#If he thought Bruce was hiding files from him that just ENSURES he's going to read them

[voiider]

We started rewatching Young Justice recently and all of the "sidekicks" were upset at being treated like children and being kept in the dark and not having access to information and i just?? I don't think Batman would believe in withholding information from Robin

Dick gets into everything everywhere all of the time there is no peace or privacy from him. And Bruce has never dealt with children before how is he supposed to know whats 'appropriate' for a child to know or have access to.

Speedy: it's such bs that they don't trust us with information Robin: haha what? Green Arrow: It's hard keeping information from my partner/subordinate but it's for his own good. He's a child and he can't be trusted with that sort of power yet. Do you struggle with Robin wanting access to information he doesn't have the clearance for? Batman, who's never kept a single secret from Dick and couldn't if he tried: um. yeah. absolutely.

[helga-heason]

Bonus letter #2

Dear Selina,

I’m actually writing this inbetween investigations, so my handwriting may not be the best - I decided to go back and scour the Riddler’s old crime scenes, because I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something. He just… Surrendered. I mean, granted, he did flood the entire city afterward, but… What’s he hiding? It’s probably nothing, but I am nothing if not extremely sceptical, and something is itching at the back of my mind, so scouring the scenes we go. Heave ho, Bruce.

I heard it’s your birthday. Or it was when I wrote this letter. Happy birthday! I hope you have cause to celebrate, but if not, know that Robin and I will feed the calico cat bandits in your apartment for you. I mean, we do anyway, but I think we can spare them a little nicer food this time. It’s a special occasion, after all. Oz let slip when I visited that you’re a fan of… Nirvana? Which I initially thought was a sort of heaven-like realm, but it turns out they are also a band. I’ll give them a listen for you while I’m cleaning the Batmobile. Hopefully Robin doesn’t try driving it again. If you’re wondering who told me it’s your birthday: I did. I found it out while looking through some files. Sorry.

Speaking of Robin… Gordon told me I need a hobby. I opened my mouth to tell him that I have one, when he held up a hand for me to be quiet and told me that beating people up in back alleys isn’t a hobby. Of course that isn’t a hobby, and I’ve never said it is. It’s more of an occupation. What I was going to tell him my hobby was is trying to figure out which species of bird has fallen prey to Robin’s claws this time. It’s an oddly enlightening experience. It’s strangely informative when your cat brings you back a small flock of bird feathers every day, believing it may help cheer you up, and you have to try and figure out which bird the feathers all come from just to ensure said cat hasn’t killed anyone’s pet. I couldn’t exactly tell him that, upon brief reflection, and so sort of fumbled my way through an explanation of how I’m the night and the night doesn’t have time for petty human foibles like hobbies. I’m pretty sure I sounded insane. Where’s Arkham from here? I may need to check myself into it for a bit.

Well, again, happy birthday, Selina. I hope you’re well.

Yours, always, the Bat(man) - and Robin the cat.

[batsandbugs]

Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww​! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy! 

Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.

Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.

Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.

Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”

She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”

He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.

“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.

“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.  

He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.  

“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.

Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.

“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”

“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.

“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”

Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.

“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.

“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”

“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.

“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.

Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”

“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.

“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”

“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”

Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”

She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.

“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”

“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”

“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.

“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”

Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”

“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”

Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”

“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”

“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”

“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.

“Even worse.”

“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”

“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”

Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”

Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”

Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”

She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”

Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”

“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”

“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.

-0-0-

It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.

Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.

The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.

Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.

Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.

“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.

“I make no apologies.”

“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.  

“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.  

“I take offense to that.”

“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.

“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.

Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.

-0-0-

It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.

“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim.  “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”

“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”

Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”

“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”

“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.

“He gets better.”

“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”

“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”

“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.

They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.

“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”

“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.

The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”

The scene switches to a metal ship.

“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”

“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”

Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.

Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.

“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”

“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”

“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”

“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”

“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”  

Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.

The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.

“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”

They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.

“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?”

“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.

“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette. 

“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”

“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.

“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.

“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.

“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'm not naive," she shot back. 

He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating. 

Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people. 

The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.

“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.

“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”

“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.

The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-

“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”

“What war? What are you talking about?”

“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.

They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.

They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.

“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

“I think it was more like a hundred years!”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”

On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.

“Tt. Amateurs.”

"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”

“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”

“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.   

“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.

“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”

“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great." 

“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”

“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.

Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too) 

@m3owww​ @your-resident-chimken-nuggie​  @loveswifi​ @fusser90​@animegirlweeb​​ @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere​​

[daringyounggrayson]

hide and seek

(Read below or on AO3)

The night’s gone from bad to worse. First, communication was knocked out along with the emergency beacons. Next, Dick was left with no choice but to go hand-to-hand with Bane, who cornered him and slammed him into a wall the first chance he got. Now, Dick is simultaneously kicking against Bane’s torso and trying to pry Bane’s fist from his neck. He’s suffocating, and Bane’s grip is so tight that Dick can’t even turn his head to the side, though even if he could, he’s not sure it would give his windpipe much protection.

Pressure builds in his chest and head, and his throat feels like it’s about to be crushed into a million pieces, into dust. He’s dizzy, and his face is already numb and tingly from the oxygen deprivation. His limbs feel weak and they’re not responding to his commands like they should.

His hands slip from around Bane’s fist, and his legs go still. Dick can’t bring himself to raise them, and the only fight that remains is the primal urge to scream—for help, for the pain to end, for someone other than this monster to hear him in his final moments. Too bad he doesn’t have the oxygen to spare, nor an opening in his throat to let the sound out.

Death and darkness creep in. No sense of calm washes over him; there’s no sudden realization or acceptance of what will come to pass within the next few seconds. Just this unbearable pain and fear that this is it, this is the end. And through it all, the voice in his head keeps screaming at him to escape the inescapable.  

Dick gasps as Bane drops him. He tries to blink away the black spots to see why, to see if he has backup yet. He doesn’t hear anyone though, and his swimming vision can’t pick out another body—so why did Bane drop him? He’d been sure Bane was going in for the kill just now, so why would he stop? Why—

A giant boot to Dick’s stomach leaves him coughing and gasping. Something wet dribbles down his chin, and it’s not until he wipes it off with the back of his arm that he realizes that it’s blood. That could be bad, or it could be fine. It all depends on where he’s bleeding; too bad Dick has no clue.

When his breathing is under control and his face is no longer numb, Dick’s vision clears enough to see Bane’s giant boot still standing next to him. Habit tells him to stick a tracker on it, but his brain is mush. He can’t even twitch his arm at this point.

A hand wraps around his arm and pulls, hard. Something snaps and Dick gasps—choked and airless—as his nerves inform him of the new source of pain. Dick blinks violently to keep himself conscious, body writhing to try to relieve the pain in his arm as he’s dragged across the floor.

Bane says something, but Dick can’t hear him between the pain, the blood pounding in his ears, and his attempts at wheezing. All he can do is cradle his arm when it’s finally released and fight for every breath. It takes up too much of his attention and he doesn’t even realize he’s been shoved into a supply closet until the door is closed and Bane is walking away.

He knows he should escape and follow Bane, but Dick can barely breathe, and every sound he makes is distorted. All of his medical knowledge says he shouldn’t move, but staying put could result in death all the same.

He kicks at the closet door. His attempt is almost definitely useless; considering what Bane is capable of, he probably broke the handle to ensure that Dick stays put. But still, Dick can’t accept death so easily.

The question of why Bane didn’t kill him comes to the forefront of his mind again. Is Bane on a tight schedule? Does he think Dick’s as good as dead?

Dick keeps banging on the closet door, hoping that even if it won’t free him, someone will hear the noise and investigate. Bruce was pretty close last he’d heard, so maybe there’s still a chance that he won’t die in here.

“Help,” Dick attempts to shout. What comes out is garbled and incomprehensible even to his own ears, and it’s quiet, airy. Based on sound and pain—not to mention the blood—he knows that if his throat swells much further, he’s a goner. He needs help.

Each kick against the door sends waves of pain up through his arm and head. He’s sniffling pathetically at this point, all sorts of fluids leaking from his face, but instinct forces him to keep going. He’s pushing against his emergency beacon too, just in case it’s back online.

There’s no indication that it is.

Dick’s kicks quickly become weaker and further apart until they stop altogether. His head droops and his body slouches against a shelf. Being tucked away in this closet reminds him of playing hide and seek as a kid. He’d always been good at the game—able to contort into small places most people wouldn’t think to look—and he’d taken pride in being able to hide from Batman. If this is hide and seek, though, it’s a cruel, twisted version, and it’s the first time Dick’s wanted to lose, to be found.

God, he really wants to be found.

In a last-ditch effort, he tries calling for help again, but all that does is make him cough, and more blood spills over his tongue.

Energy gone, he’s left with nothing to do but wait, staring at nothing and wondering if it would have been better to go quickly in Bane’s grasp than slowly alone in the dark. His hope dwindles and he wonders how many breaths he has left as he succumbs to lying on the floor.

“Nightwing?”

He lifts his head and opens his eyes, surprised to find that he’d fallen asleep.

“Here,” he calls back quickly. He sounds worse than before, and he feels like he’s trying to breathe through a clogged straw. He starts kicking again, then falls forward to lean against the door and bang on it with his good arm. “Help!”

“Nightwing?”

A voice, feet pounding down a hallway. The door he’s leaning against is wrenched open, and without its support, Dick falls onto the floor. He blinks until his vision clears, finding Batman’s familiar boots in front of him.

“Bruce,” he rasps, moving his hand until it comes into contact with the boot.

Bruce crouches down and pulls Dick into a tight embrace, says, “Thank god.”

Dick tries to return the hug, but he doesn’t exactly have the strength for it. He wheezes against Bruce’s chest, and even though he’s still not positive he’ll make it out of here, he’s glad he won’t be dying alone in that closet.

Bruce leans Dick against the wall, asking Dick questions that he can’t comprehend, let alone answer. Bruce catches on pretty quickly and switches to checking his pulse and shining lights in his eyes and down his throat. He’s muttering something, but Dick has a feeling he’s not speaking to him.

“Bruce,” he rasps again.

“You’re going to be alright,” Bruce tells him firmly. “I’m taking you home.”

With that, Bruce picks him up, cradling Dick’s head against his shoulder as he runs them toward the nearest exit.

It’s the last thing that Dick remembers upon waking up a few days later in the cave’s infirmary. His arm is in a blue cast and there are bandages around his neck, hiding stitches from surgery and the bruises that Bane left. The pain has been dulled to the point that it’s background noise, like a constant but quiet buzzing. Dick can tune it out.

Bruce and Alfred are sitting in chairs on either side of him. They’re both looking at him patiently, waiting for him to make the first move, to tell them if he’s okay.

Dick swallows, says, “Hey.” His voice is still rough, but only sound comes out, no blood. It’s progress.

Bruce and Alfred relax somewhat, and Dick smiles at them. There’s a rush of movement as they squeeze his hand and run their hands through his hair. After they’re done fussing over him and asking questions, Alfred examines him and Bruce fills him in on everything that happened a few nights ago. It’s a familiar routine, one that Dick didn’t think he’d experience again.

Alfred excuses himself to pick up Tim from school, and shortly after Bruce says something about files and letting Dick rest.

Bruce stands, but Dick grabs his hand before he can get too far. He keeps tugging until he’s pulled Bruce into a tight hug, one that Bruce matches easily.

“I thought I was a goner,” Dick confesses into Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce presses a kiss into the crown of Dick’s head and runs a hand up and down Dick’s back, just like he used to do when Dick was a kid. “You were in bad shape,” Bruce murmurs, confessing that he had been afraid too. “But you’re alright now.”

Dick nods. “Yeah. And thanks, for finding me.”

“Always.”

Dick knows it’s a promise that Bruce can’t keep, but with the fear of his near-death experience fresh in his mind, he allows himself to pretend he can, if only for a moment.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Iron 12 (Peter Parker x Fem!Oc)

A/N: Now let's start with Avengers! Getting closer to seeing Peter, lol.

I know, I know...

Words: 1,593

Masterlist:

Post-credits scene II  / Chapter 13

“Good to go on this end. The rest is up to you,” says Tony from the other end of the call.

"You diconnected the transmission lines?" Pepper asks. "Are we off the grid?"

"Stark Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy.”

"Well, assuming the arc reactor takes over and it actually works,” She continues

"I assume,” answers Tony. "Light her up.”

The huge sign forms a Stark when the lights come on.

"How does it look?"

"Like Christmas, but more... me.”

“Us!" says Lily after listening to the boring conversation between the two adults.

“We’ve got to go wider on the public awareness campaign. You need to do some press. I'm in DC tomorrow, I'm working on the zoning for the next three buildings,” says Pepper.

"That sounds so boring,” Lily complains walking to the couch, leaving her legs swinging on the armrest.

“I agree with the girl. Pepper, you're killing me. The moment, remember? Enjoy the moment.”

"Get in here and I will,” replies the redhead with a smile.

“Ew," adds Lily.

Since Tony and Pepper are finally together, they can't help but be more affectionate than normal, unfortunately the girl always has to interrupt them. She already has enough trauma.

When Tony reaches the tower, he walks on a platform where several robotic hands are responsible for removing the Iron Man suit.

The redhead continues to see the levels projected in the holograms. She leans back on the desk, waiting for Tony.

"Levels are holding steady… I think.”

Tony comes to her side, they talk, and then discuss the percentage of the great success of the reactor. All while Lily continues to get bored on the couch. The adults sit on the floor in front of the coffee table, surrounded by the armchairs, along with two glasses of champagne.

Blah, blah, blah, elevator, blah, blah, blah, money, blah, blah, percentage.

Lily sighs exaggeratedly to get their attention. They both stop talking and Tony watches her.

"Oh sorry, are we bothering you?"

Pepper purses her lips to keep from laughing.

"Actually yes,” the girl sits up. “I'm supposed to be able to do more things, go out more often.”

"And you did it.”

"From the house to the tower does not count, Dad,” She answers. "It's the same as before, only in another prison…”

"Don't exaggerate,” answers Tony. She sighs and falls back onto the cushions. “I don't understand why you’re bored. We’ve just made a breakthrough for the company.”

“One, your company. Two, I did nothing, just watched percentages, values, holograms. Bored!"

"I thought you liked that," adds Pepper.

"I want to do something else.”

"Like what, Smarty?"

"What about an Iron Man suit for me?" She says turning her head towards them.

Tony laughs out loud.

"It wont happen.”

"I had to try it…”

"Sir, the telephone," Jarvis interrupts. "I'm afraid my protocols are being overridden.”

"Mr. Stark, we need to talk,” says a male voice. Tony takes the phone from him.

"That sounds interesting," says Lily.

“You have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark. Please leave a message,” He pretends to be an answering machine looking at the screen, making Lily and Pepper laugh.

"This is urgent.”

"Then leave it urgently.”

But the elevator doors open, revealing Agent Coulson.

"This just keeps getting better,” says Lily. It had been a long time since they had seen Phil.

"Don't get excited kid. Security breach,” Tony complains.

"Phil, come in!" says Pepper getting up.

Tony looks confused at his girlfriend and follows her to where the agent is.

"I can't stay," answers Phil. He looks towards the couch where Lily greets him. "Hi, Lily.”

"His first name is Agent,” says Tony a little annoyed, but then he fakes a smile.

"We need you to look this over as soon as possible,” says Phil offering him a device.

Pepper is in charge of exchanging the device for his champagne glass, until it reaches Tony's hand.

"Official consulting hours are between eight and five, every other Thursday—”

"This isn’t a consultation," replies Phil.

"Now what did we do?" Lily asks, rising from the couch.

"Is this about the Avengers?" Pepper asks, then adds quickly. "Which I know nothing about.”

Tony opens the device in such a way that he reveals only a touch screen, he gestures to Lily and they both walk to a desk in the back.

"The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought — And I did not qualify," He huffs.

"I did!”

Tony looks at her.

"Who told you that?"

“Nat," She smiles.

"I didn't know that either," continues Pepper.

"Apparently I'm volatile, self-obsessed, don't play well with others…”

“Bingo," says Lily.

"That I did know.”

"This isn’t about personality profile anymore,” replies Phil.

“Whatever," says Toy looking at the screen.

"What are we watching?" Lily asks, as her father obstructs her vision.

"Wait, Ms Potts, got a second?" The redhead obeys.

Tony enters some codes.

"You know, I thought we were having a family moment," He complains.

"I was having 12% of a moment.”

"Oh, not this again,” says Lily

The pair try to argue again, but Pepper changes the subject.

"What is all this?”

“This is… this.”

Lily walks to see each screen, where the profiles of some people are shown. Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Thor.

Pepper sighs. "I'm going to take the jet to DC tonight,” She says.

“Tomorrow," corrects Tony. They both talk, but Lily's attention is still in the files.

"Lily?" says the redhead and the girl turns. "I have to go."

Lily walks up to her and hugs her tightly.

"Be careful,” the little girl whispers when they part. Pepper nods, strokes her black hair and kisses her forehead. She then goes back to Phil.

