#bruce: no one can tell my husband to go fuck himself except for me

[arkangelo-7]

I bet Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne are like one of those old married couples who argue all the time but have also been married for like 50+ years and physically cannot be without one another. Like yes they’ll spend two hours arguing over whether they should watch Hells Kitchen or The Great British Bake-Off, but they also ready to throw hands the second someone suggests they take a break from one another.

[emphasisonthehomo]

Continuation of this.

I was lamenting in the tags on the original post about my failure to include Gracie and @teruel-a-witch rightly pointed out that Steve could be the bio dad. So anyways. Here’s how Danny gets a bun in his oven. This also gets unbelievably schmoopy.

I’d say this is a... light E? Heavy M? Sex but nothing too detailed.

•

The thing with having spent like 12 years as Best Friends with Benefits, is that this means everyone gets slapped in the face with Deeply Flirtatious Married Bickering right out the gate.

Danny comes back from the airport, and because he flew in last night and was going to fly out today, all he has is his comfy travel clothes and his funeral suit. As a result he’s in a threadbare pair of jeans and a t shirt with the album cover of Born in the U.S.A on the front, exclusively bc the idea of Danny walking around w/ Bruce Springsteen’s ass across his chest is hilarious to me.

But they’re like Obviously Close to the point that when Steve goes to bully Chin into joining his new task force, Chin sits there like “Okay so Steve McGarrett brought his… not husband, there’s no wedding ring, but boyfriend? Partner? To this discussion. Interesting.”

Steve and Chin go to speak to Doran, because Danny is very firmly in the ‘civilian’ box in Steve’s head. Which mostly means Danny stands by the rental car and goes WHAT THE FUCK when Steve and Chin go in without backup. This is probably the first time Danny’s seen Steve in SEAL mode, the closest is maybe when Steve’s taken him to the gun range. But this is different. This is a side of Steve that Danny hasn’t seen, in all the time he’s known him. But why would he? Steve goes off and does classified shit and doesn’t talk about it. Danny’s a PI from Jersey. It’s two very different lives.

Afterwards Danny walks up to Steve, grabs him by the elbow and, and in front of god and Chin and HPD says:

“Steven. Listen. I love you. You understand that, right?”

Steve, taken a back, half distracted because Doran is fucking dead and therefore useless says, “I – yes. I love you too, Danno.”

“Good,” Danny nods seriously, “Because you are a dumb shit idiot bastard son of a bitch motherfucker, what the hell were you thinking – ”

And then Chin witnesses one of their more legitimate arguments and is like oh damn, trouble in paradise.

After all of it, after Hess is dead in the water, Danny takes Steve back to a hotel room and fucks him careful. Because Steve’s kind of beat up, a little worse for wear. Because he’s a moron who crashed a car into a ship, but he’s also Danny’s moron. Danny sucks him sloppy and then gets on top of him and rides him bare, fucks himself on Steve’s dick until they’re both shaking with it, until Steve’s clinging to him and kissing him and holding him close.

Danny feels bad, leaving. He can tell Steve’s still in a really fragile place, but Danny does seriously need to get back to Jersey. He’s in the middle of a case there.

“So, Governor’s task force, huh?” Danny asks afterwards, when Steve’s basically using him as a human shaped weighted blanket, “You’ll be on O’ahu full time.”

“Yeah,” Steve kind of wants to ask Danny to stay, to join the task force with him. He won’t. Danny’s got a successful business in Jersey. Danny hates the beach.

“We’ll be able to see each other more often then,” and Danny’s so pleased with the idea, playing idly with Steve’s hair, “I’ll come out again in a couple months for a visit.”

Steve’s got so many fucking feelings, things he can’t even begin to say out loud, so he just starts pushing Danny onto his back. Ignores Danny’s protests of ‘you’re in a sling you moron’ and eats Danny out, very thoroughly cleans up the mess left deep inside him.

And then the next morning Steve drives Danny to the airport in the rental, pecks him on the mouth at passenger drop off, and watches him walk away.

Because that’s what they do.

Except Steve won’t be traveling anymore, not like he used to. He’s very cognizant of the fact that he’s going to be sleeping and waking up in the same bed every morning for the foreseeable future, and that if he weren’t in the middle of the pacific, Danny would probably be in that bed with him.

•

“Danny just went back to New Jersey?” Chin asks.

“That’s where he lives,” Steve says, surprised at how shocked Chin sounds, “I told you, he’s a PI.”

“Ah. And you’re going to live here. In Honolulu,” Chin says.

“Yes,” Steve says, unsure of what exactly is so confusing about the whole thing. Of course he’s going to live here. His house is here. The task force is here.

Chin just blinks at him.

“What?” Steve doesn’t understand why Chin’s making that face.

“I thought Danny was your boyfriend,” Chin says, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Oh no uh. No. Danny’s a friend.”

Chin blinks at him some more.

“… There’s a hickey on your neck,” Chin points out, because there is. It’s barely covered by the collar of Steve’s shirt.

“A friend with benefits,” Steve explains with a shrug.

“Alright then,” Chin’s still got his eyebrows up by his hairline.

•

And then things just sort of figure themselves out, with the task force. They become Five-0.

Kono’s favorite thing to do is ask “What’re you smiling at, boss?” when she catches Steve grinning at his phone, because like 99.999% of the time it’s because he’s texting Danny.

MEANWHILE

Danny’s in New Jersey, doing his thing. And he. Well, he feels some kind of way, that Steve’s in the reserves now. He’d always kind of assumed that when Steve either retired or went to the reserves, that he’d come to Jersey. But then Steve didn’t.

Danny gets it. Understands why Steve did what he did, why he’s in Honolulu now. But Danny also can’t help but be a little grumpy, because he wants Steve in his house instead.

But it’s what they do. This thing. It’s been long distance right from the beginning. Danny’s used to it.

Steve sends Danny badly framed pictures of himself shirtless on the beach at some ungodly hour of the morning, and Danny misses him with an ache he can’t shake. It is nice though, that they can text and call more frequently than when Steve was active duty.

AND THEN whelp.

Danny starts to get weirdly nauseous. Like he’s got a stomach bug. Except it doesn’t go away, and it’s usually in the morning, and suddenly the smell of coffee makes him sick and oh jesus fucking christ.

He’s an idiot.

Danny knows, that going on T isn’t a form of birth control. He knows this. But him and Steve fuck without a condom all the time, this hasn’t happened before, there’s no way.

Except he also knows ‘hasn’t happened before’ doesn’t mean something won’t happen and shit fuck goddammit.

So, he goes to see an ob/gyn and confirms his suspicions and son of a bitch.

He’s gestating a mini McGarrett.

•

Danno: I land Friday at 9:35

Danno: SORRY 21:35 🙄

And Steve’s kind of stupid excited, because yes Danny had said he’d visit again in a few months, but it’s one thing to know that Danny’s going to visit at some vague point in the future, and it’s another to get the flight itinerary.

He’s in a good enough mood about it that Kono pegs him immediately and is like “Is your Not Boyfriend going to come visit?”

And Steve doesn’t even argue about how he doesn’t like her referring to Danny as his Not Boyfriend, he just says “Yup 😊” and then idk gets into a high speed car chase and shoots his gun and does his usual bullshit.

Danny meanwhile is shitting a brick and pacing a hole in the floor and having a hissed conversation with Matty about the whole situation while packing. Danny respects Steve too much to do this over the phone, he needs to tell him to his face. This is going to change things; he just doesn’t know how. He knows how he wants things to change, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get that.

“You gonna make an honest man out of him?” Matty’s been unimpressed with Danny and Steve’s fuck buddies thing, has been for years. He genuinely doesn’t understand why Danny won’t just put a ring on it, “He’s in the reserves now.”

“IT’S COMPLICATED” Danny’s kind of an emotional wreck. He tapered off of T because like, you know. Baby. So, he’s dealing with that plus all of the regular ass pregnancy hormones. He’s dreading it, the changes that’ll happen to his body. At the same time, he���s so excited to hold Baby in his arms that he’s freaking himself out a little. A Dad. He’s gonna be a Dad. He’s always wanted kids, and always assumed it probably wasn’t in the cards for him.

“It’s not that complicated. He’s gotta stay in Hawai'i so just move there or something.”

“I have spent years building this business –”

“Rebuild it on O’ahu and go get your baby daddy locked down, goddamn. Stop being stupid about it.”

Danny throws a sock at him.

•

Steve can tell that Danny’s stressed about something and trying to hide it. Steve tries to bring it up on the drive back to the house, but Danny is like “No. Not now. We’ll talk about it in a little bit” and he’s jittery in the passenger seat, but Steve knows when to push an issue and this is Not one of those times.

Danny practically jumps him once they get through the door, and Danny’s suitcase gets forgotten in the front hallway while the two of them get mostly naked. Shirts get tossed and a pants get shoved down, and it ends with Danny bent over the back of the couch while Steve fucks him deep and hard and right there Steve goddammit –

They flop together afterwards. They’re not even sitting on the couch, just kind of laying awkwardly on the floor behind it. Danny’s got come dripping out of him, christ he’s making a mess and he fights the urge to laugh hysterically, because this is how he got into this situation in the first place.

Steve can feel him tense up from where they’re cuddling together and asks:

“Are we talking about it now?”

He doesn’t think it’s anything bad, Danny doesn’t look scared or upset, just worried about something.

“Later, I need a shower,” Danny says.

Steve thinks if he pushed the issue now, Danny probably wouldn’t get too pissed, but he’d also much rather get Danny properly naked and wet, so instead Steve just drags him upstairs.

They don’t fuck again in the shower, but they do go in together. Danny gropes Steve shamelessly, and Steve keeps reaching up and changing the angle of the shower head so Danny gets sprayed in the face.

“Are we talking about it now?” Steve asks, when they’re damp and in bed. They’re curled up next to each other, legs tangled together.

“Shit,” Danny says, “Yeah.”

It’s late. Dark outside.

Danny’s suitcase is still down stairs. He needs to go grab it so he can brush his teeth and get his pajamas. Instead, he puts his hands on either side of Steve face and rips off the band aid.

“I’m pregnant.”

Steve’s eyes get huge.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant. It’s yours,” Danny adds, kind of uselessly. It’s not like it’d be anyone else’s. Danny lets go of his face.

Steve doesn’t look upset, but Danny didn’t think he would. He just looks surprised.

“Mine?” Steve says, after a beat.

“Yeah.”

“How?” Steve asks, looking gob smacked.

“Well Steve, when two people love each other very much –” Danny starts, and then stops because that feels like Too Much right now, “You came inside my you goon, that’s how it happens.”

“I come inside you all the time,” Steve says, blunt and vulgar.

“Yeah well. Last time it took,” Danny props himself up on his arm looks down a Steve, “What’s the face mean?”

“I – I don’t know,” Steve says, still processing.

Danny shifts and sits up.

“How’re we doing this?” Danny asks, eventually. He’s given Steve enough time to think.

“How do you want to do this?” Steve asks, because that’s a good enough place to start.

“I’m keeping it,” Danny says, “I’d like you to be involved, if you want.”

“Of course, I want!” Steve sounds a little indignant. He sits up too, and stares at Danny some more, “… I can’t go to Newark.”

“I know.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it.

For once Steve’s tied down somewhere. After years of being on the move, he’s finally got commitments in once place.

Danny’s mouth is twisted up, and he doesn’t look happy. Steve leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, grabs his hand and squeezes.

“You could stay here,” Steve says, “That’s another option. I know you’ve got your PI business but I mean. Licenses transfer. You could work at Five-0.”

He doesn’t want to – this shouldn’t be something Danny feels pressured to do. He knows what Danny has in Jersey is important but. But it is an option.  

“That’s gotta be nepotism,” Danny says weakly, “Getting me a job at your task force.”

“Well, it is my task force, I can do whatever I want,” Steve says.  

“…Okay. Yeah,” Danny shakes his head slowly, clearly thinking through logistics, “I can get my license switched.”

“We can figure something out,” Steve says, breath catching in his chest because Danny. Danny’s going to move here.

Danny’s quiet for a long moment.

Then he gets a Look in his eye.

“If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?” Because Danny needs to know. If they’re changing what they do, he needs to know how it’s going to change.

“What?” Steve’s back to staring.

That’s fair. Danny’s dropped quite a few bombs on him in the last few minutes.

“Would you say yes?” Danny repeats, pink cheeked and determined.

“… are you asking?”

“Not if you’re gonna break my heart about it,” Danny says, and he doesn’t mean for his voice to crack, but it does.

Steve kisses him. Cradles Danny’s face in his hand and kisses him careful and with purpose and pulls away.

“Will you marry me, Daniel Williams?”

“I fuck – I was going to ask you first!” Danny says, incensed.

“Too slow,” Steve kisses him again, “Will you?”

“Yes, you fucking bastard – ” Danny’s grinning, a laugh bubbling out of his chest.

He shoves Steve down onto the mattress. Steve laughs too, loud and infectious, and just tugs Danny down for another kiss.

AND THEN idk idk idk they’re gross and In Love and the next day Danny goes to the Palace and Kono’s like “CHIN, Steve’s Not Boyfriend is here” and Steve just gets Very Smug and says:

“You’re right, he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my fiancé.”

[builder051]

Marvel Disabilities Celebration Week: Day 2

Creedless Assassins; takes place post-Infinity War, pre-Endgame (Diverges from Endgame quite a bit, but pulls from the canon of the comics, so maybe that's ok?)

______________________________

It starts off as a cold. At least that's what Clint says when he talks to various medical professionals about the genesis of what came next.

Steve had called it a headcold. Apparently he'd spent most of his childhood with the stuffy ears and sinuses gone to shit, exacerbated by a perpetual low grade fever and sore throat.

Nat had called it a hell cold. Maybe because it made Clint feel like hell. But probably because it made him give her a lot of hell.

Steve had tried to get them all together in a sort of bucket brigade, stopping by with soup and Kleenex whenever they happened to be at the tower. It didn't take long for Thor to start making himself scarce. Then Tony, even though the tower is technically his permanent address. Bruce turned up every other day for almost two weeks before he snapped and sent Clint an 'anonymous' email in all caps and green text, accusing him, in more efficient language, of being a poser. After that, everything fell on Nat.

"It's been almost a month," Nat says, annoyed. She lays upside down on the foot of Clint's bed, head hanging off the edge and a comic book held up an inch from her nose.

Clint coughs wetly. "Not my fault."

"I didn't say it was."

"Huh?" Clint looks up and wrinkles his nose, then puts his hand behind his ear.

"You still all congested?" Nat asks. "Because you really should be over that by now."

Clint shrugs. "It's not my face, really." He gestures to the prominent bones beneath his eyes. He's thinned out lately, so everything on him is prominent now. "It's more like my..." He claps his hands against the sides of his head.

"Ears?" Nat guesses.

Clint nods.

"You probably have an infection." There's a hint of 'duh' in Nat's voice. "With that hell cold, I wouldn't be surprised if you had some... stuff. Bronchitis. Ear infection."

"Doesn't hurt, though," Clint protests, determined to be fine, despite evidence to the contrary.

"You need to go get it checked out," Nat says. She gives Clint a hard look.

"But--"

"Humor me." Nat's expression turns to a gentle smile, even though she's on the losing end of the argument. She's giving Clint a gift, not fighting back. She must realize how awful he feels, and Clint immediately feels guilty for hiding it.

"Yeah," Clint sighs. Nat could probably tell him anything and he'd agree right now, in the vulnerable position he currently holds.

Her words make sense, though. His ears don't seem to work. Haven't all week. Maybe longer. Clint isn't sure.He doesn't need his sense of hearing much whilst he's lying in bed, all his energy absorbed in raising his body temperature enough to host the antibodies and force them to work against the intruders. Or maybe it's the other way around. Yada Yada. Clint doesn't care.

"If I make you an appointment, will you go?" Nat asks, a little desperation in her tone.

"Maybe?" Clint imbues the word with as much honesty as he can

To be completely candid, his mission days are over. SHIELD can't trust him to stick to the script in the field anymore, so he's basically defunct. They use him as a paperwork pusher, signing and stamping, because he can read and write and he's a level six.

Mission reports from [Name redacted] SHIELD Agent/Enhanced Person, passed, damages, casualty count don't phase him. Shit happened. Yeah, it sucks. The families of the dead are due recompense, lest their asses be sued (again). The success to casualty ration will be added to a long list of MS Excel data with automatic unfolding equations that define the company metrics.

Then Clint will snap up his briefcase, for god knows he has one now, a gift from Nat last Christmas. After that, he'll go home and... heat up canned soup. Maybe send a text or two. Go to bed. And wake up the next morning to do it all again.

Clint doesn't have Laura to fix his breakfast and dinner anymore. Nor does he have his children to run around in the yard with during his evenings and weekends.

His ears have been stuffy for so long now that he barely recalls Laura's voice. He thinks he holds onto her laugh, but then when he gets Nat started on a giggle fest, Clint thinks they sound eerily similar.

He's lost Lila completely. Nothing young and girlish remains in Clint's dwindling sound library, and he keeps mistaking the boys for each other, pushing Cooper back into babyhood as he tries to remember something Nathaniel said the other day before school.

Except it wasn't the other day. They vanished better than 90 days ago., and lint's been sick for at least the last month. Sometimes Clint wonders if Laura had been sick when she'd died, or been dusted or vaporized or whatever had happened. Had she been putting on a brave face to fight a fever? Had she passed on mono to her only bewedded husband? Did Laura have a secret boyfriend that no one knew about?

But no. No. Clint doesn't want to know. He thinks one more time about asking Nat, but changes his mind again, sticking to the high road.

"I need a better answer," Nat says. "If I make you an appointment, " she flips her phone between her fingers. "Will you go?"

Clint draws in his breath. "Will you take me?" he finally asks.

Nat grits her teeth. "Yeah. I guess."

"Do you think something's really wrong?" Clint furrows his brow.

Nat's molars continue to grind together, and her incisors push forward into the flesh of her lip. Clint expects to hear the awful sound, but instead there's nothing until she clears her throat and finally says, " Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Clint lets a beat of silence pass. "Ok.... Make it, and I guess I just..."

"Just tell them how it started, then what you're feeling right now," Nat says, as if it's that easy.

"You mean, the cold?"

"Yeah." Nat nods. "I don't mean to jump to conclusions on you, but that's a possible side effect of mono. If that's what you wind up having."

"Huh?"

"Don't know or didn't hear?" Nat looks concerned.

"Neither." Clint shakes his head.

"Going deaf."

"...Ok." Clint sighs. "I guess I knew that, but..."

"Hard to let it sink in when it's happening to you?"

"Yeah. Like jumping without a chute, or something."

"Nothing like that feeling, electrifying your veins." Nat shudders. "But similar, probably. I don't know."

"I don't know either. A fucking cold." Clint shake his head. "'S what I deserve, I guess."

"Hey, I never said that." Nat stares harshly into his eyes. "We'll come out the other side."

Clint reluctantly nods. "You know I haven't forgotten you yet? Like, the sound of you?" His eyes begin to fill with tears.

Nat presses her lips together again. "That's--" She shakes her head. "That's not fair. You deserve to keep her. To keep them. I don't matter." Nat waves her hand in front of er boy, as if to accentuate her worthlessness.

"It is what it is," Clint says, "And right now, I'll take what I can get."

"That makes me--" Now it's Nat's turn to wipe away tears. "I'll come see you tomorrow, ok?" She lifts herself up from Clint's bed in a push up position. She scrubs her face into the forearm of her hoodie, then shoots Clint a wan smile.

He returns the gaze, then pulls his blankets up to his chest. "I'll miss you."

"No, you won't," Nat scoffs. She squeezes lint's foot through the quilt before she turns to go.

"Hey, thanks!" The words are out of his mouth before Clint realizes he's shouting. He's hyperaware of his problem, now. His cheeks go pink, and he offers Nat an awkward wave.

Nat turns, then waves back, over her shoulder as she exits the room, leaving Clint alone in the silence.

[alecmagnuslwb]

You’ve Changed Man - @doubleredweek Day 4

Read on AO3

Jason doesn’t mind stakeouts generally. He likes the peace and quiet of being alone, of stalking his prey and figuring out their ins and outs so he can take them out. It’s probably a bit of the Selina Kyle training he got in his youth slipping in and he absolutely loves it.

A stakeout with Roy isn’t even too bad, because he loves Roy and even though Roy loves to talk sometimes, he gets the need for quiet when on a stakeout. He understands Jason’s desire for silence, for focus. Plus if things get really boring they can just make out. It’s a win-win situation no matter what really.

Jason however decidedly hates stakeouts with his brothers, except for maybe Duke who at least knows the value of silence even if he thinks quote on quote ‘stakeouts are stupid, that’s what the internet is for’. Damian’s impulse control makes Jason look like a patient saint, Dick treats it like he’s a still a cop and Tim might be worst of all.

Tim Drake is incredibly smart, though Jason doesn’t like to tell him that. He’s hardwired like a better detective than Batman himself, which he also doesn’t like to tell him. He’s focused, determined and sharp as a tack at most times. Except evidently on a stakeout when he’s on his tenth black eye with three extra shots of the night. Jason has no idea when Tim last slept, but he’s starting to feel like it was a worrying amount of time ago.

Tim’s gone from focusing his attention solely on the target across the street to looking in the living rooms of any place he can find and seeing what’s on tv. He’s quoted a range of television shows and movies verbatim and he’s spouted out so many facts about things only barely related to what he’s catching on people’s televisions that Jason can’t keep track.

He’s basically driving Jason insane as he tries to keep his own focus on Sophia Falcone in her luxury penthouse apartment that she’s rumored to have not left in pushing three months now. She’s up to no good, that much they know, just what kind of family business no good they’re not sure. Which is why they’re staked out on a rooftop in 70-degree nighttime heat in form fitting leather. Not to watch people’s tv’s.

Tim’s leg is bouncing up and down the jitters of the coffees keeping him in constant motion. Frankly between the heat, the deeply uneven ratio of coffee to water and the constant movement Jason’s not quite sure how Tim hasn’t passed out from dehydration yet.

Scientists should probably study Tim for inhuman ability related to coffee which is coming from a guy who should probably be studied for the whole coming back from the dead thing.

Tim’s been quite for a while now, finally, but the silence is broken when he starts muttering under his breath. Jason looks over from where Sofia has been barking orders at a maid to see Tim swaying back and forth and gives him a judgmental look.

Soon enough the muttering gets a little louder and Jason can clearly tell he’s singing, poorly so but singing nonetheless.

“And the line where sky beats the sea, it calls me!” he sings a little too loud for their position. Jason smacks him on the shoulder gaining his attention.

“Keep it down,” he says before turning his attention back to Sofia, but he can only see the poor haggard maid now. “Also, that’s not the lyrics.”

Tim doesn’t say a thing which he knows he should be grateful for, but he really needs to know if Tim’s coffee addled brain understands that he has to keep it down so he pulls his focus back to Tim.

He expects him to be once again watching Moana through some poor person’s window, but instead Tim is looking directly at him eyes bright, wide and positively delighted under his domino mask sporting the dorkiest fucking smile Jason has ever seen on a human being.

“What?” he asks confused, feeling like he’s clearly missing something.

“You know the lyrics to Moana,” Tim says with absolute glee.

Jason just shrugs. “So? Lian loves it and Roy does this whole thing where he sings it to her when she’s in the tub. There’s a whole production with plastic boats and a water-logged Barbie involved and everything,” he says trying to play it off as nothing to think about, but knowing he sounds exceedingly fond. It’s one of the cutest things he’s ever seen and Roy’s voice is actually pretty nice, in another life he might have been a low rent rockstar. He has the hair for it.

“You’re so domestic now,” Tim giggles taking another sip of his latest cold brew. Jason thinks Alfred and magic must be involved in how he fit so many into his little cooler. “It’s adorable.”

“I’m not domestic now,” Jason balks at Tim his gut instinct to instantly deny. He’s the Red Hood, the nightmare that criminals tell their lackeys about. He’s a badass raised on the streets who’s spent time in the tutelage of some of the greatest criminal masterminds alive. He can take any gun you sit in front of him apart and put it back together in under fifteen seconds. He was raised on the streets dammit, he’s the broken son of the Bat. He’s not domestic, he’s a badass.

“I’m the fucking Red Hood,” he says instead of all that, it seems like he’d be reaching too far and being a bit too defensive if he went on the rant he just had in his head.

“Yeah you are,” Tim says with that goofy smile just getting goofier. “And the fucking Red Hood is a big ol’ domestic softie now who’s in love,” Tim singsongs the word love. “And makes casseroles and knows all the words to Moana,” he finishes off in explanation with playful poke to Jason’s shoulder

Jason shoves his hand away and bristles at the implication he’s gone soft. So what if he spends more time at home than he ever has before and he puts a little more effort into his cooking now that he’s cooking for three instead of quick meals for one in empty safehouses. So what if he makes his choices based entirely on whether it will cut into his time with Roy and Lian. And yeah, maybe he knows more about Disney animation now than he ever did even when he was a child himself, but he’s a sort of stepfather and sort of husband these days and it all comes with the territory.

It doesn’t mean he can’t still kick ass and demolish the criminal underbelly of Gotham.

“Am not,” he replies like the mature adult he is. “You are.”

Tim just scoffs at him, actually says the word scoff. The coffee has to be making him delusional by now.

“Don’t live in denial brother o’ mine, you’ve changed man,” Tim giggles again swirling his coffee around the ice clinking loudly in the rare quiet of a Gotham city night.

