slow melting of tension, the steady beat of his heart against yours, and the comfort of knowing that here, in this moment, you both had found something worth holding onto.

After drying off and pulling on soft, comfortable clothes, you settled into the rhythm of familiarity. Bucky perched at the edge of the bed, phone in hand, as he FaceTimed Morgan. You watched as the tired lines around his eyes softened at the sight of her excited face, his voice lifting just enough to sound like himself. “I promise I’m in one piece, kiddo,” He reassured her, holding the camera up so she could see the both of you. “Got a surprise for you next time I visit. I just know you’re gonna love it!” Morgan giggled, already speculating what said “surprise” was.

As the call continued, he had her and you laughing in no time, making goofy faces, promising to teach her how to do a proper left hook (with Pepper's reluctant permission), and patiently answering every curious question she had about what she had seen on the news. You noticed how his shoulders dropped, tension easing the longer he talked to her. Even Pepper smiled, though her eyes flicked across the screen with a mother's worry, lingering on the faint bruises still visible on his face.

When the call ended and the familiar dial tone hummed into silence, the weight of the night returned. The room felt heavier, quieter. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, phone dangling forgotten in one hand. The other scrubbed across his face as though trying to rub away everything he’d just relived. You straddled his lap slowly, grounding him with your presence, settling so your chest was against his, your arms around his shoulders.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, something you knew calmed him. “You want to tell me what happened?” You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. His throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing. “Yeah,” He rasped. “Yeah, I do.” And so he did. He spoke in starts and stops, piecing what had happened in fragments. He told you about flying to D.C. to expose Valentina de Fontaine. How he’d manage to convince force Yelena and her father, John Walker, Ava Starr, reluctantly, to gather enough evidence to bring Valentina down. But as usual, she was always ten steps ahead.

“She was manipulating this innocent man, Robert Reynolds, Bob, to somehow become the world’s New Avenger under her control, yet her plan had a horrible flaw,” He explained, eyes distant. “Bob, he had another side of him. This drug trail, it wasn’t anything like what happened to Steve or Banner. There was a darkness, a void.” Your hand moved from his hair to his chest, palm flat over his heartbeat. “Go on.” You coaxed softly, watching as his breathing grew more labored.

“The worst part,” He muttered after a long pause shutting his eyes, bracing himself. “Was that this alter ego, he could get inside our heads. All of us. It wasn’t just telepathy. It was like he peeled something back. Like he could reach into the rot of the trauma we’d buried and drag it into the light.” His voice cracked on the last word. Your arms tightened instinctively around his back, rubbing in slow reassuring circles. “He saw inside my worst nightmare,” Bucky continued, each word weighted and raw.

“And then he made me live it again. It felt so real, Y/N. The cold steel of the restraints. The stench of antiseptic. I was strapped down at that H.Y.D.R.A. base again. My body was fighting, but my mind—” His jaw clenched hard. “They were erasing me. Again and again. Every time I’d start to remember who I was, they’d wipe it clean. My name. My face. You.” A pained breath escaped him. “You were fading. I couldn’t hold on to you.” You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “But I’m right here,” You whispered.

“You held on enough to help your friends. To come home to me.” He swallowed back a whimper, blinking back tears. “I didn’t think I’d make it out,” He admitted, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think I deserved to.” You tilted his chin gently until his eyes met yours. “You always deserve to come home.” For a long time, he didn’t say anything, just let himself breathe against you, his arms wrapping around your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

Then, with a shaky exhale, he lifted your left hand and brought it to his lips again. He kissed the engagement ring slowly, reverently, holding your hand against his chest. “This,” He murmured, voice barely audible, “is the only thing that kept me from breaking.” You felt your own tears gather against your lash line as you processed his words. “Bucky, sweetheart, while I'm not thrilled you jumped into danger," You began, your tone soft but laced with honest concern. His arms wrapped around you tighter, keeping you anchored against him.

“I know, doll,” He murmured, his voice low against your lips. “I’m so sorry I scared you.” You pressed your index finger to his mouth before he could say anything else. “But I am so proud of you,” You declared firmly, your words laced with admiration, leaving no room for protest. That brought a real smile to his face, that rare kind of smile that lit up his features and made the years of pain and burden momentarily vanish. The kind of smile that always made you swoon just a little, no matter how many times you saw it.