"Wait, so who am I staying with?" asks the girl looking at her father. The three adults share a look. "Jess is in class, Happy’s busy and you’ll go,” She points to Pepper.

“Actually…” Coulson begins.

"I'll find a babysitter," Tony interrupts.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Sir. For this we need both Starks.”

"What?" say Tony, Pepper and Lily at the same time.

"They need me? Me?" Lily asks in disbelief. She feels a tickling start in her hands, but this time she controls it and hides her hands behind her back.

"No, Phil, it's dangerous for a ten-year-old girl," says the Redhead.

"I thought she was on probation," adds Tony.

“Our base will be surrounded by qualified and knowledgeable agents to ensure Ms. Stark's protection. Besides, it’s only a search, in case the situation changes, she’ll be taken to Miss Potts immediately.”

Lily's gaze moves between the agent and her father repeatedly, waiting for an answer.

“What do you need her for? Specifically,” says Tony.

"Director Fury thinks two Starks are better than one,” He tries to joke. "His words, not mine, but everything’s explained in the files.”

"Is this really happening?" Lily asks to no one in particular. “Someone finally heard my complaints!”

“Hey, calm your sugar. I won't let you go alone like this,” Tony warns.

"So, can I go?”

Tony groans. He senses Pepper's confused look, but he ignores it. Even he doesn't know if this is a good idea, but the fact that the super agents need his daughter makes him curious, and he has a feeling that if he doesn't accept, they’ll try to get it some other way and that's worse.

The redhead sighs in defeat, waiting for Tony to have everything under control. Although that’s not common in him. She now must worry about both of them, but at least has the assurance that Phil will be around. She just hopes she doesn't regret it later.

"Please, stay safe,” She finally says to them, then he returns to Phil and the two leave the Stark tower.

Lily watches them until she's alone with her father. She turns to meet the man holding a hologram of a blue cube.

"What's that?"

"We'll find out soon,” He returns the hologram to the screen and looks down at her. "I'll prepare coffee and chocolate, you and I will find ourselves reading and talking about the new rules of the game."

"New Rules? I'm not six years old anymore, dad.”

He sighs and makes a face.

"These rules are not in case you break something, Lily,” He looks directly into her eyes. “You heard Coulson. We’ll be surrounded by agents, spies trained to do whatever they are ordered to do. And at some point that order can harm us.”

"But Mr. Fury-"

“I know we have given them permission for certain things like your training, but it was all happening under my watch and Jarvis's. This time we’ll have to go to them, and that’s a problem.”

She frowns, analyzing that information.

“But Nat and Phil… They wouldn't do something like that.”

"I don't know, Kid. We can’t take anything for granted.”

"It's not easy and anyone can fool you, Lils." She remembers Nat's words during her training. In the end she nods towards her father.

"So what do I have to do?"

“Pretend that everything’s fine, but you have to stay alert and try not to get too far away from me. I don’t know the real reason why they want you in this, but you should not believe everything they tell you.”

"This will be more complicated than I thought," She adds with a grimace.

"Don't worry,” He offers his hand. "You and I are smarter than they are.” Lily holds his hand.

Taglist:

@silenthappyplace @yourbonesareinmybody @aylauwuuniverse    @skittles-skittles @hufflepuffzutara @poetryislife0715 @21bruhs @heavenlymistakes @my-love-of-books @dielgonacoffee  @thelastpyle​

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 22

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: FLUFF! Inappropriate jokes! The team being a family of mother hens. Steve + WAP! Reader's old man fetish is ✨blossoming✨. Stephen is finally evolving from Grinch into a human being.

a/n: How do we feel about Wanda/Loki pairing? Loki is comparatively around Wanda's/Reader's/Pietro's age, e.g. he's a young adult. Also, new divider.

All three of us spilled out of the elevator in a flurry of wet hair, outrageously large shopping bags and the smell of autumn leaves and cinnamon-infused chocolate. Picture perfect friends - our arms were linked, we stood side to side, our bags mixed up. Loki's silky black hair was dripping cold water onto my face and my own clothes sticking to me in uncomfortable places.

It started pouring buckets when we got into my car to go back to the tower. Wanda complained about being hungry and after a brief detour in one of the hole-in-the-wall, hidden gem, French boulangeries, all three of us were pleasantly relaxed and companionable under the influence of hot chocolate and fresh, warm croissants (Loki ate, like, ten, royal manners be damned). The five minute run from the parking lot to the main entrance resulted in us being way too soaked to be comfortable - thankfully, the shopping bags seemed to be waterproof. Or, perhaps, Loki enchanted them somehow.

"Stop fucking cheating, Rogers..." Tony was grumbling in frustration, looking at an array of cards in his hands, squinting suspiciously at a smug Steve.

Noticing us, the room perked up immediately. Thor lifted his head and we saw him and Pietro splayed out on the couch, each male holding a play station controller. Stephen Strange was sat cross-legged on the floor, reading a book, while Natasha filed her nails next to him, a face of tranquility and indifference.

We almost backpedaled from the amount of puppy eyes suddenly gazing at us.

"Sup?" I decided to go first, seeing as both of my companions were still mostly confused. What the hell, I was equally perplexed.

"How was your day, brother?" and "Got yourself a nice dress?" and "Marchesa? Not bad." Were the most intelligible words I could make out of the cacophony that descended upon us.

And it suddenly downed on me. Neither Wanda nor Loki had previously left for the city on their own. Their siblings were worried. I sighed, concealing my happiness behind a quiet complaint of being cold and wet. My bags were picked up by Thor who abandoned his game in favour of greeting his brother with a hug. Surprisingly, Loki didn't refuse and let Thor embrace him and relieve us of our items to deposit them out of the way.

"Cold," Wanda whined, stripping off her damp sweater to reveal simple black leggings and tee underneath.

"Wet," Loki mumbled, gathering a ball of green magic to dry out his dripping hair.

"Gross," I said, walking straight into Tony's open arms. He didn't say anything, just indicated my place was in his lap, squeaking and shivering as soon as I reached my destination.

"Baby girl, you're gonna get sick. Let's go take a bath," He unsuccessfully attempted to lift my limp body. I groaned in protest, dead on my feet. It felt like I had walked a thousand miles. Wasn't gonna remove myself from a warm, soft Tony.

"I'm dead, like, I'm a zombie. If you move me, I'll eat that sexy brain of yours," I threatened fitfully.

"Well, at least change out of these clothes. You're dripping me in gross, polluted rain water," The engineer laughed.

"Lazy," I replied, nestling myself closer to his warmth. He tugged on my clothes, wrestling me out of the top layers, leaving me shivering like a newborn kitten across his lap. His eyes darted across the room - evidently, he was looking for some sort of a hoodie as he wasn't wearing one at the time. Tony knew how much I loved those and always kept one in his vicinity. Thoughtful, lovely Tony.

"Have you seen my MIT sweatshirt?" He asked and everyone replied negative. Tony frowned.

"Here, have mine," Strange stood up, unzipping and handing me his own plain grey one. "I'll make some herbal tea for the girls least they actually get sick." With that, the grumpy doctor walked off into the kitchen. I watched his broad back retreat with renewed interest. Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave...

One warm hoodie and hot tea later, I was feeling less like a drowned cat and more like the fabulous human being that I was. Wanda had told everyone about her two cute new dresses without actually revealing the idea behind her costume. Somehow all of us silently agreed to surprise each other after I pulled my stunt on Stephen.

Strange didn't seem to be mad at me; his presence was amiable and delightful. He made usual small talk and we engaged in a brief, friendly battle of the wits and he and Tony managed to not piss off each other too much. Loki and Wanda hung nearby, and we chatted, too, mostly about less popular but very cool movies the three of us could watch... Yeah, so we were arranging a sleepover. Bite me.

"So, everyone ready for the party?" Clint was all but bouncing in his seat. "Me and Sammy-boy, we'll have the coolest costumes!" He exclaimed, smirking in Tony and Bruce's direction. Something was coming, something great, from my two boys. I could sense it. Natasha probably knew and tattled to Clint already. The bird bros fist-bumped with an obnoxious cheer.

I was feeling drowsy. The tea Strange made had something calming in it. My usual energetic spirit was gone, replaced by a mellow sort of mood. Plus, my feet hurt from all the walking. I moaned in distaste, flexing my toes.

"I disagree," Wanda shared a secretive smile with Loki and me.

Apparently, my discomfort was quite obvious. It took only another quiet, pitiful groan from me for Bruce to scoot closer, remove my socks and tenderly knead the arch of my foot. He smiled at me, soft and gentle, pressing the pads of his fingers into the soft, painful spots.

"Yeah, Pigeon, no amount of make-up will help that ugly mug," Tony declared with a wave of his hand.

"Tony!" Sam defended his bird bro, tossing a pillow at the engineer and missing me by barely an inch.

"You don't need any make-up, bird. You need plastic surgery." I jumped on the bully Clint bandwagon for the lolz. He was actually quite handsome, but his reactions always were fucking priceless. All of us occasionally ruffled his feathers but never to an actually hurtful extent.

"Not gonna lie, that one hurt." Barton huffed, crossing his arms.

Meanwhile, Bruce had moved onto my other foot. I had to hold in a bunch of very lewd, inappropriate noises. Tony was grinning above me, not at all affected by me squirming around. Banner grinned back at the engineer. They were definitely plotting something.

That just wouldn't do, I decided. Time to throw Rick and Morty off their course a little. I stretched leisurely, allowing the hem of my borrowed hoodie to lift, exposing an inch too much of skin than strictly appropriate.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Steve's arched eyebrow and the small secretive smirk he hid behind a cup of tea. The Captain wasn't as virtuous as the others thought and he definitely was onto me.

Bruce still wreaked havoc on my vestibular system by doing some magical voodoo shit to my toes and traded suspicious grins with Tony who radiated an unfair amount of smugness.

"Oh my God," I stretched with a moan of contentment. "Fucking rail me." I might have used this particular choice of words on purpose. The Avengers that memed with me knew the actual meaning but they were in the minority. Most, including Tony and Bruce, gasped in shock at my choice of words. I grinned innocently. "What?"

"We don't use that kind of language around here!" Steve exclaimed, barely hiding a full-fledged laugh behind his cup.

"Cap, a lot has changed in the past seventy years, if you didn't notice," Barton rolled his eyes. "Women are allowed to express themselves now."

"Men think it's pretty hot, actually," Tony remarked, giving me one of his positively mischievous smiles, gently stroking my cheek and dipping his index finger under the hem of my top, following the lines of my collarbone. "It's just that Cap got left out in the cold."

"Very funny, Tony," Steve groaned as the rest of the group laughed. "We don't need a repeat of the WAP incident."

I choked on my breath. "The WHAT incident?!"

Laughter drowned out Steve's stuttering explanation as the supersoldier blushed, possibly, the most saturated shade of scarlet I'd ever seen on a human's face. I had to stop Bruce from continuing to make my limbs into Jell-O, wanting to hear the full story clearly. Anything that warranted such a strong reaction from Steve was bound to be, like, equal parts extremely embarrassing and hilarious. Bucky was laughing up a storm, a tell-tale sign of him having taken direct actions to ensure Steve would be as confused and ashamed as possible.

"Steve caught Peter listening to the song and asked him about it. Peter refused to answer at first, so Bucky decided to mess with Steve a bit," Pietro began explaining. "So Bucky goes: WAP stands for wasted academic potential. Steve sits on it a couple of days, believing his boyfriend like the naïve old man he is," Pietro was gesturing vividly, arms flailing, as the Captain buried his face in his hands. "Lo and behold, Steve had to give a Captain America speech at some sort of school for delinquent children. And at the end of it all - Natasha has that bit on video, by the way - he gives his stern Captain look and goes "WAP is no joke!"!" The speedster laughed out loud along with everybody.

I was howling at that point, staring at Steve. Did the old man realize all the answers to his questions were a simple Google search away? "NO, he didn't, oh my God," I wheezed, suddenly having realized where it was going.

"He totally did!" Clint continued, giving Pietro a fond look and a chance to catch his breath. "The whole student population was laughing, tears rolling down their faces, as the principal started angrily ranting right in Steve's face. And he was just so, so-o confused. Man, his face..." Clint shook his head. "He left so freaking red in the face I thought he was going to have a heart attack. The students had started singing the song, the uncensored version - mind you - at some point and Steve just progressively got redder and redder."

"I'm seventy percent Irish, I can't help it!" Steve cried in his own defense, the famous blush on full display, but laughing nonetheless as he clutched onto his left boob for dear life.

"And one hundred percent dumbass!" Bucky clapped his boyfriend on the shoulder.

I nodded along, me and Tony a howling pile of limbs. The engineer himself was holding onto me for dear life, too winded to make any of his usual snarky commentary regarding Steve's epic failure. "Pure of heart, dumb of ass," I wheezed out my sudden realization.

"Shit, I'm getting that on a t-shirt," Tony sent himself into another cackle fest. "That's brilliant, Princess."

Bucky nodded along, "I'm buying one for this punk." He pointed at Steve, poking him in the right pec.

"Jerk," Steve's gaze was annoyed but fond as he gently shoved his boyfriend before placing a gentle kiss atop his head. Old people in love, so adorable.

"May I request one for my brother as well?" Loki interjected, eyebrow raised, eyeing Thor trying to pry open a carton of ice cream and failing to notice the little plastic lid covering the top part of it. The blonde was utterly oblivious both to his brother and to the chaos around him, set on his quest for salted caramel pecan creamy goodness. I couldn't say I didn't see the appeal...

"What did you call - himbos?" Stephen eyed me curiously, pointing to Thor and Steve with a shaky hand.

I nodded in response. "Harmless, loveable, kind, beefy and utter dumbasses," I pointed out the main characteristics. "I love himbos."

"You said my brain was sexy," Tony pouted, pressing me closer to him and in turn, making my legs wrap around Bruce in a funny way that brought all three of us in a weird sandwich hug. I must've died and gone to heaven once again. "This is bullshit," And Tony fuckin' bit me. The bastard sunk his teeth into my shoulder strong enough to leave a mark.

"I love big, fat brains. Unf," My attempt at a salacious voice only made people laugh. "No PhD, no pussy. I don't make the rules," I snorted loudly.

"You and your old man kink," Wanda chuckled good-naturedly, casting me a knowing glance over the tops of her friends' heads.

"Yes," I agreed solemnly, pulling Tony in for a kiss without an ounce of shame or reservation, catching Stephen's amused face meeting my eyes for a brief second, his eyebrow raised meaningfully. Looked like someone took my comment a little close to heart. Nobody really batted an eye at Bruce being in the middle of our cuddle puddle so if I had to guess, Stephen Strange was at least interested... Or was he silently judging me?

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

[starkerforlife6969]

Pre-Starker. Peter is Nat’s little Brother

It’s nice, Tony thinks, all of them living in the tower together.

It curls warmly in his heart, the sight of Bucky glaring at the coffee maker, or Steve watching some documentary. He likes seeing Wanda and Vision baking cookies, or Clint out on the balcony shooting tracking arrows at pigeons for one of Bruce’s migration studies.

It feels a lot like…(family).

Not that’d he’d ever say it aloud.

He feels like he knows everyone better now. Thor’s not there all the time, but he drops down for a few weeks every couple of months, with some new drinking game and stories about huge battles he won that Tony knows he must exaggerate.

In fact, he thinks he knows everyone pretty well- everyone except-

Natasha.

Which is ironic, considering he’s known her the longest.

But she’s a mysterious person, that’s her shtick. He’s prodded and poked at the facade, but like him, she’s very tightly wound, and every inch she seems to give, is actually a metre she’s taken to ensure she’s still guarded. Still protected.

Even after combing unashamedly through SHIELD’s files, Tony’s still not sure about her past. A lot of spy work, but no family on record, no real name on record. Sure, Russian ancestry she says, and he’s certain he’s heard her speaking it on the phone from time to time, but he’s not really sure.

He doesn’t mind too much, because he’s the same. No matter how much he loves Bruce, Tony will never let slip the nights he’d go out to that road and sit there and think of his mom. No matter how much he loves Steve, he won’t ever say that sometimes the resentment he felt as a kid over his dad’s obsession eats him up inside. He won’t tell Vision that losing JARVIS was one of the hardest things he ever had go through, or tell Thor that every time he leaves it aches deep.

He won’t divulge his need to succeed, to prove himself, to anyone. Not even himself.

So, he understands Natasha. He thinks that because they’re so similar- she probably understands him too.

“Easy there, cowboy,” Tony chuckles, knocking Bucky out of the way to sort the coffee machine out for him as the early morning sun shines into the penthouse kitchen.

Bucky grumbles but moves easily. There’s a bowl of cornflakes in a bowl, half eaten, and Tony feels warm again at the domestic ease of it all. “Coffee’s supposed to be easy,” Bucky mutters, not for the first time, still bleary eyed, but he mutters a thanks when Tony hands him a fresh brew, and hunches over his bowl as he makes his way to the couch.

Tony rolls his eyes, and pours himself a cup. “Where’s Nat?” He asks, because she’s the one who normally makes Bucky his coffee. She wakes up first, always, then Bucky, then Tony, and then the rest whenever they feel like it.