“No I haven’t,” Jason says even though he knows that’s not true. He’s better than he used to be. It’s not a thing to get defensive about, but he feels like his brother’s should still think of him as tough for some reason. His sister never has, so he’s not too worried that Cassandra has definitely caught him making unicorn shaped pancakes in the kitchen one morning and caught him obsessing over rings in a jewelry store window for a reason he hasn’t quite admitted to yet that one time. She’s a great secret keeper too, since Tim definitely would be bringing up those events right now if she had blabbed.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Tim says between big slurps of his coffee. “You’re still the spooky boogeyman that criminals fear, but you’re also the guy whose ringtone is from the Little Mermaid. It’s a cool balance, pretty sure it’s the balance we’re all trying find.”

“Lian changed my ringtone and every time I switch it back she just does it again, so I left it,” Jason says feeling a little less defensive now. Maybe Tim’s right, maybe it’s not necessarily a bad thing. He is the happiest he’s been since he crawled out of his own grave, happier than he was even in those vague rare memories of joy he has from his own childhood.

“Sweet,” Tim says warmly picking his binoculars back up and going back to the house where the movie is playing instead of the criminal kingpin’s daughter. Jason just rolls his eyes focusing his own attention back on the task at hand.

They sit quietly after that Jason watching as Falcone Jr. paces in front of her fireplace clearly agitated about something while Tim quietly enjoys his movie.

“So what are the lyrics?” Tim asks breaking the quiet. It seems he’s run out of coffee now and has resorted to just chewing on the straw.

“It’s where the sky meets the sea not beats,” he emphasizes.

“Cool,” Tim says finally shifting his binoculars back to the same place Jason has been looking for the past four hours. Another few beats of quiet pass and Jason thinks maybe finally they’re back in business, until Tim ruins it.

“Will you sing it for me? You know to make sure I get it right?” he asks and Jason looks over at him his eyes still trained on the penthouse, but with that goofy smile on his lips again.

Why did Bruce have to adopt so many damn kids? Jason could have been an only child, that would have been nice.

Jason squares his shoulders and puts on his best Red Hood voice. “Absolutely fucking not.”

He only sings for Lian dammit.

[lovelyirony]

@ironmanspussy​ here we are, directly inspired by your wonderful texpost! 

King Rhodes needed a partner to rule. It was ancient law, something he hadn’t really desired to follow. But unfortunately, the lawyers are assholes and want to create a monopoly of power that he just simply hasn’t the time to dismantle if he’s to follow his ten-year policy plan.

His partner should be well-mannered, aware of high society dress codes as well as how to navigate regular, everyday wear, and be calm in times of crisis.

So begins the search.

“You’re not going to find someone you like like that,” his advisor, Carol says, laughing. “I guarantee it.”

“We’ll see,” Rhodes decides.

Oh, they saw.

They saw a lot.

Almost every single candidate is bad. Or just off, in some way.

“Rogers seemed like a nice fit,” Carol says, tapping on her clipboard.

"He was nice, not for me. A bit too much.”

“What, muscle?”

“You could say that’s a factor. He’s also just a little too take-charge-of-everything.”

“Mm, that could pose a problem later. Well, the candidates who most matched your requirements are all out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You’re a very particular kind of guy, Jim. So here are the rest.”

“Send in the clowns,” Rhodes says, waving his hand in dismissal and drawing the other one to his forehead to signal a headache about to come on.

“You just sent Barnes out,” Danvers reminds him, grinning.

“Asshole.”

“I’m still getting paid!” Carol sing-songs.

-

It’s almost better. Almost. Prince Clint Barton is an impossibly good marksman, and...that’s about it. His leadership style is far different from the Rhodes kingdom needs and he admits that he almost showed up in jeans.

Well, at least there’s honesty. Rhodes could find that forgivable.

But the jeans. Good god.

-

Bruce Banner is a total sweetheart, but his constitution is quite poor and again with the fashion choices. He shows up in a very nice outfit and has a nice wit about him.

They talk at length, and Carol swears that it will go well and perhaps there will actually be a wedding by June, all things said and considered.

This is until Rhodes leads Dr. Banner out to the gardens to meet Thor, their part-time warrior and full-time gardener.

Thor is completely gone on the scientist-ruler, and there it is.

“This is supposed to be your matchmaking,” Carol reminds him, scowling. “It was going well.”

“Once he met Thor anyways, it would have been all over. You know Thor’s type. The scientists that could ruin the earth if they truly had the thought to.”

“I suppose you’re right. Next person, then. She looks promising, Empress Romanov?”

-

Natasha Romanov is a terrifying figure. Very, very terrifying.

That being said, she has excellent taste in fashion and promised to send Rhodes some reviews, but “unfortunately has her heart spoken for.”

(It’s not very unfortunate. Rhodes feared for his life.)

-

He’s about to lose it, to be completely honest. Is there seriously no one out there?

“Your last candidate, at least for this month, is Tony Stark. High-profile inventor.”

“Not royalty?”

“Essentially, he is. Dad helped create weapons, he followed with protection and medical detail. He usually doesn’t agree to meet, so you’ll have to ask him why.”

“Refuse to meet royalty?”

“People.”

-

Tony Stark did, in fact, refuse to meet people. In general, people were not his strong suit and he saw no point to marriage.

“If you marry well, you get more access to resources for your reacting thing,” Pepper says.

“My reactor. I’ve told you that a million times.”

“And I’ve forgotten it a million and one. But if you meet Rhodes, he’s probably your best chance of not marrying a total shit royal.”

“And why is that?”

“Searching online for your answer is free, I am not. Your bill will be sent to your inbox.”

Tony stares after Pepper. She’s too damn capable.

He sighs to himself.

He does need more funding for his projects. His father cut him off completely and while that wouldn’t be the worst thing, Tony’s not going to charge obscene prices just to keep himself afloat.

So...marrying a royal. Not the best plan in the world, especially given Tony’s track record with people. Sure, he can play the part. But he just...won’t.

-

This is why Tony’s about five minutes late, cursing up a blue streak at a guard that has followed him into the hall because due to his appearance he thinks he needs to have a “check-in” with the people at the front desk for appointments, and in general? The day has been bad.

Also, Pepper forced him into “nice” clothes. While Tony can and has worn his nice clothing before, he does not like the ones that Pepper chose because they are uncomfortable, stiff, and absolutely a bit too long.

So he trips on the carpet.

“Motherfucker!”

Rhodes’ head pops away from his conversation with the chef regarding the dinner menu.

Here is a man with probably the most intricately embroidered robes he’s ever seen on, hair that looks like it was probably not even styled, just brushed through, and had about the entirety of the guard behind him asking him about an appointment time.

Obviously, he’s the most attractive man Rhodes has ever seen in his life.

“And who are you?” he asks.

“Tony. Stark. Mechanic and inventor. Um, you talked to Pepper about me? I think I’m in your circle of potential candidates for ruling. It’s totally fine if you kick me out, I kind of scuffed your carpet.”

“We need new carpet anyway,” Carol says. “We’ll disregard your entrance for now, Stark.”

“Tony, please.”

“Tony,” Carol says slowly, smiling. “You will be walking around the gardens with King Rhodes, pausing for dinner.”

“Cool.”

Rhodes has to stop from laughing. Cool. He’s already a fan of this.

Carol leans over to him, whispering in his ear.

“I thought you wanted someone who had a cool head, not someone like that.”

“Well, I can be wrong every once in a while.”

“Or more.”

“Every once in a while,” Rhodes reiterates. “Besides, I have a good feeling about this.”

“Hm.”

-

Walking through a garden with a stranger is not as smooth as one would expect. Rhodes isn’t exactly well-versed in asking people what their plans are for the future, and if they are amenable to perhaps marriage.

“What do you do for fun?” Tony asks.

He’s sort of taken aback at the question.

“Pardon me?”

“What do you do for fun?” he repeats. “Like, do you cook? Sew? Duel with your rivals? What do you do for fun?”

Well. He has to think for a moment.

“I go on runs.”

“That is not fun. Don’t tell me that that’s what’s fun for you.”

“What, can’t run?”

“I don’t run, there’s a difference. I’ll run when something’s chasing me.”

“And yet you won’t have training, like I will.”

“Did you forget my trade, Your Imminence?” Tony asks, voice mocking him.

It’s honestly refreshing. Rhodes doesn’t like it when people are so serious around him, so afraid to disappoint.

“An inventor? You’re going to invent a way to run better?”

“To fly, honey. Honestly...”

-

After that, it’s a dead-set decision from Rhodes.

He offers his hand in marriage, as well as the crown. Tony blinks.

“You haven’t even seen me take a turn in the ballroom.”

“It’s either going to be wildly entertaining or surprising, and I can’t wait for either.”

-

Tony enters his own room, in a panic.

This has to go well. He has to dress to impress.

“Pepper, he’s holding a party for our engagement. I have to dress nicely.”

“You know how to do that, I don’t know why you’re telling me that.”

“There are so many factors. Do you know anyone who can embroider his family crest on any shoes? What colors I’m meant to do? Oh my god, we have to fuse the colors together. This is going to be a disgrace. I’ll be exiled to be a hermit in the forest who relies on bark for sustenance, and this--”

“Can you. Potentially, maybe, chill? It’ll be fine.”

“You say that, but right now I’m imagining having to go to war because I didn’t wear the right color of red, so...”

“You are literally the worst person alive.”

“False, we both know Justin Hammer and out of the two of us, I think you’d want to date me more.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Just practical, Pep. Just practical. Now help me shade match Rhodey’s red.”

“He’s Rhodey now?”

“In my head? Yes. I don’t like Rhodes, I absolutely will not call him Jim until we both hit seventy years old.”

“Better let him know that.”

-

Rhodes gets a text from Tony.

so a.) your new nickname from me is rhodey. don’t question it, honeybear. Anyways, would you say your royal family color is closer to garnet-red or blood-red?

Rhodey blinks. He likes the nickname. It’s different. He has to show the text to Carol.

“What in the hell does that mean?”

“Let me google it.”

She analyzes the results, frowning.

“I’m thinking blood-red.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Why does he want to know the color?”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask.”

we’ve decided it matches closer to blood-red, Tones. Why do you ask?

Tony blinks. Other nickname. Interesting. He likes it.

my outfit choice relies heavily on this.

He leaves it at that, grinning as he puts his phone away.

Rhodey is laughing. He’s excited to see his husband-to-be.

-

Tony knows he looks damned good. The whole outfit is incredible. Red with gold stitching throughout, and he got his hair to cooperate to be artfully messy instead of just messy.

“I’m surprised at you, you clean up well,” Pepper teases. “You ready to go and make your debut?”

“As ready as ever,” Tony says, fixing the chain around his neck. The gold glints off the lights, and he knows he’s about to be the best dressed person in the room, with perhaps the exception of Rhodey.

He knows that most people are surprised that he’s the one that King Rhodes has decided to marry. He’s not known for being a particularly polite royal. In fact, he has told multiple members of royalty to “get fucked or get out of my way” when they want him to build something that he refuses to build.

So he’s not exactly the perfect choice. But his outfit is still the best in the room.

“Hi gorgeous,” Rhodey says, smiling. “You look incredible.”

“Well I do know how to make an entrance, after all,” Tony says. “You’ll find out this is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Well then, I’m in for treats all my life,” Rhodey says. “How are you tonight, Tones?”

“Doing well, finished up working on one of the cars for Thor today.”

“Wait, you’re the one who’s refinishing it? He hasn’t been able to shut up about it for weeks! I was the one who used to look at it.”

“You like fixing up cars?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

-

From there, conversation flows. They understand each other well, laugh at the same jokes, and agree on cake flavors.

It’s not love, not yet. But they’re getting there.

-

It is officially love when Tony steals Rhodey from his royal duties to get a cheeseburger.

“Sometimes it’s good to get out of the throne, don’t you think?” Tony says, grinning over his sunglasses.

“For a cheeseburger? Can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that.”

“That’s because you’re all fancy and posh, I bet you don’t even know the f-word,” Tony says.

“Fuck you,” Rhodey jokes.

Tony gasps. “The king knows a curse word? Oh my lord! What...shame you bring to your family!”

Rhodey laughs, and it’s in this moment that he realizes that spending the rest of his days with Tony is potentially the best possible option in the world.

“I’m so glad we’re getting married,” he says. Tony stills.

“You...you are?”

“You’re the best thing to happen to me, I think,” Rhodey says, taking a sip of water as if he hasn’t just said the sweetest thing Tony’s ever heard. “And I hope that I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“I mean I don’t know, the AC/DC reunion tour was pretty sick...” Tony says, grinning. “I’m kidding. Rhodey, I think we’re gonna be a good team. And I’m glad that I get to be with you.”

-

Their wedding is the talk of the year. Literally no one can shut up about it, but maybe that’s because Tony accidentally showed up late because he was inventing and had wild hair and maybe a stray grease-stain on his forehead.

Rhodey just grinned.

“You better not be late to the reception.”

“I’ll try my best. You know how I am.”

They kiss, and Rhodey sends him into a deep dip. Tony laughs into the kiss, and it becomes one of the most well-known photographs of the year.

-

Sure, Rhodey didn’t exactly get all of the qualifications that he wanted out of his ruling partner. Tony is absolutely not calm in times of crisis, and stress-bought novelty socks.

He more than once told a difficult business partner to “absolutely get fucked up on a Thursday, see if I give a singular shit when my husband is ten times better than you,” and also has a certain unawareness of some of his public outfit choices. (Hello sweatpants with holes in them and a striped hoodie.)

But Tony makes the best coffee ever, always gets Rhodey flowers from the supermarket, and is perhaps the most compassionate man he’s ever met.

So not a bad trade-off.

They lay in bed together, Rhodey looking over his obscenely trashy detective novels with his reading glasses, and Tony battling Pepper in a word search competition online.

“I love you,” Tony says out of nowhere, smiling. He presses a kiss to Rhodey’s shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Rhodey responds, patting Tony’s thigh.

He makes a squawk of outrage as Rhodey’s head turns from his book, grinning.

“You better give me a kiss to make up for that,” Tony demands. Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“Of course, drama queen.”

“Drama queen? I was told by the love of my life that I was ‘okay’ after one year of marriage? And I am supposed to be unaffected? Absolutely unacceptable, I think I will fling myself into a pit in the ocean, and--”

Rhodey cuts him off with a kiss.

“Or not. Not could definitely work.”

[pluckyredhead]

What's the top 10 worst things about HiC

Oh god, it took me FOREVER to narrow this down. There are so many bad things about it!!!

Literally I’m not even going to address all the little talking heads therapy sessions and how thoroughly riddled with continuity errors and godawful characterization they are, because there’s so much else wrong with the book. Just trust that they’re a mess, even if King is trying to be Intellectual (TM) by putting them in a nine-panel grid. WE GET IT. YOU’VE READ WATCHMEN.

I’m also not putting “they killed Roy” on the list because it’s comics, characters die. The fact that this book was a slaughterhouse is a problem (see below, #2), but the fact that one of those deaths happened to be one of my favorite characters is a bummer but not necessarily evidence that the book is bad. (The book is so bad.)

But okay, so the rest of it, from least-worst to worst-worst:

10. That Poison Ivy cover: Clay Mann draws beautiful people but for some reason he decided that the cover to #7 should be a dead Poison Ivy on her stomach, cleavage pressed against the floor, her spine arched EVEN THOUGH SHE IS DEAD in order to lift her ass in the air so that the reader can see both T and A at once. This was leaked and then ultimately pulled before it hit stands and Tom King tweeted that he'd never liked it, but it’s very telling to me that either literally no one noticed how gross this cover fetishizing a dead woman was before the internet protested, or DC actively planned to use a sexy dead woman to sell comics. In their book that was supposed to be about trauma and mental health and recovery.

10b. Babs, a theoretical protagonist of this book, sexily peeling her pants down to show her bullet scars, which shouldn’t even look like that due to all the surgery she’s had: We get it, you’re only interested in women’s trauma if it’s sexy. She doesn’t even get to talk on this page.

10c. The full splash page of Lois in her underwear, saying “What do you want me to do?” like she’s inviting the reader to bone her in the middle of this story about death and trauma: Stop!!! Just stop!!!

9. The laziness of everything having to do with Booster: Okay yeah, I’m gonna be fannishly self-involved about another one of my faves here, but Booster is legitimately one of the main characters of the series, along with the Trinity, Harley, Babs, and Wally. And yet the “trauma” that places him at Sanctuary was part of a hastily shoehorned-in Batman arc directly before HiC that writes him deeply out of character (he carelessly changes the timeline when despite the fact that he’s spent 15 years protecting the timeline, including the Superman arc he starred in literally directly prior to the Batman one), instead of anything endemic to the character (because spoiler, Tom King doesn’t actually know anything about the character). The series then entirely fails to address it, hanging Booster’s emotional arc instead on his friendship with Ted...a friendship that explicitly does not exist in the Rebirth timeline. The Ted/Booster friendship/marriage is literally my favorite relationship in the entirety of the DCU, but you don’t get to rest a protagonist’s entire arc on a relationship that was retconned out of existence seven years prior and then retconned away again. Do the work. Don’t copy Keith Giffen and J. M. DeMatteis’s papers from 31 years ago.

8. Interpretive hand jiving through the pain: You know how some people have to leave the room when characters do something very embarrassing on television? I’ve never been like that, just Jesus Christ I had to read this page between my fingers. Y i k e s :

7. Harley beating the Trinity in a fight: Come on. Harley couldn’t take a single one of them on her own, let alone all three. Don’t warp the characters to make your MC look more badass and keep the plot moving. (King also wrote Catwoman beating THREE SPEEDSTERS in his Batman run, which again: no. Absolutely not. Stop it.)

6. That Watchman reference: See above re: being so embarrassed for someone you have to read through your fingers. If you haven’t read Watchmen, the line “I did it 35 minutes ago” is extremely famous and absolutely a mic drop moment. It’s not a mic drop moment here. The characters are completely different and talking about completely different things. The only thing Heroes in Crisis has in common with Watchmen (besides copying the use of the nine-panel grid, like I said before) is that it’s about how heroes are fucked up, I guess? Which is hardly a bold statement in 2018; it’s actively cliche now, in fact. The only purpose referencing Watchmen serves here is to let the reader know that Tom King has read Watchmen, which is both pretentious because it is Art and ridiculous because it’s one of the bestselling comics of all time and millions of people have read it.

5. The abysmal “journalistic ethics” on display: There are so many characters literally and figuratively assassinated in this book that it’s easy to miss that Lois is one of them. But here’s a tip: when someone’s medical information is leaked to you, it is not in fact your obligation to share that with the world, no matter who they are. That is not information meant for public consumption, which we might assume Lois knows, since she doesn’t usually share the private business of her husband or her son or their cousin or any of their friends that she is also friends with. But suddenly she’s forgotten that because it’s on a zip drive? Not only does that show horrifying journalistic ethics from both Lois and Clark, who seems to think she had no other choice, it’s also ableist as hell - what, if someone has mental health problems or experienced trauma on the job they’re automatically a danger to the public? And despite the attempt to make this feel like a big twist, there’s actually zero point to it, because a) we never see civilians reacting to this information and b) there are literally zero consequences to publishing it in this or any subsequent comic. It’s never even mentioned again. If a tree publishes all of a superhero’s medical information and deep dark secrets in a forest and no one reacts to it in any way, shape, or form, does it make a sound?

4. The actual premise: I do sort of believe that Bruce would think “go to the middle of nowhere surrounded by robots wearing creepy robes and masks and tell your secrets to cameras which are then wiped and interact with no one” = therapy, although if that’s the case I don’t know why he keeps bothering to put people in Arkham, which at least allows them to talk to other humans. But under no circumstances do I think either Clark or Diana would go along with this horrible, horrible idea, that offers no genuine help to anyone. Not only does the fact that it’s implausible undercut literally everything that happens within the framework of Sanctuary’s existence, it’s just one of many examples of how almost everyone acts completely out of character all the time in order to keep the plot chugging along.

3. Bruce’s terrible detective skills: The World’s Greatest Detective spends like six issues seriously thinking that either Booster Gold or Harley Quinn is the killer. Booster or Harley! Booster has neither the temperament nor the ability to kill on that level and Harley would never hurt Ivy, plus neither of them are a match for Wally (who is believed to be dead at this point), and Bruce should know that. Again, weak characterization all around, but it’s especially egregious given that King wrote Batman for A HUNDRED ISSUES.

2. Wally’s character assassination: This is a three-parter:

2a. Logistical: It makes no fucking sense. Wally got his own corpse to the crime scene by traveling five days into the future and killing his future self. Everyone sees the corpse. Then Booster, Ted, Harley, and Babs talk him out of killing himself. But...he already did that and everyone saw the corpse, so now we have a paradox that’s never addressed.

2b. Moral: The comics have tried desperately to walk Wally’s actions back in the past two years, emphasizing that he didn’t mean to kill TWELVE PEOPLE, including one of his best friends. It was an accident! But he still framed Booster and Harley for literally no reason except to create a whodunnit, set them on each other which could have easily ended fatally for Booster, and then sent everyone’s private information to the media (which again, the comic frames as somehow noble and necessary, but which is actually deeply unethical). So you made this beloved 60-year-old hero into a villain...why, exactly? Just so it would be surprising? Cool, great work, Captain Edgelord.

2c. Metatextual: This comic spins out of Rebirth Special #1. The New 52 erased Wally from continuity and then brought him back as the younger, biracial Wally (and this isn’t the place to get into fandom’s response to that and DC’s response to fandom’s response so let’s just say they are both YIKES MCGIKES and leave it at that). Rebirth Special #1 brought him back, and the return of the “real” (white) Wally (again: yikes) heralded a new universe that was lighter and happier and contained way more fan favorites. It was literally branded as a gift to fans, embodied in Wally West.

In Heroes in Crisis, Wally is crushed by the weight of everyone being so happy he’s there and loving him so much while he’s struggling with grief and depression, and that’s why he snaps. It’s the metatextual equivalent of having Wally look at the reader and say “You’re happy I’m back and comics can be lighter now? Well, FUCK YOU, YOU RUINED EVERYTHING.” It essentially blames the reader for having Wally go evil, because the reader loves Wally too much.

King, what the fuck?

1. The overall message: Heroes in Crisis was sold as a thoughtful exploration of mental health and trauma, instead of just another bloodbath. Instead, it killed a dozen characters in its first issue and dicked around for another seven with an uninspired whodunnit before throwing a beloved hero in the garbage. But in the meantime, it manages to say:

Trauma is unavoidable.

But therapy doesn’t help.

Trying it does more harm than good.

If you’re struggling, you are a danger to others and don’t deserve privacy.

Good luck with that.

Therapy literally saved my life. This comic enrages me. This comic is harmful. Superhero comics as a whole have a lot to answer for when it comes to discussions of mental illness, but at least some random issue of Batman where Bruce thoughtlessly throws another “looney” into Arkham isn’t billed as a sympathetic take on PTSD. Our culture already discourages asking for help, and we don’t need a pretentious funnybook miniseries helping with that.

(If you made it all the way to the end of this post and you are struggling with trauma, depression, PTSD, whatever...please do look into therapy. I promise you it’s nothing like this comic.)

In conclusion, Heroes in Crisis is bad and it should feel bad.

THE END.

[marnie1964]

Karate Kid/Cobra Kai survey

i'm gonna consider myself tagged

It’s the year 2021 and you’re obsessed with The Karate Kid. How are you feeling?: an unexpected turn of events but it's passing the quarantine, i guess!

Did you grow up with TKK or are you new to the series?:  to be completely honest, i don't really like the movies? i didn't vibe with them as a kid and when i went back and tried to watch them this year i couldn't make it all the way through.* i think they're well crafted movies, but i've never liked relatable young boy wish fulfillment (i couldn't even get thru harry potter as a kid), and i think the first one is guilty of burying the lede twice over with regards to mr. miyagi and later the relationship between kreese and johnny. and lucky me--these are exactly the areas that cobra kai delivers on.

*except for the third one, which imo is a camp masterpiece and also genuinely heartbreaking. it's the only one that allows daniel to be an genuine pain in the ass. i think i've finally figured out what the target audience for cobra kai is: people who's favorite karate kid movie was tkk3 (me).

We gotta do the basics. Favorite character: johnny! what is a man but a miserable pile of bruce springsteen lyrics? or aimee mann lyrics? or mountain goats lyrics? or otis redding lyrics? or--fuck, have americans ever written songs about anyone else? i have an unreal amount of good will towards this man and his late-life struggle for recuperation. he's the heart of the show both in terms of his relationships with other characters and in terms of zabka's chemistry with the other actors.

my deep dark double secret fave is kreese. he makes me feel real anger in a way that's usually reserved for characters in vince gilligan shows. i'm a bit obsessed with him and his preoccupation with johnny and later johnny's teenaged son (I Have Thoughts). the show does a great job of making what he did to johnny--and all the years and years and years of fallout from that--feel really real, which makes him one of the most viscerally despicable villains i've ever come across . it's unironically among the best portrayals of domestic abuse i've seen, may god have mercy on our souls. the decision to pop out from behind a fucking cardboard cutout of himself to scare daniel in tkk3 was also a hilarious galaxy brain move. aspirational stuff.

also--shout out to daniel-san. the writers really had to work their asses off to make him into a character that appeals to me, and i think they did a great job of it. he's a cringey tool who's capable of displaying a surprising amount of integrity under the right circumstances! he's tom wambsgans! he's pete campbell! he's wonderful i love him!

Favorite ship:  johnny & daniel (what if mysterious skin was a sports comedy??)

Underrated character: the True and Correct answer to this question can only be aisha, although i don't think she was actually underrated by anyone besides the writers. chozen is also lowkey my favorite katate child because c'mon, he had everything (spear fights! ziplines! teen death matches! formfitting disco-era polyester button down shirts worn with gold chains!)