“Besides,” You added with a dry scoff, “Let H.Y.D.R.A try to get close to you again and see what happens.” He raised an eyebrow, half amused and half confused. “What, you gonna fight 'em with your sarcasm?” You rolled your eyes, but your voice was calm and certain as you lifted your left hand between you. The ring glinted in the low lamplight. “No. You have me. And I’m not going anywhere.” Understanding dawned in his expression, and something unspoken passed between you.

You had seen each other at your best and worst, through blood and bruises and sleepless nights. And still, here you were. That was all he needed. And that was more than enough.

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3

Remember you are NEVER alone! Do not hesitate to ask for help if you are struggling with your mental health, reach out to your loved ones, check in on people who have been too quiet, and always remember to be kind because you never know what other people may be dealing with! 🤍

Mental Health Help Hotline: (833) 317-4673

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kenyummy · 2 months ago

Text

✰ 00. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 00. the lonely spider.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

masterlist. ✰ next.

The moment it happened, everything was completely normal.

Well—as normal as it can get for the one (and only) friendly neighbourhood Spidey in your world. The infamous webslinger, daring vigilante—but most importantly, a superhero.

(Cut back on the super part right now—you're not looking too hot.)

Doc lands a swift hit to your ribs, sending you slamming back into a wall behind you. Every nerve feels like they were lit on fire, but your extreme physicality allows you to stand back up and fight.

Ignoring the blood pooling beneath your tongue—you make a mental note to clean out your mask after—you web two of his mechanical arms down before they can sweep you off your feet.

A chuckle escapes your mouth as you flip over him and send a kick flying into his back, "Oh come on, Doc—you haven't gone all soft on me, have you? It's almost like you want to be sent back to state prison!"

"Stay still you damn—" A snarl escapes his lips as you dodge another one of his prying arms. "Insect—"

Another laugh bubbles from your mouth—which turns into a shriek as one of his arms slams you into the ground below. "Okay—I take that back—not going soft!"

You grunt, pushing yourself up from the concrete��shooting a string of web to the ceiling and swinging toward him, "Alright, Doc—say hi to my finishing move,"

You wind up your legs and throw your feet towards his body, "A well-needed face lift—!"

Your kick doesn't land. In fact—you don't seem to land at all. Then, you feel nothing and you are weightless. But only for a brief moment.

It's as if the world shifts and moulds around you, forming into a new subspace where nothing but you exist. You can't sense a single thing—even with your little tingle—until you find yourself planting face-first into a brick wall.

Ow.

Before you can fall into the alleyway below—you stick to the bricks like glue and clutch for dear life. It's damp and it's all so dark you could've been mistaken as a character in an indie horror film.

... Where... ???

Your head hurts. Real bad. The migraine you have right now is killer—and being up this high isn't helping. When your two feet land flat on the floor, you feel a little better.

You clutch your hair through your mask, chest rising and falling erratically. The whites of your eyes are practically squeezed shut as you try and focus and figure out what exactly is going on.

Everything hurts so bad, you don't even feel the looming presence sinking behind you, nor the shadow that seems to sink you in darkness. You don't feel anything—not until you get sent flying into the nearest streetlamp.

Citizens all around you shriek and scream in terror as you make a spider-sized dent in the metal. They run, and you open your eyes with a groan of pain—they widen immediately at the sight in front of you.

A shock runs through your entire body as a snarling lizard-like creature emerges from the alleyway's shadows and starts running at you on all fours—drool and foam pooling in the corners of his snout.

Teeth bared at your menacingly and its jaw widens as if it's trying to take a chunk out of you—you leap upwards and perch on the top of the streetlamp before its chomping snout takes two of your (figurative) eight legs off.

"Hey! What's your issue?!" You call out from your perch, eyes narrowed into a glare. He answers only with an ear-grating roar, tearing the metal from its post and you barely manage to hop off before it's sent flying to the next city.

You land on the tips of your toes, holding the lizard's jaw wide open as it tries to close with you inside it. Drool flies all over your suit as he snarls like a true animal—and now your suit is wet with reptile drool. Yuck.

"You know, I thought you looked like a lizard I know, at first—" You land a kick straight into his stomach, which sends him flying backwards (but not nearly as far as you'd like). "—But really, now that I got a closer look, you're just really ugly!"