“Someone buzzed for her at reception, I think,” Bucky says around a yawn, losing himself to the Saturday morning cartoons.

But Tony freezes. Someone called for Nat at reception? On a Saturday morning before 8am?

He’s grinning and heading for the elevator before it’s too late.

“Nat with anyone down at reception, Friday?” He asks eagerly, as the elevator takes him down.

“Yes.” Friday says mysteriously, and nothing more.

Tony laughs in surprise, gesturing expectantly. “Well…gonna ID them for me? Anything other than that?”

There’s silence for a moment, before Friday replies: “They don’t match anyone on my database, Sir. I’m running an extended scan but I’m unable to find a match.”

Of course. The plot thickens. Off-the-grid friends? Ex-spies? A Nick Fury who’s found a way to hide his face from diagnostics? Tony’s keen to find out.

When he gets to the ground floor, there are only a few people around. His receptionist, a few cleaners, a few scientists and interns dotted around here and there enjoying a coffee for an early start, or stumbling home after an all nighter, and there, sure enough, the shock of red hair gets his attention.

Natasha’s standing near the revolving doors, talking to a-

Tony frowns.

It’s a boy.

A young boy, a college student if his attire’s anything to go by- he’s got a backpack on, and tight jeans with oversized pink flannel. He’s bathed in the white light of morning, and he’s beautiful. Loose curls, hickory highlights and eyes of honey.

Tony can’t quite piece it all together. Does Natasha have a young lover?

He saunters over; straining his ears.

He hears Natasha say: “I know you do, solnyshko, but Mr Stark is really busy.”

Which is weird because Nat’s never called him Mr anything. Moron? Sure. Pain in her ass? Most definitely. Tony Stank on one awful occasion, but never Mr Stark.

So, he smiles, straightens his shirt, and clears his throat.

She whirls around so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t get a knife to the throat, but when she sees him- there’s something naked on her face. Something he’s never seen before- something she doesn’t quite school fast enough. The bare emotion of fear. It’s so painfully human that he suddenly regrets coming downstairs- regrets intruding on whatever this is-

“Oh my god! Oh my god! You’re Tony Stark!” Comes the ecstatic voice of the college student, and Tony doesn’t have time to say sorry, because the boy is stepping forward and gushing about how much he admires Tony, which is, you know, pretty great. The boy’s so pretty, with sharp cheekbones and long lashes-

“The very same,” Tony grins, holding out a hand. “And who might you be?”

Natasha cuts in smoothly, face back to fairly impassive. “Mr Stark, this is Peter, he’s a big fan of all your work- both scientific and Ironman-relevant.”

Peter and nothing more. How do they know each other? And she’s still calling him Mister Stark. Peter nods so forcefully it ruffles all the curls on his head. “I’ve ready everything you’ve written, Mr Stark! And Ironman- I have like- all the posters!”

Tony resists the urge to pull Peter closer where their hands are joined. He knows exactly what he’d do if he’d found this boy at a club, tug him closer and use that hero-worship to have quite the night but-

Natasha’s shifting. Almost imperceptibly. She’s uncomfortable. Her eyes are subtly raking over the lobby as if waiting for someone else to walk in-

Tony helps her out. “Well, Peter, any friend of Ms. Romanov’s is a friend of mine. Apply for an internship at SI and I’d be happy to look over your CV myself, I’m sure we have a position here for you in some department.”

He does mean to help, but the look he gets from Nat feels like he should be murdered on the spot for his generous offer. Well damn, he tried. He called her Ms Romanov.

“An internship?” Peter whispers, eyes-wide and jaw slack. “I will, Mr Stark! Thank you-“

“He’s very busy, Peter,” Nat reminds, voice gentle, and Peter nods, cut short from going onto another long ramble over how much he respects Tony. “You should go,” she urges softly, and Peter nods- but not before he tiptoes and throws his arms around her for a hug.

If Tony were drinking coffee, he’d spit it out.

Natasha ignores him, and wraps her arms around the boy, one hand cradling the back of his head, fingers buried in the curls, and Tony might be seeing things, but he’s sure she kisses his forehead and murmurs something like: “Be safe. I’ll call you later.”

“Love you too,” Peter beams, not at all covert, so whatever it is she’s hiding, Peter doesn’t know it’s a secret, that much is clear. Or he’s just very bad at keeping secrets which seems…unlikely for someone who apparently loves Natasha. And, if the soft voice and worried eyes are anything to go by, is loved in return. “It was an honour meeting you, Mr Stark Sir!” And then he’s out of the revolving doors and into the city’s bustling morning.

Neither of them speak for a moment, they just breathe: waiting.

Tony breaks the silence. “A friend of yours?” He asks breezily, and Natasha squares her shoulders and turns to look him right in the face.

She feels taller than him. She must be wearing heels. Or Tony’s thoroughly intimidated. “Tony,” she mutters, shaking her head, “we have an understanding, you and I, right? That sometimes you leave well enough alone. That you trust me when I tell you- you don’t need to know anymore.”

He nods slowly, wondering if he’s being manipulated. It’s hard to tell with Nat. It’s one of the reasons he likes her so much. She’s as good as deferring as he is. Good at distracting people with irrelevant things to squirrel away the crux of the matter. As it is, he’s content to let it lie. “Fine by me. Does anyone else know anything?”

He’ll be a little jealous if they do. She shakes her head, eyes hard. “It’ll stay that way.”

He crosses his heart, and thinks no more of it.

* Oh sure fine, he scans everywhere for a Peter at any of the nearby college’s but there are thousands and Friday can’t seem to match anyone to the boy in reception from earlier. It’s like his face is scrambled and Tony’s sure Natasha’s protecting him.

For what? The boy had seemed harmless enough. Unless he’s some sort of ex-Hydra mind controlled operative, which seems unlikely, there must be another reason.

Family, is Tony’s first thought. You do for family.

But he’s not sure Romanov is her real name and Peter Romanov or even Pietro brings nothing up. Blank. Suspiciously blank.

Tony sighs, and decides to actually let it lie.

*

But then it happens again, another accident.

His muscles ache and it’s nearly three am when he leaves the lab. Sleep has finally demanded his attention, and he’s headed to his bedroom when he feels a cool breeze ruffle the sweaty strands of hair pressed against his neck.

He frowns and heads to the balcony, but all the doors are sealed.

The wind blows again, so he follows it up the stairs towards the roof and sure enough, lit by the light of New York, is Peter.

He’s sitting on the ledge, a bowl of cereal in his palm, spoon in his other hand, gesturing wildly about something or other, so milk sloshes dangerously around each side.

Natasha comes into view too, she’s in her pyjamas unlike Peter who’s wrapped up warm in a coat, and she’s carrying a box of Lucky Charms. She laughs; face unguarded, relaxed in a way Tony’s never seen. He watches, hidden by the shadows, as she pours more cereal into Peter’s bowl until it’s teeming with sugary tokens.

Peter laughs, gesturing her away. “I’m not that hungry!”

“You’re too thin is what you are,” she teases lightly, sitting right beside him.

Tony sees it then, in that moment. The sharp cut of their jawlines, the delicate slender slope of their noses- siblings.

Natasha has a little brother. He feels winded.

“And you’re sure Mr Stark won’t mind us being up here?”

She rolls her eyes. “No one ever comes up here. Besides, it’s one of the perks in being his personal assistant.”

Peter shakes his head in awe. “That is so cool. You have the coolest job ever.”

It’s like a heavy punch to the gut. His personal assistant? Natasha has never been that- not even when she technically was, she wasn’t really. Not for years. She’s lying to her brother.

Tony can understand why, of course. To keep him safe. It also has the double benefit of making sure that even if Peter were captured, he wouldn’t be able to say anything.

Tony thinks it’s probably more so for the former reason.

He heads back down, shaking his head and trying to picture it. Natasha with a little brother. As a protective older sister. Making sure he does his homework, inside jokes, beating up bullies, making sure he eats, texting him. All normal things. He struggles to piece it into one person.

* Over scrambled eggs on brown toast, Tony brings it up.

“What’s your brother’s major?” He asks innocently.

Natasha takes a mean bite out of the corner of her toast, as if she wishes the bread were Tony’s jugular. She chews deliberately slowly, and then swallows. “Tony.” She says warningly, and he shrugs, lifting up his hands in innocence.

But he’s never known when to quit. “Science? Engineering? Give me a hint.” The kid had gushed over everything Tony had written, he must know at least a little bit of science. Plus, Nat’s always been scarily rational. “Math?”

She sets down her breakfast, and folds her hands under her chin. She doesn’t speak. She just stares.

He refuses to sweat under her glower. “You know you can trust me, right?” He says, more softly.

Her face softens at that, and she returns to her breakfast, looking at is as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I know that, Tony. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Peter.”

“He thinks you’re my personal assistant.”

She doesn’t ask how he knows. Just takes it in stride, like she does with most things. “Yes.”

“You’re protecting him?”

Her eyes gleam. “Always.” She says fiercely, and Tony’s struck by the strength of it. He’s never had any siblings, any close friends like that. Someone to look out for him, always, something in his blood. He has Rhodey, but Rhodey’s never needed protecting. It’s different. He’s never known his whole life with someone loving him as ferociously as Natasha loves Peter.

“I could protect him too,” Tony offers, going for off-hand and light-hearted, even as her eyes, razor-sharp, dart to his face. He busies himself by sprinkling black pepper over his eggs. “You’ve done a pretty good job hiding him from the database, but I could add a whole other level of protection. Keep him off everything for good. No one could ever get their hands on him.”

She’s silent for a while. Pondering it. She’s not stupid enough to reject it outright through sheer stubbornness. “You would do that?” She asks tentatively, and Tony scoffs.

“Of course, I would. I’d do anything for you.”

The look she gives him makes him feel warm. Like maybe he’s her older brother.

“He would probably die for the chance to meet you,” she muses, before smiling in that way that says she’s given in. “If I introduced you, you could never tell anyone, Tony, I mean it. Not if we fight, not if you’re trying to get to me, I would destroy you.”

He thrums with excitement, even as his brain says: maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

* For obvious reasons, Nat doesn’t want to bring Peter to the penthouse.

Instead, she and Tony find themselves on the jet to MIT.

“MIT, really?” He scoffs at her, “my terf! And you didn’t even tell me!”

“Don’t pout.” She hums, looking out of the window. “He’s very smart. Smarter than you, for sure.”

Tony blinks affrontedly. Before he shrugs her off.“You would say that. You’re biased.”

“He’s majoring in Aeronautics and Mathematics, and he’s averaging an A in Jefferson’s class.”

“Bullshit,” Tony gapes, “no one gets an A in Jefferson’s class.” He knows the old bullfrog wouldn’t give a student an A if his life depended on it. It was something of a legend back in Tony’s day to try. He’s not surprised the man’s still there. Like a statue, probably embedded into the building’s heart.

She smiles smugly. “Peter does.”

“Peter does,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice. They enjoy silence for a moment, before he clears his throat to ruin it: “Your brother, he’s…eighteen?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Right, right,” he nods, phew. “He’s very…pretty.”

“Tony.”

“Of course, I wasn’t gonna try anything-“

“Jesus,” she rolls her eyes, but her tone is firm. “Do you have to try and get in the pants of everything that moves?”

“Not everything. Just very pretty things. And I never said I was going to try, I was just making an observation. Anyone could see it. You’ve got some great family genes.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to say it, Tony, but touch my brother, and I will kill you.”

He slouches in his seat and sighs. Beautiful and smart and completely off limits. He’s sure he’ll have no problem adhering to that rule.

[justlostinautumn]

The Assistant 11/?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Avengers x Reader (Fury/adopted-daughter) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A girl trying to hide her past who was adopted by Nick Fury, but cared for by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Being Tony’s assistant and asked to help the rest of the team. She doesn’t remember much from her past, but maybe working with this group of misfits will help knock a few memories loose and open some doors to the past. -- Sorry if this sucks!

A/N: Please send me thoughts on where you want to see this imagine go… or ideas for new stories! 

Wanda, Bucky and Y/N walked back into the living room about over an hour later. A heated argument was going on in the living room as people shouted to be heard over one another.

“You can’t be allowing this?” Steve was furious.

“This is the best way to get all the information,” Nat argued.

“You don’t know that maybe she is still working for them and this is a ploy to get both Wanda and Bucky,” Sam argued.

Wanda stiffened next to Y/N as red flickered around her. Y/N grabbed Wanda’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze and they walked into the room, red not fully leaving Wanda’s eyes.

“You want me to stay here?” Y/N tilted her head, eyes giving nothing away as she stared Steve down and Bucky moved closer to her.

“Yes!” He hissed, Y/N flinched slightly but set her jaw and her eyes hardened.

“You want information and I don’t trust you to get it out of me. I’ve been here before and the last time I was almost killed. I don’t trust you.” She spoke coldly and Steve flinched at her tone.

“Your mission was to steal Bucky for your family,” Steve growled. “How can we trust you won’t take them there?”

“You think Wanda would allow me close to Barnes if that was the case? Did I forget to mention the information I was tortured for was about your beloved Winter Soldier and you lot? I would’ve died to keep the secrets I knew and you stand there saying you don’t trust me.” She snorted, her voice was getting colder by the minute.

“What do you know?” Bruce looked at her.

“Everything, the serum you made to become the Hulk, where you went wrong, Romanov’s list, Barton’s full story… the list is long and it’s not all from Nick. You really think HYDRA didn’t have files on all of you?” She looked at each one of them.

“We can’t let you leave.” Steve stepped forward. Bucky went to move forward but Y/N hand came out to stop him.

“I’d like to see you try.” She growled.

“Roger’s stand down!” Fury shouted.

“She’s a threat,” Steve shouted pointing at Y/N.

“Because I care about your best friend, or is it because he’s been more comfortable with me over my short stay than he has since he got here?” She smirks when Steve growls and charged at her. She knew she was egging him on.

Grabbing his shoulders she sprung herself over his head landing behind him dropping down and swinging her leg around causing him to fall, she quickly pounced and held him down knees pinning his hand, feet digging into his thighs and hand closed around his throat.

“Bitch!” He snarled.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth.” She pouts down at him.

“You know nothing about what he went through,” Steve shouted and she tightened her hold chocking him, people moved forward and she held her hand up indicating she wasn’t afraid to break his neck.

“No, you don’t understand but maybe could show you all? You think James is Bucky from the 40s, he isn’t! Some of you see him as the Winter Soldier from the last 70 years and I can tell you he is definitely not him. Who James is now is someone different, someone learning to live with his past, someone coming to terms with who he is, was and will be. A man who lost 70 years of his life and was controlled, who lost the basic human right of freedom. You pine for someone who died the day he fell off that train and HYDRA pulled him out of that river.” Y/N growled in Steve’s face who looked shocked and looked at Bucky who showed nothing but adoration for the girl pinning his best friend.

“He’s still Bucky, I see it!” Steve cried.

“And I still see the Winter Soldier in some of his actions, but the past is the past, you can’t live in the past Steve. All you can do is learn from it. I am not who I was when I was with HYDRA. Hell, I’m not the same lost 17-year old that Nick saved, or the girl who fell in love with Stark and Potts for showing me what unconditional love was, the girl who at 19 was Tony’s full-time babysitter and always subjected to his experiments. I’m not the girl who use to have Friday night family night with Nick and Sunday roast with him and Hill. I’m not the girl my parents raised. I was created to be a monster and maybe I am one. But, even a monster has a heart and the capacity to learn and evolve. In HYDRA I learnt from my past and from James I learnt my future, a future free from this.” Y/N spoke softly letting go of Steve’s neck and hands and was now just straddling his thighs as she watched tears streaming down his face. She looked around and saw the sad faces looking at her.

“I can show you she’s telling you the truth,” Wanda spoke up and looked at all of them and then to Y/N who nodded saying it was okay.

They were all sat in the conference room, this was a kind of venerability Y/N wasn’t sure she was ready for. But, they were right only Wanda, Bucky, Pepper and Fury trusted her 100%. Tony was on the fence, he had seen what she could do and who knew the girl before she got the majority of her memories back… but, he wasn’t sure who she was now and the rest didn’t trust her as far as they could throw her.

“Are you ready?” Wanda asked her.

“The sooner this is done, the sooner we can leave.” Y/N squeezed her and Bucky’s hand. Wanda moved behind her placing her hands on Y/N temples and projected the images out so everyone could see it all.

A gasp filled a room as images of faceless women and men scream at Y/N holding belts, knives, guns and needles. Pain filled them at each weapon they used against the girl, the sound of electrical charges filled the room as well as a blood-curdling scream causing them all to cry as they heard a child sob and beg for the pain to stop and they could hear cackling and a voice saying again. The images change, the team recognise the HYDRA base in Siberia and they see her training with the other Super Soldiers all at once, knocking them down and out without breaking a sweat. It flicks to her throwing up after eating, to them injecting her, attempting to wipe her, to her meeting Bucky for the first time.