Underrated ship (don’t say therapy, lol):  uhhhh... the only teen couple that could have been interesting is tory/aisha. they were cute together and their friendship rang true to me. it's that thing where you're the new girl and you're conventionally attractive, but on the inside you know you're a freak so you immediately gravitate towards the most obvious female outsider. i lived it, bay-bey!

i also think there are interesting things to explore with carmen and johnny's relationship. i don't know if the writers are even aware of it (i lean towards no b/c men amirite) but the entire premise of carmen's character is that she chose to live in poverty to protect herself and her son from a bad man with power. she's thereby the exact opposite of johnny's mother, who (at least by his understanding) married hollywood film producer shmarvey shmeinstein to provide her son with a better life. so, there's a lot to unpack in his attraction to her. also they're super hot hur hur i like sexy nurse thing hur hur.

Wax On, Wax Off or Sweep the Leg?: i can't look directly at it, but sweep the leg. zabka what the fuck man.

Which of Daniel’s dumb little outfits is your favorite?:  i don't think i've seen anyone mention this one yet, but the football jersey with the sweatpants. it makes him look so small and huggable, i wanna pick him up and set him on my shelf or something.

Character from the films you most want to return, who’s not Terry Silver: bring back ali's lesbian girl gang!!! or else--dutch. he was funny and iconic, i loved his exaggerated offended reaction to everything daniel said or did in tkk. also, i'm tacky so i'm a sucker for aggressively bleach blonde hair. the SCANDALIZED wasp couple standing behind ali and johnny in the spaghetti scene will also do. or terry's secretary (an mvp--i believe the original actress has passed away so in my heart of hearts she's portrayed by j. smith-cameron).

Scene that lives in your head rent-free: the whole character development speed run that johnny does from sweep the leg to crying while handing daniel the trophy to getting strangled in the parking lot by his beloved teacher. i'm especially transfixed by that last bit--what's the thought process of a man who decides to publicly execute his teenage student via strangulation? why did none of the many bystanders call the police? johnny is the real kitty genovese, prison for everyone.

from the cobra kai series proper: daniel's decision to greet johnny with a big hug after not seeing him for 35 years and never actually being friends with him (I Have Thoughts), the heinously creepy scene where johnny is repeating the cobra kai mantra for miguel and his entire disposition completely changes (demonic possession shit), and johnny's tiny go-ahead-and-kill-my-abuser nod (his face is so stoney after being so animated at dinner) coupled with daniel's shaky little sign of relief (macchio is really the cutest when he looks scared).

it goes without saying that every johnny & miguel scene lives rent free in my HEART.

Will Anthony LaRusso ever be relevant?: anthony becomes relevant for one (1) episode next season when amanda and daniel finally get around to putting him up for adoption.

You live in The Valley and are forced into the karate gang war.  Which dojo do you join?:  i enter the cobra kai dojo decked out in all of my snake-themed clothing and jewelry (it's a lot). i approach kreese and explain to him that the open mouth of a snake, viewed head-on, is a yonic symbol. i am permanently banned from the cobra kai dojo.

(seriously though, assuming i'm a teen in this scenario i think i would have vibed with tory/miguel/aisha. dimitri and sam would have driven high school me up the fucking wall though. the cobra kai style looks like more fun/better exercise. do i also genuinely believe most young girls could actually benefit from someone yelling no mercy down their neck? maybe so 💖)

What’s your training montage song?:  50ft queenie - pj harvey (it takes place in the alison bechdel feminist karate dojo ofc)

It’s the crossover event of the century! Which TV show are you combining with Cobra Kai for an hour-long Saturday night special?: it's a full episode flashback to the time johnny got arrested in albuquerque, new mexico. johnny's court-appointed attorney is a weirdly hot babe who seems like a super straight laced killjoy at first, but soon reveals herself to be an unhinged woman. one thing leads to another, and johnny winds up in bed with her and her loser husband. there are lots of great themes about punitive justice, people's ability to change for the better (and worse), and what makes someone "good" or "bad" to begin with, but mostly it's just really hot sex. the husband tries to sell johnny a prepaid cellphone and johnny tell's him that cellphones are never gonna catch on, cause who want's to be bothered by people all the time like that?

better call saul. it's a better call saul crossover ep.

(fwiw think that greg 'hbo succession' hirsch should also be terry's cousin greg on the non-roy side. think about it--the roys are small people, but cousin greg is really tall?? and who else is really tall, and a blue eyed brunette to boot? terry silver. it all adds up! this never becomes relevant to the plot, in any case, i'm just considering it canon until the writers come to my house and explicitly tell me i'm wrong.)

Tagging: anyone who's interested 😘

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 13 - Alone Again

Word Count: 15,835

TW:  mentions of child r*pe, mentions of p*dophilia, mentions of self-harm, mentions of trauma, unconsensual biting, unprotected sex, mentions of mental breakdown.

A/N: Hey guys! I felt very bad for updating so slowly, so here it is early! Happy Valentine’s! Special thanks to those who has sent me fanart and kofis!! I appreciate them all, honestly, it’s really amazing. 

Masterlist

Kofi

The ding of his phone woke Jason up from sleep. Even during the grogginess of slowly regaining consciousness, Jason knew who it was.

He blinked his eyes a few times to get used to waking up, and cleared his dry throat. He laid there in bed for a few moments, staring at the tin roof of the safe house he was so proud of. He wondered whether the text would be business or pleasure.

He liked it when you were there with him at night.

But you were too fucking stubborn, and was still hesitating to continue seeing him. It had been a month since the first time you joined him, and since then you went out with him a couple more times, only to investigate the elite pedophile ring that plagued Jason’s mind ever since he found out that it existed, and that Bruce had kept it from him.

Your dilemma meant that you weren’t with him all the time and got upset every time he killed someone.

Jason wasn’t a patient person, but the two of you still texted and called. Discussions, or banter. It was as if you were his friend.

As if everything wasn’t as fucked up as it was.

And however hard he tried to separate his feelings from his goals, to keep you at a distance, to wall himself off, he had obviously failed.

Because now he was smiling to himself at the thought of waking up to your texts.

He had freaked out at first, confused as to why he had started to hate you less and less over time, but now he realised that it didn’t matter how he felt anymore.

As long as he could snatch you away from Bruce.

The fact that you made him feel like he wasn’t alone anymore was only a bonus.

***

To say that it was troublesome to have Dick around would be an understatement.

He had originally mentioned that he was only going to stay for a week, but one week became two, and a month later, he. Was. Still. Fucking. Here.

The fact that you were living under the same roof as Batman meant that you were almost constantly on your feet, but now Nightwing was added to the equation, it felt suffocating.

At least Bruce didn’t like to poke into your personal life as much. Dick Grayson on the other hand, loved to play the doting older brother. You weren’t fooled, though. You knew he was still suspicious of you, and was using his caring nature to his advantage, touching the line between concern and straight up paranoia.

You sighed out loud.

Michelle Myers turned her head to glare at you. You stuck up your middle finger to her, earning an audible gasp.

Shit, you hadn’t meant to do that. You forgot where you were for a second.

School was one of the ways to escape the prying and ever analytical eyes of your older brother, and a way to run from the feelings of growing distance you felt between you and your family.

It was all Jason’s fault.

You had let him get into your head ever since he told you that Bruce had kept a disgustingly huge and important piece of information regarding Gotham’s elite society- the society that you were a part of.

You felt as though there was an invisible line that separated you and Bruce now.

It wasn’t a nice feeling.

“What the hell was that?” Michelle came up to your desk as you were packing to leave.

“I’m sorry?” you feigned innocence.

“You bitch!” she hissed, “You know what you did!”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Rob interjected.

“I have no idea?” you lied.

“Michelle?” Rob turned to her.

“She- she- she showed me the middle finger!” Michelle fumed.

“What?” Robert asked, “No way. That’s not something she would do. Would you?”

He turned to you.

You wondered if his parents were part of this human trafficking ring. You wondered if Michelle’s parents were.

“Of course not!” you defended yourself, “That would be unbecoming of me!”

“Michelle, it’s not nice to make up stories,” Rob rolled his eyes.

Rob’s father was the CEO of Gotham’s number one cybersecurity company, his mother inherited generations worth of wealth. Her lineage meant that she had an iron grip on Gotham and was often Bruce’s rival when it came to influence. If she were a man and didn’t take her husband’s surname, Bruce would probably have lost to her on countless occasions. The possibility of one or both of them secretly running an organized crime was high.

“I’m not!” Michelle snapped, “I’m telling the truth.”

Michelle’s mother was Gotham’s famous socialite in the 80s, her father a nobleman from England. Both very rich, but Mrs. Myers was new rich, and Mr. Myers wasn’t born and raised in Gotham. The chances were there, but probably not as high.

“Even if you were, and she did show you the middle finger, what’s the big deal? Stop being so uptight, Michelle,” Rob scolded her.

Michelle looked like she was about to pop a vein in her temple.

“Thanks Rob,” you said, “But really, it’s okay. I think Michelle might have made an honest mistake, that’s all. I’m sorry too, Michelle. Maybe I was brushing my hair aside and might have accidentally made a vulgar gesture.”

“There,” Rob smiled warmly at you, “Just a mistake. You going back now?”

“Yes, I think Alfred should be here already,” you nodded, “I’ll see you guys next week?”

“Good luck studying!” Rob wished you, “Though mocks would probably be a breeze for you.”

“I doubt it, but thank you Rob,” you made your way to leave. You turned your head to Michelle and gave her a knowing wink you knew would make her lose her mind, and walked away.

“Dick?” you called out to your older brother, who was attracting a lot of attention on the sidewalk. He had parallel parked his car on the side, and was leaning against it with his sunglasses on. He waved at you once he saw you approach him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Picking you up,” he shrugged.

“Where’s Alfred?”

“Home,” he simply said.

“And why did you come to pick me up?”

“Because why not?” he grinned, opening the passenger door for you to enter.

You narrowed your eyes at him and entered the car.

Dick had always made you feel comfortable, and you naturally felt at ease when you were with him, but lately, it was different.

You felt stiff, alert, and on guard when Dick was around because it felt like he was just waiting silently for you to fuck up, to let something slip. You hated it.

You hated how your family felt so far away from you because you had betrayed them.

“Hey, Dick?” you asked after five minutes of unusual silence.

“What’s up?”

“What does Bruce do when he’s on patrol alone?” you brought up.

Did Dick know about this elite pedophile ring? Was Dick keeping secrets from you as well?

“He patrols, I guess?” Dick answered.

“No, I meant during the nights when he tells me that he doesn’t need me around,” you explained, “What does he do then?”

You saw Dick frown.

“I don’t know,” he stated.

“Did he ever do that to you? Tell you he doesn’t need you and go off alone?” you probed.

“All the time,” he sighed.

“And you never found out what he was doing?”

“I- well- look, what’s this about?” Dick turned the question back at you, “Did something happen? Did you find something?”

“What am I supposed to find?” you interrogated.

“I don’t know!” he answered exasperatedly, “Sure, I wondered a lot back then, but that’s- that’s just how he is! He keeps secrets and leaves us out of a lot of things. Like Jason being alive for fuck’s sake. If he can keep something like that a secret for so long, God knows what he’s up to when he’s alone.”

“Didn’t you ever stop to question it?” you argued.

“Didn’t you?” Dick retaliated, “All these years as Robin, why are you only bringing this up now?”

You fell silent.

“Did something happen?” he repeated again.

“Nothing happened,” you insisted, looking at the cars zooming by outside the passenger window.

Silence again. And then-

“Jason used to question it all the time,” Dick sighed, calming down. “Even followed Bruce out. That was hilarious. Imaging trying to tail Batman.”

“He asked the right questions, then,” you grumbled.

“He did,” Dick admitted, “Didn’t get him anywhere, though.”

“Except six feet under,” you muttered bitterly.

Dick never replied to that.

***

“We still don’t know her identity, she pops in and out seemingly randomly, has mediocre tech, mediocre skills… I don’t know, Bruce. What kind of purpose does Jason have for her?” Dick stated.

You tried not to clench your jaw upon hearing that.

The three of you were in the Cave, discussing your next step for tracking Red Hood down. Bruce had suggested going after V instead and hoped that she would lead you to him. You were treading dangerous waters, and remained silent most of the time.

“The fact that she has still remained elusive shows some form of skill,” Bruce argued.

It was hard not to defend your alter-alter-ego. But, you were relieved. You had tried your best to ensure they wouldn’t suspect you, even changing your fighting style to something you weren’t too familiar with.

“Still doesn’t explain why she’s with him,” Dick shrugged, “Nothing on the traffic cams?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You had also made sure to avoid all cameras, even parking and changing blocks away before meeting with Jason. Jason, on the other hand, drove the same fucking car, or the same fucking bike, though he frequently changed plate numbers.

Still, this was Batman and Nightwing you were talking about.

“Only one thing,” Batman replied, before pulling up a security camera footage.

Fuck.

“This was taken along Jackson Avenue in Old Gotham,” Bruce continued and played the footage.

It showed a very low quality pixelated video of you wearing a black hoodie and a black cap covering your head. You had a surgical mask on to blend in better with the crowd instead of a black mask that would automatically made you suspicious. Your face was unidentifiable.

You walked into an alleyway and never came back out.

“How are you sure this is her?” Dick asked, “She wasn’t seen in Old Gotham.”

“Height and body type are a match,” Bruce justified, “That backpack could be carrying her weapons and clothes.”

You hid that backpack in an unused dumbwaiter of a guestroom all the way on the other wing of the manor that Alfred did not bother to dust.

“Or it could be carrying textbooks,” Dick scoffed.

“There is also this-”

Bruce pulled up another traffic footage. It was of you in the same clothes, with Jason next to you on a nearly empty sidewalk with shops already closed. Jason was also wearing a hoodie that covered his head, and the camera was far away. The two of you were walking away from the camera.

“This was three hours later on Schnappe Avenue, three blocks away from Caprice, where they were last seen together a week ago.”

You had followed Jason to Caprice, a bar that hosted many criminals, and was owned by the Italian mob. Red Who was simply there to take his profits and ask a few questions regarding their connections to certain politicians in Gotham.

Rendezvous with Jason was complicated, as you both had to protect your identities. You would leave the manor two hours early, park somewhere very far away, then walk or take a taxi to a location maybe 3 kilometres away from where you would meet Jason, duck into a dark alley to change into your gear, and then grappled to where Jason parked. From there, the two of you would grapple to your location. Once you were done, you would go to his car where you stashed your bag. You would then reverse your steps and go home.

That night however, Jason, the fucking dickhead, got hungry and insisted that you followed him to a diner, which was why the both of you were in casual clothes walking together in the streets. Good thing that by fucking sheer luck, no security cameras picked you up at the restaurant.

“There were no cameras to follow them after that,” Bruce grit, “They must have strategically chosen the route.”

No, Jason was just hungry.

Dick remained silent, so you turned to look at him. You frowned at his expression. Dick’s eyes were glassy and soft.

“Is- is that really him?” he whispered.

“High possibility. It’s too coincidental to dismiss.”

“Wow,” Dick breathed, “He looks- he looks different.”

Ah, it was Dick’s first time seeing new Jason without his helmet on.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded stiffly.

“How different?” you spoke up for the first time.

You were curious.

“Well, he’s much bigger,” Dick chuckled, “And taller. Good for him. He always complained about his height. Used to bet with me that he’d grow taller. Can’t see his face, though. He used to whine about how I was stealing all the girls too. Pretty sure he had a crush on Barbara.”

Dick gave a sad smile, and you saw Bruce had turned to face away.

“Anyway,” Dick cleared his throat, “How do you suggest we go about this V girl?”

“Uh,” you started, “Why not interrogate the guy they were meeting?”

Fat chance Elio Bianchi would spill anything with what Red Hood threatened him with.

“Already did last week,” Bruce answered.

You didn’t patrol last week. Bruce suddenly extended your “grounding”, but you suspected that he wanted to keep you away from Jason.

“And?”

“Refuses to speak. Red Hood must have something on him.”

Yes, the age, location, and photos of all three of his daughters.

“So what next?” you wondered.

“We wait for his next move,” Bruce sighed, “He doesn’t seem to be doing anything too rash lately since making Elena Ciobanu shoot Victor Ibenescu. He is waiting for something.”

“Or maybe he’s finally got control?” you suggested, “Over everyone? I mean- the reason why he did all those violent things were all gang-related, wasn’t it? Maybe now he’s made his point, so everyone is following his rules?”

“Maybe,” Bruce hummed, “But this wasn’t about taking control. Now we know who he is and what his motives are.”

“He did kidnap you,” Dick added, “It’s more likely that he’s planning to do something like that again.”

“Which is why,” Bruce continued, “I don’t think you should be out with us for now.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce,” you complained, “You already grounded me for an extra week!”

“It’s not about punishment. It’s about keeping you safe.”

“I wasn’t even in uniform the last time he kidnapped me!” you debated, “I’m the safest with you.”

“In the event that we do find him, I would need to talk to him,” Bruce insisted, “Having you there might trigger something in him. It’s best if you stayed away.”

“Dick!” you turned to your older brother for help.

“Sorry kid, but I’m with him on this one,” he gave you an apologetic look.

“He could kidnap me in the middle of the day!” you ranted, “He could blow up the school, the train, hell, even the library again!”

Both Dick and Bruce frowned.

“Again?” Dick repeated.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Yeah, I already lost one library, he could very well just find out where I am and blow it up or something,” you covered.

Bruce remained silent, just looking at you with intensity. You tried your absolute best not to recoil, not to give away that your heart was beating so violently against your chest that you could hear it in your ears.

“How important is your exam?” Bruce spoke.

“It’s my mocks, Bruce,” you grumbled, “Scholarships are waiting for mocks results. I’m not letting a delusional psycho with daddy issues get in the way of my future, no matter who he is.”

You intentionally aimed those words at the both of them. Jason was Bruce’s son, and Dick’s brother, and you wanted them to feel it.

“Then you’re only to go to and from school,” Bruce directed, “No staying back, either, and Alfred will wait outside the whole time.”

“Seriously?” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Fine! Fine. I just- I just wanted to test myself. Whatever.”

“Test yourself?” Dick asked.

You looked at Dick straight in the eye and said, “I wanted to see if I could face him after he kidnapped and sexually assaulted me.”

With that, you stormed off after manipulating the people closest to you to make sure you throw them off of any suspicions of you.

You locked yourself in your room and collapsed on the bed with a frustrated huff. You took out your phone to send Jason a text.

You: What are you doing tonight?

Five minutes later, your phone dinged.

Sexy Hunk From Library: Usual. You coming? You: You have any leads? Sexy Hunk From Library: Possibly.

You stared at your phone, assessing the risks if you were to go out with him that night. Then, your phone dinged again.

Sexy Hunk From Library: Kill time with me?

The corners of your lips twitched upwards.

You: Miss me that much?

You saw that he was typing, then stopped, then typed again. Until finally-

Sexy Hunk From Library: Are you coming or not?

It was funny how you could still chuckle to yourself despite how fucked you were. You were fucked because you betrayed your family, you were fucked because your family was suspicious of you, and you were fucked because for the past couple weeks of occasionally seeing and texting him, you realised that you had begun to like him more and more.

The dangerous and violent parts of him still made you wary, but despite all that, you couldn’t help but want to be by his side. It confused the hell out of you, because sometimes he didn’t act like how you would expect him to act at all.

Sometimes he was actually nice.

For instance, he had treated you to that burger when he insisted that you went with him to the diner.

Or the time when he argued with you over pineapple on pizza, as if you were friends who didn’t hate each other.

And even when you almost got punched in the face by a massive brute who had been dealing to kids. The punch never landed because Red Hood stopped him, beat him half to death, and then shot him in the kneecaps, before turning to you and asking if you were okay.

You thought that was sort of nice of him.

Fuck, you wanted to see him.

You texted him back.

You: Time and location?

***

Jason waited impatiently for you to arrive.

He was tapping his fingers rapidly against the steering wheel. Somehow he felt like he was going to be sick.

Despite the gentle drizzle that fell against the glass windows and the cold wind blowing outside, Jason felt hot and stuffy.

He looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror, coming into contact with his tired, sunken, blue eyes. He tried to fix his hair, combing it to the side with his fingers then groaning before ruffling it up again.

Fuck, what was he doing?

He spent the next minute trying and failing to fix his hair, that he didn’t notice you approached the vehicle until your rapped your knuckles against the window. He jumped at the sudden sound, earning a raised eyebrow from you. He unlocked the door and you climbed inside.

“You’re late,” he grumbled, aware of his hoarse voice. It was the first time he had spoken to anyone in two days.

“Only by five minutes,” you pouted.

“Late is late,” he snapped.

“You’re okay with killing people, but will bitch if I’m slightly late?” you scoffed.

“Just be on time next time,” he grit.

“Fine, I’m sorry I’m late,” you rolled your eyes. “Now can we get to it?”

Jason gave you a glare, his jaw clenching in frustration. He took a few moments to calm down.

“You know Maria and Joseph Powers?”

“Of the Powers Group?” you frowned, “Powers Hotel? Sure, I know them.”

“I have reason to believe that they’re one of the people involved in this child trafficking business,” Jason revealed.

“W-what?” you gasped, “Do you have evidence?”

“Some,” Jason replied, “They’ve been investigated before. I guess Batman played a part in that, but everything seems to have been dropped. Document trails, eye witness statements, physical evidence- all disappeared.”

He saw that you were struggling to keep up, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned, “Get a hold of yourself.”

“Bruce knew?” you whispered.

“What doesn’t he know?” Jason scoffed.

“I sat on the same fucking table as them last Christmas ball,” you growled, “I went to their kid’s fifth birthday party. Bruce shook hands and smiled at them and then invited them over for drinks.”

Jason resisted a smirk. He finally got you to understand. Your arms were crossed, and your face in a scowl, obviously pissed.

Bruce probably did all of that to keep them close so he could keep an eye on them, maybe even find some more details. But Jason wasn’t going to tell you that.

You still had a lot to learn, but Jason was willing to be the one to teach you.

���Where will he be tonight?” he asked.

“I… I’m not too sure,” you said quietly.

Jason raised an eyebrow at you.

“What’s this? He didn’t tell his beloved Robin his plans? Again?”

You remained silent, looking straight ahead.

“I was wondering about that,” he continued, “Friday night and you’re here with me instead. Something happened?”

This time, Jason waited patiently for you to respond, enjoying the way you were obviously uncomfortable with his interrogation.

“He…” you started slowly, “He won’t let me out with him.”

“You got into trouble again?” he smirked.

“No, it’s because of you,” you shot him a sharp glare.

If only looks could kill.

“He knows you have it out for me, so for my safety,” you spat, “He won’t let me out.”

Jason blinked at you once, twice, then let out a booming laugh.

“Oh, man. Oh, sweetheart,” he pretended to wipe away tears, “Look at you, all angry at me.”

He reached across towards you and booped you on the nose. You swatted his hand away violently.

Jason loved teasing you. It made his heart all warm.

You were looking away again, and had the mask covering half your face, but even in the dark alley, he could make out your long lashes, clumped together because of the rain, and the way your shiny hair framed your face, also damp.

Your smell was intoxicating, filling his car with a pleasant scent of vanilla and strawberries. The longer Jason spent time with you, the more he felt himself getting pulled deeper and deeper in-

“He’s investigating me,” you interrupted his trance. “Well, not me specifically, but V. He’s got footage of us walking to that stupid diner-”

You paused to shoot daggers at him.

“-good thing I kept the hoodie and mask on, and thank the fucking stars that there were no cameras after that leading to to the diner. We can’t be reckless like that again, Jason.”

Jason rolled his eyes at your lecture

“So now what? You gonna kill the Powers’? How did you find out about them anyway?” you asked.

“Through the Ibenescu problem,” he explained, “Whenever they trafficked girls, I’ve always found a few kids. Always not more than ten at a time. Didn’t add up. All this while I’ve made sure there were no kids involved, be it local or foreign. And after going to each and every single fucking brothel and threatening every single pimp in Gotham-”

Jaon let out a tired sigh at the memory of going all over Gotham to turn over every rock, paying and threatening people for information. He allowed sex work as long as they kept to his standards, and as long as they weren’t trafficked. He made sure all the girls were well taken care of, and he made it very clear as to what would happen to the pimps if they weren’t.

The girls all loved him.

“- no sign of kids. Which meant that Gotham was being used as a proxy and they were being transported outside of Gotham, or there were other powers at play. So I dug in deeper. Hacked into GCPD records, looked at the political scandals and allegations that got dropped and was never brought to court. The Powers and some others came up a few times, but not too heavy. Tax evasion and stuff like that. Until I hacked into the FBI.”

“The FBI?” you gasped.

He smirked to himself. You were paying careful attention. It made him feel like he was some sort of mentor.

“It’s really not that difficult when you know people,” he scoffed, “Anyway, the Powers’ were originally under investigation for money laundering because the Powers’ Group Executive Accountant, who mysteriously died of a suicide, reported large sums of money that didn’t belong there. Then they got an external auditor, who is also deceased, reported inconsistencies with signatures and accounts.”

Jason reached to the back seats of his car and passed you a thick file that contained the FBI investigation.

“After that, they checked emails. Nothing. Then they wiretapped them, and recorded conversations regarding child sex trafficking from all over the world, for other politicians and rich pigs in this goddamned country- whose names are redacted in the files. However, they didn’t keep the audio evidence. Everything’s been terminated.”

“Wait, this can’t be right,” you frowned, flipping through the pages. “This case is almost twenty years old and… dropped? In 2012!”

“Exactly,” Jason grit.

“How long have you been investigating this?”

“Over the last two months.”

“So you already knew the Powers’ were involved,” you looked at him in suspicion, “Why haven’t you killed them yet?”

Ah, you caught on quick. Not bad.