A swift uppercut to his jaw closes his snapping mouth, but his tail manages to sweep underneath your feet and you fall flat on your ass.

He stomps down on your ribs and you cry out in pain from the sheer force—feeling your bones rattle and crack under the pressure. "Hasn't anyone told you it's not very polite to stomp on the heroes you like?!"

You slide from between his oversized legs with a web and grab onto his neck from behind—gripping down and channelling all your strength into flipping him over you.

He lands on his tail and lets out a shrill roar—while you swing upwards onto a nearby roof, encasing his entire figure in your webs as your lips turn up into a smile (indistinguishable to the naked eye, of course—beneath your bright red mask).

The lizard-like creature is tied up next to you—thrashing and growling like a rabid beast. He swings around and around from the edge of a roof—while you walk up and down the building, pondering on what to do.

"Okay—okay. Calm down, [name]. You totally just beat up that weird lizard thing. You totally just did that. Okay... okay... but what even..."

You narrow your eyes and look a little closer at it. "What even is it...?? What are you?"

You ask—yet, you don't expect to receive an answer. "Insolent bug...!!! You are no Batman!"

"Batman?" Your brows raise in surprise and you tilt your head to the side. "What... what is a Batman? Is that like—one of Reed's weird experiments? Like... a half bat, half man splice?"

The image you conjure up in your thought bubble makes the lizard creature stop scowling and simply give you a confused stare.

"Wait... is that some sort of new hero?! A D-list that I haven't met yet?! Was he part of the Avengers at some point? I could probably look him up in the database... oh wait—but everyone was a part of the Avengers at some point, huh? Even me."

You look a little closer at the thing. "Hey—even you could've been a part of the Avengers at some point, huh, ugly?"

"I will tear you to shreds, vermin!"

He starts thrashing and chomping at your head once more, so you let out a deep sigh and start to pace once more.

"What do I even do with a huge lizard? Especially one that can talk and is super chompy—could it be my pet or something? Maybe my next science project... hah—yeah! MJ would be so wicked jealous—"

Your head fizzles with a familiar static, and each one of your nerves tingles. Your spider-sense fills your head, full-blast, and you instinctively flip backwards and dodge a flying ninja-star-esque thing that comes flying right where your ribs would have been a second ago.

Another one also came soaring toward you—this time, it cuts the lizard thing from your webbing and he pummels to the ground below, growling as the ground cracks beneath his weight.

The whites of your eyes widen as you try to get a good look at whatever—or whoever—decided it would be a good idea to try and handicap you right after you just defeated a huge evil lizard.

In the dark, you can make out the figure of two people (one significantly smaller) on the rooftop in front of you. You shoot them the hardest glare you can muster, "Hey! Now—what's your problem! Unless you're friends with jolly green down there, I don't think I'm the one you should be throwing ninja stars at!"

You stick the wall behind you with ease and watch as the one with the large cape and... cat ears? pulls out a grapple gun and shoots it toward you.

Before he has a chance to leap, however—there's a crash below and the lizard has finally broken out of your webby confines.

The two figures come into the light as they jump down to the alleyway. A man with a large bat on his chest, and a boy with bright clothes yet a terrible scowl on his features and you finally get what that lizard guy meant.

Bat... man! Batman! But who—

The sound of fighting below, and the slamming of rubbish bins and dumpsters snaps you out of your stupor.

You need to go—before you meet the same fate as your happy lizard friend down there.

Whoever they were, wherever you ended up—it'd have to wait. For now, you crawl away as Spidey, slinging throughout the city with no destination in sight.

Meanwhile—your two new vigilante friends seemed to be having trouble with your webbing.

"Urgh—what is this stuff?!" Damian shakes his gloved hand once, then twice. The white, webby substance sticks to his hand like a vice and when he tries to wipe it off on his costume, he ends up smearing it all over his cape.

He turns around in frustrated circles trying to remove the webbing, only for Batman to take it off with ease, patting down the cape of his robin. Damian only huffs, indignant.

"I've never seen anything like it," Batman speaks, mildly curious. He feels it between his fingertips and watches it stretch endlessly even as he tries to slice it down the middle. "Sticky. Strong."