It showed her following him around, going on missions with him, her correcting his errors in training and pushing to be the best. The image of a tender moment of Bucky cooking for her, telling her things he remembers about his past, about Steve and Brooklyn. Fear fills them all and they then suddenly feel comfort and they watch as Bucky soothes her. A warm feeling fills their chest… love. They can see her mind change, the dream of getting them out and finding someone to help. The last images were the Soldier setting her free and her begging him to come with her, the image of her running and being caught and tortured for information about everything. It showed them no matter what she wasn’t saying anything, that she wouldn’t say anything. Finally, they saw her being found by SHIELD and finding comfort in Nick, of her meeting Pepper and Tony, the feeling of admiration as she watches Tony work and happiness when she makes Pepper laugh or smile. The sense of pride when she gets Fury to admit he loves her. Then Wanda’s face appears in front of them and all they felt was the warmth family brings and finally, Bucky’s face fills the room and their hearts were about to burst with the amount of love she felt and a flicker of a memory of her taking a bullet and a stab wound for him. Of her pulling him to safety and ensuring he survived. Her sobbing when they put him in Cryo and her killing Agents who were trying to take her out of the room.

Wanda pulled away and they all stared at the girl who was now standing looking at all the tear stricken faces.

“There’s your truth.” She looked a shocked Steve.

“We didn’t know.” He said softly, blushing slightly.

“You’re an awful liar.” She sighs, “I know you saw the tapes of my training, you were angry and jealous.”

“I’m sorry,” He has the grace to look ashamed.

“Sorry is just a word, it’s like saying I promise. They both mean nothing until your actions back it up.” She spoke calmly.

“We shouldn’t have doubted you.” Clint looked down at his hands.

“It’s fine, but it doesn’t mean I’m staying here. I don’t want to be here.” She spoke slowly.

“Little One.” Nick spoke, “Go and just let me know you are okay, promise me that please.”

“I would have anyway Dad, it’s not a promise I need to make.” she smiles softly walking over to him and hugging him tightly.

“I love you Little One.” He smirks at her.

“I knew it!” She laughs and kisses his cheek.

“Come on Sestra!” Wanda smiled, throwing her arm over my shoulder.

“Wanda!” Pietro called.

“Yes?” She looked at her brother who hugged her and whispered in her ear in Russian.

“Do you still want to come?” She looked at Bucky allowing Wanda a moment to say goodbye to her twin.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Bucky tilted his head and looked her in the eye.

“Because your friends are here. I’m just some girl from the past.” She sighed frowning hating the uncertainty, she bared her soul and undying love for this man. Y/N was petrified he would reject her.

Bucky stood up looking at her and took a deep breath before he answered.  

Tags:

@jay-the-mothafuckin-gay, @dark-night-sky-99, @jsmith509, @stormi-ames

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 10/?, Words: 56.845

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

---

The moment Tony finds out about Obadiah, all his meticulously laid plans of revenge and reparation evaporate into thin air. He had been prepared to fire his entire board of directors, to weed out scientists, to go up against the military. Not once has he thought this could be personal.

Instant denial builds up inside him. It turns his limbs heavy and his mind slow. Obadiah would not betray him. Throughout all the cold years of Tony’s childhood, he has been more of a father to Tony than Howard. He has always been the one who understood Tony.

Tony is used to people only ever wanting him for what he can offer them; money, fame, tech. While Obadiah happily took Tony’s ideas to turn them into more profit for the company, that has never been all there was between them. They are family.

Despite the dread of proving this true – even if he trusted Steve, he would not just believe information like this – Tony gets to work. The evidence Steve sent him is conclusive. Tony knows Obadiah’s phone number by heart. On top of the terror of seeing it and the whole long minutes he talked with the Avengers, it hurts that Obadiah did not even think to use a burner phone for this, feeling so sure about Tony rolling over and slinking out of the picture as he was supposed to.

At least, Tony assumes he was supposed to vanish quietly. He is not sure to what end other than Obadiah being in line of becoming the company’s CEO once more. Their success is built on Tony’s ideas, though. That is probably why Obadiah needed the USB drive, to tide him over until he kicked R&D back into proper shape.

Tony is getting ahead of himself here. All he knows is that Obadiah hired the Avengers. Nobody said anything about killing Tony. Perhaps the plan really was to only get the drive and let Tony be handled roughly. It might have pushed him into more defensive gear or guns that are easily concealed. Perhaps Obadiah ordered them outright not to harm Tony but the Avengers went ahead and did it anyway.

Even Tony’s great talent for delusion does not let him spin this into something harmless or an accident.

Pepper finally brings him back the data from Stark Industries’ internal servers, and Tony is hesitant to go through it even before he finds the dozens of shipping logs and names like Raza and the Ten Rings, and Obadiah’s metaphorical fingerprints all over it. For good measure, he finally lets JARVIS hijack the servers and watches him tear through them with a curious detachment, watches the condemning files pile up, undermining the very foundation Tony has built his life on.

It is true then. Obadiah did not just send the mob after Tony, he has also been selling their weapons to anyone willing to buy. The logs go back years. This was happening even when Howard was still alive.

Feeling the damning need to laugh, Tony wonders what his godfather is thinking about him shutting down the weapons manufacturing. That is, apparently, what Obadiah built both his lives on, the official one where he is Stark Industries’ CFO, and the secret one where he is filling his offshore accounts with money from illegal weapons trades.

Even in Tony’s head, this sounds ridiculous. Enough so that he refuses the actual danger Obadiah might pose to him right now. He hired the mob once to get his hands on Tony’s work. Now that Tony all but ruined his livelihood, there is no telling what he might do. Somehow not even Tony’s enormous talent for denial is enough to convince himself that Obadiah will not do anything.

Considering the sheer amount of evidence he found, there is no more hiding from this. All Tony has to do is pack it all up and hand it over to the authorities. He will have to watch his godfather being led away in handcuffs after strangers go through Stark Industries’ data, upturning all the ugly truths of what has been happening here.

It is the right thing to do to stop the illegal distribution of his weapons and to ensure his own safety. Instead, he has JARVIS saving all of it, queues it to be printed, and saves it again on a separate USB drive. He is fond of those. Then, in the true cowardly fashion of a Stark, he turns off his computers and walks right out of his workshop, giving in to the need to hide his head in the sand for a while longer, at least until the roiling nausea has passed and this knowledge does not turn every breath into an act of labour anymore.

“Sir?” JARVIS asks, not specifying what he means.

Everything is in disarray now. It is impossible to know where to best set his next steps.

“It’s all right, J,” Tony says, not recognizing his own voice. It is a quiet monotone, sounding like he is suffocating on the truth he has just read. “I’ll take care of it. I just – I need some time to think about it.”

“It is unwise to sit on this information too long,” JARVIS says with as much disapproval as eagerness to start acting. He sounds almost vengeful but Tony cannot muster up any pride for that. “Especially with –”

“I know,” Tony interrupts him, sharper than he intended. With how shattered he feels inside, it is no surprise that he cuts anyone coming too close. That is why he needs time. He cannot deal with this while he is falling apart.

Never do business while you’re emotional, his mother had told him once after they watched Howard ruin a business deal during dinner, drunk and angry like he often was. It makes you lose focus.

While Tony feels numb, he knows that, soon enough, the realization will hit and with it the betrayal. He wants to deal with this, but he cannot do so if he turns into a sobbing mess at the mere sight of Obadiah, capably only of one, devastating question: Why?

Tony knows why, just as much as he does not. Money and family. He thought the latter would always outweigh greed. That is only true, of course, if Obadiah ever considered them family too.

“Do you want me to call someone?” JARVIS asks, nearly turning it into an ultimatum. Either Tony is reasonable and does not shoulder this on his own, or JARVIS will snitch to someone to help him.

Under different circumstances, Tony would be glad for his AI’s initiative – well, that is not true. He is never actually happy to let other people in, not even those he trusts. Vulnerability is not something Howard allowed under his roof and old habits die hard.

“How big are my chances of Pepper listening if I send her on vacation?” Tony asks instead of answering JARVIS’ question. It is meant as a distraction for both of them, something to hold onto instead of thinking about his godfather.

“Considering recent events, non-existent,” JARVIS says, voice distinctly chiding. “Do you want me to inform her of your findings?”

It is a giant stroke of luck that Pepper got the USB drive without finding the information herself, without going digging.

“No,” Tony exclaims quickly, all the air in his lungs rushing out with the word. “Just – no.”

He cannot talk to Pepper. She will look at the evidence and believe it, and then she will act. Contrary to him, she does not let emotions keep her from doing what is right. Tony is not ready to act, not ready to face this shame. He also does not want to drag her into this. Obadiah has already proven that he is not above hurting those he is supposed to protect, and Tony cannot risk putting Pepper in danger.

“Keep an eye on her,” Tony orders. “If Obadiah gets in any way close to her or appears suspicious, alert me and make sure she stays safe.”

Safe from his godfather. What has the world come to? Tony is understanding it less than ever before. He always considered few things set in stone, and now even those are crumbling, and he with them.

“All right, sir,” JARVIS replies but sounds like he has more to say.

He does not approve of Tony’s inactiveness, and he is right. Obadiah is a wild card since Tony obviously does not know him at all.

Tony slowly makes his way to his bedroom, too restless to sleep but wanting to withdraw somewhere safe. Leaving the lights off, he sits down on his bed, feeling more alone than he has in a long time.

Obadiah. His godfather. All those memories of laughing together, of sneaking into Howard’s workshop, of leading the company together – all of that was a lie. A lie to enable Obadiah to amass more money for himself, not caring about the bodies he created, the blood he spilled. All of it on Tony’s back, guiding him right where he can do the most damage and therefore the most profit.

Nausea roars in Tony’s stomach. He thinks of Barnes’ missing arm, of dozens of news stories, of the statistics passing his desk every month. That is his doing. Obadiah might distribute the weapons, but Tony makes them. All this death comes from his brain, his hands.

“Sir,” JARVIS speaks up but he sounds like he is very far away. “Your heartbeat is picking up.”

Tony slashes his hand through the air, unable to say anything but needing JARVIS to stop speaking anyway. He does not need help, does not need anyone telling him this is not his fault. It is. It does not matter that he did not pull any trigger himself. He was blind to what was going on. Perhaps he could have seen what was happening if he had not buried himself under work and sex and alcohol. If he had not trusted blindly. He, Tony Stark, who is notorious for trusting no one.

Perhaps Steve was right. Perhaps all of the Avengers were right. He did not keep an eye on his weapons and people got hurt.

In a way, he now relishes the lingering pain in his own body. It anchors him, keeps his thoughts from wandering too much. He is still here. There is no ignoring the fact that he messed up, but he is going to make this right. As much as he is able to, considering all the damage that is already done.

Tony gets out his phone and stares at the dark screen for a long moment. He does not want to talk. At the same time, his throat is constricted with the building pressure of needing to let it all out.

He does not ask JARVIS to dial for him, does not want to admit that his AI is right that Tony should not be alone at the moment. He also does not quite know who he is calling. Scrolling through his contacts, his finger hovers over Steve’s name, too long to be a coincidence.

It is ridiculous. Steve is not going to help. He is not going to make the gaping hole in Tony’s thoughts any better. No matter their truce or that Tony would not even know about Obadiah yet without Steve, they are not friends. They are barely even allies. Talking to Steve will not solve anything. It will only give the throbbing soul bond more validation.

With a contemptuous snort, Tony scrolls up and finds Rhodey’s contact. He is not quite ready to submit himself to his best friend’s worry, but he is drowning in this silence with only his thoughts as company.

The dial tone rings in his ear, a distinct judging quality to it. Glancing at the window, Tony realizes it is dark outside. It must be later than he thought. Still, he keeps the phone up, knowing that Rhodey will always pick up when he is needed, be it in the middle of the night or a firefight. Been there, done that.

When the call finally connects, Tony can barely hold back a relieved sigh. How needy he has become.

“Tony?” Rhodey says, sounding like he has just woken up but is quickly growing alert. Late-night calls usually mean problems.

It pains Tony to hear how much trust resounds in that one word, his name. It feels like Rhodey should be allowed to take a large step back from Tony, considering that he, too, has been in more danger due to Tony’s carelessness.

A thought passes through Tony’s head, stabbing like a knife is attached to it. How easily Rhodey could have been killed by his bombs, his bullets. How easily he could have killed his best friend.

Tony swallows, tries to find his voice. He digs his fingers hard into his arm to ground himself. That does not help until his elbow accidentally pushes against his broken ribs. His mouth opens for a pained gasp but he remains silent, hugs himself.

“You can stop looking into the weapons dealing,” Tony finally manages to say, the words tumbling out slowly.

His eyes are closed as he wishes to be anywhere but here. A week ago, his life has been so uncomplicated, running in the ever-same circles. He hates himself a bit for wishing to go back to that despite needing to take responsibility for the present.

“What?” Rhodey’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts but not entirely. “Have you found out who’s doing this?”

“I mean, we still don’t know who is buying them, so maybe don’t stop looking at all,” Tony argues, almost toneless while Obadiah’s name is like a noose around his neck. “I want to round up every single bullet that got handed out to the wrong people.”

That is important, he realizes, and easier to concentrate on than the mess inside his own company. He will take faceless terrorists every day over the smiling memory of his godfather.

“Tony, what is going on?” Rhodey asks, but Tony barely lets him finish his question.

“That’ll be hard, right?” he counters. “Do you think I could hire a private squad or something if the brass doesn’t want to spare their soldiers for this?”

“Tony,” Rhodey barks, loud enough to snap Tony out of his rambling. “I need you to tell me what is going on.”

A thousand other nonsensical arguments lie on his tongue. How to keep the press quiet. How to not go down with Obadiah, since no one is going to believe that Tony is innocent in this.

Tony cannot avoid the inevitable anymore, though. “Obie ordered the hit on me,” he says. If not for the absolute silence between them, his words might have gone unheard as they are merely a whisper. It feels like any more volume would give it more weight too. “He’s been selling my weapons too. I mean, all the evidence points in his direction, but it can’t be true, right? He’s my godfather. He wouldn’t –”

Before Tony can sink into another litany of denial and random pieces of information, Rhodey cuts him off. “What kind of evidence?” he asks, voice sharp and ready to condemn Obadiah on Tony’s word alone.

Tony thinks of all the data he has secured from Obadiah’s phone and computers, of the communication trails, the shipment plans, the offshore accounts. All the numbers he will never be able to forget.

“The kind that is ironclad,” Tony says, weighed down by the admission. The arm around his chest presses against his ribs again. This time, his breath does not even catch as the pain shoots through him.

“Stane is –” Rhodey pauses, then asks, “Are you sure?”

Tony knows Rhodey does not ask because he does not believe Tony. He asks because he has to be sure before he gives in to the rage boiling in the pit of his stomach, just like Tony might once he has gotten over the personal betrayal. Once he does not feel like his entire being is dissolving anymore.

Taking a deep breath, Tony braces himself for the truth. “I’m sure.”

Not missing a beat, Rhodey declares, “I’m on my way.”

It leaves Tony reeling. He feels like there should be some reluctance, some kind of argument. Rhodey’s loyalty is a precious thing, and a big part of Tony is relieved. At the same time, it should not be this easy. Offering his godfather up as the bad guy should be harder than this. Tony cannot even trust himself, so it feels strange that Rhodey would.

“No. You’re not,” Tony says nonetheless, wondering how he can muster the strength to deny himself his best friend’s company. “I need to deal with this myself.”

That is certainly true, but he does not want to be alone. Does not want to face the coming days. He has to, though. Starks are not prone to sentimentality. Letting his arm drop from around his chest, Tony sits up straighter, stares into the darkness of his bedroom. He might still feel untethered but there are more important things to deal with for now than his personal comfort.

“You’re not going to confront the man who sent a hired gang of killers after you alone,” Rhodey argues but achieves nothing but to harden Tony’s resolve.

“They’re not –” he tries to argue, mostly to keep Rhodey occupied while he pieces himself back together.

“Well, I wouldn’t know because you refuse to tell me anything about them, so I have to assume the worst,” Rhodey cuts him off with all the harshness of someone tired of not being allowed to care for the people they love. He has always had little patience for Tony’s self-destructive tendencies. “But I know Stane, and I know that family obviously doesn’t mean anything to him, so you won’t do this alone.”

The echo of a smile pulls at Tony’s lips as he feels warmth spreading through his chest. Yet, he protests. “I’m not yet doing anything.”

That is the hardest part to admit. With anyone else, Tony would have gleefully let law enforcement storm their home and take them into custody. With Obadiah, he needs to know why first. He needs to know what he has done wrong, and how deep the damage goes. Whether, since this has already been going on when Howard was still alive, his father knew.

Tony has a lot of questions and he does not know how to ask them, nor whether he is ready to hear the answers.

“What does that mean?” Rhodey questions, one wrong word away from yelling.

“You should be glad I’m not rushing into anything here,” Tony argues but does not manage the teasing tone he has been aiming for. Perhaps he should not try to pretend everything is all right. Rhodey would look right through it anyway. “I mean, that’s me being responsible, right?”