“Because of tonight, sweetheart,” he answered, “I wiretapped them myself. There’s a shipment tonight, and one of the Powers’ need to confirm it half an hour before docking, or else they won’t dock, and it’ll be a bitch to track down again.”

“Then this is great,” your eyes widen, “We catch them red handed at the docks, take photos, spread them online, make it go viral. They won’t be able to cover it up when there’s a public outcry.”

Jason started chuckling.

“What?” you demanded.

“Look through the files. Do you see any pictures? Videos?”

You frowned.

“Do you really think they would be stupid enough to physically be there, where the authorities can, and I quote, catch them red handed?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Even if they were there, pictures can be easily faked these days. Hell, even videos. Audios, easiest of the two. They would just claim that someone was slandering them, then move on. If the feds don’t want to charge them, do you really think the cops could? And what happens if they were brought to court anyway? They can easily pay off judges and jurors.”

Jason liked this. Educating you.

Just face it, baby girl,” he added, “The system is fucked. Batman’s been trying for over a decade, and the Powers’ are still having Christmas balls.”

You let out a sad sigh.

“Let’s just get to the docks, then.”

Jason put on his mask and helmet, and drove away.

***

You were sick and tired of Dixon Docks, but criminals just couldn’t stop choosing that location for smuggling. There was also Port Adams, but the port was located near Blackgate Isle, so the marine security was tighter.

Any normal city, a place like Dixon Docks would have much tighter security after countless cases of illegal smuggling, but this was Gotham.

The security that GCPD put out on patrol with what little resources they could spare were easily bribed. The dock security company themselves were probably owned and bought over by a crime lord, not unlike the one beside you right now.

“They’re here,” Jason pointed out. The both of you were on the rooftop of a warehouse on the docks.

You squinted in the distance and saw a ship coming nearer. You missed Batman’s tech whenever you went out with Jason. Your lack of state of the art domino mask made it harder to see faraway objects and in the dark.

The docks were quiet, except for the sound of the water currents and sea breeze, and the twenty or so hired guns grumbling about the weather. You theorized that this operation was usually similar in the past, where it went smoothly without much obstacles, judging from the lack of hired security. Jason also mentioned that the kids were usually brought in along with older trafficked victims from other operations to help cover up, but since his harsh crackdown on human trafficking, they were forced to operate alone.

You waited until the industrial ship dock amongst the other unoccupied ships, and then heard some voices yelling in the distance. From the ship came out 4 girls and 3 boys in tattered clothes, malnourished and with frightful eyes. Their ages ranged from about 12-15 years old.

Accompanying them were three armed men, shoving the children to walk faster. Your blood started boiling at the sight.

“This should be easy,”Jason stretched, getting ready to make a move.

“We shouldn’t underestimate them,” you advised, “We should think of a strategy to-”

Jason leapt from the age of the rooftop without warning.

“Wait! Red Hood! Fuck!” you whispered angrily, and followed suit.

Red Hood ran ahead of you with inhuman speed towards the children, guns out and firing at the men.

You heard the children scream, the men shouting, and more guns firing.

It all happened so fast, that by the time you reached there, Red Hood was standing tall and proud over more than a dozen dead bodies.

“What the fuck?!” you shoved Red Hood as hard as you could. He didn’t budge. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“What?”

“You opened fire when there are children right in the middle of everything!” you yelled.

“I’ve got an excellent aim and I caught them off guard,” he defended, “They couldn’t even respond on time.”

“The kids could have caught a stray bullet, you fucking dickhead!” you shoved him again.

This time, he growled at you and gripped your wrists tight, pulling you harshly to him.

“If you do that again, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he threatened you with a low voice that sounded even more hostile through the voice scrambler.

You wanted to say more, but then you heard a cry from one of the children. You wrenched your hand away from his grip and walked towards them.

They were kneeling on the ground, gripping each other tight by the clothes and arms. They were Asian. You guessed maybe South or South East.

“Hey,” you gently called out, slowly kneeling to their level. They recoiled at your approach.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” you said, putting your arms up in surrender to convince them. “See? No guns.”

Their expressions didn’t change. You were just another threat to them.

“Don’t any of you speak English?” Red Hood grunted.

You glared at him.

“What? It’d help,” he shrugged.

“Even if they did, do you really think they’d speak to you?” you snapped.

You turned to them again, and despite the risk, pulled down your mask and hoped that there weren’t any cameras nearby.

“Hey, we’re here to help okay?” you maintained a slow, low voice.

Two girls then looked at each other, and one of them spoke up.

“I- I can speak English,” she said in a shaky voice.

“That’s great,” you smiled sweetly, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Magdeline,” she whispered.

“Nice to meet you, Magdeline. I’m V,” you pointed at Jason, “And that grumpy tomato head there is Red Hood.”

You saw Magdeline and two others share a smile. They must have understood you.

“We’re not going to hurt you, okay? We just want to help.”

“Are you going to take us home?” another girl squeaked.

“No,” you winced, “But, we’re going to take you to the police, and they will help, okay?”

They nodded, wiping tears from their eyes.

“So what we’re going to do is that we’re going to call-”

You stopped mid sentence.

Suddenly, you felt a chill down your spine, as if someone dropped an ice cube down your shirt. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and you hurriedly put on your mask again.

“What’s wrong?” Red Hood sensed. You stood up straight, your heart beating fast.

“We need to go,” you told him, hearing the blood rush to your ears, your eyes darting quick to every shadow, to detect any movements from the darkness.

“What?”

“He’s here,” you whispered.

Red Hood looked at you for a moment, and then-

“Fuck. Come on.”

“Please don’t leave us,” Magdeline fisted your clothes, “Please.”

She looked like she was going to cry again.

“It’s okay,” you told her, “Someone’s here to help you.”

“No! Please! I want you!” she wailed.

“Shh,” you tried to calm her down.

“V, we don’t have time,” Red Hood growled.

“He’s a hero,” you ignored him, “He may look big and scary at first, but he’s a hero, okay? I promise.”

She continued to wail. You forced her off you and stepped back.

At the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow in the sky, and felt your heart drop to your stomach.

So this is what it felt like to be hunted by Batman.

“Come on,” you told Red Hood, and the two of you ran in the direction of Jason’s car, swerving between shipment containers for more cover.

Then, in the distance, you heard a loud familiar boom.

“JASON!”

The man in question who was running ahead of you started chuckling, then raided two middle fingers up in the air.

You looked behind you, but Batman was nowhere to be seen. Not in the sky, not on the roofs, not on the shipment containers, not even in the shadows.

Perhaps he saw the children and stopped-

You ran into Red Hood’s hard back. He had come to a sudden stop.

Fuck.

You peeked from behind him, and was relieved when you only saw Nightwing standing about ten feet away from you.

“Jason,” he called out, “Hey, buddy.”

“Quit your Golden Boy act, Grayson,” Red Hood snarled, “You’re almost as guilty as he is.”

He took out a handgun and aimed it at Nightwing.

“Come on, Jay,” Nightwing tried, “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

“You wanna bet?” he growled and cocked it.

You remained behind Jason for cover in fear of being recognized. Half your face was covered and you were wearing contact lenses that hid your true eye color, but you couldn’t be too careful.

“Who’s your friend, Jason?” you felt Dick’s eyes on you, “We can helo her too.”

Jason responded with a dark chuckle.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s your name?” Nightwing stepped closer in your direction.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Jason fumed.

Dick stopped in his tracks and raised his arms back up in surrender.

“Okay,” he nodded slowly, “It’s fine. Let’s just talk.”

***

Jason felt a punch in his gut when he saw his older brother appear in front of him.

Grayson had aged slightly, his hair longer, face more defined. It was guilt that Jason was feeling. Grayson had always been there for him. Training him, teaching him, giving him advise on girls and on being a teen.

Yet, even at that time, he had felt immense anger towards him, jealous that he was constantly in Grayson’s shadow no matter how hard he tried to be his own man.

And now? Grayson didn’t do jackshit to Joker either, the person who took the life of his supposed younger brother whom he said he always loved and cared for. No, Grayson was the same as everyone else.

Once Jason was out of the picture, they all gladly moved on and replaced him with you.

So fuck talking.

“No,” Jason tried as hard as he could to not let the tightness he felt in his chest affect him. “Move. I won’t repeat it again.”

“We miss you, Jason,” Dick pleaded, “You have no idea how happy I was when I found out you were alive.”

His throat was constricting, his breath shallow. No, Grayson was lying.

“Alfred spent the whole night crying,” Dick chuckled.

Stop it. Don’t talk about Alfred.

He felt his eyes stinging with tears.

“He was saying that he couldn’t wait to make your favourite-”

BANG!

“Fuck!” Dick screamed out in pain, collapsing to his knees and clutching his left thigh.

Jason heard you gasp behind him, and he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to run with him to his car.

“You shot him,” you quietly whispered.

Jason was speeding away, the docks long behind him.

“He’s had a lot worse,” he grunted at you.

“You didn’t have to shoot him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he snapped, “Would you rather he caught the both of us? Unveil your identity? Show him how you were with me all along?”

“We could have taken him down together,” you muttered.

Jason let out a bark of laughter.

“You’re fucking stupid if you think the both of us can take down Grayson with just hand-to-hand,” he sneered, “Even if we could, let’s waste time and wait for Batman to catch up, right? Was that what you wanted?”

You remained silent.

“Didn’t think so.”

Jason gripped the steering wheel tight while he drove to the rendezvous point, selected carefully based on the absence of cameras in the area.

“I need to get back quick before they do,” you spoke up, “With Dick injured, they’re probably rushing back as well.”

“How do you plan on sneaking back in?” Jason asked out of curiosity.

“I deactivated the motion sensors.”

Jason frowned. Interesting.

“And I rented a motorbike a while back specifically for this. I park it outside the gate, hide it in some bushes so I don’t need to make noise opening and closing the gates every time I go in or out,” you explained, “I either play music in my room or play recorded noises of me doing things.”

“You’ve truly mastered the art of sneaking out now,” Jason teased, a small hint of pride swelling in his chest.

He made a turn into the same alleyway as before and switched off his engine.

“I need to go,” you moved to leave.

Without thinking, as if on reflex, Jason reached out and grabbed you by the wrists. You looked at him in question, an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to say something.

Jason looked back at you, the nauseous feeling returning again.

“Nothing,” he let go of you, “Sorry.”

You hesitated, as if you wanted to say something. In the end you nodded stiffly and left.

Jason took off his helmet and let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the steering wheel, coming to terms with the realisation that the nausea he felt was actually butterflies.

***

You tripped over your chair as you were climbing into your room from the window, causing some things on your desk to fall to the floor with a loud thud.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

You hurriedly took off your shoes and changed into your pyjamas, kicking the backpack full of your gear under your bed to be hidden in your secret place later. You ruffled your hair and then looked into your mirror, realising that you hadn’t taken off your contact lenses yet.

You heard footsteps approaching.

“Fuck, fuck, ow!” you accidentally poked yourself in the eye.

The moment you put in the last contact lens in its case, you heard a knock on your door.

“It’s me.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, then went to open the door.

“Yeah?”

Bruce looked at you with serious, tired eyes, still in his Batsuit sans the cowl.

“Dick got shot,” he stated.

“W-what?” you widened your eyes in shock, just as practiced. “Is he okay?”

You rushed out the room and hurried to the Manor’s infirmary where all of you went if there was a serious accident besides scrapes and cuts. Rushing out in panic would cover any body language that could reveal anything.

“He’s fine,” Bruce followed you from behind, “Lost a bit of blood, that’s all.”

You opened the doors to the infirmary to see Dick in a t-shirt and boxers on a bed, hooked to an IV bag. His left thigh was already bandaged. Alfred was adjusting the flow of the IV.

“Dick!” you rushed to his side, “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ve had worse.”

“What happened?” you repeated, sitting on the side of the bed.

Dick exchanged a look with Bruce.

“We were patrolling near the docks, then we heard gunshots,” Dick explained, “Turns out it was… Red Hood.”

“He… shot you?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he groaned, “I really didn’t think he would.”

“You have to stop thinking that this is the Jason you used to know,” you scolded, and then turned to Bruce with angry eyes, “Both of you. Don’t you think your judgement’s been clouded? That’s why it’s better if I’m with you. I never knew him, I’d be more objective and-”

“No,” Bruce said sternly, “End of discussion.”

You scowled. “What was he doing there anyway?”

Dick glanced at Bruce again.

“Weapons exchange,” Bruce answered, “He was hijacking a weapons exchange.”

If you weren’t there, you would have believed Bruce without a doubt. You clenched your jaw, making sure you don’t reveal anything.

“Why did he shoot at you?” you turned to Dick.

“He was probably being protective,” he said.

“Protective?”

“Yeah, the girl was there,” Dick recounted, “You should have seen him with her. It was like he was protecting her from me. His body language, stance and everything made it seem like she was precious cargo.”

You frowned.

“If I had to guess, she’s probably someone he cares about,” Dick smiled softly. “I’m sort of happy, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s… going through a lot,” Dick went on, “I’m glad there’s someone with him.”

Your mouth was dry. You turned and saw that Bruce was long gone.

“You don’t think she’s his prisoner or something?” you tried, “Maybe she’s being blackmailed or forced into staying with him.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, “She looked like she was depending on him to protect her.”

Your left eye twitched in annoyance.

“Really,” you grit.

“Yeah, I mean,” Dick elaborated, “She looked scared. I guess I can’t blame her. It’s Batman.”

You remained silent to recollect your thoughts. Then-

“What are you going to do once you catch him?” you pursed your lips.

“Help him,” Dick replied like it was the most obvious thing.

“What if he doesn’t want help?” you pressed on, “Are you going to lock him away?”

“Only as a last resort,” Dick said, “But maybe being with family will make him see sense. Hopefully.”

“I guess you and Batman defy your own system too, huh?” you scoffed, standing up.

“What do you mean?”

“If Red Hood wasn’t Jason,” you argued, “If he was just some random guy who wanted to take matters in his own hands using violence and murder, you and Bruce would just lock him up either in Arkham or Blackgate depending on whether or not he pleads insanity. But because you know Jason personally…”

“You’re saying we should just lock him up instead of helping?” Dick asked perplexed.

“No, I’m just saying it’s kind of hypocritical that just because you know him, you’re giving him an out that you wouldn’t give anyone else,” you shrugged.

“We don’t just know him, he’s family,” Dick reminded you, “We don’t abandon family.”

You remained silent.

“Look,” Dick sighed and looked at you sympathetically, “I know what he did to you was wrong, and trust me, Bruce will make sure he atones for that. I’m not suggesting that he automatically come back and live here, especially because, well, you won’t be okay with it. Which is fine. You don’t have to put up with him. And we’re not making up excuses for him either. Like I said, Bruce was… very upset when he found out what happened to you. And that’s putting it lightly.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. You really didn’t care much about all of that. You had since then voluntarily asked him to do more to you than just suck hickies on your neck.

“But, this isn’t Jason,” Dick went on, “I mean, yes it is, but, he’s not rational. He’s angry and lashing out, and needs help. I’m not siding with him for what he did to you and we’re not dismissing it. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled, “Get some rest. Text me if you need anything.”

At least Jason’s sense of righteousness was simple and straightforward. You harmed innocents? You get his gun. There weren’t loopholes and justifications and complicated principles.

Plain and simple eye for an eye.

You turned to leave, unsatisfied with the lies and hypocrisy.

*** From the first crack of lightning you saw in the dark sky, you should have used it as a warning to stay home that Saturday night. But somehow you couldn’t help but go out to see Jason, knowing what he was planning to do.

You could have been in your bed, studying for your mocks with a mug of warm green tea in your hands and a plate of cookies on your desk, but instead, you were clutching the leather of Red Hood’s jacket, slippery and glistening from the downpour as he zoomed on his motorbike, you seated behind him.

Unlike the Robin uniform, though it wasn’t waterproof, the clothing you wore on nights with Jason was not state of the art. At least your Robin uniform didn’t get heavy when wet, and at least it wasn’t as absorbent. The rain made the zylon even heavier, making it difficult for you to move around.

The sound of rain pounding hard on your helmet was almost as loud as the wind. Jason didn’t care that the ground was slippery, he was still going recklessly as fast as he usually would.

He made a sharp turn into a lonely, dark road, with nothing but trees surrounding it. The road was going uphill, away from the city centre. You were approaching a mansion- modern style with glass walls.

Right before the trees cleared up, Red Hood swerved the bike into the bushes without warning, and then stopped once the both of you were deep enough within the cover of the trees. He cut off the engine, and you hurriedly climbed off.

Red Hood followed suit then, and you tried your best to not let your eyes linger on the way the water trickled down his chest, past the the red bat symbol, and down again, dipping into his-

“Fucking Gotham,” he grunted, voice crackling through the scrambler.

“At least you have a jacket,” you grit, teeth clenched as to not let them clatter.

He turned to look at you for a moment, and then started removing his leather jacket.

“N-no, it’s fine,” you refused, “It’s too big and it’ll be hard for me to move in. It’ll just be a hazard.”

Inside, your heart fluttered at the rare display of kindness.

“Whatever,” he shrugged it back on. “You remember the plan?”

“Plan?” you scoffed, “You mean sneak in, look for the master bedroom, then kill the Powers’?“

“You’re not going to stop me, are you?” he came closer to you, “If you’re going to mess it up, I’d rather tie you to the tree.”

“My, Red Hood,” you smirked, knowing that he couldn’t see it underneath your mask, “I didn’t know you were so kinky.”

“I’m serious,” he growled, “If you try to stop me, I will make you pay for it.”

“Whatever, let’s just get inside,” you turned away, “I’m fucking freezing.”

It would have been tough for anyone to sneak past all the security, cameras, bypassing alarm systems and into the mansion. But you and Red Hood weren’t just anyone. Both being trained by Batman, plus whatever it was that Jason gained over the years he wasn’t with Batman, it was only trickier than average.

Once you were in, you had to admit that you always thought the Powers’ had good taste. The interior was minimalistic, with furniture that were all neutral tones that went with the glass walls and with marble tops of exquisite design placement. You glanced at the exit to the backyard, which was a glass sliding door that spanned all the way from the ceiling to the floor.

It had only been one year since you were last there for their daughter’s birthday, ignorant of what was going on.

What the hell were you doing there?

“Split up,” Red Hood whispered from behind you, “Look for the master bedroom. Let me know when you find it.”

He gripped your hand and forced an earpiece in it.

Both you and Jason went up the marble staircase and stopped at the top. The hallway stretched from one end to the other, nothing in the way but a few potted plants.

He went right, and you took it as an instruction to go left.

Fuck, what were you doing? Were you going to stop him?

But the Powers’ deserved it. There was no other way, or else Bruce would have done something already.

Still, were you just going to stand by and watch while he murdered people?

You peeked into the first room, and saw that the bed with pink sheets was occupied by a small figure, wrapped in the covers like a cute little burrito.

Carrie Powers. Sleeping soundly while her parents were about to be killed.

Oh, God.

But how could they do this? Traffick other children when they had one of their own?

“Down the hall, first door on the left,” Jason’s hushed voice appeared in your ear.

Fuck, you had to stop him.

You closed the door quietly, and went to the room Jason had mentioned. It was opened by a crack, and you pushed it softly.

The view you saw made your heart skip a beat.

Red Hood had taken off his jacket and dumped it on the white setee in the middle of the very large master bedroom. He was standing by the super king sized bed, pointing an oddly shaped dagger at Maria Powers, who was fast asleep.

The power he so obviously exerted as he was standing over her, muscles taut with anticipation, contemplating which angle was best to slit her throat- it made your breath hitch.

“What do you think, V?” he said out loud, “How should I do it?”

His voice stirred the Powers awake, but before they could react, he grabbed Maria by the neck and lifted her so she sat upright, immediately pressing the knife against her cheek.

“Any of you scream, I’ll carve a smile into her face,” Red Hood threatened.

Joseph Powers, who finally snapped out of his groggy state, scrambled to his feet.

“W-what? Who are you?” he panicked, “What do you want?”

“No sudden movements,” Red Hood ordered, “I’m thinking whether or not I should make this quick and easy, or have some fun first.”

“We have money,” Joseph started, “Please. We’ll give you anything. Just don’t hurt us.”

“Oh, it’s not money I want,” Red Hood said cooly, “No. I want names.”

“What? What names?” Joseph asked, perplexed.

“Names of every politician, judge, CEO, or beat cop who is in on this little operation of yours.”

“I- I don’t understand,” the man stammered, “I think you’ve got it all wrong. We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” Jason played along, “Maybe I’ll give you a little reminder.”

Red Hood snapped his head towards you, his red helmet glowing ominously in the dark.

“Bring the girl.” Despite being soaking wet in a weather that would usually make your bones clatter, hearing Red Hood say those words in a calm voice made a chill run down your spine for the first time that night

“No,” Maria whimpered, but silenced herself when her captor tightened his grip.

“What?” you gasped.

“The kid,” he growled, “Bring her here.”

“We’re not involving the kid,” you stood your ground.

“V,” he warned, “Don’t make me repeat myself. You better-”

“Mommy?” you heard a small squeak at the door and turned to see little Carrie, with her big chocolate eyes wearing her purple butterfly print pyjamas.

“Carrie, go back to your room,” Joseph ordered, “Please. She’s innocent.”

“And the kids you have kidnapped, shipped, and raped aren’t?” Red Hood fumed.

You saw the microsecond momentary realisation in both the Powers’ eyes, before they tried to cover it up again.

“Daddy? Mommy?” Carrie called in a shaky voice, “What’s going on?”

“Go back to your room, Carrie!”

“Carrie, do you want to help mommy?” Red Hood drawled.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Come closer, Carrie,” Red Hood persuaded.

“Red Hood,” you protested.

“If you’re not going to help, then shut the fuck up,” he snarled.

Carrie entered the room but stood quietly behind you.

Her father looked at you with desperation in his eyes, “Please help us.”

“You’re filth to me,” you snapped at him, enjoying the way he cringed.

Joseph was usually a proud man, handsome for his age, with a fit body and perfect salt and pepper hair. The man you saw then was pathetic. DIsgusting,

Filth.

“But I won’t hurt your kid,” you added.

You expected to see relief printed on his face, and clenched your jaw when you didn’t.

“I can’t promise he wouldn’t, though,” you nodded at Red Hood, feeling like shit for using his daughter as leverage, “So you’d better give us names.”

Joseph looked like his brain was about to explode, his eyes quickly darting back and forth from his wife, to his kid, to you. He was running his hands through his hair in obvious distress.

“You don’t understand,” he admitted, “If we give you names, we’re as good as dead.”

“Joseph!” Maria yelled.

She was furious at him- and you thought at first it would be because he wouldn’t compromise to save her. After observing the way he took a small step back and the way she was holding him by the eyes, you realised that she was warning him not to confess.

She was obviously the one calling the shots.

“If you don’t give us names, you’re good as dead,” Red Hood told him, “Or would you rather me convince you in other ways?”

He nodded at Carrie. You felt a little protective of her, standing up straighter to defend her from Red Hood.

Joseph and Maria ignored the threat and was looking at each other intensely, trying their best to communicate without words.

Then, Joseph calmed down. He straightened up into the proud man you always saw him to be, a smirk playing on his arrogant features.

“I’m sorry, but this is business,” he sneered, “And we swore our clients’ secrecy.”

Red Hood paused.

Then-

“We’ll see about that.”

He grabbed a fistful of Maria’s cropped blond hair and pulled her to the dressing table. You heard that Carrie had started to sob behind you.

“Put your right hand flat on the table,” he demanded.

“Red Hood-” you tried.

“Now!” he barked.

She raised her shaking hand and rested it on the table hesitantly.

The first thing you heard was Maria’s cry- muffled by Red Hood’s large gloved hand- before you registered what had happened.

In an instant, Red Hood had cut off her pinky finger, and then raised the dagger, which you now saw had a blade that was wavy from the bottom to the tip, glistening a sticky, sickly dark red.

“Mommy!” Carrie screamed.

With all the commotion, you wondered why the security still hadn’t heard you yet. Then you realised that the glass walls were probably shatter and bullet proof, making it thick enough to be almost sound proof.

That shook Joseph slightly, his smirk had been wiped off clean and his forehead had beads of sweat.

“I can do this another nine times,” Red Hood snarled.

You had to stop this before it went too far. Slowly, you approached him.

“Red Hood,” you cautioned, “Let’s continue this another time, when the kid isn’t around.”

“Stay out of my way,” he turned to you.

“Let’s think rationally here,” you went closer, trying to speak over Maria’s wails, “There’s no way we have the time to torture for information when there’s a dozen armed men outside who might notice that something is off.”

“That’s why you’re here,” he scoffed, “So you can deal with them.”

“Do you really want to deal with them in front of the girl?” you tried again, “She’s five. She shouldn’t have to go through this.”

“They were going to wait a few years before selling her off anyway,” he seethed, “I’m doing her a favor.”

“No!” Joseph denied, “Not her. Never her.”

“How sweet.” Red Hood hissed sarcastically.

“Red Hood, come on,” you persuaded, “We can pick this up again another time.”

“And what?” he yelled, “Wait for them to run to the other side of the world? Where I have to hunt them down all over again? I do not have the time or the patience to- what the fuck did you just do?!”

Red Hood shouted at Joseph, who had moved quickly to the bedside table. His eyes widened in panic, and so did yours when you saw he had pressed a button on the underside of the table.

“Fuck!” Red Hood swore, “This is your fucking fault!”

He brandished the blade at you. “Fine,” he pulled Maria up again, “Looks like playtime’s over.”

Without warning, you saw him raise the dagger to Maria’s neck, and as if in slow motion, you just looked on by as he carved a big red smile across her throat.