He notes, thinking back to how he saw a being such as Killer Croc being held up without strain by that thin line of webbing—at least for a good while. The criminal in question lay unconscious on the ground, tied securely with the police department on the way.

"Like a thick web," Damian throws his hood off his head. "Disgusting. It was probably that spider-thing."

"Most likely," Batman pockets the substance in a vial before grappling back up to the rooftops. Robin follows close behind. "I'll have Tim observe it whenever he gets back home. We still have the rest of the city to patrol tonight."

"Right," with a curt nod, they rush away, fading into the darkness of Gotham.

You're panting and exhausted by the time you make your way onto an empty roof. Clearly this place was a lot more crime-riddled than you'd initially assumed.

Getting chased down by brainless goons with umbrella guns was not on your bucket list—but you'd cross it off anyway.

You crouch on the ledge of the rooftop, staring down to the city below. The lights are dull and flicker like they're about to short-circuit any minute. It's nothing like your New York—no flashing advertisements, and certainly no bright colours that permeate your eye like candy.

This place... it's so bleak. Muted colours of grey and the occasional yellow glow. Nothing else. You wondered who could possibly live in a place like this.

Whatever. You'd find a way home somehow. You're the Spidey. Always finding your way out of every problem you get into—despite all odds, you do your best work when you're stuck in the most dire of situations.

But first... You really did need to find out where you were. You look around. There are a few billboards here and there—but what really catches your eye is a television program playing in the window of a store.

Your refractive lenses almost zoom in for you—you stare harder, and can make out the name of the channel that's on.

Gotham newschannel...

You scrunch your nose. Gotham? You'd never heard of it. And you've been to outer space more times than you could count. You'd even been to other universes, since Reed liked to drag you along with his family trips often.

You'd been told you were practically part of the family... and your brains were appreciated. It wasn't every day Reed Richards—smartest man on Earth—offered to take you to space, after all. Maybe you should've asked him about it more, seeing as you're in an unfamiliar place that seemed too dull to be real.

(Not like you could ask him now. He and his team have been missing for a few months now. You were scared half to death until Banner told you they weren't dead, per se—just unable to be located for one reason or another.)

You tap your chin, pacing back and forth on the rooftop.

Currently, you have two theories.

One—you've travelled to a different world somehow. You don't know how, or why—but that alligator thing seemed to feel rather alien—nothing like Doc Conner.

Two—you've become wrapped up in multiverse shenanigans again. This was the less favourable of the two options—as it's much harder to travel universes than planets. If you were just off-world, you could call for your buddy, Nova—even ask help from Kitty and her space-pirate crew.

Now—you're not sure on what exactly to do.

Thor? Does he even exist here???

You're lost. Completely and utterly so. All your distress calls to your many different teams over the years—X-Men, Avengers, Warriors, Defenders, even the Champions for crying out loud—but there's nothing.

You're alone. Utterly, completely, fully. There's nobody.

Your shoulders slump, and you sigh. Even an optimist like you gets down sometimes. Oh well—you'd have to figure something else out. Right now, static fills your head and your body moves before you can think—

You fall to your knees as a bullet pierces right past where your head would've been seconds ago. Your lenses narrow in at the masked goon with that same umbrella rifle. "Back for more? You must like getting beat up or something."

You swing forward and slam your fist into the side of his face—sending him tumbling backwards. Blood seeps out of his nose and he spits out a tooth when he lifts the mask up over his face. His smirk makes you pause. "Nah. I just have my orders."

Your head splits with pain as your body tingles again. There's something behind you—something dangerous—but you can't move. Not without letting him...—

You instinctively crouch in front of the man. A bullet pierces your left shoulder and you let out a loud shriek of pain. Biting your lip—hard. The goon you're crouched in front of is almost starstruck by your actions.

You let your left arm lie limp as you run toward the man behind you—webbing his face, sliding under his legs and slamming your foot into his face—making him fly right into the man from before.

You feel the blood pooling underneath the nanobots around your shoulder—gripping the area iron-tight as it throbs and burns. "You're lucky I didn't kick you off the building. I'm too good for that."

You grit your teeth and swing away with your one good arm before they have a chance to register your words—trails of red dripping down your arm across rooftops.

Eventually—you find your way to another alleyway. Your head is getting fuzzy and you don't know where you're even going. You can hardly see straight—there's two of everything and it's all going blurry. Bloodloss is hitting you like a freight train.