The short silence that follows is answer enough to that. “Are you alone?” Rhodey then asks with the kind of impatience that means his fingers itch to pack his things and hijack one of the military jets to come home.

“I’m not,” Tony says and wonders what that has to do with anything. He is not going to fall into a bottle or do something stupid without a chaperone. That is why he is calling. “JARVIS is here and –”

Rhodey clicks his tongue, successfully cutting Tony off. “Let me rephrase that. Is Pepper there?”

“You’re not going to tell her,” Tony says slowly, voice brooking no argument. What is most important now is to keep his friends safe. “I can’t risk Obie finding out that she knows.”

That might not stop Obadiah from hurting her, of course. It is no secret that Pepper is the only reason why Tony has not pushed Stark Industries into ruin twice every week since taking over. If Obadiah really wanted to take Tony out of commission, Pepper is the perfect place to start.

“All right,” Rhodey sighs, not happy with it but conceding Tony’s point for now. Then, though, he adds, “I’m still coming.”

Tony shuts his eyes briefly, swallowing a curse. He still wants to say yes, to have someone watching his back here at home. Deciding to step up and take responsibility also means to go about this strategically. Serving Obadiah all the people he cares about on a silver platter is not that.

“No. I need you to find out where my weapons are. I’ll deal with Obadiah,” Tony argues. Softer, he adds, “I can’t have him become suspicious. If he finds out you’ve been rushing here for the second time in a row, it’s – He can’t find out.”

Tony does not do secrecy well. Since he wants this to be over, he is ready to be sensible.

There is a long silence on the other end while Rhodey comes to his decision. In a way, Tony is glad for his best friend’s reluctance.

“I don’t like this,” Rhodey then says, but it is obvious that he is giving in. Reason over emotions. Who would have thought they would ever get here?

“I know.” Tony forces a smile on his lips, even though it remains unseen. It might just help to build himself up. “I’ll tell you if anything changes.”

Hanging up, Tony lets his hand fall, drained of even his last bit of energy. Rhodey’s worry is appreciated but Tony is far beyond that.

What has been only a rumour before is now a fact. Tony’s weapons are out there. He does have blood on his hands – and no idea how to wash it off. He suspects he cannot. If asked, his friends will surely argue that this was not his fault, but they would be wrong. Accountability – that is what he said on live television just earlier this day. That feels like a lifetime ago.

Lying back on his bed, Tony closes his eyes. He does not think he will be able to sleep, does not want to either. That just means that tomorrow will be here much quicker, and with that Tony has to act. Against his godfather. Against years of blindness and quiet complicity. He just does not know what to do.

 ---

Morning comes too soon. Tony did sleep, although his dreams were plagued by stray bullets and bombs and flowing blood forming a steadily rising headcount. He gets up before the sun and scrubs his skin raw under the shower as if he could wash away who he was and emerge stronger. When he slips into his clothes, he still feels just as frail.

What he needs is a plan. He has evidence and a likely motive. Obadiah’s accomplices should not be hard to find. Then he needs to get together with the military and talk about how to take his weapons out of terrorists’ hands.

In between all these nice, logical steps, however, is the fact that he will have to confront Obadiah. Tony still wants answers but he begins to think that is not as important as to leave the whole matter behind without tainting his memories of family anymore. Every time he thinks he is ready to get to his feet and either call the police or take the elevator down to Obadiah’s office, his body refuses to move, keeping him frozen in place.

He is not ready.

When his phone chimes, Tony flinches. Once he has collected himself, he tries to laugh at himself for that. Nobody is going to jump out of his phone to either murder or judge him. He is perfectly safe up here in his tower’s penthouse. Nobody but Rhodey and Steve knows what he has found out. Most importantly, Obadiah does not know. It is still Tony’s turn to move.

Tony picks up his phone from his nightstand and walks towards the kitchen while he checks it. He has several missed calls from Rhodey and Pepper, and texts asking about his well-being. Pepper inquires about the USB drive, about whether he has found out anything yet. That means Rhodey has not told her, at least. Tony does not think that Obadiah would hurt her. Then again, he did not think Obadiah would sell their weapons on the black market.

The newest text is not from his friends but from Steve. Tony almost turns off his phone without reading it. He can imagine the kind of plans a mob boss with a personal grudge has to offer. Traitor or not, Tony does not want any harm to come to Obadiah. Not like that. Only, he kind of does. Deep down in his gut, Tony realizes he is angry.

You should hire a bodyguard, Steve writes, with all the pretentiousness of someone who does not know how to leave well enough alone.

This has Tony laughing out loud. The sound echoes ugly in the empty room around him, making the hair in Tony’s neck stand up. He turns on the coffee machine while he ponders whether he should reply at all. In the end, he is too glad for the distraction to pass up the opportunity. Steve might continuously butt in where he is not needed but at least there is no need to pretend with him that everything is all right. That Tony is all right.

I hope you’re not planning to offer yourself.

The very thought is ridiculous. The most danger Tony has been in years has been at the Avengers’ hands. He realizes that Steve’s concern about Tony’s safety is probably honest, fuelled by the soul bond or remorse, but that does not mean that Tony would actually trust him with it.

He is surrounded by security anyway. JARVIS, for one, who is usually the only security he needs. Mostly, Tony is his own biggest enemy. Pepper has also increased the guards down in the foyer. They were not even trying for subtlety when they followed Tony to the press conference the day before. The last thing Tony needs is more people looking over his shoulder, judging his every movement.

I would, Steve writes to Tony’s amusement, but your safety is more important than trying to prove a point. I know someone who is very good at his job.

While that is surprisingly considerate, there is still no chance that Tony is going to agree. I don’t need any of your underlings to follow me around.

Putting down his phone, Tony reaches for a mug. He fights the urge to fill himself an entire pot of coffee and drinking straight from it. With how much exhaustion is still pulling him down, he is going to need a lot of caffeine to keep him going.

Steve needs a while to answer. Enough to allow Tony to burn his tongue as he impatiently takes his first sip of coffee. That does not stop him from taking another one right away.

His name is Thor Odinson. Steve seems to attract people with strange names like Bucky and apparently Norse gods fanatics. Run a background check on him. He has never been part of the Avengers. He does not even know about us. I met him in the Army.

Steve seems to think that this is enough to alleviate Tony’s reluctance to get anywhere near the Avengers or their friends. Gripping his mug in one hand, he types with the other. I don’t trust any of your friends. Mob or not.

Tony almost hears Steve sighing. It might be more of a tugging sensation right in his core like the soul bond is reacting to their conversation, but the intention is clear. They are constantly dancing around each other. Glaring at his arm, Tony thinks Fate or whoever has thrown them into this should be glad they are talking to each other at all.

Just look him up.

Feeling his eyebrows rise, Tony is tempted to snap something back, to warn Steve away from giving him orders. That is half of the reason why they are in this mess. Because Steve does not know when to back off, how to let other people make their own decisions.

Instead, Tony takes a deep breath and writes, I won’t need a bodyguard anymore soon anyway.

He does not have the energy to fight on all these fronts at the same time. That is the reason he proposed the truce in the first place.  

How are you dealing with Stane? Steve asks immediately, not just sprinkling salt into Tony’s wound but dumping the whole bag on him.

Since the night before, Tony has not come any closer to having a feasible plan. Steve seems to know that. It is a good thing then, that Tony does not owe him anything, neither answers nor justification.

Locking his phone, Tony puts it face down on his kitchen counter. He leaves it there when he goes back to his workshop. He needs to find out who else has been in on the weapons trading. If anything, that will take his mind off personal things for a while as well as giving him an excuse not to confront his godfather just yet.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Hi here’s another happy AU Wayleska ficlet.

What happens when Superman meets Jeremiah 

There were many reason Jeremiah stayed out of the spotlight, his brother being most of the reasons, even if it meant he never really left the manor he really didn’t mind, honestly he preferred it (it was an amazing excuse for not having to go to all those pointless gala’s).

However, not being in the limelight did bring a slight issue, which was that no one really knew he existed. Oh they all knew Bruce Wayne had a mysterious husband, and most people who remember the Jerome incidents and met Bruce and himself back then could easily guess it was him, other people had no idea.

Which was great as it ensured that the Joker and himself had little chance of ever meeting, which was brilliant if they ever met again it would be too soon, and that lessened the chance that the Joker would ever remember being Jerome. Something that Jeremiah feared more than anything else, if he would attack Barbra and Jason like that as just the Joker with his memories as Jerome…it didn’t bear thinking about.

However, there was a downside to the whole hiding all traces of his existence thing, the same issue they’d always been really he remembered vividly detective Gordon and detective Bullock going for their guns when they met in the bunker ‘there’s 2 of them’ still stung as a comment, and well they weren’t the only one’s

Dick and quite literally jumped up and hidden on top of a shelf, Jason had tried to attack him before clinging to Bruce, Tim had thrown the book he’d been reading at him and Cass had the same reaction as Jason only Bruce had to pry her off of him. Stephanie and Babs had also had interesting reactions though as least Dick and Cass had been there respectively to calm them down, while Jason just recorded it.

In summary nearly everyone he met seemed to instantly mistake him for his brother…e really should be used to it at this point.

Though even with his previous experience it was still surprising when he walked down into the cave this morning with a cup of coffee to finish going though some files only to see Superman standing there in the centre of the cave. It took the man of steel a moment of gaping before his face changed into a glare and he flew at him

Jeremiah could only let out a weak ‘oh shit’ before he was in a chock hold from the Kryptioan, not the way he wanted to start his Saturday thank you very much.

“Joker” he growled out and oh Jeremiah wished he could roll his eyes but his brain was currently trying to figure out how to continue breathing so couldn’t really spare any signals “what are you doing here?”

Well it was clear the more muscle than brain was a good way to describe the all powerful boy scout, honestly if the completely different appearance, you know hair, glasses, skin not being bleached, no man laughter or air of general insanity hell he was even wearing his glasses (which Mr Kent here should know is the ultimate disguise, but really he’d talked about it with Bruce before how it was so luckily no one had doodled glasses on a picture of superman yet for Clark Kent’s identity to remain intact). Also Jeremiah ideally wondered how long it would take the master of disguise to realise that it was impossible for him to answer while his windpipe was being crushed.

He didn’t get a chance to him out as the next thing he knew there was a faint green light Supermans’s eyes widened and he stumbled back letting go of his throat, Jeremiah almost tumbled back before a hand quickly caught him he looked up to see his husbands worried face “Miah are you alright?” he asked calmly, box with kryptonite in hand still open and the boy scout currently collapsing to the floor

“oh I’m fine dear thank you” he said straightening his glasses seeing Bruce’s lips tug into a smile he glanced back “…though I believe the same can’t be said for your colleague” he watched Bruce’s face morph into the Batman’s ice cold glare as turned to superman walking off angrily as he snapped the case closed.

“why are you here Clark” he growled out and Jeremiah just sat down in the chair next to the computer turning it on while watching the show which was currently Superman gaping and looking thunderstruck

“but the Joker” he said weakly pointing at him and now Jeremiah really did roll his eyes

“No Clark that’s my husband” Bruce said and oh sounds like he’s rolling his eyes to

Superman just stares brain processing this information before questioning in a horrified tone “YOUR MARRIED TO THE JOKER?!”

Jeremiah face palms with a groan because really? A glance at his husband and it’s clear Bruce is contemplating pulling out the kryptonite again (and most likely shoving it down his fellow heroes throat)

“no Clark he isn’t the Joker” Bruce says finally after a calming breath

“he’s my twin brother unfortunately” Jeremiah adds in quickly cutting off the obvious prying questions he knows are coming

Superman just stares between them clearly processing information, Jeremiah can almost see the man of steels brain buffering.

“WHAT THE HELL?”a loud voice comes from the entrance turning around Jeremiah see’s the kids entering the cave they’re all staring at the screen clearly putting 2 and 2 together and making 4, while Superman is struggling to do the math.

Cassandra see’s the marks around his neck and goes to pull out another steel container of kryptonite moving to stand next to Bruce, Tim following slightly behind with a third, and really Jeremiah should figure out how many they have at this point (for a super rare material they seem to an overabundance of it). Dick and Jason come over to him

“you ok dad?” Dick asks shooting a glance at the 3 other Bats currently looming over the Kryptioan who appears to finally be realising his situation and exaltedly to what level of absolutely fucked he is.

“I’m fine” Jeremiah reassures with a small smile before looking at Jason whose loading his gun one eye on the group “I thought you’d be annoyed you missed another face reveal” he teased

Jason just smirked back “I would be…If the caves camera wasn’t recording everything” his smirk stretched into a wide grin as he added “were defiantly watching all this back later with popcorn”

Jeremiah just rolled his eyes leaning back in his chair enjoying watching the man of steel face the army of Bats.

Thank you for reading =)

[an-honest-fangirl]

Got Red in My Ledger

So, I saw Endgame last night. And while there are definitely some things that annoy me and anger me, Natasha’s “endgame” wasn’t one of them. It makes sense to me as a culmination of her arc that started back in the first Avengers. And honestly, it’s kinda beautiful. 

Or: I write a 1200 word meta that goes through all of Natasha’s movies because I have Thoughts right now and need to get them out of my head. Tagged for spoilers, but also putting it all under a cut because again, long, but also so nothing slips through.

The one line that I always see when the Marvel credits play is “I got red in my ledger.” Honestly, it’s one of my favorite lines in the franchise and is definitely my favorite part of the first Avengers movie. I never saw Iron Man 2, so Avengers was my first introduction to Natasha as a character. And in that movie, we’re presented with a very capable spy who smiles and demures and uses the perception that others have of her to her advantage. 

But that all breaks the second that Coulson says that Clint is in trouble. Natasha absolutely freezes in what could only be described as a moment of panic and fear before she seals that all away again and focuses on getting the job done. There is a chink in Natasha’s armor; a small one, yes, but it’s there. There’s red in Natasha’s ledger. Not just red blood, like Loki says, but in terms of owing Clint. She owes him her life, in more ways than one, and she still needs to balance that scale.  It’s not all about repaying Clint, though. Once Clint is back on the side of good, Natasha is still ready to fight and throw herself into the thick of things. Which, according to Clint, is very out of character. As he says, she’s a spy. Not a solider. But Natasha senses and knows that whatever is happening with Loki and the Avengers is Bigger. Bigger than her and what she usually stands for and operates by, and she can’t just stand on the sides and watch it happen when she can fight for it.  Moving on to Winter Solider. Natasha is still largely the same closed off persona that we saw in Avengers. Again, she’s very competent and deflects most attempts to get closer to her. However, the chinks in her armor are growing. It’s not just Clint anymore. It’s Fury. It’s Steve. She’s caring for more people and gaining their trust and learning to trust them in return.  She’s the one who releases the Shield files online. And as Pierce warns her, there’s a lot of bad things about her in those files. But Natasha releases them anyway, without any indication of hesitation or regret. She’s exposing secrets to the world instead of hiding them, and that includes the red in her ledger. Openly admitting and acknowledging past mistakes is often the first step towards being able to move on and atone for them, and that’s what she does here.  Age of Ultron is... what it is. But we do get to see more of what’s motivating and driving Natasha. Due to her past and her upbringing and her violent life, she sees herself as a monster. Someone inherently evil, who should be feared and reviled and is useful in certain situations, but could never be a hero like the rest of the team. Even as she tries to open up more, to the rest of the team as a whole but also specifically to Bruce in a romantic sense, there’s this lingering fear and doubt in the back of her mind as to whether or not she really belongs there.  Wanda’s visions remind Natasha of who she was, not who she is in the moment or was in the process of becoming. Because Natasha is already a self-sacrificing hero. I also see people saying that her forcing Bruce to hulk out is her embracing the more monstrous sides of herself, but I really don’t think that’s right. The monstrous thing would have been to run away with Bruce, to selfishly put her own happiness in front of the greater good at a time when her team desperately needed her to stay and help them. There’s a sense of pragmatism here still, yes, but it’s still a fundamentally heroic action.  She’s more pragmatic in Civil War. Her main argument for supporting the Accords is that doing so will make it easier to mitigate and shape into something that everyone can work with. Bow your head and go along with it for now, and fix things once the calls for blood have died down. It’s very pragmatic, and honestly probably the most intelligent position someone takes in that movie.  I also imagine that there’s more than a little relief at the idea of having someone else watch and check over her actions. She trusted Shield to be the Good Guys and do the right thing, and they ended up being Hydra. The Accords would give oversight, help ensure that what happened to Shield (a fundamentally good organization and idea that was eventually corrupted and turned evil from the inside out) won’t happen to the Avengers.   But when the time calls for it, Natasha still does the right thing. She follows her conscience and trusts in Steve and lets him go. Despite the Accords. Despite the pragmatism that had largely defined her all movie. She does what she feels is right, again with no real thought as to the consequences to herself.  Infinity War didn’t really have any meaningful scenes or development with her so I’ll skip straight to Endgame. Natasha stays. She stays an Avenger, monitoring not only Earth, but also other parts of the galaxy. She stays because there’s no one else to do it, because she knew that the Avengers were helping her grow and improve and change for the better as a person and she was terrified of losing that.  