The next thing you felt was a gush of warmth spray all over your face and torso. The blood that had gushed out of Maria was like a pulsating fountain of red.

“Maria!” Joseph screamed, “You fucking bastard!”

Red Hood leapt across the bed and pushed the man violently against the glass wall.

“Names!” he growled, taking Joseph’s head and thrusting it against the glass, leaving a smear of dark red.

Yet you were there, just frozen and blinking on the spot as you stared at Maria’s lifeless body on the grey carpeted floor, blood still splashing from her throat in the rhythm of her slowly dying heart.

Everything was red, and smelled like metal, and tasted like metal. Ew, did some get in your mouth? But you were wearing a mask. Why was there so much of it?

Did humans have this much blood in them? It seemed endless. Are we all just bags of blood in the end?

Carrie’s wails snapped you back to reality.

You rushed to her and kneeled down.

“Hey sweetheart, listen to me,” you tried to get through to her, “You have to go hide in that closet over there, okay?”

You picked her up. She was light, her body fragile and weak, and you opened the closet to reveal a walk-in.

You set her down on the floor and tried to comfort her again, “I want you to close your eyes, and close your ears, and then sing a song, okay? Don’t stop singing until the police comes. Can you do that?”

All she did was cry.

Fuck, she wasn’t going to listen to you.

So you just closed the closet door.

Red Hood was still smashing Joseph’s head against the wall. You noticed that he was now missing an ear.

Then you heard footsteps approaching you fast. Lots of them.

You took out your escrima sticks and got ready to fight a dozen armed men while Red Hood tortured Joseph Powers for information.

***

“Did you even get any names?” you monotoned.

The both of you were at the rendezvous, with Red Hood leaning against his beautiful black superbike and you standing awkwardly, holding your arms.

The smell and sight and taste of blood still consumed you. You hoped that the rain would have washed it away, but against all your luck, the moment you escaped the mansion, the rain had stopped.

Red Hood and you left behind a crying kid in the closet, a woman with a slashed throat in a pool of her own blood, a man beaten to death so bloody that he didn’t have any recognizable human features left, five unconscious and seventeen dead men in that house.

Red Hood simply looked away from you and took off his helmet and mask. He looked clean, because even in the midst of everything, he had managed to take his jacket from the settee.

“No?” you smirked, “So all of that for nothing?”

He gave you a glare, cold blue eyes piercing yours.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” you sighed, taking off your mask as well. It was soaked in blood.

“What?”

“Were you really going to hurt the kid?”

You saw his jaw clench.

“I don’t hurt innocents,” he looked away from you again.

You felt a wave of relief alongside your nausea, but however relieved you were, it still didn’t get the image of him slitting a woman’s throat out of your head.

If the circumstances were different, maybe you would have been turned on by that, as fucked up as it was. By the power he exhibited, the precision, the danger - you knew that you had a thing for that.

But he killed her in front of her own daughter, who shouldn’t have had to see that. Hell, who shouldn’t have had to be there in the first place.

It made you question him even more than before.

“Nope, you just traumatize them for the rest of their life,” you scoffed.

In a flash, his hands were around your throat.

“Don’t fucking talk to me that way,” he growled, “I haven’t forgotten how you fucked things up for me.”

“Fucked things up for you?” you repeated.

“You distracted me,” he told you, “And that prick went and sounded the alarm.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for trying to convince you not to murder a mother in front of her daughter!”

“Sweetheart,” he said in a low voice, “You’re playing with fire.”

Jason’s pupils had started to dilate, as if it was a black hole that was eating away at the blue. Your eyes fluttered towards his lips, which were slightly parted.

And then he smirked.

“I guess I have to punish you for disobeying me,” he drawled.

You gulped loudly, trying hard to not let the warmth in your stomach spark for the man in front of you.

“You know,” he whispered, his other hand snaking around your waist and pulling you flushed against his chest, “I’ve always imagined what you would look like covered in blood.”

Oh, fuck.

So did you. You had imagined what he looked like when he was beating a person half to death, how the muscles in his back would ripple with every blow.

You were so fucked up.

“And what do you think?” you bit your lip, squeezing your thighs together.

You were just upset at him a moment ago, and now you were turned on? You pieced together that you had a dangerous coping mechanism.

The fingers that were around your throat were caressing your cheek now, his thumb brushing against your lips.

“Better than I imagined,” he grinned, dipping down to kiss you.

He pushed his wet tongue into your mouth without hesitation, fucking it while he grabbed your ass and squeezed hard, almost painfully. He would bite and nip at your lips before licking them.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, “You taste like blood.”

You felt him grind on you, though you knew the hardness was from the protective cup he was wearing. You still couldn’t feel much either, due to the soaked body armor.

“Bend over the bike,” he commanded.

“Wait, what?” you gasped.

“You heard me.”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you slowly approached the vehicle. When you were at its side, you glanced behind you. Jason had the most arrogant smirk ever while his arms were crossed.

After taking a deep breath, you tiptoed and winced in embarrassment when you positioned yourself bent over the seat, your ass jutting out.

Warm hands started rubbing your waist, going down to your ass and thighs.

“How do I take this off,” you heard him complain.

Your bottom was only latex tights.

When Jason finally figured it out, he pulled down hard, exposing your ass to the cool air.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his hand roaming to massage it.

“Jason, we’re in public,” you reminded him.

“So?” he responded, “It’s 2am, and it’s Gotham, baby. Public indecency is the least of everyone’s worries.”

You felt him shift behind you, and gasped when you felt a long, wet strip from your clitoris to your hole.

“Taste so good,” he groaned.

His tongue felt good.

He continued to tease you by licking your wet opening but never dipping inside, just making you wet with your own juices and his saliva. But suddenly you felt a sharp, piercing pain on your pussy flesh.

“Fuck!” you screamed and turned to look back at him grinning at you, “Did you just fucking bite me?”

“What did you think I was going to do when I said you needed punishment?”

“I don’t know, spank me or some shit?” you breathed, “Not fucking bite me!”

“Oh, but you would like to be spanked,” he told you, “And that wouldn’t be much of a punishment would it?”

He bit you again, but this time soothed the pain by licking you after.

Still, it didn’t stop the jolts of electricity that stung you every time he did.

“Fuck!” you gasped again, “Stop it- oh, fuck.”

He had slid a finger inside you- you noticed it was ungloved.

And then he started a barrage of confusing sensations, biting and nipping at your pussy to cause you pain, and then licking it away while pumping his finger inside of you to spark pleasure.

It didn’t take you long until you were moaning and panting and fucking sweating in the post-rain weather.

The warmth was building and building as he kept licking and biting and finger fucking you, twisting inside of you and touching your most pleasurable spots. You felt yourself start to tighten around his finger as the now familiar sensation of approaching orgasm started.

And then it was all gone.

Jason removed his finger and stopped licking. You turned around furiously to see him smirking at you with dark hooded eyes.

Oh, now you understood. The punishment wasn’t the biting at all.

He wouldn’t let you come.

You spent the next minute glaring angrily at him, refusing to say a word while he just stared back with intense eyes, breathing almost as heavily as you were.

And then he dove back in.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned as the pleasure built and built and built again.

And then stopped.

You wanted to fucking yell at him, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

He continued again, this time even harder with the licks and bites, harder with the way he fucked your cunt, even inserting a second finger that drew the most vulgar sound from your lips. You felt yourself building again, but when you expected him to stop, he didn’t.

This time, he kept you going higher and higher, your knees growing weaker, until you reached and were just dangling on the edge of-

And it was all gone.

“Jason!” you yelled, “Come the fuck on!”

You heard him chuckle behind you. And then you felt him grind against your ass, rough and heavy and desperate.

Probably because he was still wearing a protective cup, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to feel much. You wanted him to take his cock out already, so he could start fucking you senseless as you were bent over his bike.

But then, he stopped. And he pulled up your pants to cover you up, even giving you a small smack on the butt.

“What?” you straightened and turned around.

“What?” he pretended to be clueless, even though you saw the obvious lust that was etched on his handsome yet tired face.

“You- I- why don’t- fuck!” you stuttered, squeezing your thighs together. You were so wet that you felt yourself soaking through the tights despite it already being wet from the earlier rain.

“Oh, did you want to come?” he asked innocently, “Sorry, but girls who disobey my orders don’t get what they want.”

“You’re torturing yourself as well,” you grit, and to prove a point grabbed his crotch, earning yourself a hiss from him.

He grabbed your wrists to pull you closer, “We’re in public. Remember?”

Then he took a step back and gave you a shit eating grin.

“Whatever,” you sighed frustratedly, “I’m fucking covered in blood anyway. Fuck, I need to get PEP tomorrow. You should, too.”

“What?” he frowned.

“Post-exposure prophylaxis,” you explained, “We’re covered in blood, Jason, ever heard of HIV?”

He blinked once at you, and then broke into a fit of laughter.

“It’s not funny!” you defended, “It’s just for a just in case!”

“I’m pretty sure Maria fucking Powers does not have HIV,” he teased.

The mention of Maria brought the image to your mind again. The Jason in front of you had a twinkle in his eye, his expression soft after laughing at your logic. It was hard to imagine that under an hour ago, he had slit a woman’s throat.

In front of her own daughter.

Jason must have noticed your expression change, because he became serious again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, concern in his eyes as he held you by the waist.

Was he actually concerned? Or was he still playing mind games with you?

Why would anyone want a dirty whore like you?

And, there it was. Mother was back again.

“Nothing,” you looked away. “I just need to get all this blood off me.”

“We’re done here,” Jason informed you, “You can go back any time.”

“Well,” you started hesitantly, “I don’t think I can go back like this. All this blood- it’s too hard to cover up. My clothes, my shoes, everything is just covered in blood. Why is there so much fucking blood-”

“Hey, hey,” he stopped you, “Calm down. It’s fine. You can come back with me.”

“W-what?” you looked up at him. He seemed so genuine. Was it a trap?

He must have noticed as well, because his face immediately turned into a scowl, “I trust that you won’t tell Batman. After tonight, you’d be fucked along with me if it ever got to him. Take it or leave it, I’m not offering again.”

He let go of you and climbed on his bike, turning on the engine.

He looked back at you, who was still stunned on the spot.

“You coming or what?”

Oh, you were so fucked.

***

Your jaw dropped when you saw the interior of his safe house.

From the outside, it looked just like an abandoned shipment container amongst many other abandoned shipment containers in an abandoned shipping dock. You had expected it to be just a mattress, some pillows, with his weapons dumped messily on the floor.

No, his safe house looked like an actual safe house.

His bed was an actual Queen sized bed with matching bed sheets and pillowcases. His weapons were arranged in a glass cabinet display neatly against the freshly painted cream colored walls- the walls weren’t even the tin walls of the shipment container. He must have added another layer of plywood, with some sort of insulator in between which kept the room warm.

You noticed a beautiful katana resting on its stand. He had a wooden dining table with a fucking oriental tea set on it.

“The shower’s through there,” he pointed at the far corner of the room, which was separated by a wall. “Take off your clothes and just dump it in front of the washing machine.”

A fucking washing machine.

You nodded silently and followed his directions, turning into the corner. His bathroom was simple, yet still elegantly placed with tile flooring.

He had the time to put fucking tiles in his fucking toilet.

The white porcelain of his toilet and sink shined brightly in the warm lights of the bathroom. Next to the toilet was the shower, the segment separated by a curtain. The only thing that was out of placed in his entire makeshift home was the mirror over the sink.

It was cracked. You only saw glimpses of yourself in the pieces that were big enough to catch your reflection- a pair of tired eyes and skin that was covered in dried blood that had long ago oxidized and turned dark brown.

You stripped off your clothes, struggling to peel them off your skin, and then dumped them on the floor in front of the washing machine and stepped into the shower.

You turned it on.

The bastard even had hot running water.

You moaned at the relief and looked down on the floor, watching as the water turned brown, washing away the blood and sweat and filth on your skin. You reached for his shampoo and couldn’t help but giggle at his choice.

It was pomegranate scented with red packaging and labelled Long Term Relationship.

Well, it smelled divine. He had great taste in scents.

Look at you. So desperate to smell like him. Pathetic.

“Him and hundreds of other women, probably,” you muttered.

Once you were done, you stepped on the floor mat and saw a neatly folded towel and clothes on top of the toilet seat. You dried yourself off and put on his t-shirt.

It was too big on you, the sleeves went down to your elbows and the hem went down to your mid-thighs. You saw that he also set aside a pair of shorts, but there was no way you were going to be able to wear that without them sliding down.

You breathed in.

The combination of the shampoo, and the smell of his t-shirt made you smile. It was familiar, but you never really noticed it besides the fabric softener.

Yet, it was unmistakably him. Now all you needed to do was rub gun-powder all over yourself and voila.

You stepped outside to see he had shrugged off his jacket, and was sitting at the dining table, wiping his helmet down with hand sanitizer.

“Shower’s free,” you approached him, passing him your wet towel and his shorts, “Thanks for the shirt, but the shorts are too big.”

His jaw clenched when he looked up at you. You saw the way his eyes darted from your own and down to your body.

He snatched the items from your hand and got up. “Don’t touch anything.”

You heard the shower turn on.

And then you were alone, standing awkwardly in the middle of his safe house.

Everything seemed so normal.

There weren’t many personal things lying around aside from clothes and a few books that he had arranged on a bookshelf, but it didn’t scream ‘Go away’ or ‘Psychopath’. It was simple, homey, warm.

Until you noticed a pinboard that hung in front of his bed.

The nearer you got, you saw familiar faces. Mainly yours.

A blurred photo of you as Robin with Batman. A few articles regarding Batman handing Joker over to the authorities, a couple about Bruce Wayne adopting you following your parents’ deaths, and photocopied police statements about the investigation of your parents.

You frowned.

You knew he had done extensive research on you, you knew that he had shimmied his way into your life and manipulated you for his gain, you knew all that. But seeing everything out in the open made your heart ache.

A whole portion of the board had many of your pictures on it, as well. Stalker photos, as you liked to call it. Zoomed in from far away, candid shots of you in your uniform, swimming, smiling and waving at your classmates, walking in the mall, studying in the library.

“Like my photography skills?”

You jumped at his voice. He was so silent whenever he approached you. You should have noticed that much earlier on.

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” you shook your head, still looking at the photos, “But I have to say, I didn’t know I looked this good in my uniform.”

“Oh, baby girl, if only you knew,” he chuckled.

“Please, I-”

You finally turned and choked on whatever words you were going to say.

Jason was standing at the foot of his bed behind you with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and dripping droplets of water down onto his bare chest, his arms crossed and accentuating even more the size of his biceps. He looked so clean.

So normal.

Well, his hotness was hardly normal, but he didn’t seem like some trigger happy crime lord.

He raised a knowing eyebrow at your expression. You didn’t realise your mouth was open.

“I should burn this fucking place down for what you did to my library,” you shot at him.

“It’s been months, get over it,” he rolled his eyes, and sat on the bed, back resting against propped pillows.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

“Why would I? I’m in my own bed.”

You gulped.

“Bruce- Dick- Everyone-” you stammered, “They’ve probably figured out that I’m not in my room. It’s three thirty in the morning and the music is still playing loudly in my room, I mean, someone has probably knocked and didn’t get an answer so-”

“Your clothes will only be ready in two hours,” Jason interrupted you, “Or would you rather go back home in just my shirt with no bra and panties?”

“I can actually think of an excuse if I did,” you chuckled nervously, “Dick thinks I’ve been sleeping with a guy named Carter.”

“Who’s Carter?” Jason demanded, his expression changing into one that was furious.

“No one,” you quickly explained, “He saw your stupid texts, so I told him your name was Carter and that we were going out.”

He relaxed at your explanation.

Wait a minute.

Was he jealous?

You smiled to yourself, entertaining the possibility.

“And I do actually have a change of clothes in my backpack,” you said, “Which is in your bike.”

“You’re not leaving me with the laundry, princess,” he scoffed, “Stay. Once your clothes are done I’ll even fold them for you.”

“How hospitable,” you snickered.

You stood there awkwardly again, not knowing where you’d be welcomed.

“The bed won’t slit your throat, you know,” he teased, “You can lie down and sleep until you need to go.”

You pursed your lips and played with the edges of the shirt. You knew what was going to happen in that bed.

You went to the opposite side of bed and sat down nervously. You put your feet up and stretched it, just like Jason’s .

The bed was comfy, the pillows fluffy and warm. You could finally feel yourself relaxing into it-

Jason grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, your back flushed against his front. And finally, finally you could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against your ass.

“I’ve been hard ever since you came out of the shower,” he breathed into your ear, grinding against you.

You wanted to moan at the feeling of his heavy length on you, you wanted to grind back onto him and turn him on even more, but mother started screaming.

ARE YOU A LADY OR A WHORE?

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“What?” Jason asked.

“Nothing,” you turned to him. “Kiss me.”

He granted your request and gave you a searing kiss.

Rolling in bed with a dirty criminal.

“Shut up!” you screamed.

“What the fuck?” Jason yelled, “I didn’t say anything!” “No,” you shook your head, “Sorry. Not you. I wasn’t talking to you.”

He looked at you suspiciously.

“I- I hear my mother sometimes,” you admitted.

You waited for him to call you crazy, but he never did. Instead, he looked at you seriously.

“Tell me more.”

“Not physically,” you started, “But I imagine what she would have said to me if she were watching me- which is why I never kissed a boy before this. Or masturbated. She stops me from doing anything filthy.”

“Filthy?”

“By her standards,” you elaborated, “Filthy or vulgar or inappropriate, she controls my actions.”

“How long,” he asked.

“Ever since they died,” you sighed.

“But you were fine all those other times,” he inquired, “Why now?”

“It gradually became less and less frequent,” you explained, “Like, when we did those things through video call, I felt comfortable and it just- it felt right. And it stopped completely during my first time with you.”

“So you saying it doesn’t feel right, right now?” he clenched his jaw.

“It’s not you!” you added quickly, “It’s me. No matter how much I want to, I just can’t help it. She’s there.”

“Look, I get it,” he sighed, leaning onto the propped pillows, “Fuck, I get it.”

“You do?” you looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“What? You think getting beaten to a pulp with a crowbar, getting exploded, and having to crawl out of your own grave wouldn’t fuck you up?” he growled, “You’re not special. Get over it.”

Even though he said it in a way that was harsh and definitely not conventional, he basically told you what you needed to hear- that you weren’t the only one that was fucked up, and if there was any comfort at all, it’d be the fact that you were fucked up together.

You smiled when you saw him, his arms crossed, eyebrows stitched together in a frown, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“Well, I really wanted to,” you paused, “You know.” Jason looked over to you then. “You said she screams in your ear, right?”

“Yeah?”

He smirked, then came closer to you again, caressing your cheek and tucking a wet strand of hair behind your ear, where he leaned in to whisper.

“Then that just means we need to be louder.”

He gripped your thigh and forced your legs open, cupping your sex with his hands.

He’s defiling you.

“I hated you,” he slipped a finger between your folds and gently ran it up and down, gathering your slick, “But now I just can’t seem to keep on hating you anymore.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession.

He teased your clit, giving only light brushes on it, barely even touching you.

But everyone else will hate you.

“Talk to me, baby,” he instructed, “Tell me you don’t hate me anymore.”

“I-” you panted, “I don’t hate you anymore.”

A filthy man for a filthy girl.

“Mmm, good girl,” he purred, now adding pressure to your clit, making you squirm.

The praise did wonders to you. You felt your cheeks heating up, your heartbeat going faster and faster.

I raised you to act like a lady, not like a bitch in heat.

His other hand slipped underneath the shirt, trailing up from your waist to cup your breast and gave it a squeeze.

You moaned out loud when he started pinching them.

Vulgar sounds will only get you dirty men.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that,” he rasped against your skin, hot breath sending goosebumps all over. “I want you to moan for me, beg for me, scream for me.”

“Jason,” you sighed.

He started properly rubbing on your clit now, sending tingles right to your toes. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet. It makes your pussy look so fucking pretty,” he praised.

At least prostitutes get money when they sleep with other men, and you’re doing this for free.

It was so confusing. On one hand, you had your mother’s voice ringing in your head. On the other, Jason’s dirty, sexy mouth made you think you could actually die from sheer horniness.

He finally slipped a finger inside of you, eliciting a long moan.

You’re going to be loose before you hit-

“Mmm, you like that, baby?” he husked, “You always like it when I put my finger in, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

No one will want you after-

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

Ruined goods-

“Please,” you whined as you spread your legs further apart.

YOU BELONG IN THE-

“Please what, sweetheart?” he teased.

You could only mewl.

LISTEN HERE-

“Please stop?” he added a second finger, and started pumping in and out excruciatingly slow.

STOP IT-

“Please make me come?” he increased his pace.

HORRIBLE-

“Or just… please? .”

He suddenly switched into a brutally fast pace, causing you to scream.

“Jason! Fuck, Jason please just put your cock inside of me and make me come, fuck!” you begged.

He stopped finger fucking you and chuckled out loud. He was hovering over you, his towel long gone, aligning the tip of his dick at the entrance of your cunt.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, and then pushed inside in a swift motion.

“Fuck!” you cried.

“So fucking wet for me,” he panted, pounding into you. “So tight.”

“Jason,” you could only say.

He dipped down to push his tongue into your mouth, fucking your mouth the same rhythm he was fucking your pussy. You were in a state of desperation and euphoria, hazy to reality.

The only thing you were hearing at that moment was the wet sound of flesh on flesh and Jason’s loud grunts into your mouth.

The combination of his cock repeatedly pressing onto the spot within you and his tongue in your mouth made your pussy tighten in no time, closer and closer to orgasm.

“You wanna come, baby girl?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded hysterically.

“Come for me then, come all over my cock,” he commanded, fucking you faster.

The tight coil in your core exploded, and you felt yourself pulsating all over his length which was still moving.

Jason didn’t give you time to rest.

“Get up on your knees and face the wall,” he growled.

You immediately obeyed, afraid that he would start biting you again if you didn’t. Jason pushed aside his pillows and you placed your hands on the headboard.

He took off the oversized shirt and his hands started roaming your body from behind, squeezing your breasts, running them up and down your thighs, all the while he was kissing your back.

He pushed his cock inside you again without warning, and in the post-orgasm sensitivity, you accidentally gave out and collapsed backwards against him.

“Woah there, baby,” he laughed, gripping you tightly by the waist to stabilize you. “I want to make you come again.”

“Please,” you rasped.

“Yeah?” he started moving slowly behind you, “You want to come again, baby?”

You nodded weakly.

“Tell me, baby girl,” he nipped your earlobe, “Tell me.”

“I want you to make me come again.”

“What a fucking good girl,” he licked your ear.

You could only whimper in response.

He hammered his hips into you hard and fast, all the while gripping your tits with one hand and your waist with other, fucking himself up into you.

And because you were so sensitive from the first orgasm, the fact that he was fucking you again soon after meant that you were already fast approaching your second one.

“Hold out for me just a bit more, sweetheart,” he breathed in your neck, “Please?”

That ‘please’ sort of made your heart melt.

“Anything, Jason,” you replied, trying your best to maintain a level head while he fucked you.

“Ah. fuck, baby,” he stuttered, his hips stuttered, his pace stuttered. “Okay, come with me. Come with me, fuck, fuck.”

The heat you felt before started spreading again, and this time you allowed it and let go. You reached behind you to hold Jason’s head, running your hands in his hair and gripped on it tightly for leverage as you came loud and long.

He withdrew from you so fast that it almost hurt, but then you felt warm splashes on your lower back, dripping down to the globes of your ass and to your thighs.

Your whole body gave out, and you fell down on your front, crashing into the soft bed.

You heard Jason chuckle, and then felt him get up. He returned with his towel and wiped your back, and then joined you on the bed next to you.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Better than okay,” you smiled.

“Mother quiet?” he frowned.

“Surprisingly so,” you yawned.

“Good,” he nodded.

The two of you just stared at each other, and soon enough you got lost in his face. His tired eyes, his crooked nose, his scarred skin. He gave you an odd expression. It wasn’t anger, or hate- hell he was hardly frowning.

He just looked… content.

You guess killing someone would take the energy out of you.

***

When Jason stirred awake, the first thing he felt was the warm body next to him.

For the first time in his entire life, he didn’t wake up alone.

He blinked his eyes open, and nearly laughed out loud when he saw your face next to him. You weren’t a graceful sleeper. Your hair was messy, your mouth hanging open with a little drool on dribbling at the corner.

Yet, he couldn’t help thinking about how absolutely gorgeous you looked.

He felt his chest tighten.

He shifted to the side to look at the clock on his bedside table. It was already 6am. Your clothes were long dry already in the dryer.

“Mmm,” he heard your voice, probably waking up because of his movements.

He turned back to you and saw that you were indeed already awake, facing tummy down with his blanket covering you up to your waist so he had a view of your beautiful, smooth back.

“What time is it,” you asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Six,” he answered, “Your clothes are probably dry.”

“Fuck,” you swore. He loved it when you swore. “I’m going to get into so much trouble.”

“You’re a teenager with a so-called boyfriend,” he snorted, “Make something up.”

“That’s the plan,” you grinned.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and laid on your back.

“I should go,” you sighed sadly, and then sat up.

“Wait,” he grabbed your arm.

Fuck, what was he doing?

“Don’t go,” he whispered, “Stay.”

“I guess I’m already fucked anyways, right?” you smirked.

“No, I meant-” Jason paused, his words catching in his throat. “Stay with me forever. Leave them.”

He saw the many phases of your thoughts written clearly on your face. You blinked with realisation, stopped yourself from smiling, but finally settled with a deep troubled frown.

Fuck.

“I can’t,” you croaked, “I’m sorry, Jason. I can’t do that.”