Healing factor can't do shit when the bullet's still in your shoulder. And you can't get rid of it yourself without taking off your suit. You stumble around a bit when landing in the dark of the alley—slumping against a head brick wall and wincing when it scrapes the raw, exposed flesh.

The nanobots flicker away to reveal your civilian clothes—forming back into your necklace and letting the blood drip down freely now. You're getting woozy. Are you dying?

No way. No way this is how you go out. You've battled more evil dictators than you can count on both hands. You've fought countless omega level mutants. You've been face to face with Galactus. Hell, you've met the One Above All (practically God).

You've done all this. You've achieved so much, and lost so much more... and this is how you die?

The blood soaks your fingertips like the cruellest and foulest smelling of wines. You're reaching around in the open wound for the bullet—but you can't find it, even with your deft fingers. Shit—how deep did this guy shoot you?

You're getting weaker. You can't even feel your fingertips anymore. Your eyes are closing. No—you can't die, not here, not now—

Aunt May, Uncle Ben... MJ and Harry... Johnny and Sue... Reed and Ben... Tony. Cap. Wolvey. Luke, Danny, Lin. Nat, Kitty, Kamala, everyone.

You can hardly see anymore. You weakly reach upwards when a man stands over you—whited eyes narrowed down and the strange red face of his being expressionless.

He crouches, and his hand falls to your cheek before all you feel is dark and cold.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms !!! if you want to be added just ask me!!! i don't mind at all !!!!!

chap 1 coming out soon bc im impatient as hell trusttt

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asmafamil · 5 months ago

Text

Hello 👋

Dear friends around the world,

Greetings to you from Gaza, the land of peace and love.

Please take a moment to read my story.

I am asma Al-Dahdouh. I currently live in the completely destroyed city of Gaza. Since the war on Gaza began on 7/1/2024, my family—my father Nasif, my mother Asmaa, and my siblings Khaled, Ahmad, Muhammad, and Malak—have been living in constant fear, crying, and suffering due to shrapnel, shells, and bullets.

With your generous donations, even if small, you can save 7 people from imminent death, allowing us to start a life outside Gaza filled with love, peace, and hope.

With my warmest regards from the city of Gaza

#free gaza #gaza #gaza genocide #gaza strip #gazaunderattack #free palestine #save palestine #palestinian genocide #i stand with palestine #all eyes on palestine

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months ago

Note

My request for Adoptive son got accidentally posted with a different response and then deleted a while back, so I've come back to see if you're willing to do a little of the Summoned Demon au instead? 🥺 pretty please? I keep hoping it'll come back up and I'm excited haha

Danny flies while blinking through his tears, trying his best to find the giant clown Alex has mentioned. He is unsure what will happen to the police officer's ghost now that he has been captured, and that sends his heart into turmoil.

Every part of his core wanted him to turn around to rescue Alex. It went against his very soul to run, but he could think rationally enough to know that if he did, nothing good would come of it.

At best, he would give Alex enough time to hide inside the building he was anchored to; at worst, both of them would be shipped off to some lab and ripped apart.

No. He couldn't save Alex, and couldn't let his sacerfice to help Danny escape go to waste.

He needed to regroup. Figure out a plan, establish communication, or do something to escape the crazy cultists. It didn't help that they obviously had connections with police who were hunting him down to return him.

Thankfully, Danny has some experience with escaping government bodies. Just as long as he keeps moving and uses his powers wisely, he should be able to find somewhere to catch his breath.

Danny wipes at his eyes, pushing himself to fly faster.

Thanks to his invisibility, no one notices his form fly over their heads. A steady flow of people moves underneath him, going through another mundane day. It's crowded, busy and noisy.

So different from the city of Amity Park. It's a jarring reminder that only this morning, he had been dreading his upcoming math exam, and now he was running for his life.

At least the hook feeling in his navel has lessened. Using Phantom's abilities didn't take as much effort as it did a few hours ago.

Likely, whatever that voice activation cell did was starting to lose effect. Based on how his body responded, it would be two or three hours before he would be back to full strength.

As he finished the thought, Danny felt his body grow heavy, as if a weight was suddenly thrown around his ankles.