She’s openly emotional and grieving in front of people. Not just Steve and Clint who it’s already been established that she was close to, but also to Rhodey, someone who she hasn't really had a lot of screen time with. She no longer deflects any and all attempts to break through her outer armor. It arguably isn’t even there anymore.  She’s the one who is able to reach out to Clint when he’s at his lowest point, offering him the same help and understanding and trust that he offered her when he first recruited her to Shield. It’s a role reversal, and one that perfectly encapsulates just how much Natasha has grown since that moment. 

As soon as I saw both of them going to Vormir, I knew that we were going to lose one of them. I knew, in my gut, that we were going to lose Natasha. And not just because Clint had a dusted family that he was fighting for whereas Natasha “technically” had no one. (As if the entire Avengers wasn’t her family and her home and her heart.) “I got red in my ledger” also repeated in my head in a loop.  Natasha had already committed selfless acts, but this would be the final one. The Big One. One that she was at peace with and accepted and chose willingly without any hesitation. This sacrifice would give Clint his family back, finally repay him for the gift that he had given her so many years before. That debt would be wiped clean. Except that it wasn’t just about repaying a debt. It was an act of love. Pure, clean, simple, willing love.  

Natasha didn’t die a spy or a killer or a tool for some evil organization. 

Natasha died a friend, a family member, an Avenger. 

A hero. 

[crankynewt]

The Way It Used to Be (Jerome Valeska)

Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader

Warnings: Violence, mentions of abuse, murder. (It’s basically a version of the scene with Jerome and his Uncle).

Request: Anonymous: Jerome request where once he gets out and goes to his uncles shop he meets up with her there too. (They we’re together during his mother’s death) first time seeing him again and she is conflicted on her feelings but Jerome swoons her again and takes her with him?? First person if you dont mind.

Word Count: 2770

Author’s Note: I’m not sure I’m proud of how this turned out, but let me know what you think and if you want a part two! :)

Masterlist

Despite what many may believe, growing up with the circus did have its perks. The kids always got some of the leftover popcorn and cotton candy from that night’s show, you were able to travel across the United States many times, and you also were surrounded by family. But, the best thing about Haly’s Circus in particular was a certain ginger boy.

Growing up, I was best friends with the Valeska twins, Jerome and Jeremiah. We were inseparable from our days in diapers up until the when Jeremiah left. Which just left Jerome and I, and from the point on we were even closer than we had been before. I still remember the shock of the news that Jeremiah and his uncle Zach had left the circus, and after that point things only went south for poor Jerome. Lila had always been crabby and had quite a lot of one night stands in the past, but after Jeremiah leaving she became a “drunken whore,” as he described her.

The countless nights where Jerome would show up at my trailer at ungodly hours with some sort of new gash for me to clean and bandage were when everything began to change. One night after patching him up, I turned around to put something away, only to be met with his lips when I turned back as we both shared our first kiss with each other. We were sixteen then, and I thought that he would be not only my first love, but also my last. But that was only until everything changed two years later when we were eighteen.

“Jerome, what have you done?!” I exclaimed, as I saw him covered in blood, holding a hatchet over the lifeless body of his mother.

“I finally did it, (Y/N)! You’re the one whose kept telling me to not let that drunken whore keep doing what she does, and today I guess I just snapped!” He exclaimed and began to laugh maniacally, giving the corpse one last swing with his axe. Blood splattered, and I jumped back with a squeak, landing on shaky legs.

“Jerome, this is not what I meant! I thought we should run away or tell the cops, not commit murder!” I retorted shakily, slightly raising my voice and beginning to feel sick. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Lila’s dead body, and didn’t want to have to face looking into my boyfriend’s eyes knowing that they would not be the same ones of the boy I fell in love with. “What are we going to do?”

Lilah’s murder changed me, and after Jerome was arrested and sent to Arkham, I finally left the circus and decided to pursue a career. I graduated from Gotham University, and am now starting my job as a forensic coroner with the GCPD. And that’s where I’m now, as I’m slumped over my desk at around 10 p.m., hoping to finish my report on a hit and run victim brought in during the day. As I almost drift off to sleep, I decide that now is probably the perfect time for a coffee break, and exit my office only to be met with panic.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I rushed over to Jim, one of the good friends I have made in the few months since I got this job, hoping to find out what in the world could have happened to cause this kind of chaos.

“There’s been a breakout at Arkham Asylum, I’ll explain later.” He hurriedly spoke as he rushed over to Harvey and made his way out the door. I was still stood frozen in place, after my heart dropped and my voice was stuck in my throat. As I turn to head back to my office, a pile of three folders on his desk catch my eye. After taking a quick look to ensure that nobody was paying any attention to me, I look at the names printed on each; J. Crane, J. Tetch, and J. Valeska. I quickly grab Jerome’s file, and make my way back to my office where grab my coat and bag before exiting the station and begin the trek back to my apartment.

As I’m on my way home, I start to regret the idea of not only walking alone in the dark streets of Gotham, but on the same night of a prison break at the asylum my ex-boyfriend was being held at. As I mentally scold myself, I notice the dark figure of a man walking behind me. As I look at the surrounding buildings to see if there was anywhere safe to stay at least until this creep would give up when I notice Zach Trumple’s diner on my left. I quickly make my way up the steps and burst through the door, almost running into the two officers who I hadn’t bothered to learn the names of.

As I make my way into the diner, I give Zach a half-hearted smile and go sit at my usual corner booth. After I left the circus, I started to keep in touch with him and Jeremiah, mostly out of loneliness and feeling extremely homesick. Even if he is an abusive asshole to his nephew and even a jerk to me sometimes, knowing as many people as possible in Gotham is important. As I reach into my bag to grab my phone, my hand brushes the file I stole, no, borrowed, from work. As I contemplate taking it out to read before my train of thought is cut off by a raspy voice.

“Geez, there’s a lot of gum under here!” I freeze, and my head shoots up to see a tuft of red hair climbing his way out from underneath the same table as Zach with a gun in hand. Thankfully, his back was facing towards me so he was unaware of my presence, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. I look over at the door, and my mind begins to race trying to figure out if I’d make it fast enough to avoid being noticed or at least recognized by Jerome, or if I should just hide under the table. I decide to go with the first option, and make a run for it.

As the two men continue their conversation, which has now changed topics from gum to soup, I carefully grab my bag and exit my booth and attempt to silently make my way over to the door. As I reach to grab the handle, so close to making it out, I freeze at the sound of Zach’s voice.

“Leaving so soon, (Y/N)?” He questions, and Jerome’s head whips around at the mention of my name. Our eyes meet for the first time in four years and suddenly I’m that sixteen-year-old girl again head over heels for the guy in front of her, in the eyes that she can not help but get lost in. I’d managed to stay away from him during the events with Theo Galavan and after he’d been resurrected, because despite everything that he’s done, I know somewhere deep inside I still love him. Heck, a part of me will always love him, but another part is petrified of the boy who stood over his mother’s dead body, covered in blood, hatchet in hand, laughing.

“Why don’t you come sit with us and have some soup.” Zach offered, being fully aware of my terror and ignoring the fact that I was literally trying to get as far away from Jerome as possible. But on wobbly legs, I swallowed my fear and made my way over to the booth, sliding into sit next to the ginger, who by the way, was still holding a gun. While I was expecting some sort of sarcastic or flirty comment from Jerome, maybe even some sort of creepy gesture or wink, he did neither. He sat there, and just stared at me with puppy dog eyes, a slight smile on his face mostly due to the scarring on each side of his mouth.

“Hey.” I managed to squeak, remembering my manners and hoping that this would all be over with as soon as possible. Not because I was miserable, but because I fear that with time I will decide to stay by his side and develop feelings for him once more.

“Hi.” Jerome simply replied before letting out a giggle, and continued on with his conversation with his uncle. He proceeded to dip his finger into each of the three bowls of soup, commenting that the first was too hot, the second was too cold and the last was just right. Just like in my favourite fairytale we used to read when we were kids, Goldilocks and the Three Bears. He told the story about the day Zach dipped his hand in a pot of boiling chicken stock after he’d caught him trying to steal a snickerdoodle (a day I actually can recall quite clearly), and I zoned out on the conversation as my eyes were fixated on the “too hot” bowl of soup.

All of a sudden, I was ripped back into reality as I was yanked out of the booth and thrown onto the floor, and I look up to see Jerome pulling his gun out and pointing it at one of the strongmen from Haly’s Circus who quickly knocked it out of his hand and ripped him out of the booth as well. He had him against the counter in a chokehold, as Zach got up laughing carrying a bowl of soup to the microwave as I tried to get up to help Jerome. As I managed to get up off the ground, someone else came and grabbed me who I recognized to be another one of the strongmen and put my hands behind my back and pushed me against the counter, so I was forced to watch what was happening before me.

As the microwave’s timer went of, Zach grabbed the bowl of now boiling hot soup and made his way around the counter to his nephew who was struggling and attempting to get away but to no prevail. Zach then proceeded to pour the scorching hot soup into Jerome’s mouth and tell him how his mother should’ve killed him as he struggled and choked in agony.

“Stop it! Why are you doing this?!” I shrieked in protest at the horrific scene taking place in front of me as I struggled against my captor’s hold. I was so distracted that I didn’t even notice the bell ring signalling someone new had entered the diner.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hear a new voice ask, as I turn my head and see that none other that Bruce Wayne had showed up.

“Get out of here kid!” Zach replied, as Jerome was still coughing and struggling behind him.

“No.” Bruce stood his ground, and I finally stopped struggling and paid attention to the scene before me.

“Look, kid, I appreciate a concerned citizen and all but this is Jerome Valeska, the psycho who broke out of Arkham tonight. What we’re doing is giving him what he deserves!”

“No one deserves that.”

“You tell ‘em!” Jerome finally butted in, still gurgling and choking as the strongman tightened the hold on his throat.

“Stop!” Bruce tried to reason. “Call the police, and they’ll come for him.”

“Oh jeez, let them go.” Zach finally gave up, as the strongmen removed their holds on Jerome and I and we both fell to the floor at the same time. While on the floor, Jerome and I made eye contact, and despite the pain he was just in, he sent a cheeky wink that even at a time like this was able to make my heart flutter. Looking up, both of the strongmen were now fighting with the young billionaire. I got to my feet and grabbed the knife from the counter in case I ended up having to defend myself, and turn back to see Jerome holding his gun underneath hin uncle’s chin.

“It’s too bad we’re all out of soup, let’s see what else is on the menu.” Jerome said, and gestured for me to grab the bottle of bleach from the floor, which I did, surprising myself. “Here comes the airplane!” Jerome continued as Zach started begging ang agreed to tell Jerome what he’d apparently come to find out. After writing it down, Jerome grabbed me by the arm and stuffed the name in his pocket.

“Thanks! It’s been great catching up Uncle Zach, you really brought back the utter hopelessness of childhood. See you around!” Jerome commented as he began to walk away, dragging me by the arm behind him, before he stopped and turned to face him again. “Oh wait, except the opposite.” He added as he shot him in the head and released his hold on me to begin clapping.

“Boy billionaire Bruce Wayne, my saviour! Wow, I did not see that one coming.” He paused for a moment to cough and look back at the body of his uncle. “You know, the beatings with Uncle Zach just never stopped. They went on and on, and, nobody ever helped me… Ever. It really makes a man wonder… What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He burst into a fit of laughter despite the serious tone for most of what he just said, returning to the classic carefree Jerome persona before continuing. “You know what I find funnier than you saving my life? Would be if I saved yours.” He commented raising his gun at the strongman.

“No!” Bruce and I exclaimed at the same time, giving Jerome a sharp look as the gun in his hand was suddenly ripped away for the second time tonight, this time by Selina Kyle’s whip. Jerome gave a quick glance back before grabbing me by the shoulders and diving towards the door and running out of the diner.

“So doll, how’ve ya been?” He questioned when we finally stopped running, catching our breathes in an alley between an Italian restaurant and a convenience store.

“Really? Is that really all you have to say to me?!” I fired, shocked that there was no apology, explanation or even begging for me to take him back. Jerome was acting more like the Jerome you knew before everything went wrong then the one one who was sent off to Arkham.

“Why so serious? I thought you’d be excited to see me! You know, the boyfriend you haven’t seen in three years.” He replied, lazily draping an arm around my shoulders.

“Ex-boyfriend.” I corrected him, wiggling out of his hold. “And the reason I haven’t seen you is because you’ve either been locked in Arkham, wreaking havoc or dead!”

Jerome raises his eyebrows and puts a gloved hand on his chest, feigning shock. “What do you mean, ex-boyfriend? When’d that happen?!” He asked.

“It happened the day you were sent to Arkham. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s late and I need to get home.” I attempted to excuse myself, hoping to get out of this situation as soon as possible because the longer I spend with him, the less I want to leave. I turn on my heel to exit the alley, but I don’t get far before I am pinned against the brick wall by Jerome. His hands are planted on either side of my head preventing my escape, and I refuse to make eye contact.

“Look at me, (Y/N).” He says, my name rolling off his tongue just like it used to. When our eyes lock, I know I’m done for, and he realizes it too. As I open my mouth to speak, I’m unable to as his lips are suddenly on mine in a searing kiss. I hesitate at first, my brain conflicted, but I finally melt into it and wrap my arms around his neck and his leave the wall to snake around my waist. At this moment, I decide that I don’t care what he does or who he kills anymore, because now that we’re together again, I realize that a part of me had been missing this whole time.

“I missed you.” I tell him with a small smile when we break apart for air, both still enjoying the other’s embrace.

“Me too, gorgeous.” He replies, as he pulls me into his chest and rests his chin atop my head, and I can’t help but think to myself that things are finally back to the way they should be.

[sophies-earbuds]

Inside (an irondad fic)

Word count: 2768

Summary: During a work day in the lab, Peter tells Tony about the night the Vulture was arrested.

Ao3

“Hey, Pete, can you hand me that screwdriver over there?”

Peter reaches for the small tool on the desk, which is about four feet out of Tony’s reach due to his habit of rolling tools out of the way once he’s done with them, even though he’s going to need them again just a few seconds later. Apparently, having an intern is the best thing to happen to Tony’s workshop since sliced bread.

“Yeah, as long as you don’t fling it across the room again,” Peter teases sarcastically, handing the screwdriver to his mentor, who flashes him a pointed look that doesn’t come across as anything but fond to Peter.

“You’ll come to learn that some habits are unbreakable, kid. But as long as I have you in the lab, I think I’ll be just fine,” Tony tells him, to which Peter rolls his eyes, hating when Tony pulls the whole ‘I’m an old adult and you’re a learning teenager’ spiel.

“So, what do you do when I’m not here, just sit around until someone comes along to hand you the tool you just flung away?” Peter asks, leaning his cheek on his hand, watching Tony mess around with a pair of decked out sunglasses he’s making for Peter, which he hopes will help dial back his heightened senses while he isn’t in his suit. At the moment, he’s trying to add a chip that will connect the glasses to Karen, paired with discreet earpieces Peter can wear all the time, sort of like reverse hearing aids that will also double as a bluetooth for the glasses and his phone. He has to admit, it’s incredibly cool. He’s mostly there just to oversee and learn about nanotechnology, and to test run some of the tech to fit his accommodations.

“Pretty much, Underoos.”

As Tony keeps on with his work on the glasses, Peter pulls out his chemistry work from his bag, opening up his notebook to the page of his newest web fluid compound, and set to work theorising new ways to make the fluid last longer, so he’d stop losing his backpacks as the webs dissolve. Hiding them in a more discreet manner is definitely not an option in Peter’s mind, because where’s the fun in that? He’s got no time to put down his backpack before going out on patrol after school.

“Working on some new web fluid?” Tony asks, glancing over at Peter’s notes. He’s suddenly very conscious about the way he decorates his notes with doodles and bubble letter headings, filling in corners and blank spaces with zentangle patterns he’d learned back in a short middle school art course.

“Yeah, I wanna make sure that the criminals I web up won’t be able to escape with a blade, or that it won’t dissolve so quickly…,” he trails off, focusing again on filling in a few annotations, marking out what will and won’t work.

“So… you want to create a web shield?” Tony asks with the quirk of an eyebrow in his direction.

Peter thinks for a moment, considering the idea. “Not what I was going for, but that’s definitely going on my to-do list,” he says, flipping a page to scribble down a hasty note about durable and retractable web shields.

“We can start on it tomorrow morning. You’re staying the night, right? You cleared it with May?”

Peter rolls his eyes, smiling at how overprotective Tony is with him sometimes. “Yeah, I called her earlier, said we were supposed to have a late night in the lab. I think she was more relieved, though, said something about making plans with some friends. I’m glad she can get a night without having to worry about me dying or something.”

“Yeah, because you’re so safe here, with all of the untested tech and literal weapon robots,” Tony says sarcastically, messing with a microchip prototype under a magnifying glass, testing out the waters with the mini Karen file, thus proving his point.