He felt like taking the keris and ripping out his heart.

“Fine,” he clipped, “Whatever. You want me to send you back, or what?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll find my way back,” you got up and walked to the dryer to change into your gear. Jason reached for the shorts that you didn’t wear.

He walked you to the door silently, awkwardly. He had given you your backpack from the compartment in his motorbike.

“Jason,” you suddenly turned to him, the frown still evidently clear, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” he grit, his heart dropping to his stomach.

“This thing with you,” you explained, “I can’t see you again. The next time I see you, I’ll be on Batman’s side.”

He felt like someone was throttling him, squeezing every ounce of sanity he had left out. He felt his nails digging into his palms, fists closed, still refraining from doing something he knew he would regret.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” you said, “I won’t tell them about you. If they find you, it will be completely because of them, not me. Okay?”

He didn’t want to look at you. He didn’t want you to see through him.

“Just go,” he managed to choke.

You pursed your lips and then nodded, turning away from him.

He slammed the door shut, and then rushed to his room.

“FUCK!” he roared, grabbing the bed and flipping it over.

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”

He went to the dining table and swiped the tea set off, hearing it crash into tiny pieces on his floor before proceeding to flip over the table as well.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he cried, aware that his cheeks were wet with his tears.

He couldn’t breathe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He crumpled to the floor and picked up a broken piece of china, closing his fists around it and feeling the stinging pain as it cut into his flesh.

He was losing his mind.

He didn’t know what was up, or down, or what was real or wasn’t.

He wanted it to be all just a long, shitty fucking dream.

He wanted to just wake up back in his room in the Manor, fifteen years old, with the sound of Alfred knocking on his door, asking if he was alright.

It was a different kind of pain that he felt as compared to the one Joker had inflicted on him. It was the same hurt, the same stabbing feeling in his chest when he found out that Bruce had replaced him with you.

The same feeling when he found his mother on the floor with foam in her mouth.

In the midst of pulling his hair, and contemplating on whether he should really use the keris to carve his heart out or slit his own throat, he eventually calmed down after an hour of broken sobs and choking on air.

He sat there on his floor, the blood on his hands now sticky and brown, listening to the deafening silence of his room.

He was alone again.

[jeaniegreysummers]

crying power || Jean & Bruce

WHO: Jean Grey-Summers ( @jeaniegreysummers ) and Bruce Banner ( @hulkout ) WHERE: Stark/Avenger’s Tower WHAT: Jean has spent weeks planning a big science experiment, with a single intended goal - to bring Erik Lehnsherr back from the dead, sans Phoenix. She recruits Dr. Bruce Banner to assist. WARNINGS: death mention, murder mention WORDS: 3.7k

JEAN: The widely held view within the walls of the Institute was that the Avengers were a bunch of over-hyped frat boys in receipt of extensive preferential treatment, and Jean was loath to disagree with them. After all, the X-Men had been fighting this world’s battles for decades before Nick Fury put together his merry little band of misfits, and all they got for their efforts was sent to Salem to hide behind masks and pretend they were ‘normal’ (whatever that meant). The Avengers got praise. They got accolades, got medals, got their faces plastered on billboards and songs written to celebrate their glories -- with one notable exception, at least from the original team.

Bruce Banner.

She’d researched him, before, followed him through with both a personal and scientific curiosity. He was a man born human who tried to make himself something more. He was a man playing with genes on government contracts, and it went wrong. He was a man who, it could be argued, deserved what he got.

But he was a man who, when given the potential to destroy entire cities, went on the run for years at a time. He was a man who took the role of scientist on a team where he could be the heavy hitter. He was a man who was very hard to find, a man who filled the role of pacifist far more than his friends.

And he was a man Jean needed, despite her previous feelings on him, despite everything else.

(Jean was good at putting aside personal feelings for the mission -- at least until the mission was over. She’d learned that from her father.)

Avengers Tower was a fortress. Its defences had been bolstered after the siege, even if Stark had backed down remarkably quickly (and uncharacteristically quickly, Jean noted). Still, the Phoenix could move her through in an instant, could have her in the labs a couple of seconds before the alarms started blaring.

Heels clacking against the linoleum, Jean stepped out of the darkness, coming into the direct eyeline of the very scientist she’d been looking for. “Dr. Banner,” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake. “A pleasure to finally meet you. Do you mind telling Mr. Stark’s lovely computerised assistant that I’m here for a meeting before I get shot at? That wouldn’t end very well for anyone involved.”

BRUCE: Inadvertently, people who often strayed too far from the limelight always made themselves a target. One small slip up and the mystery was far more notable than any secrecy. Still, it never surprised Bruce if someone knew his name, and surprised him far more if someone knew his face when he was much more human and much less green, donning a lab coat and a pair of reading glasses.

F.R.I.D.A.Y sent out an alert that someone was in the facility — not the actual housing unit — but credentials weren’t given. Typically that meant that Tony had allowed them past the new functionality they’d put in place, working endlessly on code and bantering over F.R.I.D.A.Y’s own comments through the night. It was almost easy to fall back into the routine of it — being Tony’s tech-guy. His science guy. The person he always counted on to be sitting on the lab stools well into the night.

It had been easy to fall back into being an Avenger too.

Which was why the snake of nerves in his stomach uncoiled and hissed at the sight of an X-Men in the lab. His safe haven. His safety room. The room of safeness where he drank his tea and poured over a biochem journal when he was stressed—

“We don’t really do the gun thing anymore,” Bruce balanced around the pencil between his teeth, hands preoccupied with realigning a piece of equipment, “If you were going to get shot, it probably would have been before the big doors opened for you.” With a hiss and a click, the mechanics slid into place, Bruce turning his attention toward his guest. Tony’s guest? Jean. White? No. Grey. “Hi. Uh,” Bruce dropped the pencil, looking at his hand afterward when he thought about the possible saliva transfer. Gaze flickering over the smooth, cool one of Jean’s, he hesitantly gripped her much smaller ones in his own, “Bruce. Well. You know that. You just called me by name. Anyway, hi — what are you doing here exactly? Tony’s not here. Well, I mean, he’s here, he’s just not here.”

JEAN: The answer seemed simple to anyone on the outside, to those who still believed the carefully crafted story that Jean’s propensity for dragging herself (and others, now) from the grave was a secondary mutation meticulously honed. For all intents and purposes her resurrections had been flawless, and if she wasn’t as close to Scott as she was, she may not have noticed a difference -- but she did. She saw Erik shift, felt the cool off her husband’s skin, saw how Maddie’s smile twisted just a little too sharp. She knew it was the bird within them, knew the effect it could have, knew how it could blend things until the horrific was justifiable.

Jean couldn’t use the Phoenix to bring Erik back, but she needed him. She needed him as a father, of course -- needed him more than she’d needed almost anyone. She needed him as a leader, too. The future they had built, the legacy he left behind, that was threatened by the Black Knights. It was threatened from the inside as much as outside forces. Genosha balanced on a knife’s edge, and she needed to guarantee safety for her daughter.

It’ll be Rachel, one day. Jean wasn’t going to allow that to happen. She’d always been a pragmatist -- a soldier’s daughter.

“You’re telling me a Stark backs away from things that go boom?” Jean asked, an eyebrow raising. She managed to keep her more aggressive thoughts about Iron Man to herself, managed to train her voice to a careful tease rather than anything too condemning. She wasn’t particularly concerned about the concept of Bruce refusing her, but she always preferred to use her words than her powers -- and she wasn’t entirely sure how it would work with the Other Guy. She’d seen the wreckage in South Africa post Scarlet Witch intrusion. “See, the doors didn’t open. I scattered my molecules, went through the wall. I think that’s why your electronic friend is having a mild coronary.”

Tony’s not here. Jean held back a snort, and simply nodded instead. “I know he isn’t. I sent him to my lab in Genosha.” He was easier to distract than she thought he would be, although Jean did get the distinct impression Stark was aware he was being distracted and went with it regardless. He got the opportunity to dig around her archives, after all, so it was a win win. “I was looking for you. I have a case I’d like to get your input on.” Jean reached for her bag, pulling out a stack of papers which she set on the workbench between them. “I was looking into the Cradle,” she said. “My colleagues seemed to think it was a thing of legend, but I’m not so sure. Every myth has its place in reality, right? Now, imagine the Cradle, combined with that nanotech Stark boasted about at the Expo. Imagine it combined with the energy I can provide, or take from the people around me.”

Jean allowed the words to settle, eyes flashing with just a hint of orange as she finally met Bruce’s gaze. “I could bring my father back to life,” she said. “I could bring him back to life, but I need you to do it. What do you say?”

BRUCE: It would have been easy to get defensive - to say that there’s no way he would be stepping toe into anything that so much as even sort of resembled Cradle. That he wouldn’t be participating in playing God anymore and that his time years and years of time for all of the nonsense was over. He’d gone into hiding for a purpose after all — but the notes in his desk drawer currently, the ones marked in blue and black ink with little comments from FRIDAY as he worked, said otherwise. The ones with the exact nonsense he hated - like time-travel.

And then, the words really hit him. “You ... Erik’s dead?” Dark eyelashes fluttered, dipped in cherry red in the right light, and Bruce had to hold himself back. He strayed away from the news. Purposefully so, considering most of the time it was negative things (like the world exploding, or Bruce going on a rampage, or more terrorist attacks on meta-humans and mutants).

The ache clawed it’s way from his stomach and into his throat, and for a second the whole world flashed green, tilting sideways and knocking into his skull like the angry fists of a small child who was too large for his age. Uncontrolled, like a battering ram.

Caramel eyes flickered down to clenched fists on the metal table in front of him, indents of his fingertips marring the edges in warped zigzags where his hold was too strong. Where Hulk’s hold was too strong. His reflection in the same metal table showed that same jade at the corners of his temples too.

“How did it happen?” Using her words as a bartering chip, Bruce would get his answers. After all, she couldn’t access it without him, without Stark (and deep inside, he’d hoped that Tony would say no if Bruce asked him to).

The scientist ignored that the same rumble of hurt in the guts of him called out for Erik, his new friend, his new maybe-something if Bruce didn’t fuck it up. He would bring Erik back. He didn’t really have a choice. “How did it happen?” He repeated again, less strangled this time.

JEAN: There was that word again. Dead. So final, so complete, so absolute — to everyone but Jean Grey, it appeared. To everyone but the people Jean Grey loved the most (her best friend, her sister, her teammates and fellow soldiers … it was only a matter of time, she told herself, before they were all back on firm ground) it lasted beyond human compression, spanned centuries and even longer. Legacies lasted for a millennia but death? Death drew on even after that.

Death wouldn’t draw on for Erik Lehnsherr. Logically, they needed him. Emotionally, Jean had been half alive since he took his final breath. Scott could scarcely get words past the lump in his throat. Maddie was shifting, changing, questioning. The world wasn’t on its even keel anymore, and they had battles and wars facing them they had no idea how to handle alone — and he was her father. More than anyone else, he was her father. He raised her, cared for her, protected her. Challenged her.

Was killed, by her.

“He’s—” Jean wanted to correct him, wanted to say something like not alive or not breathing or temporarily indisposed, but those would be lies. She couldn’t feel him anymore. Neither could Lorna, who lost her due north. “He’s dead.”

And then she got a front seat to Banner in all his grief, in all she needed to know to realise she’d been exceptionally strategic in choosing him for this request. She knew this already, of course. Erik taught her compassion, taught her love, taught her how to decode messages and read faces and expressions — but he also taught her how to plan, how to read people.

How to use people, that small voice provided. Jean pushed it to the back of her mind. That wasn’t what this was. She could do it by herself, if she wanted, if she so desired. The only reason she was here was because she was trying to do things differently, trying to learn from past mistakes. Trying to be better.

(But there was still a part of her that hoped, when that flicker of green came across his irises, when his grip increased on the steel of the table. There was a. part of her that yearned for a fight, a flicker that turned into a spark. We haven’t had a challenge like this in a while, the Phoenix crowed. A good way to expel some energy. A good way to level New York, more like.)

Jean clasped her hands behind her back, wringing them together as she waited. Charles’ lessons were still clear and bright in her mind. She was strong enough to hold him back, perhaps, if she tried — but getting into his head wasn’t what she was here for. Making him comply wasn’t who Jean was.

It wasn’t who she wanted to be.

The moment passed, and she didn’t breathe a sigh of relief. She didn’t react at all. He asked the question she knew was coming, and she steeled herself, prepared for a rejection.

We could make him do it. We could. Stop holding yourself back. We have all the pieces, now, you and Madelyne. Why ask anyone else—

“It is a very long story,” Jean prefaced, “and from what I understand, you will want to know each detail. I’m not sure I can provide that much. There’s a lot even we don’t know, as X-Men — as mutants — but I’ll tell you all I can.”

Where to start?

“There is a cosmic force,” she began, “an entity I’ve only known referred to as the Phoenix Force. It is, for lack of a better term, the embodiment of life itself. It’s capable of great feats, and draws even more power from the universe if it has an appropriate host.” This time, Jean did chew on the corner of her lip, did lose some of the strength in her shoulders and confidence in her stance. “I’ve been its host since I was eighteen years old. It always protected me, brought me back when I was injured or … or when I was killed. It did the same for my husband, after Central Park. But there’s a cost.

“It takes everything in you, and makes it stronger. Anger becomes rage, affection becomes passion. Love becomes all consuming, but so does hate. And in my ignorance, I split a piece of this force, and it found a home in Erik. It … changed him. Altered him. Encouraged him to make decisions he would normally measure more carefully.”

She didn’t want to talk about the missiles, not in detail. She didn’t want to tell this man how she scarcely held her father back from committing a massacre against the very people Banner had fought alongside with the Avengers. She didn’t want to tarnish the memory that still existed of him in the public consciousness — a flawed man, perhaps, but ultimately heroic for what he had done for his people.

“He was a danger to himself and others,” she settled on. “I made the decision, as I did for myself many years ago, to end that particular threat before it went any further. We saved the world, but I lost my father. My sister lost her father. My people lost their leader, my husband lost his light, and Erik lost his life.” She sucked in a breath, brought her hands around to the front. “I hope if we can restore the latter,” Jean continued, “the rest might fall into place.”

Wishful thinking, perhaps. Wishful thinking — but God, wasn’t that what the X-Men were built on?

BRUCE: One talent that Banner and Hulk actually shared was the ability to stay quiet; read the room for tells, evaluate situations based on the now rather than the could be.  While the scientist in Bruce often disagreed with Hulk’s methods of ‘smash now, ask questions later’ there was definitely something to it.

The urge to put his fist through the metal table quelled just a few moments after it had appeared, but there was something about Jean’s story that just didn’t add up to him. So you and Scott took it into your own hands to decide whether or not he got to live or die? Bruce didn’t actually say it, but the desire was strong. Lucky for him, he had much better self-preservation than Tony or Clint, and he let the woman finish her explanation before he even tried to comment.

“You know death does not come with convenience, right? If it’s not the…” He swallowed, “Phoenix, it will be something else.” Like lack of forgiveness, or Erik coming back a lifeless zombie. There wasn’t an exact science, to resurrection. At least not yet. After all, it was one thing when you had an internal power that was able to bring sustenance back to regenerative cells, it was another when you were starting from scratch, like with the CRADLE. Bruce would have to write algorithms based on Erik’s DNA: mutated DNA.

He said so, a moment later, but his words were not dismissive in nature. Instead, they were just facts.

Bruce Banner was going to help bring back a man who was likely better off dead. But you don’t want him dead either, Banner a voice betrayed in his psyche. How obnoxious, to be betrayed by his own subconscious. The physicist had spent countless hours staring at DNA. Sorting how to evolve and demonstrate it differently when being accessed through a different source code. Pulling it apart like the strings of a handmade sweater, like he’d done with his and Hulk’s. While he was specifically oriented in gamma-radiology, it should have been less complicated to perform tasks with something much more humanoid than Hulk would ever be.

“Okay.” Bruce said finally, twirling his hands around one another with some thought, “I’ll help you.” He should have made conditions. Should have said, But if things go wrong, it’s your fault. But he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Wanted to see his friend again. Wanted to share a connection with someone who was inherently good, despite what the outside world may have perceived.

Standing from his stool, Bruce marched forward with an odd confidence, “It’s going to take me some time to write the code. I need his file. Uh, anything you can get me pre-Auschwitz.” Bruce looked at her from under his fringe, one sturdy finger pushing up the rim of his round glasses.

JEAN: No one thought of Jean Grey as the brains of the operation in the early days of the X-Men. They all had their respective roles. Scott was the stoic leader, Warren was all charisma and private school charm, Bobby was the comic relief, Hank was the scientist and Jean … well, Jean was the girl. She was the one who tried to hold them together, the person who knew instinctively when someone was upset long before she went venturing into their mind (perhaps a little too far in the early days, before she learned restraint -- before she learned that curiosity shouldn’t win out against sanctity), the one who defended Charles and softened Scott and hardened Warren in the places that mattered.

No one thought of her as anything other than the girl on the pedestal, or the body rotting six foot under. No one thought of her past the tragedy, a life ended far too soon and then violently brought back into the present, constantly within and without, years missing where she was absent from lives that moved on without her. (Bruce said death wasn’t convenient like she wasn’t the person who knew that the most, like she hadn’t lived and died more times than anyone could ever imagine). She opened her mouth to say that, to tell him what it really felt like to be dragged from the dirt, how it was better than the emptiness that Erik was lingering in now.

Death still terrified her. Every part of it, every aspect. They said it was the unknown that scared people, about what happened after. Jean knew, and she still hated it, still ran from it at every opportunity -- still couldn’t leave Erik in it, no matter what.

It wasn’t a lack of love that killed him. It was a lack of choice. She wanted to say that, too, wanted to ask Bruce if he’d ever stared a monster of cosmic proportions in the face and felt it calling to him. She thought he would understand, thought the Hulk would give them something of a shared foundation, a trust that would linger (because to have anyone near Erik, she needed to trust them immediately, wholly). Instead, she found nothing but suspicion on his face, found she was staring down the barrel of a gun instead of the compassion she had expected from his reputation.

But she wasn’t here, in the end, to make friends. She wasn’t here to be the Jean Grey that had portraits hanging in the Institute, or counselled her friends after a hard battle. She wasn’t here to be the golden girl, the shining beacon of morality. She was here for a single purpose, and she was here as a scientist.

“I have it all in here,” Jean replied, tapping the side of her temple. “I did my homework before I came to you.” Weeks and months of scouring through records and minds, trickling her way through states and countries to gain information that was long thought lost (but nothing disappeared forever. Jean knew that). “I’ve been coding it, on my personal system. I can send it through.”

The information read cold, clinical. She tried to think of it that way, as she manufactured this plan -- as she realised that it was going to work. But there wasn’t a part of Jean that could maintain that for long. She nodded once, allowed her gaze to drop from Bruce and move to the CRADLE, instead.

(It was Erik who first sat down with her, she remembered, long before the X-Men were even thought of. It was Erik who said, you’ve got a lot more in your head than you let people see, don’t you? It was Erik who first said sometimes telepaths have the most to hide, the heaviest burden to carry. It was Erik who helped her know physics so she could deconstruct it.)

It wasn’t a logical plan, but it was the only one she could make, the only choice that didn’t choke her.

“Let’s get started.”

[miss-choco-chips]

Janet Drake...

and the Orphans. She doesn’t care for them. Except when Timothy does, because then it’s a problem™.

----.----

The days following the circus tragedy found Janet constantly wearing a curious accessory. And by that, she means Tim was hanging on to her at all times like a stubbornly stuck belt or backpack, depending on whether he was clinging to her waist or shoulders.

It was a little suffocating at times, but to be honest, the cercany helped her frayed nerves as well as his growing separation anxiety. Because Jack had left, and she was still steaming over the fact.

Her husband, back home for the week, had left for the next dig site earlier than expected, scared away by Timothy’s nightmares and cries. As if it were weird for a four year old to be scared out of his mind by witnessing another little kid’s parents die in front of him. As if it was a minor inconvenience and awkward situation, instead of future therapy material for their kid.

‘Coward’, she thought, full of spite, hand carefully brushing Tim’s hair away from his forehead as he slept with his head in her lap, watching from the couch as Jack trudged down the stairs with his travel suitcase at the ready. 

She wouldn’t ask him to stay, though. Timothy deserved parents willing to stay by their own volition, no some half witted irresponsible man-child who couldn’t deal with a little emotional trauma. 

Like, Janet herself wasn’t the best at reassurance, but at least she was trying, dear god. That had to count more than Jack’s escape act.

But, useless husband aside, she was… worried. About her son.

Emotional trauma wasn’t something she could just intimidate into submission. Some desperate dream, like owning an island, she had the money to fulfil for him. Unknown attacker to eliminate? Sure, there were no lacking meatbags in the market for hire to...make someone else disappear. But dealing with stuff that included heart to hearts and love? Yeah, no. She always thought Jack would be the one dealing with that kind of thing, so she was wholly unprepared for it. It also wasn’t an issue she could just push into her friends; Both Nicole and Lex were equally as unexperienced (inept) in that area.

Though, they did offer some sound advice.

“Take Timothy to see the boy”, suggested Luthor during their weekly business call (or, as Nicole called it, their bitchfest, where they despised together about the concerning lack of braincells flowing in the rest of the corporate world). “He’s probably worried sick about two things: your safety, and the kid’s who he saw become an orphan. Maybe seeing him well cared for by Wayne will be soothing enough for him to relax a little. Fuck if I know. Now, back at my story… You wouldn’t believe what that empty brained, graceless twit Oliver Queen said then.”

So Janet followed his advice, both about the visit to Wayne Manor and not making business with Queen.

After the first uncomfortable five minutes where Tim tried to stutter a condolence out, the kids had taken to one another like fishes to water. The adoration was clear in Tim’s eyes, shining through his nervousness, like that damn bat signal broke through the clouds to illuminate the city.

And Richard, Dick as he asked to be called, absolutely laped at it, doing flips and jumps, each one flashier than the one before, enticing claps from his captive audience of one. He laughed when Tim asked his usual hundred questions, undeterred by her son’s enthusiasm. There were tinges of the sadness and mourning on his eyes, but they were chased away by the four year old’s joy whenever he told a pun.

Sitting at one of the tea tables overseeing the garden where the kids played, Bruce and Janet interchanged looks.

-It was a good idea to bring Tim over, Janet -praised the man.

-Of course -she replied primly, choosing to not inform him it had been Luthor’s suggestion.

-Dick hasn’t laughed at all since he came here… maybe we can set more playdates for them?

Timothy’s laughter in her ears, unburdened for the first time since that night, was all the motivation she needed to nod.

-Why take him in, though? -she asked after a few minutes of watching as Dick did a double flip, to Tim’s excitement.

-Dick… what he went through… it was like seeing myself, back then. I couldn’t just leave him alone.

A sigh, and a sip of tea. 

-Bruce. You can’t adopt every single orphan you come across. 

-----.-----

A little over seven years later, Janet downed a glass of champagne in two long sips, watching from the side of the ballroom as Tim approached the newcomers to his birthday party: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, and his newest ward, Jason Todd.

-When I told him that, I didn’t mean it as a challenge.

-Hum? -asks Nicole, sharp green eyes on her godson, tilting her head a little to hear Janet better.

-Nothing. What are you looking at, that focused?

The woman gave Luthor, who completed their little group (god, reminders of high school much?), a side look. He returned it.

-I’m going to get started into the spa gift card -he said, apropos of nothing, before walking away, whipping out his phone and typing like a madman.

-What was he on about?

-Oh, nothing -mused Nicole, eyes still on Tim (who was, as always with the Waynes, a flustered mess, thanking them -and specially, their latest addition- for coming to his party). She took one of Janet’s hands in both of hers, finally looking away from the child to look at his mother. Nicole’s eyes were full of pity and amusement-. Be strong, Jan.

-What...?

----.-----

-...the fuck?

-Shhh, darling, breath. I told you, didn’t I? Be strong.

-What. Just… no. No. I refuse -he gestured, as graceful and lady like as she could given the circumstances- this. 

They were currently at Wayne Manor, celebrating with the Waynes the fourteenth birthday of the youngest of them. Tim, who had been very cagey and mysterious the last few months, had brought a potted flower. That, apparently, he grew himself, from a seed to the pretty little yellow sprout.

Alstroemeria, a beautiful flower which symbolises enduring friendship. Each of the flower's six petals represents the characteristics of understanding, humour, patience, empathy, commitment and respect.

That was the flower Timothy choose to gift Jason Todd, explaining as he did how he cared for the flower for weeks, telling it stories about Jason and asking it to give him good luck. Something about plants being magical, able to give off special vibes, and how he ‘trained’ it to do the same for Jason. 

It was adorable, and judging from the brat’s furious blush, he agreed. He took the hand-painted pot with utmost care.

It was revolting. She wanted to claw his eyes out, if only to get him to stop looking at her son like that.

Stop him from looking at her son, period.

-Shh -continued to sooth Nicole, quick hand slipping a card into Janet’s purse- There, an all day, full treatment, already paid for spa gift card, from me and Luthor. You’re going to need it. Timmy is eleven after all, hormones are bound to start kicking anytime soon.

She wanted to scream, especially when Richard, apparently tendered after Tim’s heartfelt gift to Jason, picked him up and started to spin him around the ballroom. Her son’s already rosy cheeks went full red.

-Damned Wayne and his godforsaken orphans. I swear to God I’m gonna sue him if he dares adopt another one.

Nicole, on her part, winced a little inwardly. Perhaps this wasn’t the right moment to tell Janet about her sister Talia’s spawn with Wayne.