With a shout of alarm, Danny plummeted downwards, struggling against the cruel grips of gravity. He felt his invisibility fall away just as he landed face first on the ground between an open of people.

The force of his face has him skitting against the pavement, tumbling over and over as screams from the started civilians echo through the crowd. Danny rolls three times before smacking against a pull, upside down, with his legs folded over near his head.

He groans. "That is going to leave so many bruises."

His healing factor was kicking in already working on easing the aching in his spine and face. Slowly, as to not agitate his wounds, he unfolds, bracing his hands on the ground, and leaps up.

When the world is right, he finds himself standing before a little metal fence separating the street from a restaurant's dining area. The two boys Danny saw at the cult are sitting at the table right in front of him.

They were the ones who were pleading with the other boy who clung to his legs. Danny blinks. "Oh, hello."

The one on the left, a ginger that reminds him surprisingly of Kyle Weston down to his choice of clothes, lets a blood-curdling scream before his eyes roll back into his head in a dead faint. Danny leaps over the fence, catching him before he hits the ground.

The other boy watches like a deer caught in headlights, frozen with absolute terror all over his face. The fork in his white knuckle grip is bending at a strange angle as he makes small whimpers, almost as if he's scared to talk.

Danny carefully sets the one he caught on the ground, ensuring his head is cushioned before tugging at his clothes. He unzips the hoodie the boy was wearing and pulls at his neck collar to ensure it's not bothering his breaking.

Only after ensuring that the boy is breathing correctly does Danny move down to carefully left up his legs, remembering the lessons his father taught him in case he ever witnessed someone faint.

The teenager sitting at the table starts to speak, sounding panicky, but Danny ignores him in favor of placing the Kyle-Wannabe's legs on the chair's cushion. He tugs on the ankles in his hold, making sure it's angled in a way that does not hurt him spin but can allow more blood flow to his head.

"Can someone please call an ambulance?" He demands of the watching crowd only to have the majority of them cower back. He makes a face, causing a waitress to flinch so hard she stumbles over a nearby table.

Right, they can't understand him. He raises his hand above his head, attempting to mimic the ambulance light while speaking slowly. "Am-bu-lance. wee-oww wee-oww?"

A child bursts into tears. Danny drops his hands, letting them hang loosely at his side. The sea of faces surrounding him is all edged with fear, which makes his stomach turn. "None of you understand me. You're scared of me."

"I'm not," A man says, stepping away from the crowd. His transparent body lets him know it's a ghost. That and the dripping cinder block chained to his legs, along with his flouting hair as if though he were underwater, are significant indicators of his death. "You're trying to get him to a hospital?"

"Yes!" Danny points at him, forgetting himself for a moment. The people standing behind the ghost scramble to get out of the path of his pointing.

The man tilts his head slightly. "What language are you speaking?"

"English?"

"Odd. It sounds different. I would know since I speak nine languages." The man grunts, his strange accent sounding like a melody to the ear were it not for the watery effect. It's sad how it affects his handsomeness, with the green and silver trimming of his suit and the snake necklace and rings he is wearing.

The ghost calmly flouts to a poster on the restaurant's wall a few steps away from Danny, knocking his knuckles against some symbols. "Point to this word, then the boy. That'll let the crowd know to get some medical attention."

Danny stares at him for a moment before the murder victim clears his throat impatiently, and it snaps him into action. Rushing over, he points to the words, then the Kyle-wannabee, and back again to the word. When the crowd continues to stare, Danny repeats the motion more urgently until the boy at the table finally catches on.

He pulls out a rectangular device from his pocket- the same one that girl had earlier this morning-tapping it with shaking fingers and speaking in rushed panic words.

The ghost at the poster nods approvingly. "Well done. Now, leave the scene before the authorities arrive."

"What?"

"I was an immigration lawyer in life. One of the only ones in this cursed city that actually gave a shit, and it got me killed. I know how they treat people who aren't from around here and how to help you when a language barrier gets in the way. Trust me, kid, it's better to get gone in this situation." As he speaks, the ghosts float back to Danny, shaking the chains around his feet for emphasis. There is a cold, calculating glint in his eye as he regards the silent crowd . "The panic will settle soon, and these people will form a mob. Get going."