“Mr. Stark, I think we both know I’m safer with you than I am by myself,” Peter tells him reluctantly. Usually, he won’t admit so easily that what he does is dangerous, mostly because he doesn’t like to worry the helicopter adults in his life, but he knows it’s the truth.

“That, and maybe you’ll finally get some sleep.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter goes back to stare at his notes, wondering what he’s missing in his compound, and eventually decides he can’t pay attention to it, so he instead watches what Tony is doing.

So far, the glasses are pretty much skinned so Tony can fit all of the tech inside of them, ensuring that nobody will be able to figure out their actual purpose. Being discreet is key in highschool, even without weird spider powers.

“Run out of ideas?” Tony asks, not looking away from his project.

“Only for now. I’ll probably think of something while on a snack break later,” Peter tells him, spinning from side to side on his stool, unable to sit still for even a moment.

“Speaking of, I picked up those chips you said you liked,” Tony mumbles through a screwdriver he has clenched between his teeth, making his words almost unintelligible.

“Seriously? Thanks, Mr. Stark. May refuses to buy them anymore. Says I inhale them like oxygen,” Peter laughs, already thinking about their next break so he can rip into a bag. It’s not like it’ll help with sustenance or anything, since his metabolism is freakishly fast from the spider bite, but it’ll still taste good.

“Perhaps I should confiscate them, if that’s the case.”

Starting to pout deliberately, Peter looks up at Tony, his cheeks being squished by his hands as he siccs the puppy eyes on his mentor. It always works with Ned, so why not Tony?

“Kid, I’m immune to the eyes. And I was kidding, I’m not that much of a buzzkill.” Peter can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice, and grinned again, sitting up straighter on his stool and letting go of his cheeks. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have to prevent you from going into heart failure, though. I’m still responsible for you.”

“Mr. Stark, my body was literally modified to prevent that from happening itself,” Peter explains, waving around his arms exasperatedly. Tony gives him a pointed look.

“Yeah, well, you can still form medical ailments like the human you are. Don’t want you ending up with one of these,” he says, knocking on the middle of his chest with his knuckles, eliciting a hollow metal clanking noise. Not that he really needs it anymore, the shrapnel is all gone, but the reactor still powers the Iron Man suits.

“I’m fine, sir, really. Nothing gets past this immune system. I’m not even sure normal vaccinations will work on me anymore,” Peter goes off, not realising that he’s splitting onto a new tangent every second.

“Want me to get a doctor up here tomorrow? Figure all that out for you?” Tony offers. “I know it’s not Bruce, but I have some doctors on standby who know how to deal with enhanced and modified humans,” he explains, still messing around with the Karen prototype. He seems to be trying to find ways to fit it inside the frame, using small, thin wires that look like they can’t hold much power, but are probably more effective than they look.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Peter says with relief. “Backtracking, do you know where Dr. Banner went off to?” he asks, tilting his head. If Peter is being honest, Bruce is one of the people he’s most excited to meet, hoping to converse about biology and medicine, since Tony is more of a mechanic type scientist. And while Peter loves all types of science, he has yet to talk to a real professional Doctor. Maybe he’ll collect the holy trinity of science mentors: technology, biology, and chemistry.

“No idea, Kid. Just fell off the face of the earth, haven’t been able to contact him since that Ultron thing,” Tony mumbles through his concentration.

“Well, I hope he’s not in any danger,” Peter vocalises his thoughts, not really meaning to say that part out loud, even though he knows Tony is thinking it as well.

“I want to say that I know he isn’t, but I can’t lie to you, Kid. Whenever someone goes missing, I always have to worry.”

On that note, Peter decides to stay quiet, not entirely sure if Tony wants his opinion on the matter at this point. But he’s wired the same way. It’s why he goes patrolling every night; when people are in danger, he has to worry, and do something about it. Otherwise it’s his fault when the bad things happen.

After a few more minutes, Tony lets out a groan of frustration, hanging his head low and stretching his neck muscles before resuming the project.

“Oh, forgot to tell you, we got news of Toomes’ case this morning. Short trial, they bring him into jail tonight,” Tony says offhandedly, switching one of his magnifying glasses. His tongue is sticking out of his mouth, which Peter knows is a sign that he’s working with a fairly frustrating gadget.

The way Peter tenses at the name, sucking in a breath he can’t seem to let go of, brings Tony out of his concentration to face him. He even turns his chair, which signals a conversation is about to happen.

“What did that guy do to get you so anxious? You were confident in your ability to ‘take him down’ just a month ago,” Tony asks, furrowing his brows at Peter, who rubs at his neck, biting his lip at the thought of having to relive any second of what happened with the Vulture.

“It’s nothing. He uh- I mean he had creepy eyes on his wingsuit, so-”

“Pete, you and I both know that is not the whole truth. You’re a horrible liar. I’m surprised nobody’s figured out you’re Spider-Man yet,” Tony interrupted, earning himself a lighthearted glare.

“For one thing, the only people who have figured it out are you, Ned, and May, and you barely count because you’re some sort of superhero magnet,” Peter tells him, tapping his pencil against his notebook, studying his own handwriting and ignoring whatever reaction Tony has to his statement. “And for another, it’s really okay, Mr. Stark. It’s not like I’m hurt or anything.”

“Kid, you can hurt inside, too. If something happened that night he hijacked the plane that makes you flinch when you hear his name, I want to know about it. I’m breaking the cycle of shame, remember?” Tony tells him, making his cheeks burn at the memory of his mentor indirectly referring to himself as Peter’s father figure. He reaches up to push his hair out of his face, having not done anything but let it air dry after his morning shower. Of course, his curls have to show themselves at the first sign of freedom from all of the product he usually puts in it on school days. With the amount of time Peter’s spent at the new facility since the move, he’s begun to not care about how he looks when he’s there.

After a good thirty seconds, Peter finally breaks under Tony’s probing stare.

“I followed him the night of the homecoming to his base, and he was waiting for me,” he begins, chancing a look up at Tony, who is paying him full attention. “Remember how the warehouse was all demolished and collapsed when they investigated his business?” he asks, not waiting for Tony to nod, but still flickering his eyes up to him. “Well, when I got there, I thought I had him, but he uh-” Peter took a deep breath. “He started saying all of these things about you and your business, and it threw me off that he was using my actual name, so I didn’t realise what was coming and he made his wingsuit break all of the support beams, and the um, well the ceiling caved, and the building just sort of… collapsed on me. And I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have Karen to contact anyone, so I started yelling for help, but nobody heard me, so I had to lift the beam that fell on me. And then I stuck to his suit and fought him up on the plane so he-”

“Woah, Pete, slow down,” Tony says, snapping Peter out of his reminiscence of that night. He doesn’t even realise that he’s completely spacing out until he feels his eyes burn from the lack of blinking. “He knows who you are?” Tony asks, resting a tentative hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter nods slowly. “And he dropped an entire building on you, knowing that you’re only fifteen?”

Peter nods again, trying to fight off the stupid tear that escapes his eye, wiping it away before Tony can notice. But of course he notices, because he hasn’t taken his eyes off of Peter.

“Kid, why didn’t you mention this to anyone?”

Peter thinks for a moment. Why didn’t he? He figured the crashed plane was enough for Tony to deal with about that night, he didn’t need the added burden of Peter being trapped, especially since he knew Tony would blame it all on himself for taking away his suit, which wasn’t why it happened at all. Not to mention-

“It would have given away my identity, and I didn’t want to deal with the police about it. So, I webbed the guy up and left him for someone to find, then hid on the Cyclone until I knew for sure that he was caught and in custody. Next thing I know, you’re asking me to join the team.”

Tony leaves him in a string of silence, only his thoughts to keep him from going uneasy. The hand on his shoulder never falls away, only grips tighter after a few seconds.

When Tony opens his mouth, Peter expects him to say something about how stupid it was for him to withhold important information from the authorities, but instead finds himself being pulled into a tight hug, his head finding its way to Tony’s shoulder to rest on.

“Pete, I wish you’d told me sooner. I could’ve helped,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Peter’s head, fingers carding through his curls. The gesture is incredibly out of character and has never happened before, but it’s not bad. In fact, Peter could get used to this. It’s been so long since he’s received any sort of paternal affection, and while it may be weird, and he may feel guilty for thinking it, this is exactly what he remembers that feeling like.

But Tony Stark is not his father. He already has one of those. He may not be with him, but he’s still his dad.

That doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around Tony, though, because a hug is a hug, and he’s in desperate need of one right now.

“It’s over now, Mr. Stark. I’m okay,” Peter tries to reassure him, but Tony just chuckles a little, reminding him that no situation is too serious. He thrives off of this mentality. It makes him feel like he doesn’t need to commit to the feeling of a moment.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one telling you that?” Tony asks, making Peter laugh along with him. With a light clap on the back, Tony pulls away, and the tear that slipped out earlier is now forgotten in the midst of his bright smile. He can physically feel himself getting happier just from the feeling of Tony being happy.

“I think we can take turns,” Peter tells him, a smirk finding its place on his face.

“Or you could just stop almost dying.”

“Only if you do.”

Peter looks up at Tony, making eye contact for a split second as they both raise an eyebrow, then looks away, smiling as he realises just how alike they really are. Maybe he’s not so far away from becoming who he wanted to be, even as a little kid.

“What do you say we take a break from the glasses and go upstairs to the kitchen, yeah? Tear into those chips, eat our feelings away?” Tony asks, pushing his stool under the workbench and walking over to the elevator. Peter grins, looking back at his notes for a moment before running over to Tony as he presses the button.

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Stark.”

[widowblck]

Below the cut is me rambling about Natasha post-snap and just basically expanding on some of her feelings/thoughts during this time. (It’s by no means well organized but... I never said my brain made sense. So have fun. I’ll be adding on to this.)

I’ve been watching Captain Marvel on repeat for the past couple of days since I’ve gotten it on Blu Ray and I’ve also been watching some clips from Endgame/looking at gif sets of certain scenes from Endgame so I’m sorry (but not sorry) for everything that will be below.

So as everyone’s seen, Natasha is pretty much crying 99.99999% of the time during Endgame. This is pretty much just how I imagine a lot of her time going (also if someone wants to give me a thread post snap I’ll probably love you forever)

------

After the snap first happens, all of the team is together, trying to figure everything out -- Natasha’s spent countless hours researching every last fact about what’s happened around their planet. She knows it’s not just earth -- it’s everywhere. But somehow she can barely focus on that simple fact since almost every friend she’d ever had disappeared right in front of her.

Sam. Wanda. Bucky.

Natasha doesn’t exactly know where to start, but she knows that they all need a plan. Her and the remaining amount of the Avengers needed to find a plan to stop Thanos and to stop this madness. They needed to get everyone back and when Carol -- Captain Marvel -- comes to earth, she finally feels a bit of hope. For the first time since the snap, Natasha feels as if they have a shot at turning this all around.

That hope doesn’t last long -- the moment Thanos is gone, killed at the hands of Thor, she knows that they have no chance at getting everyone back. 

At this point, she begins to spiral. She knows that she’s never going to be able to see her friends again. She’ll never be able to have a normal life again because now? Now there’s nothing to save. No one to help. The entire universe went silent with just a snap of the fingers and Natasha feels lost for the first time in her life. The Avengers were the one thing that helped Natasha feel like she had a purpose since she’d left the KGB and it was gone in the blink of an eye. Her friends -- her family -- just simply gone without a trace.

As the others begin to leave the headquarters, Natasha vows to stay and continue to do research into how to reverse the snap, but it’s futile. She begins to focus on keeping the group together, because it’s really the only family she has left.

Thor leaves quickly, then Bruce, Tony, Rhodey -- everyone. Even Steve.

Steve seemed to hurt the most, as he was the leader of the group and without him? Were the Avengers even a concept anymore? Or was it just another memory from the past? Were the past few years of her life just another chapter in the book of hers that felt never ending? 

All of her life, Natasha has dealt with nightmares. They’re a regular occurrence, often waking her at odd hours of the night, her body filled with sheer terror. The memories of the Red Room never left her mind as every tiny detail had been engraved in her brain permanently. Some days, she wakes up, unable to breathe and others she finds herself not even in her bed -- but in some other location with a weapon in her hand, ready to defend herself at a moment’s notice. Now, instead of the memories being filled of her distant past, they’re now filled with visions of the snap. Of Bucky disappearing into dust right in front of her. Just imagining Nick disappearing -- the person she’d considered a father. Her family was gone. And it was all because of a madman insistent on saving the universe in such a terrible way.

Other days, the snap doesn’t take the same people. It takes Steve. Or Tony. Bruce, Thor... all of the ones that were left. And some days it takes her and every time it happens, it’s a feeling that she can’t describe in words. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to. Often, Natasha wonders why she wasn’t one of the ones to disappear. Was the snap truly random? Did she have a reason to be one of the ones alive? Or did she just manage to get lucky?

Now that she’s alone in the headquarters, the quiet halls echo with her small footsteps. Her normal locations consist of the study and the training facility. She even tries to avoid her bedroom, knowing that if she tries to sleep, she’d quickly be taken over by a nightmare and would falling asleep be worth it?

To her? Not at that point.

Often, she finds herself falling asleep at the desk, hunched over the table as she sits in the chair. Or, she finds herself boxing or running into the late hours of the night, only to take a small break before returning to her spot in the study waiting for anybody to contact her with news.

Steve and Clint were the two people who were really able to connect with her and to get through to her and she was forced to do all of this without them. Steve stops by sometimes, but she knows it’s just to make sure she’s not spiraling any more than she already has. She does a good job of hiding her emotions from Steve -- most of the time, even if she had previously been crying, she could easily distract him or change the topic and he’d barely notice. He makes up excuses about getting something he had forgotten at the headquarters or that he needed some kind of file, but she knew that he was doing it to ensure she stayed sane.

But sanity felt out of reach for her. She was trying to hold on -- to hold her family together. But every day felt like another impossible challenge and she wasn’t exactly sure how to accomplish that task without the help of others. She couldn’t keep her family together if they didn’t want to be together anymore.

[maryenette-writes]

Imperfect Pt. 8 [Batsis]

A/N: I FINALLY WROTE THE NEXT PART (after like three months? or more?). Sorry for the long wait, I hope it lives up to your expectations. There’s quite a bit of action in this, Batsis being badass >:) But unfortunately, not a lot of interactions.

Also, I lost all my tags because I accidentally deleted my taglist, so I’m sorry if I didn’t tag you :( I was just going off what I had last time and the asks I received recently 

Pairing: None

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1711

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

MASTERLIST

When [F/N] arrived at the location of the supposed terrorists, the others hadn’t began their attack… yet. Knowing the way her father did things, [F/N] knew that no one would be killed… if they didn’t piss Jason off, that is. The idea was to raid the place, then investigate later, a plan she highly disagreed on. Not only will that give their targets time to eliminate valuable data, it was risky, considering they could be losing key suspects.

However, when she brought that up, Bruce dismissed it, stating that Tim could easily recover any deleted data.

Now, she loved her younger brother, but they heavily underestimated the enemy. Even after months of investigation on these people, they didn’t seem to grasp how dangerous and capable these people were. They had the CIA on the edge of their seats, and that’s saying something.

Not to mention they discovered and eliminated a veteran agent.

[F/N] knew that she had to get the data before the place was raided. It was no doubt going to be difficult, as the place was under heavy surveillance, not taking into account the guards patrolling the place.

[F/N] sighed, mentally going over her plan as she geared up. She was not one for guns, not because she didn’t kill--she actually had done quite a bit of that, though Bruce didn’t have to know--but because it was unnecessarily loud and messy. She also hated dealing with the possibility of running out of bullets. So she only had two guns on her, the rest of her offensive weapons consisted of knives, electric traps, and a bo-staff.

Once she was done, she silently approached the compound, melting into the shadows with her black catsuit. Using her special contacts, she scanned the area and located a total of three cameras and two bodyguards. She spotted her way in through a vent opening.

As cliche as that sounded, it always worked for her.

Careful to stay out of the camera, [F/N] quietly climbed her way up the building and opened the vent, entering it with ease. She opened a hologram of the building’s layout from her wristband and used it to navigate her way into their archive room, where all the data was stored.

Unfortunately, the vent didn’t lead up to that room, nor the hallways leading there. From the reports she recovered from her friend, the door required a code to enter. [F/N] dropped down into a small broom closet and opened her holographic computer, hacking into the network and tampering with the security cameras. She silently thanked her friend for tampering with the system before he was killed, or else she would never have gotten in. Whoever was in charge of their technology, they were good.

After ensuring that the cameras were not a problem anymore, [F/N] snuck out of the closet and into the hallways. She kept well away from the guards, having memorized their shifts from sitting on the sidelines for so long. She reached the archive room in no time.

“Okay… let’s see here…” she mumbled to herself, opening the code panel. “Wow… okay… okay, I can work with this…” she whispered, slightly surprised when she saw the complexity of the technology used. According to her timer, she had six minutes until a pair of guards crossed this hallway, meaning she had to be quick.

Luckily for her, time was on her side and she unlocked the door quickly. [F/N] closed the door and went straight to the control panel, inserting a drive in to extract all the data she could on these people.