[broadwayandnetflix]

It’s Always Been You - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff, Pining, Semi-Angst

Summary: Being the youngest princess in a wealthy kingdom definitely has its ups and downs, especially when your father is trying to court you away to some wealthy prince. 

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This was made for @bucky-smiles​ Secret Santa Writing Challenge, and I wrote this for the lovely @delicatelyherdreams​. I really do hope that you enjoy this, even with its late arrival. I feel as though this story went in a million different ways, but I tried to do you justice. I also hope you enjoy my very creative way of coming up with kingdoms. (no sarcasm here)

You sat upright on your mattress, eyes closed, and knees tucked underneath you, a faint smile gracing your lips. The air of your bedroom peaceful, quiet minus the soft sound of your record player playing in the background, calm and serene.

Rarely if ever, you had moments like these to yourself. Periods where you can just relax and not have to help your family tend the Kingdom.

Where you could simply pop open a book, wear more comfortable clothes, do nothing, go out, and not have Barnes check up on your every move. Well, you could let that last one slide.

For the last 19 years, your existence has been claimed by your family’s royal history. From the first day of your life, you were titled as one thing and one thing only.

Y/N Y/L/N, Princess of Starkonia.

You were to be polite, flexible, and accepting of those around you, you had to be presentable and prepared at your father’s beck and call. You needed to be present during ceremonies, and get prepared for what seemed to be your most significant task, marriage.

Even the mention of the word tasted bitter on your tongue, the prospect of being wedded to a man you barely knew was revolting. Yet, just like your sisters did before you, you too would have to get married at some point.

Savannah was first, marrying some big wig from a neighboring country. Juliet was next, getting married at only nineteen to one of the richest princes from Rogeria. Shortly after followed Hannah, who conveniently married Juliet’s husband’s brother.

Growing up, marriage was all your sisters could talk about. Often dreaming of what they would wear on their wedding day, or how they would soon one day become queen, conjuring up the royal subjects that they would lead and inspire over.

You would listen, of course, with an eager grin, but whenever they would ask for your input, you’d often draw a blank. Even during your early teenage years, you couldn’t really imagine your future starting off with marriage. Which, of course, was unusual regarding your sister’s childhood, so you often became alienated from discussions.

So you found refuge in the likes of one of your father’s young knights, James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky to you and you only. Despite his dedication and serious attitude to his job, you’d often find time to sweep him away.

The two of you frequently met in secret within the palace’s gigantic library, reading side by side, eating stolen pastries from the boisterous and clattering kitchen.

Underneath the full bookshelves of the library was where the two of you let your guard’s down. Both of you share secrets that you’d tell no one else, read books from the tallest shelves, and chatter on about the latest palace gossip.

The library was where you learned that Bucky was an aspiring writer, but became a knight to make a living and impress his father. He was thoughtful, quiet, but also quite humorous, always seeming to tickle you with his quips and comments.

In response, you shared your distaste of marriage and how you desired a more straightforward career that didn’t require so much attention. Instead of being judgmental and critical of your complaints, Bucky, to your delight, welcomed them with considerate eyes, and a listening ear.

Bucky made your days meaningful, always giving you something to look forward to, an escape if you will. So when your father, unbeknownst to your growing duo, made Bucky be your personal guard, the two of you were ecstatic.

Of course, you knew the reasoning behind this, your father valued your safety, being the youngest of your family meant that you were the last to be scooped up. Given your family’s rich lineage, courting, you would be a satisfying compromise for growing countries and their princes.

Bucky would often find himself falling subject to your long, and constant complaints about your potential suitors.

Nobody ever seemed to meet your fancy. Thor of Asgard was too self-absorbed, Bruce of Bannaria was too quirky, or worst of all, Samuel of Willaria was way to forthcoming.

Oh, how they all gave you quite a headache!

You could tell that your father was becoming quite frustrated with your lack of progress. Day by day would pass with to no avail, you’d always find some way to shoot each of them down.

Dinner’s would be filled with short tempers and argumentative quips that’d send you to sleep angry and exhausted. Unless you found a suitor that satisfied your father over yourself, then you could make him proud.

Yet through thick and thin, Bucky remained a constant in your life, even if he technically had to be. The two of you would often explore the little village outside of the palace. Complete with bustling vendors within the local farmer’s market that sold ripened fruit, pastries, linens, and fresh honey from the town’s apiaries.

You always found joy in seeing the many vendors that always greet you with a smile. Or seeing the kids that would run around trying not to trip over themselves to see the royal horses. Days like these were your escape as they were Bucky’s who could always be found in the town’s small bookstore.

Days where you don't have to prove yourself to anyone or focus on whomever you were going to marry. These days were your favorite, like this one, in particular, your mother and father out for a gathering with a neighboring kingdom.

Despite the flurry of servants and staff that resided in the palace, you were technically by yourself for the day. That was until you hear a knock on your door, open your eyes, and swing your legs forward to stand up from your bed.

“Come in!” you called out before rushing over to lower the sound on your record player.

The door opened with a swing and in stormed Bucky with a sour disposition, a scowl planted firmly on his lips. You gaped wide-eyed at the sight in front of you, never had you seen Bucky so angry.

“What’s wrong?” you asked quickly, watching as he simply paced your room, ignoring you.

That is until he stopped abruptly before focusing his gaze onto you, his shoulders sagging almost immediately. He stood in his uniform minus the exception of his gloves, his metal fingers reflecting in the light that streamed through your window.

“My father,” he huffed, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes tightly, “My father found my novel and went fucking ballistic.” he seethed.

Concern flooding your senses, you move forward to comfort him but ultimately decided against it, taking a step back to give him some space. Bucky’s father had always been tough on him, especially after the loss of Bucky’s mother.

Bucky, more often than not, had to take control of the house to protect himself and his little sisters while his father went out and got drunk at the local taverns. Hence why he had this job in the first place, ultimately crushing any dreams that Bucky had for writing.

“How could I be so stupid? I shouldn’t have left it in plain sight! Or, more specifically, a place where I should’ve known that Rebecca would’ve found it!” he exclaimed, cursing himself quietly, eyes widened like saucers.

“Bucky, you aren’t stupid, and there was no way you could’ve known that she would’ve found it,” you replied quietly, catching his gaze just for a second before he focused it elsewhere.

He exhaled heavily clamping his eyes shut, despite the way he held himself up, you could still see the slight tremble between his legs.

“I’m sorry that your father reacted the way he did. Buck, you don’t deserve that kind of treatment from your father.” you continued on before sitting down on the bed, his eyes opening warily at the sound of you falling against the cushions.

He watched you sit momentarily before joining you without a second thought, his much taller figure slumping onto the bed, before resting his head against yours.

You grew rigid at his touch, trying to fight the pounding in your heart that seemed to echo painstakingly loud in your chest. His arms snaking their way around to your side before he let out a shaking sigh, his metal armor cool to the touch on your skin.

Why do you feel so sweaty all of a sudden? You two had never been this close before, so why does this feel oddly comfortable? Is that cologne? Bucky smells..nice.

“Thank you.” he murmured ever so quietly so only you could hear.

“Anytime Buck, anytime.” you exhale promising yourself that you’d hold him as long as he deemed necessary.

-

One Week Later

“Come on, sister! Is there really nobody that you fancy nowadays?” Savannah, your oldest sister, exclaimed one evening as the two of you caught up as of your monthly tradition. Her eyes all giddy, hands on her hips in a way too over dramatic manner.

You frowned at the comment presented in front of you, of course, you did not ‘fancy’ any of the young princes offered to you. Yet, there did appear to be someone who did cross your mind more than often nowadays.

Bucky.

No, that didn’t mean you fancied him. Of course not, Bucky was … well, Bucky. He was your best friend, best friends don’t date. Princesses most certainly don’t marry knights either that was just fairy tale nonsense. Father would never approve either.

“Well?” Savannah quipped, her body tilting as she shifted all of her weight onto one foot.

You swallowed sheepishly, glancing down at your feet, flinching at the excited squeal that your sister let out as the realization sunk in.

“Oh my gosh! Y/N! Tell me everything? Who is he? Is he cute? Oh, tell me he’s cute!?” Savannah cried out, nearly tripping over her dress to pull you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Savannah!” you gasped, squirming your way out of her hold, looking at her all bewildered.

“Sorry, It’s just, my baby sister finally found someone,” she replied before taking a seat on your bed, looking at you expectantly.

“Okay, well, for starters, I don’t even know if I like him. I’m friends with him, but he’s just been very touchy lately,” you admit before plopping down beside her lying down on your bed.

“Define touchy,” she questioned while following your actions, her hair now brushing up against yours.

You glanced at her perplexed, the two-year history between you and Bucky swirling around in your mind. Why now? Why were you questioning it now?

“I don’t know, he’s just been a lot closer than he used to be.” you murmur as you rub your face in frustration.

“Don’t tell me this is that young knight that always follows you around like a lovesick puppy?” Savannah exclaimed as she sat upright, looking at you wide-eyed.

“He does not!” you retort back.

“Oh, it so is! You have to tell him!” her voice reaching a pitch that you didn’t think was possible.

“I don’t think I could even stomach that, what if he rejects me?” you sigh, sitting upright only to notice your bedroom cracked open slightly ajar.

“I’m sorry, is this a wrong time?” a voice calls out as the door pushes forward to reveal Bucky.

You have the hold back the gasp that threatened to escape your lips. Bucky catches your gaze, noting the tension in the air between you three before adjusting it onto your sister, who was just as surprised as you.

“I’m guessing this is the wrong time,” Bucky stammers awkwardly before turning around to go.

“Wait!” you cry out, causing him to turn back around, eyeing you curiously.

“I, I need to talk to you about something,” you stammer anxiety pricking at your skin. You felt hot and heavy, the bed dipping as Savannah slipped out the door.

Bucky letting the door close behind him, before walking over to sit beside you on the bed, just as you did for him not so very long ago. He looked at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher, his eyes searching yours for what you were saying.

“You know I don’t know why it hasn’t hit me sooner,” you start trying to hide the shakiness of your words.

“No one ever seemed right, or just worth my time, not even if my parent’s approval was on the line.” he nods to himself slightly at that, chuckling softly.

“I’d be so disappointed with myself, and then I would turn around, and you would be there. Bucky, you have always been there for me,” you admit swallowing before mustering up the courage to meet his eyes.

“It’s been you, Buck, it’s always been you. You are the one I want, I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” the words fall from your lips, and just like that, it’s as if time stops for just a second.

The room that felt heavy and thick with hesitation or the anxiety that clung to your skin evaporated. All you could see was Bucky and the soft smile that complimented his features. The way his hand slipped into yours, the way he didn’t look away from you as he inched closer.

The way his hand caressed your check sending shivers down your spine, or the way he kissed you with a longing that had never felt so good. Who knew someone could taste so good, or smell so good.

It was perfect, it was long overdue, and it was brand new all at once. And you couldn’t wait to see where it takes you next.

[winterironbang]

Story Previews:

Below you will find the names and summaries of the entered stories, please take care to read through them and be aware of any warnings when thinking about which piece it is you wish to claim. Make sure to have two in mind when choosing as your first choice may already be taken.

To claim a story, send an email to winterironbang@gmail.com with the titles of your top two favourites. Claims only begin on March 24th at 10am GMT, please wait until this time to submit your claim, or else it will NOT be counted. 

I’ve had people in the past try to submit claims via ask and they have not come through, please send in the claims via email only. Thanks.

 1.    Title: HandShook

Summary: “Get me a handshake, Tony, that’s it. Don’t break anything and please do not turn this into an interspecies war.” -James Rhodes

Tony Stark is the first man in the history of the human race to breach the heliosphere keeping space-faring humanity from the rest of the universe. Bucky’s people, the Aldori, a technologically advanced, space-faring race, watch him do it. The Aldori demand a meeting to establish diplomatic relations and determine whether or not humans will prove to be a threat to them. Without letting the Aldori know that only Tony’s ship is advanced enough to make the trip, Rhodey is forced to send him as ambassador.

Simple right? Except the handshake Tony is supposed to capture on film for Rhodey is intensely intimate to the Aldori.

The Aldori decide to go through with it. Their people are at war and they need these humans, who are apparently so advanced that they can skip through ‘The Trench,’ to either join their cause, or, at worst, remain neutral.

They’ve married off royalty for political alliances before. It’s a good thing Prince Bucky came back from the war only partially damaged. He’s perfect for an alliance with an untested race of people.

Current word count: 21,637

Warnings: 1) Bucky and Tony engage in an act of public handshaking which within the world would be roughly the equivalent of public nudity/a public sex act 2) Bucky forms an accidental mind meld with Tony as a result of a really good handshake--bare hands touching is very intimate for his people. Tony doesn't know about this for a very brief time. During which he 'feels' Bucky's feelings for him which are predominantly affectionate. -the mind-meld may result in telepathic sex which hasn't been written yet. (So: Tony engages in an intimate act without knowing it's considered intimate. Bucky accidentally Bonds with him, creating a mental connection as a result. Pseudo accidental marriage. Light (I think?) Dub con of the making someone else feels your romantic feeling for them type.)

 2 Title: Tony’s New Friend (working title) Summary: When Tony is forced to come home for his summer break at MIT, he thinks it is going to be a disaster. He’s right. But it also ends up being a lot more exciting than he thought too. Who says urban exploring is a bad thing? Current word count: 14432

Warnings: None A/N: It’s not finished yet, but I’ll have a better summary/more finished by time you pick it. Promise. (This is turning out longer than I thought)

 3 Title: No Title Yet/Canon-Divergent from CA:WS

Summary: After helping Natasha and Steve with the Project Insight fuck up, Tony agrees to help with their Winter Soldier problem. Namely, find the man and keep him non-hypnotisable. But of course the Winter Soldier, being the Winter Soldier, finds Tony first. 

Current word count: 5.181

Warnings: Maybe some gnarly description of the connection between the metal arm and Bucky’s skin. Nothing too bad, but I guess caution is best. There might be a scene of adjusting a new arm, but since I am no doctor, I don’t know how detailed I will describe that yet.

A/N: This is a canon-divergent fic, that has Steve, Nat, and Sam ask Tony for help with the Helicarriers instead of, you know, dumping all of SHIELD’s info online xD Steve tells Tony about his parents and Tony, taking a few days to deal with it, then decides to help him with the Winter Soldier, thus creating BARF sooner, with Helen Cho and Bruce Banner (so no Quentin Beck). Bucky in the meantime, having managed to evade HYDRA, finds him because the arm needs repairs. 

 4 Title: The Daemon In Me (tentatively)

Summary: Tony Stark is, as far as he knows, the only person who can see daemons, a manifestation of a person’s soul that, naturally, shares their Mark. 

Several years after his parents’ deaths, Obadiah Stane arrives to inform him that Howard had arranged a marriage for him, and it’s time to meet his prospective husband. There’s just one tiny hitch. 

The groom doesn’t have the same Mark as his daemon.

Current word count: 5050-ish

Warnings: Implied/referenced child abuse, Howard’s A+ parenting, alternate universe – daemons, alternate universe – soulmarks, implied/referenced arranged marriage 

A/N: This is definitely alternative universe but it’s incredibly vague on details of such. It’s also not finished yet, but Tony and Bucky will definitely meet, beat the bad guys and end up happily ever after (I can’t be more specific, because this was supposed to have been a completed fic).

 5 Title: The Tangled Tale of Winteriron 

Summary: Prince James was born to the kingdom of Brooklyn via the miracle of a magic flower. Kidnapped at a young age, his best friend and betrothed Steve Rogers tears the kingdom apart to find him. 

A thief named Iron Man is currently on the run from the king’s guards. Hiding in a secluded tower, he finds himself tied up by a young man with a whole lot of… hair?

Current Word Count: approximately 9500 words

Warnings: Emotional manipulation and abuse

A/N:

 6 Title: Winter Witcher (may change) Summary: Twenty years ago, the Witcher Bucky rescued the King and Queen of Stark from a monster that had moved into their castle. Pressed to name a reward above and beyond the coin he’d been promised, he claimed the Law of Surprise, electing to let destiny choose his prize. Before he could return to find out what it was that he’d won, another monster locked him in ice. Tony of Stark has always known that his marriage would be a political one, but he’s discovered that his betrothed and his chief counselor are conspiring against him. Left with no time to plan an escape and isolated from his few loyal friends, Tony’s desperation and determination unlock a conduit of chaos within him that takes him far, far away, right into the arms of his destiny. Current word count: ~25,000 (finished but unedited) Warnings: Dubcon (sex drug/magic) A/N: This draft is complete, but if our artist has additional ideas, we’re happy to discuss how to work them in! This is basically “Episode 1” of what might turn into a whole series of stories, but as this is the “pilot” episode, it should stand on its own.

 7 Title: Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep (But a place for crows to rest their feet)

Summary: Bucky sat up slowly, pain throbbing from his temple to the nape of his back specifically. "You’re an absolute idiot, you know that? Didn’t you know your AI can’t detect magical traps?”

“Oh sure, ‘cause we fight many villains who like to hide portals in the floor? You’re a bigger idiot for following me, Barnes.”

-or-

Tony disobeys orders during a mission and causes him and Bucky to fall through Doom’s time travel portal, forcing them to survive together in a tropical rainforest, to their utter reluctance.

Current word count: 11 800

Warnings: None

A/N: This is an unedited WIP! I added the outline for what I plan for the reminder of the story at the end. :)

 8 Title: Wings in my Soul (Stars in my Eyes)

Summary: After being spaced when his ship is destroyed, Bucky assumes his life on the run is over. His life is unexpectedly saved by one of the most advanced spaceships he’s ever seen, and the sentient AI running it. T-0N33 is so real, Bucky quickly finds himself questioning how thin the line is between machine and man. Together, they flee from HYDRA’s spreading influence and the megalomaniac Technopath, Zola. Throughout space battles and hijinks, they ask themselves: Can an AI have a soul and more importantly, can they fall in love?

Current word count: 7,838

Warnings: Nongraphic violence

A/N: ^o^ gay bois in SPAAAAAAACE

 9 Title: Here, There and Neverwhere

Summary: After a long quiet night at the pub, Bucky was ready to have a simple night in. However, as fate deals its hand, Bucky gets dragged into a series of events that pulls him out of his new normal to a game where Gods and magic reign supreme. A handsome and charming magician Tony helps Bucky stack his deck, granting him a chance to survive.

When the wheel of fortune spins, will the odds be in their favour?

Current word count: 5086

Warnings: Canon typical violence

A/N: Rating is currently T but could go up to M or E 

[emily64cooper]

If I Lose Everything in the Fire (I’m sending all my love to you)

Title: If I Lose Everything in the Fire (I’m sending all my love to you)

Author: emily64cooper

Rating: PG-13 for language

Fandom: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (tv)

Characters/Pairing: Susie, Lenny/Midge, Mentions: Sophie Lennon, Joel Maisel

Summary: Susie turned around to leave and instantly began berating herself for speaking to a comedic legend like Lenny Bruce like that. Still, she moved very slowly, hoping that he would stop her. She really didn’t want to have to involve Joel in this.

(Or, after getting kicked off the tour, Susie can't go comfort Midge, so she sends the next best person she can think of: Lenny Bruce).

Author’s Note: Takes place immediately post-season 3. Like, immediately.

“You again.”

She'd caught him coming off an act at a club in midtown. The club was ritzy by midtown standards, much nicer than the Gaslight, but still enough beer on the floor to remind you you weren't at the Copa. She'd kill to get Midge into a place like this of her own accord, without having to rely on someone else's reputation. She’d hoped they were heading toward that, but she wasn’t so sure now.

“Hi Lenny. Nice to see you too,” Susie said. She was already mad enough at herself for having to come down here, she didn’t have time to deal with his sarcastic bullshit.

“Aren't you supposed to be in Europe?" he questioned, pulling out and lighting a cigarette.

“I need your help.” Fuck, she hated that. She hated saying those words. She hated that they were true. Fuck.

“I expected nothing less.”

“It’s about Midge.”

"She talk about the pregnant friend again? Disparage the Sophie Lennon?" Lenny asked, feigning disinterest by leaning back against a post.

Midge was always vehement that she and Lenny were just friends, but the fact that he was clearly pretending to be so casual about two of the hardest moments of Midge's comedy career was telling. Just what it was telling her, Susie wasn't really sure, but it reinforced her decision to seek him out for this. "What? No."

Lenny sighed. “Look, you know I like her, but at some point my reputation’s going to take a hit if I keep playing gigs for free, and, uh, between you and me, I don’t think it can stand to get much lower.”

“This isn’t about that,” Susie cried out, exasperated. It was time to pull out the big guns: “She needs you.”

He looked at his feet and took a long drag from his cigarette before meeting her eyes again. “Is she, uh, okay?”

“Yes. I think. But her career's back in the shitter.”

“And you expect me to do what?”

“I’m not asking you to do another gig. She messed up. And she’s alone and sad and she needs a friend. And I can’t do it, so it’s gotta be you or she’ll turn back to that asshole ex-husband of hers and god knows that is the last fuckin’ thing she needs. Miriam is not going to be insignificant and he makes her turn into a fuckin’ nobody.” God, Susie hated that guy. He represented everything wrong with men. He'd had a perfect woman like Midge and he'd thrown her away like fucking garbage.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” he responded quietly.

Susie let out a breath. “Thank you. Asshole.” Fuck. She'd just called Lenny Bruce an asshole. And had been kind of a jerk to him in general. She was losing her goddamn mind. "I am so sorry, uh, Mr. Bruce, sir."

Lenny smirked at her. “Where is she?” he asked after a moment.

Susie looked at her feet and mumbled a response.

“I’m sorry, I don’t subscribe to the Strasbourg Method, I don’t speak mumble. You’ll have to speak up.”

“I don’t know, okay?” She exclaimed. “Look, she said some shit she shouldn’t have and Shy kicked her off the tour. She was upset, and after she had a good cry, she told me she needed to go figure out if it was still all worth it, whatever the hell that means, and just took off in a cab before I could stop her.”

“Midge got kicked off the tour?”

“Yes! Jesus fuck, Lenny, keep up. Look, I need you to go find her.”

“I’m sorry, isn’t it a manager’s job to manage her client?”

“Fine, if I’d’ve known you were gonna be a fucking prick about it, I wouldn’t have come. I’ll just go fuck off and find her fucking dick of an ex-husband to help Midge. Thanks for nothing, asshole.”

She turned around to leave and instantly began berating herself for speaking to a comic legend like Lenny Bruce like that. Still, she moved very slowly, hoping that he would stop her. She really didn’t want to have to involve Joel in this.

“Wait,” Lenny said finally.

“Oh thank God,” she mumbled, turning around.

He looked past her for a moment, then chuckled quietly to himself. “I know where she is.”

“Great... so are you gonna go or?“

“I’ll get her.”

Susie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” They stood looking at each other awkwardly for a few moments. “So I’ll just-“ Susie said, motioning toward the exit.

“Yeah,” Lenny said with a curt nod.

She took two steps out the door then heard him call her back.

“Hey,” he said. He sounded... not like Lenny Bruce. He sounded melancholic. He sounded sad. “Why me?”

“What?”

“There are other people in her life you could have come to, more important people, her parents for example, her former ex-husband. I bet even the doctor would leave a man’s chest open on his operating table just to chase after her. But me, I’m just a background character in her story. I’m not a leading man here. Why did you come to me?” He asked.

Susie would have laughed at the absurdity of Lenny Bruce standing so uncertain before her had his entire being not been shining with sincerity as he asked. This was a side to him she didn’t expect. This was a Lenny Bruce with demons, with self-doubt and self-loathing. Was this sincerity something that Midge was privy to? Because Susie definitely didn’t know how to handle it.

She could only put out so many metaphorical fires in one night.

"Oh, uh," she hesitated. Honestly, she wasn't sure why she'd come to him. She hadn’t even thought to ask anyone else – except Joel, but ew. Not if she could help it. But now that they were out of jobs, Susie needed to find a way to make Midge’s money back fast, so she couldn’t try to track her down. And if she couldn't go after Midge when she was down, Lenny Bruce was the next best choice. "Well, uh, you seem like you care about her, or whatever. And she uh, she told me a little bit about that night in Florida."

Lenny's interest piqued at the mention of Florida. "Oh," he said quietly. "She did, huh?” He cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at her. “She, uh, tell you how it ended?"

"She did not," Susie responded slowly. She knew Midge had left some things out when she'd told her about the date she insisted was not a date, she'd acted as nervous as a whore in church about the whole thing. And now Lenny Bruce stood before her, melancholic. And shy, almost? Something more had definitely happened between them.

"Look, far be it from me to give advice about love or relationships, I don't know the first thing about that shit. The longest relationship I ever had was with a plunger. God, I loved Pamela, may she rest in peace." She took a moment of silence for her beloved plunger, who Jackie had killed one afternoon at the Gaslight. They'd held a funeral. It had been beautiful, yet tragic. She breathed deeply and shucked it off, then turned back to Lenny. Right, she reminded herself, Lenny Bruce needed emotional support. What a weird fucking day.

"I don't know if you slept together, or didn't sleep together or whatever the fuck happened between you. I don’t need to know. But you obviously like her. And Midge can be a moron when it comes to men - have you met Joel? - but you mean something to her. Something special. Just give her time."

Lenny smirked at her around his cigarette, then tossed it and put it out with the toe of his shoe. She watched as he grabbed his jacket, then moved to follow her out the door. "Uh, thanks, for that," he said finally, grimacing slightly and scratching the back of his neck.

"You're, uh, welcome," Susie responded. They looked at each other awkwardly for the second time that night. "Right, so I'm gonna go," she said at last.

"Yeah," Lenny nodded, shoving his hands in his pocket.

She turned to leave, then turned back around. "For the record, she'll be happy it's you. If that uh, if that means anything."