Danny throws one last look at the unconscious boy before he realizes that the fear on people's faces hasn't lessened. It's growing, and he knows a witch hunt will start soon.

He's seen it before on the faces of Amity Park back when he was Inviza-Bill. He twists on his feet, running away with the lawyer flying behind him.

The older man gives out curt directions at every turn, slowly guiding him outside of the part of the city. Danny's legs are starting to burn when the sight of a large, broken-down amusement park comes into view.

The lawyer tells him which part of the fence board is loose enough for him to slide in and then instructs him to go to the fun house shaped like a giant clown head. Danny scrambles through the hole, hissing when a few loose nails catch on his skin, but he finally stumbles through, only to be overwhelmed by a new large and bustling crowd.

A crowd made of thousands of ghosts that walk or fly about without a care in the world. They are wearing various different eras of clothing, blending, and some have ghastly marks on their bodies, indicating their deaths.

The majority, however, are people with large, crazed smiles frozen on their faces. He gawks at all of them, not used to seeing so many of the dead in one place outside of the Ghost Zone.

"Don't just stand there with your mouth open." The lawyer snaps at Danny's back. "Get out of sight now!"

"Tom?" A woman in a gown that looks like she was present for the beheading of Marie Antonette steps in front of the drowned layer, Tom, with a look of confusion. "Who are you talking to?"

"Him." Tom nods his head at Danny, who offers the woman a wave. She reels back, opening her mouth like she's about to scream,m but Tom snaps forward, slapping a hand on her lips before she can. "Do not! What do you think will happen when all these murder victims realize he can communicate with them? He just escaped from being mobbed."

The man glances over his shoulder at Danny. "Go into the fun house. Act like you can't see or hear the rest of the ghosts. Walk through them if you have to."

"I can't," Danny whispers, his heart suddenly beating wildly. None of the ghosts noticed him, but that could change in a second. "Ghosts are solid to me. If I try to walk through them, we'll just end up bumping against each other."

Tom lets out a very put-upon sigh. "Then walk around them. Now go. It's not safe to talk in the open."

Danny knows Tom is helping him but feels vaguely threatened as he walks stiffly to the giant clown's head. He fights to keep his gaze straight, watching ghosts step out of his path while some flout closer, looking curious. He fights to not flinch at the ones with the enormous smile as if someone had cut them into their faces.

This is making his stomach turn.

"Who's this?" An older man asks Tom and the woman that follows him. His lips are pulled into two upturns, showing tight yellow teeth in a similar craze grin.

"Street kid," Tom grunts from somewhere behind him.

"He's likely looking for shelter from the cold." The woman adds, though her voice is slightly strained. "Tom wants to make sure he gets settled."

"Where is he going to?" The old man questions, his voice a little odd because he has to speak behind his teeth, trapped in a smile. "The only warm place here is the Joker's old place, and not even the dead go in there."

Danny ignores the old man's words, speed walking all the way to the entrance of the Fun House. He notices that various ghosts stop to watch him out of the corner of his eye as he finally passes the doorway into the building. Shaking his head, the old man lingers just a little outside of it. "Fool. Even if the Joker is not here, it's not a place to go."

Neither Tom nor the woman responds as they follow Danny inside. Tom is facing the wall when he mutters. "Close the door."

As soon as the wood seals shut, with a few ghosts lingering gaze trapped outside, Danny collapses on the floor, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "That was terrifying."

"What in the world is going on, Tom!" The woman hisses, apparently unable to hold back any longer while crossing her arms, "Who is this?"

Tom holds up a hand in her face, which makes her gasp in offense, but his eyes linger on Danny's crumbled form. " There is a dictionary tucked away in the third office. Go get it."

"What? Why?"

"Because we'll use that to help you communicate with the living locals. I can read, and you can point."

Danny's eyes widen. "That's a clever idea!"

"Of course it is. I'm one the cleverest men to walk this stupid city's streets." Tom smirks like the snakes he's wearing. "We don't have much time. Knowing the idiots of Gotham, Batman will be tipped off and on his way here as we speak."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #the summoned demon #Part 5 #Danny finds more ghostly help #Can anyone guess who Tom is based off? Loosely anyway #Danny has leveled up his communication skills!#He's still on the run #The effect of the wards Raven and John put on him limits his Phantom #Sorry about the previous ask! I hope this makes up for it

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