As she was going through the data, her eyes widened at the files she was seeing.

“You’re kidding me…” she gasped quietly, scanning over the evidence she was getting. These people were worse than she and the CIA initially thought, not to mention this plot went deeper than anyone predicted.

She had to get this to the bureau.

Then an alarm went off.

The room dimmed and there was an alert on the monitor, followed by an automatic shutdown. [F/N] swore and quickly worked on repowering the machine, typing furiously to bypass the initial commands.

However, her progress was halted when the door opened, and several men and women entered. Noticing an intruder, they didn’t even wait a second to draw their guns out and start shooting. [F/N] just dodged the first wave of bullets aimed at her.

“What the hell…” she cursed as she drew her own guns. She waited for the enemy to approach her hiding spot and instantly shot him in the head before turning and shooting the others in the room. Although she preferred not to use guns in her missions, that did not mean she had a poor aim. Her shots landed right where she wanted them to land.

After quickly eliminating the enemies, [F/N] took the drive and made her way out of the room, deeming that it was too dangerous to stay. Who knew what else would come her way, or what kind of mechanism they had in place in case of an attack. For all she knew, there could be a bomb just ready to obliterate the building any second.

She did not want to wait to find out.

When she exited the room, [F/N] ran down the hallway and turned, only to be met with a group of armed guards. And of course, they noticed her.

With a sigh, [F/N] pulled out her guns once more. “Every damn time…” she mumbled before she began shooting.

The guards didn’t stand a chance.

Knowing that this stealth mission was ruined, [F/N] decided to get out of the building by force. What triggered the alarm, she didn’t know. There was a possibility it could be her, but considering the shock when they saw her in the archive room, she deduced that it was most likely due to her family’s attack. That meant they were focused on the attack from the outside, rather than a intruder from the inside.

[F/N] quickly took down those who stood in her way. She had the element of surprise; they didn’t know she was already inside, confirming her suspicions. When she finally went outside, she spotted Dick and Damian effortlessly fighting the guards. Seeing them defeat the enemies so seamlessly made her slightly jealous, but she had no time to dwell on it. Four more were coming her way.

[F/N] shot at them, but she ran out of bullets quickly, having spent them on earlier foes. Deeming the weapon useless, she threw it at their faces, using it as a distraction for her to run up to them, close enough to disarm them physically.

[F/N] went into auto-pilot mode.

During her training, she had gone up against people twice her size, and multiple people at a time. During her time in the field, she had been forced to fight against all the odds. She was used to fighting. The difference between training and the field, though, was that she didn’t pull her punches in the field.

Which was why when she felt someone grab her from behind, her first instinct was to hopefully get out of his hold. When that didn’t work, she didn’t think twice as she grabbed her knife and blindly swung her arm back.

From the scream and the way he loosened his hold on her, it was safe to say she got him.

The fight was soon over, and thankfully everyone--save for their enemies of course--emerged unharmed. [F/N] took her knife from the now deceased man and cleaned it. When she looked up, she saw everyone staring at her.

“What?” she asked, guessing they were probably going to ask why she disobeyed Bruce’s order.

“[F/N],” said Bruce, approaching her ominously. Although his face was partially covered with a cowl, she could feel the disappointment and anger he exerted. However, it was… different. It wasn’t slight, it felt like a raging fire, swallowing up whole forests and no amount of water or rain could stop it.

Bruce didn’t say anything. He simply cast his eyes down at the corpse in front of her. At first, [F/N] couldn’t tell what was wrong. Sure she disobeyed him, but he had never been this angry with her before, even during those times she embarrassed him in front of his colleagues.

But then, she realized it.

He saw her kill.

Slowly, very slowly, Bruce looked back up at her. [F/N] swallowed, realizing the weight of the situation.

Sirens blared in the distance, followed by the dim glare of flashing lights. Her father stilled for a moment as he assessed the situation. [F/N] used to be able to read her father, and her family. They never realized but she had been studying them for the longest time. She could always tell what they were thinking.

Yet right now, her father was blanker than paper to her. She just couldn’t read him, and that scared her more than any mission she had been on.

“We’ll deal with this back home,” he said quietly, his voice monotone, “go. I’ll deal with the cops.”

His tone told her she couldn’t argue. The others seemed to realize the sheer fury that was to face them, because none of them quibbed or even made a single noise. However, [F/N] couldn’t leave.

“I’m with the CIA,” she stated, her voice full of mock confidence, “I have to oversee the detainees, and clear this situation. I’m better suited for this. You should go.”

[F/N] was playing a dangerous game here. She had no idea how her father would react.

“This is my city--”

“And this is my mission.”

[F/N] stared at him. Now, standing in front of him, her father looked taller than ever. His shadow seemed to engulf her. She balled her hands and gritted her teeth. She refused to look away first.

As the sirens grew louder, Bruce finally gave in. He turned and began to walk away, but before he disappeared, he turned to her.

“We’ll talk later.”

When he was gone, [F/N] released the breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

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[tom-hollands-eyelash]

Don’t Forget Us (Peter Parker X Stark!Reader) part 6

Summary: What would happen if you were Tony Starks daughter and could lift Mjölnir.

Word count: 2,383

A/n: I’ve had this idea for a while now and I can’t wait to share it with you guys! Please leave feedback, it’s always appreciated. I promise there will be more Peter and Y/N moments! Spoiler alert if you haven’t seen Agent Carter.

MY TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY IS TEMPORARILY CLOSED!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

***

“How is Lady Y/N?” Thor asked when he saw you real dad enter the room.

Tony stops in the doorway to look at him and gives a half hearted laugh. “She doesn’t remember that I’m her dad. She thinks I’m her mentor!” Tony said walking pass the large conference table that the other Avengers (beside Peter) and Loki seated are seated at.

“Woah woah woah woah. Slow down there Stark. What do you mean ‘she doesn’t remember that you’re her dad’?!” Steve asked, holding his hand parallel to the table an attempt to get the genius inventor to calm down.

“Exactly what I said. She doesn’t remember. She’s convinced that-“

“That her family died in Sakovia, and that she’s been living with her foster parents for the last three years.” Peter said interrupting Tony by walking into the room and sitting down in the closest seat to the door looking at the other people but avoiding Tony’s eyes. “She also said that she’s been going to Midtown Tech for the last three years and that me and her-“ Peter continued before stoping himself and finally meeting Tony’s eyes.

“You and her what Parker?” He said with an eyebrow raised.

“It-its nothing mister Stark. Forget I brought it up.”

“Oh no Parker. We’re not pulling that, ‘start to say something important, then stop out of nowhere’ game.” Tony said looking Peter in the eye causing the young boy crack under the intense stare.

“Fine! She, um. She thinks we’ve been dating for the past three years.”

“WHAT?!” Tony yelled as he got up from his seat and proceeded to chase the young spiderling around the room.

“As amusing as this is.” Loki said watching Tony chase Peter around the table until Peter webbed himself up to the ceiling to avoid Tony. “Brother, being the god of mischief, I feel something is off in this house. I must go check.” Thor nodded as Loki disappeared through the wall.

—

“Do they suspect anything?” Ursula said through the phone.

“Nope. My idiot of a father and his protégé are actually fighting right now.” You said smiling as you looked at the hallway tony went down. “One weird thing did happen though, Penis Parker locked me in my hospital room.”

“What?!” Ursula yelled so loudly you had to move the phone away from your ear.

“I said exactly what you said to say. How my parents died, how me and that bug have been together all this time, and how Stark wasn’t my father but my mentor.”

“Then why did he lock you in?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re being cautious after Parker and Rogers run in with Bucky?” You felt a chill run down your spine and you could feel eyeballs burning holes in the back of your head. Someone was watching you. You slyly used the window to the hospital room you were just in to look over your shoulder. You saw nothing. You just shrugged your shoulders and continued to listen to your next order. Being the only other winter solider awake, you were use to feeling like you were being watched.

“Does Stark suspect anything?”

You laughed at this accusation, “Stark? Really? No he doesn’t. Right now he’s screaming at the spiderling about how ‘we’re dating’ no he has no clue what’s going on.”

“Perfekt” Ursula said and you swore you could hear her smirking. “Now for phase two: try to see if you can spend the night there and find that file on him and it.”

“Do you still want me to get Mjölnir?”

“Yes. That hammer is a big part of the plan. HYDRA will succeed where Leviathan had failed.”

“Of course, Leviathan was weak and stupid. They couldn’t take on, Peggy Carter, a simple SSR agent. Whereas HYDRA were smarter staying asleep for all these years. Cut off one head-“ you interrupt yourself before turning around the feeling of you being watched returned. When didn’t see anyone once again you turn your attention back to Ursula, not knowing Loki was there the entire time. “Two more grow back.”

“Hail HYDRA” Ursula says before hanging up.

—

“TONY!” Steve said slamming his hand on the table gaining Tony’s attention. “Don’t kill the boy. We need him.”

“Fine.” Tony said reluctantly as he moved away from the corner Peter was in on the ceiling. “I won’t kill the kid.” Tony sat back down in his seat as Peter started to climb down the wall. “Yet.” Giving Peter a look that made the young boy freeze with terror.

“Good. Now let’s get back to business. We need to figure out what’s going on with Y/N.” Natasha said placing her chin in one of her hands, elbow on the table.

“Yeah. Like why she thinks her family is dead.” Bruce said looking around the table.

“Or how she thinks Tony is her mentor.” Clint said looking at Bruce.

“Wait a second.” Peter said finally jumping off the wall. “Hey cap?”

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t something like th-“ Peter was interuppted by a knock on the door and you walking in.

“Mr. Stark...” You said as you walked in and froze when you noticed all the eyes on you.

“Y/N.” Tony said getting up on his feet, the other Avengers followed his lead. As they cautiously took steps towards you.

“I-I’m sorry did I interupt something?” You said looking between all heros in the room. Your real family; the family you’ve been trained to hate, to despise, to eliminate.

“You’re fine. What’s up?” Tony asked as he walked towards you.

“I just got off the phone with my mom..”

“Oh are your parents here?” He said looking over your shoulder

“No they had to go back to the apartment to see the landlord.”

“What happened? Why are they-”

“The ceiling in my bedroom kinda collapsed.” You interuppted him, your eyes were glued to the ground out of embarrassment. You could see your reflection in Tony’s black Salvatore Ferragamo dress shoes. Your eyes were sunken in, your dark circles from late night training and stake outs with The Winter Soilder were showing and the sweater you had on had become heavy it felt like it was made of bowlers.

“What?” He said causing you to snap you’re head back up. “Your ceiling collapsed!?”

“Yeah. It was our neighbors upstairs fault. They left their water on and it leaked through the ceiling. But my parents don’t want me to sleep on the couch and they were wondering if I could sleep here? If not it’s totally okay!”

Tony’s eyes lit up “Yeah of course! That’ll be fine.” He said obviously trying to hide his excitement, but failing miserably. You smirked ‘This is going to be too easy. Like taking candy from a baby.’ You thought. “I’ll show you to your room.” He said walking pass you through the door.

“Actually.” You started turning around and grabbing Tony’s wrists. You met his sad brown eyes. “Can Peter show me? Please?”

“Yeah, Yeah of course. Parker can you please show young Y/N to her room please?”

“But Mr. Stark I was-“ the spider superhero was starting to say.

“Now please?” Tony interrupted.

“Yes sir. Come on Y/N.” Peter said as he walked out the door with you swiftly behind him. When you were down the hallway and out of earshot Loki materialized.

“ODIN’S BEARD BROTHER!” Thor said holding his hammer up as if he were about to throw it.

“Warn us next time you do something like that.” Bruce said holding his chest.

“My apologies, but I believe there’s something wrong with Lady Y/N.” Loki said now standing at the head of the table with both hands placed firmly down while looking at everyone’s faces begin to twist in a mixture of confusion and worry.

“Of course there’s something wrong with her! She doesn’t remember that I’m her father, she thinks Parker has been her boyfriend for the last three years, she thinks that her parents died in Europe, and she doesn’t realize that her family is right here in this room!” Tony said slamming his fist on the table now back at his seat across from Loki, staring him down. “What could possibly be worse? Mmh?” He said raising his eyebrows in anticipation to hear what Loki had to add.

“Well for starters, are you familar with Leviathan and a SSR agent named Paisley Carbon?” Loki asked looking around until he locked eyes with Steve who realized who the god of mischief was talking about.

“Do you Peggy Carter?” Steve asked Loki with sadness occupying his face. Loki nodded and looked away from Steve to see what Tony would do.

“I know who Peggy was she was an excellent Agent, but Leviathan does sound familar. F.R.I.D.A.Y. look up ‘Agent Peggy Carter and Leviathan in dad’s old files please.”

“on the order of Joseph Stalin, Leviathan was formed to ensure that the Soviet Union would become the world's leading superpower by having better weapons than its enemies and allies. The group also trained girls to become assasins at a young age.

Some Leviathan operatives have their vocal cords disabled, leaving them with a Y-shaped incision on their neck and preventing them from speaking without the use of a Voice Synthesizer. These operatives were present when at the Battle of Finow when Midnight Oil was used; their voice boxes were damaged because of the gas and removed. Missions are given to agents and communications are returned through the Remote Typewriter.

Leet Brannis was an operative of Leviathan, but decided to go solo. He went to the illegal trader named Spider Raymond and received a packet of money in exchange for property stolen from Howard Stark. When a man in a green suit went to Raymond to claim the Nitramene bomb, he killed the fence as he searched his safe for it.

Brannis revealed the existence of the organization to Peggy Carter by telling her, "Leviathan is coming." She had noticed that Brannis and the assassin who killed her roommate Colleen O'Brien both had their larynx missing

Known associate Edwin Jarvis researched Stark's files but found nothing pertaining to Leviathan. Carter went to hospitals, but did not find any records of men with a laryngotomy operation, concluding that Leviathan operatives were foreigners.

When Brannis was captured by Carter and Jarvis, he asked for protection from his former employer.

Drawing a heart-like shape in the dirt, Brannis died before revealing more information to Carter about the organization.

The Strategic Scientific Reserve researched the backgrounds of Leet Brannis and the Man in the Green Suit, learning that they were both in the Soviet Armed Forces, but the agency did not connect them to Leviathan.

Ivchenko came to the United States with Peggy Carter after she freed him from a prison in Belarus. He told the Strategic Scientific Reserve the story on how Leviathan captured him, without revealing his loyalty to the organization. When they were alone, he tried to get Chief Roger Dooley to look out his office window; Dottie Underwood was stationed across the street with a high-powered rifle. Dooley would not come to the window, so Ivchenko changed Underwood's order to target Peggy Carter. He then learned all he could about the whereabouts of Howard Stark's inventions from Agent Yauch before having him commit suicide.

Ivchenko procured a weapon of Howard Stark labelled by the Strategic Scientific Reserve as Item 17; he caused the death of Chief Roger Dooley in the process by having him wear a Stark Heat Vest. Dottie Underwood tested the effectiveness of the weapon by releasing it in a movie theater. Everyone attacked each other until there were none left alive.

Fennhoff and Underwood then kidnapped Howard Stark and took him to his warehouse. There, Fennhoff revealed his plan to make Stark release the Midnight Oil on New York City for what happened to Fennhoff's brother at the Battle of Finow. Fennhoff hynoptized Stark into flying a plane filled with the Oil to New York City to dump it over the Times Square celebration of V-E Day. However, Fennhoff and Underwood were confronted by SSR agents Peggy Carter, Jack Thompson and Daniel Sousa. Carter was able to subdue Underwood, but she escaped; Fennhoff was knocked out by Sousa and gagged to prevent him from hypnotizing anyone. Stark was freed of his hynoptism, and Fennhoff was then taken to jail.” The Irish A.I. read.

“But what does this has to do with my daughter?” Tony asked when F.R.I.D.A.Y. Finished reading the report.

“I think she was captured and tortured by HYDRA for the past years and now they’re finishing what Leviathan started. I know it is far fetched but I heard her say ‘cut off one head-” Loki said looking Stark in the eyes to see his eyes widen.

“Two more grow back.” Steve finishing the saying he knew to well. A saying that still haunts his dreams to this day.

“Where’s the spiderboy?” Loki asked finally realizing Peter was nowhere to be seen. “He never misses a briefing.

“Oh crap.” Natasha says taking her feet off the table and sitting up straight. “He’s with Y/N.”

“And if what Loki said is true-“ Clint said.

“We need to go and get him.” Bruce said finishing the thought.

—

Peter was rambling off about something about Star Wars when he felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck start to stand up, it was his spidey-sense going haywire. Peter looked around for a potential threat, but all he saw was you. The girl who he’s been worried about for years and whom he loved holding a knife into his back and smirking at him.

“время, чтобы умереть паук-мальчик. (Time to die spider-boy).“ You said holding the knife up to his back. Ursula’s words echoed through your mind: ‘Eliminate anyone who gets in your way’ that’s what you’re doing right now, but you didn’t want to hurt this boy. You wanted to protect him, you care about his well being. You suddenly felt guilty for hurting and planning to kill Peter.

But why?

Part 7

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