He smiled tightly at her. "Thanks," he said. He turned to leave and gave her a little wave. "See ya, Susie," he said over his shoulder, walking away.

“Yeah, see ya,” she responded slowly. She shook her head a little - offering relationship advice to Lenny freakin’ Bruce was definitely not a thing Susie ever thought she’d do - and kept moving.

She desperately wanted to be the one drowning her sorrows with Midge, but she couldn’t be. Susie didn’t think she could really even face Midge right now. How do you tell your best friend and probably only client – she doubted Sophie would want her as a manager after that verbal sparring match outside the theater – that you lost every cent they’d made? No, she had to get their money back fast and she needed time and space to figure out how to do that without letting Midge know she’d been the one to lose it all in the first place.

Besides, she knew Midge was in good hands with Lenny. She could trust him to find her and take care of her the way she deserved to be taken care of.

Midge needed to be with someone who loved her. And tonight, that meant Lenny freaking Bruce.

Susie shook her head at herself incredulously and picked up her pace. “Weird fucking day.”

[spideyspoods]

together

Pairing: Steve Rogers X F!Stark!Reader

Requested By: @justmewoo i hope you like it! :)

A/N: we back in business! i don’t have much to say tbh? this one just took me a while and i think it ended out alright?

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Fluff :)

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist!

---

The Avengers just landed back at the compound after a fairly simple mission. As the door to the hovercraft opened, Steve was the first one out. Natasha looked behind to find Tony, silently asking for an answer. “Hey Cap, what’s the rush? Gonna yell at some kids to get off your lawn?” Normally, he’d reply with a snarky remark but this time he remained silent. Something was definitely going on and they were going to get to the bottom of it.

Steve didn’t even bother checking into the medical ward, he had super strength anyways, and practically jumped into his car to race home. It’s been a week since he was last home and he couldn’t wait to bask in the comfort and safety it provided. Normally it took him a solid half hour to get home, but he booked it in fifteen minutes. He turned the key to find his apartment just as he left it, give or take a few blankets draped over the plush couch. “Y/N?” he whispered, knowing there was a great possibility she was asleep by now seeing as if it was midnight. He set down his shield by the front door, before turning into the hallway to find her.

He creaked open the door to the spare bedroom, having a gut feeling that she was there. Ever since she had moved in with him a few months ago, she slowly turned Steve’s guest room into her office; but he didn’t mind. Under a yellow lamp, Y/N focused on the laptop in front of her. The room was silent aside from the clacking on the keyboard. She looked to her side, glancing at the stack of papers before typing again. Y/N hesitated for a moment, huffing before whispering to herself “Come on, focus.”

Steve chuckled, not at all surprised to see her working. It wasn’t any different from when he was around, but whenever he was on a mission she’d purposefully busy herself in work to forget that he wasn’t home. He approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. “All work and no play?”

She looked up, tired eyes glimmering at the sight of his charming smile. Y/N stood, taking him into a warm hug. “I missed you.”

“Missed you more.” She pulled away, gazing into his ocean blue eyes. Her hands snaked up his arms, feeling a sticky substance as he hissed. She squinted, finding her fingertips wet with scarlet liquid. “Steve, you’re hurt!”

“Nothing that can’t heal over time.” Y/N shot back with a glare, taking his hand into hers and into the bathroom.

Steve sat down on the ledge of the tub while his girlfriend doused a cotton round in rubbing alcohol. “I’m just saying that you should probably take advantage of your state of the art medical ward.”

“I wanted to see you,” he smiled “besides, you’re the only one that can kiss it better.”

Her heart melted, but she didn’t want to give in just yet. “You’re such a baby.”

“Love you too.” Moments after, the two crawled into bed. Both of them drifted to sleep, safe in each other's presence.

---

Sunlight spilled into the room, Y/N squinting from the brightness. She rolled over, finding her boyfriend fast asleep. She cherished quiet mornings like these, his arms wrapped around her waist; almost as if he was afraid of her leaving. It was peaceful, only the two of them existed and the world drifted away.

Neither of them dared to tell a soul about their relationship for the past two years. They had agreed that it was best for their safety, in terms of Steve’s job and the harsh opinions from the public. Both of them wanted nothing more than to publicly declare each other as their own, but their age gap held them back. Y/N was only 21 and in comparison to Steve, let’s just say that’s quite a difference. She didn’t mind, but knew that Steve feared the reaction from his own co-workers. She’d always reassure him, letting him know that he can take his time.

Steve’s eyes fluttered, finding her angelic face mere inches away from him. “Morning, sunshine,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Y/N croaked “we should get something for breakfast. Maybe a little date?” He chuckled and wrapped her into his arms, drifting back to sleep. “Five more minutes.”

---

By the time they woke up, it was brunch time. Y/N had just discovered a hole in the wall cafe not more than eight minutes away. The car ride was filled with little stories and memories they had with each other. Steve cleared his throat, signaling a topic change. “You know, Tony has an opening for some assistants at the compound.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, seeing her sigh. “Steve, you know I can’t do that.”

“I’m just saying, you got your masters degree at 21 and you’re the smartest person I know.” She chuckled, “You know Bruce Banner and Tony.”

“Y/N I know you and I don’t think you want to waste your days away at an office space that you complain about all the time. Plus it won’t hurt to see a friendly face.” Y/N looked out the window, seeing the buildings whirl away. He was right, yet again. “I’ll consider it, but that doesn’t mean yes.”

“That’s all I ask.”

The door to the cafe creaked open, a bell above chiming. There were only a few people, but it seemed that they would be too busy to notice who stood among them. The walls were light and the furniture made it seem like a home away from home. Smooth instrumentals reverberated between the tables and Steve knew why she chose this spot in the first place. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I’ll save us a table.” She nodded and he chose the seats by the window.

---

Tony looked at the small cafe and back to his phone. This was the place, he thought to himself. He had stayed up all night, finishing one of his various projects and drinking nothing but coffee for the past two days. Pepper, in efforts of getting sense back into her husband, sent him out to buy something for them to eat. He recognized the logo, remembering just how much Morgan loved their pancakes. He looked down, seeing Morgan jump. With a smile, Tony swung the door open and stopped in his tracks when he saw his friend from work. “Steve? What are you doing here all broody and handsome?” The blond man’s head perked up, brows knitting in confusion. “Just enjoying some time off. What about you?” He shrugged before placing his hands in his pockets. “Picking up some grub for Morguna and Pep,” Tony looked at the two cups of coffee at Steve’s table “Now unless that cup is for me, I’m guessing that you didn’t come alone.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to stay extra caffeinated.” He spoke in a frenzied panic.

“I’ve known you for ages, Cap. You’d go on a run instead. Now, who’s the lucky girl?” Steve weighed his options, but realized there was no use hiding it. He pointed towards the woman waiting to the side of the counter, who didn’t notice what was going on. However, Tony shook his head. “Have I met her before? She looks a little familiar.” Her name was on the tip of his tongue. Morgan tugged on her Father’s sleeve, “Is that Auntie Y/N?” The men’s hearts stopped.

“Aunt? I don’t think Y/N has a brother.”

“Her name is Y/N wait- I didn’t know that you’ve been dating my sister for months!” Steve rubbed his neck, “Actually two years- but you don’t have a sister? Besides, her last name is L/N, not Stark.” Tony snapped, “That’s Mom’s maiden name, oh my god. How did you not know?”

“She never told me!”

Y/N took the two plates towards the table and froze when she saw her boyfriend and brother shooting daggers back at her. “See, I told you it was Auntie!” Morgan exclaimed proudly. She gulped and set them down on the table. “I think we’ll need to take this to go.”

---

The ride home was silent and the air was thick with tension. Once they reached their apartment, Steve shut the front door and crossed his arms. “You have a lot to catch me up on.” Y/N huffed, picking at her food. “What do you want to hear?”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“I didn’t want you to know! You’d treat me differently because of it, I didn’t want to risk anything that we had.”

“Is that not what’s happening right now?”

“I told Tony that I didn’t want anyone to know who I am-”

“So you’re ashamed of being privileged?” His words began to cut deep, as she held back tears. “I didn’t want to live in my brother’s shadow! He’s fucking Iron Man, and no one can compete with that! I’m sorry that I wanted to live a normal life.”

“I thought you trusted me.” His voice grew louder, intensity building in his eyes. Y/N stepped closer to him, squaring her shoulders. “Don’t act like you’re an open book, Rogers. It’s been two years and I still don’t know shit about you. In fact, I didn’t know that you could be such an asshole.” That’s where he drew the line. His jaw clenched, “You can’t change yourself into someone you’re not, that’s not how it works.”

“When did you become Captain Irony?” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose as she continued to spit venom, “You know, Dad would always tell us these stories about the fantastic Steve Rogers. Now that I actually see it, there’s not much there.”

“Then maybe there shouldn’t be anything between us!” His phone buzzed, a text from Natasha. Suit up. Debriefing in 20. With that, Steve walked right out the door and left her alone with a shattered heart.

---

The mission itself only took two days, but they haven’t spoken in a week. Steve had been crashing in his room at the compound, a breeze of cold air towards everyone he passed by. The group sat around the living quarters, everyone noticing how Tony and Steve sat on polar opposite sides of the room. Nobody knew what happened except for both of them. Nat stood up, tired of the shitty attitudes. “If no one is going to catch us up on what happened, I’ll force it out of your thick heads.”

“Steve’s been dating my sister.” Tony declared. To that, questions erupted from the crowd. Tony has a sister? Steve has a girlfriend? Nat shushed everyone to let the blond speak. “Dated. Past tense.” It hurt him to say it. Hell, even he didn’t believe it. That earned an even louder commotion. 

“Woah, rewind! You hurt my sister?!” Tony yelled, pointing at the sorrow man across from him. “Believe me, I didn’t want to-”

“But you did! You better fix this immediately, Rogers or I swear on my life-” Nat held back Tony, while shooting a look towards Steve. He sighed, massaging his temples. Tony called Y/N, only to be sent to voicemail. “You messed up big time.”

---

Y/N saw her phone vibrate on the nightstand, not bothering to pick it up. She pulled out a suitcase from the closet before filling it up with her clothes. The doorbell rang, and she had hoped to ignore it before it rang five more times. Furiously, she opened the door to reveal a broken Steve. It hurt too much to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. She went to close the door, but he held it open. “If you’re here to make me apologize-”

“I’m not. You did nothing wrong, I’m sorry.” Steve panted. He ran here as soon as he could, wanting to catch her before anything happened. “It’s going to take a lot more than that.”

“I was too caught up in myself that I didn’t stop to think about how you felt.” He took her hands into his tentatively, “I can't even begin to imagine what it feels like to feel as if you’re being overshadowed but I can assure you that you’re the best Stark. You’re super smart and beautiful,” he paused “you’re always there for me and I hope that you’ll continue to be there for me if you can take me back.” Y/N let out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry for not telling you anything-” He moved his hand to cup her cheek, “You don’t need to apologize, okay?”

They stood there, letting their actions speak for themselves. After a few minutes, Steve pulled away and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I think I’m ready to let the team know about us.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this-”

“I want to, Y/N.” Both of them laughed, ready to start a new chapter of their lives. “I forgot to tell you that I quit my job.” His eyes sparkled and a smile danced upon his face, “Does that mean what I think it means?” She nods, “Try not to get sick of me.”

“Doll, I could never.”

---

Steve gathered everyone into a conference room, much to everyone’s confusion. “So you may be wondering why I called everyone in. That’s because I wanted to introduce you to a new member of our team.” He nodded at her, motioning to enter. Y/N stood proudly in front of the Avengers, reaching for Steve’s hand. 

“This is Y/N Stark, my girlfriend and new resident specialist.” Both of them beamed with pride, excited to do this for the rest of their lives together.

---

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Steve Taglist: @editsbyjenny @fashionlive15 @straightforwardly

[elisaphoenix13]

Unstable Mentality

His mind had been spiraling downward lately. Not that it was a rare occurrence, but he couldn't seem to get himself out of his slump. Every little thing made him feel even worse about himself to the point that he finally asked himself that question.

Why did Tony bother with him?

It didn't stop there. The why's kept coming and it chipped away at his confidence little by little. Why was he Sorcerer Supreme? Why did Peter look up to him as a parental figure? He wasn't the only one either. All of the Avengers kids unofficially made him their collective mom, and Laura and Maggie never worried if Stephen was home. He just didn't know why. How could they trust him so explicitly with their children? He could barely protect his own family. A family he didn't deserve in the first place.

Stephen's hands shake at the thought.

He really didn't deserve Tony and Peter, and they definitely deserved better than him. They deserved someone who wasn't gone days on end and only came home to sleep, someone who could do something as mundane as writing his name on a piece of paper, someone they could trust would never let them go. What if a scenario like that happened? What if they were helpless, either without a suit or low on web fluid, and Stephen had to keep them from falling? With his hands, he wouldn't be able to hold them for long and that thought terrified him. He could be the reason Tony or Peter get seriously injured or even killed because his blasted hands weren't strong enough to hold onto what he cared about most.

He had the nightmares. They always left him waking with silent tears and he would always leave the room so he didn't bother Tony. The man had his own nightmares to deal with, and he asked FRIDAY to delete any footage of the doctor working through his terror before going back to bed. He always went to the roof during these moments, no matter what the weather was like.

"Umm...do you need help with that?"

Stephen looks up from the water bottle he realizes he had been staring at for the past ten minutes and he silently shakes his head. He would open it himself no matter how long it took. He didn't want to have to keep relying on his family. Besides, he was supposed to help Peter, not the other way around. Stephen was the doctor. He took care of his family. He soothed them through nightmares and patched them up whenever they got hurt on patrol or a mission. He made sure they ate and slept properly.

Vishanti help him, he would open this bottle of water by himself.

"Mom...?"

Stephen fumbles with the water bottle. "Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." Stephen snaps, and immediately wishes his could take back the tone he had used when the teen flinches. It wasn't Peter's fault he was feeling the way he was.

Before he could even apologize though, Peter's shoulders had sagged and he left the kitchen, unknowingly leaving Stephen to spiral even farther into his depression. Now he was starting to push people away and he didn't even mean to. Stephen was going back to his old ways, and if he kept it up, he would lose everyone he held dear.

Maybe it was better that way?

Maybe it was better to move back to the Sanctum. With how often he's been home lately, Tony and Peter probably wouldn't even notice if he stopped coming to the tower. He felt like he was freeloading. It didn't matter that he was married to Tony, and what a mistake that had been on the engineer's part. Stephen was a mess. Why did he want to marry the sorcerer in the first place? Why did he move in?

Why, why, why?

Why was he even still here? He could open a portal and be back at the Sanctum in seconds and no one would be the wiser. He was alone in the kitchen.

FRIDAY would know though...and Victor for that matter. He could always give them one last command to delete footage of him leaving and not tell anyone that he had left. But he didn't. No matter how much he questioned why Tony and Peter would want him, he didn't want to leave. He had a family. He may feel insecure about his ability to protect them, but he still loved them. If he left, he really couldn't protect them and that would only add to his guilt.

Stephen frowns at the thought and attempts to open the bottle of water again, just to throw it down onto the counter in frustration when he fails again. These damn hands. They're were barely good enough for magic. Something the team wouldn't lack if he did leave. They still had Wanda and Loki for that. Maybe only Stephen could create portals, but what help was that really? He was a doctor...but so was Bruce. A parent? Tony had that covered.

What was his purpose here?

"Stephen?"

The sorcerer looks up from his vacant stare at the island counter to look at Tony. When he found concern, it only made him feel worse. He had worried them again. Useless. His next words were out of his mouth before he could properly process them.

"I want a divorce."

Tony gapes for a few moments and quickly recovers himself as he waves his hand in the air. "I'm sorry. What was that?"

Stephen looks back down. "You heard me."

"Alright...what brought this on?"

"It doesn't matter." The doctor mumbles, and he jumps when Tony slams his hand on the counter.

"Doesn't matter?! You ask me for a divorce and you won't even tell me why?! That's not how this works!" Tony yells.

Stephen glares up at him half-heartedly. "Maybe I just wanted your money. I got you to pay off my debts."

Stop. Stop trying to push him away.

"My bullshit radar is lighting up like fucking Christmas right now. Tell me the truth."

"...you should probably take my name off Peter's adoption records as well." Stephen says as if he hadn't heard Tony.

That was his mistake though. As soon as he had said that, he outwardly cringed at the thought of not being Peter's parent anymore, and that gave him away. Tony's anger quickly dissolves into concern again and he rounds the island to approach Stephen. The doctor didn't even fight or bat away the hand that made itself at home on the back of his neck.

"Babe...what's going on in that head of yours?" The billionaire asks gently.

Blue eyes meet brown and Stephen clenches his hands into fists. "I...I feel worthless." He admits after a couple of silent minutes. "Wanda and Loki can use magic, Bruce is a doctor, you're a parent to Peter...I just don't know why I'm here."

"Baby...I think you're missing something important here." When Stephen gives him a curious look, Tony thumbs away a tear that had fallen. "You are all three of those...and my wife. Your portals have cut precious time into getting the injured help and you cut even more of that time when you can patch them up on the spot. And the parenting thing? You're in it for life. There's no chance in hell Peter will let you off that easy and you looked like you ate something bad just mentioning taking yourself out of the picture. And being married to me? You're stuck with me. I'm not letting you go." Tony grabs the abandoned water bottle and opens it before offering it to Stephen. "Drink this, we'll get some food in you, and then see if you still want a divorce."

"I don't. I really don't. I'm just afraid of losing you and Peter. Some part of me thought that if I pushed you away, it would be better for you both." The doctor admits quietly.

"Stephen Vincent Strange...you beautiful, equally sarcastic, brilliant man...are an occasional idiot."

Tony gently grabs his head and peppers gentle kisses all over Stephen's face, before leading him to a chair at the other side of the island. The sorcerer sits down with a heavy sigh and drinks from his water bottle as the engineer starts on lunch for them, and Stephen's thoughts drift to Peter. Specifically how he had snapped at the teen, and that just made him upset again. His husband noticed immediately though, and to his surprise apparently knew whay he was thinking.

"Peter came and got me."

"I need to apologize."

Tony nods. "You can do that at lunch. Right now, I just want you to stay out of your own head for a bit."

"Shouldn't I help be helping you then?" Stephen asks.

Tony digs through the junk drawer and pulls out a book of crossword puzzles and a pen, and slides in over to the doctor. "This is an exception to be in your head."

He didn't argue. It was good practice for him since he always avoided writing when he could, and he always enjoyed crossword puzzles. They were a good distraction as well. That and periodically watching Tony make spaghetti. There were a lot of shortcuts the man used while cooking (which is why Stephen did the cooking if Bucky or Wanda didn't), but when it came to the sauce to go with pasta, Tony made it from scratch. His mother's recipe, he had said. It was good too.

"Underoos! Lunchtime kiddo!" Tony yells and both men shout in surprise when Peter hangs from the ceiling in between them. "Warn a guy!"

"I've been here since I smelt the sauce." He then points at the crossword book. "Twenty-seven across is halogen."

Stephen looks back down and raises an eyebrow. "Huh. So it is." He scribbles in the answer as Peter crawls across the ceiling just enough to drop down into the empty seat beside the doctor.

"Feed me!" The teen demands and Tony rolls his eyes as he piles spaghetti onto a plate and tops it before giving it to Peter. "You totally skimped on the sauce!"

"I still have to feed me and your mom! Pipe down!" Peter glowers at him while slurping up some noodles and the engineer snorts. "You look like an angry puppy."

Tony piles two more plates and after dressing them with sauce, slides another plate over to Stephen before leaning over the counter to eat his own. As soon as both men declare that they were full, Peter grabs the leftover sauce and to their horror (and some fascination) drinks it.

"I...I don't even want to apologize for earlier anymore." Stephen says.

"Pete...what is wrong with you?"

Peter wipes his mouth and grins. "It's good sauce." He looks over at Stephen. "You don't need to apologize by the way. Everybody has a bad day. Besides, you've had to deal with like a dozen of mine."

Stephen sighs. "Peter...can I be honest with you?"

"Sure."

"You have a huge glob of sauce on your nose."

Tony and Stephen laugh when Peter crosses his eyes to look at his nose and picks up another napkin to wipe it away.

"You're like a five year old." The billionaire says.

"Hey! That's not true!" The teen says. "I'm five and a half."

"Our mistake." Stephen drawls, accidently letting out a bit if a southern accent, and both Tony and Peter stare at him when he smacks a hand over his mouth.

"Stephanie...where did you say you were born again?" Tony asks with a snigger. 

Stephen slowly pulls his hand away from his mouth and turns red with embarrassment. "...Nebraska."

Peter and Tony dissolve into side splitting laughter. "I'm married to a country boy!"

"I changed my mind Tony. I want that divorce."

[86-was-his-year]

ENDGAMEE SPOILERS!! MY PERSONAL OPINION CAISE I GAVE Y'ALL A COUPLE DAYS TO SEE IT!!

Again endgame spoilers so please scroll past do you don't ruin this amazing experience for yourself.

.

Things that I whole-heartedly enjoyed

The beginning of shock when Thor chopped off Thanos' head like I gasped like wtf.

Nat and Steve sharing the peanut butter sandwich.

Captain Marvels lesbian haircut (not stereotyping but it was a pretty gay haircut mans)

Tony and Morgan's cute ass relationship (I love you 3000)

The theory behind I love you 3000 (Tony said I love you a ton and a ton is 2000 pounds so Morgan said I love you 3000 to say she loves him more)

Steve holding a support group just like Sam did.

Thick Thor

Korg playing fortnite even though that game is from the devil

Clint killing all those bitches and speaking Japanese

Time heist and all the other movie references

The fact that a rat got Scott out of the quantum thingy

America's Ass 🍑

Loki stealing the tesseract

Smart Bruce Banner

FUCKING CAP LIFTING THORS HAMMER ( IDK HOW TO SPELL ITS NAME LOLZ) AND REALIZING HE COULD DO IT ALL ALONG FROM AVENGERS AoU

Cap kicking the shit out of Thanos

"I KNEW IT!"

The way they showed that they got all life back with the trees and the birds was so fucking gorgeous and such a good moment (fite me )

"On your left ."

The way they all came back from being dusted

The "Avengers Assemble" being completed from AoU

Tony and Peters hug scene (shit had me tearing up)

"I am Iron Man

Wanda kicking the shit out of Thanos.

All the MCU women gathering around Peter and looking hot as shit doing it.

"Your father liked cheeseburgers "

Bucky looking hawt as shit the whole time

That's it and maybe when I watch it again I'll gave more things to say but here's for the things I didn't appriciate.

The only gay character was the Russo brother using a male pronoun as a date like tf

Steve telling everyone to move on even when at the end of the movie he was a hypocrite and did exactly the opposite.

The way they explained the quantum physics. Without the visuals (and even with them) I couldn't understand a word of what they were talking about and maybe that's my deal but whateves.

Them not bringing back Vision or Gamora (The current time Gamora) or Loki for good

Bucky and Steve never actually reuniting

They didn't have a funeral for Nat or Vision or Gamora

The "Proof that Tony Stark has a heart" thing only because it tore me up emotionally.

And now for the rest nitty gritty. This is a whole as rant so be prepared.

Fucking Steve and Buckys whole arc got shit on by the Russo brothers. People are saying they did what they did to kill the Stucky ship and that fucking sucks. When I heard there was going to be a gay character my mind went to Steve because deep down I feel like he would except everything because he's Captain America for God sakes. But no they didn't want that so they completely took away their friendship.

I've seen people who don't ship them be pissed at how if ended for Steve. As I said before he fucking was a hypocrite and did what he said not to do. He was fucking over Peggy and I totally rooted for them when it was like the 40s but he literally watched her die in Civil War. She was dead and they were like yeah let's put him back.

Did they forget about all the movies leading up to this one? Let's review

In Captain America: The First Avenger he went against the law and went into a full Hydra compound by himself with only a pistol and a shield just to get Bucky out. Sure he said more people bit Bucky was the one he went for.

In Captain America: The Winter Soldier he let Bucky almost kill him because he wasn't willing to fight his beat friend. Like wtf

In Captain America: Civil War he broke up the Avengers ( and part if that was the accords but they didn't start fighting till Bucky got involved) he became a wanted criminal and kept Bucky killing Tonys parents a secret so Tony wouldn't hurt Bucky. He also almost Killed Tony and gave up his shield for Bucky.

Now, in avengers Endgame his friend since they were children dusted and 5 years he spent without him. He comes back and not even a fucking hug or like how are you doing. (Tony and Spidey hugged so don't give me they didn't have time bullshit)

And then he leaves the rest of his friends behind in the present to go live his life with Peggy who may I remind you already had a husband and fucking kids after Steve "died" and he knew Bucky was being tortured by Hydra and did nothing. Tell me would 2012-2015 Steve do that? I don't think so.

And maybe Bucky did know that Dtsvw was leaving to kid original timeline but do you think he was happy about it. Hell no you could fucking see it in his face when he hugged Steve goodbye.

I don't care that Steve got old (okay maybe a little but it really doesn't bother me) I don't care that he didn't get together with Bucky

What irritate me is the Russos threw away their friendship and they threw away his teams friendship. Like he could retire and have still been there and made a life with another man or woman like they just had to make it so he abandoned his friends on the chance that he would get with Peggy.

It's so unlike his character and they did him fucking dirty like that. Maybe the Avengers spent like what 6 seconds without him but he spent YEARS away and didn't even care. Like that's not the Cap I know so idk can someone rewrite this ending for me please. And Bucky didn't even get the goddamn shield like he should have.

Wow okay that was a lot and I didn't mean for it to be that long but hey here you go!! I hope y'all can see how mad I am behind these tears🙂