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rizzanon · 3 months ago

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Background Info 2 (Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie, Damian, Duke Centered)

I think your relationship with Tim is more complicated than you wanted it to be. When he first came about to the family, he was the reason you found out about your family’s secrets. The ones that they’ve been hiding from you from the start. And for some reason, as a kid, you didn’t know whether you should be thankful, or hate him for that.

Why? Because the truth was a double-edged sword. On one hand, you had always felt like something was off about your family—the late nights, the unexplained bruises and injuries, the way they avoided topics like they were landmines. Tim revealing the truth was like solving a puzzle you didn’t know you were piecing together. But on the other hand, the truth came with a weight you hadn’t been prepared for before.

A part of you wanted to be grateful—Tim had given you the truth when no one else had. But another part of you couldn’t help but resent him. It was as if he had stolen the illusion of normalcy you clung to, replacing it with danger, secrets, and an overwhelming realization how much more you actually needed to do to get the approval of your family.

For the first few months of Tim being Robin, you didn’t see him as anything other than Jason’s replacement.

Jason had been your brother in every sense of the word. A little rough around the edges, sure, but he had a way of making you feel seen, even when the rest of the family was too caught up in their own world to notice you. So when he died, it left a gaping hole—not just in the family but in you. When Tim came along and slid into Jason’s place like it was as simple as filling a role, it was hard not to hate him for it.

You avoided him at first, ignored all of his attempts to be friendly or cordial. You refused to acknowledge him as anything other than “the new Robin.” You knew it was childish, but you were only 12 then. It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but grief doesn’t lend itself to rationality. Eventually, though, you started to let go of that resentment. He wasn’t Jason, but he wasn’t trying to be him either. He was just Tim.

So, you decided to try. He was close to your age, after all, and you figured, at the very least, you could be friends. But Tim didn’t seem to feel the same way. To him, you were Batman’s daughter, that was it. He kept things polite and distant, never letting you close enough to feel like anything more than an acquaintance.

That dynamic didn’t really shift until the death of his father. When Jack Drake was killed by Captain Boomerang, and Bruce formally adopted Tim, you felt for him in a way you hadn’t before. Losing a parent was a kind of pain you couldn’t imagine, and for the first time, you saw him as more than just “the new Robin”. You pitied him.

You tried to comfort him, offering him a shoulder to lean on and small acts of kindness. But Tim didn’t want your pity. If anything, it seemed to make him pull away even further. He started treating you less like family, and more like a roommate—someone he tolerated living with but didn’t go out of his way to connect with.

You didn’t push him. If that’s what he needed, fine. But you still wanted to be close to him, so you found other ways to try. You’d ask him for help with missions and cases, knowing how smart and capable he was, hoping it might bridge the gap between you. For a while, it worked—or at least, it felt like it did. But over time, Tim’s frustration began to show. He never said it outright, but his body language spoke volumes: the tight set of his jaw, the way he’d sigh when you approached, the way his answers grew shorter and more clipped.

Eventually, you stopped asking.

And that’s how it’s been ever since. The two of you drifted into a rhythm, more like estranged colleagues or roommates than siblings, or in the very least, friends. You didn’t mind—at least, that’s what you told yourself. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if things could’ve been different, if you had acted differently from the very start.

When Cassandra first joined the family, you were slightly excited because, for the first time, you had a sister. An older one, in fact. It felt like a chance to have someone who might understand you in a way the others didn’t.

But then you found out that she didn’t speak. She couldn’t speak, write, or even read. The excitement you felt faltered, replaced by confusion and uncertainty. How were you supposed to bond with someone when you couldn’t even talk to them? At the time, you didn’t fully understand the extent of her struggles or the horrors she had endured. All you saw was the surface—a girl who communicated through body language and a few cryptic gestures.

At first, you weren’t sure how to approach her. Conversations were one-sided, and you found yourself rambling awkwardly, trying to fill the silence. She would watch you intently, her dark eyes seeming to take in every word, every movement, but she never responded. It made you feel exposed, like she could see through every layer you tried to hide behind.

Still, you tried. You offered to help her learn, even though you weren’t exactly the best teacher. You’d leave sticky notes with simple words written on them, hoping she’d start to recognize them. Sometimes she’d glance at them, but other times, she’d brush past them as if they weren’t there.

It was disheartening at first, but then there were moments that gave you hope. A small smile when you handed her something. A nod of acknowledgment when you rambled about your day. Slowly, you began to realize that Cassandra spoke volumes without ever saying a word.

But even as you grew to understand her, there was a part of you that wondered if she ever really saw you the same way. She bonded so quickly with Bruce, with Barbara, even with Tim. They seemed to understand her in ways you couldn’t, and it made you feel like an outsider all over again.

You wanted to be close to her, to have the sisterly relationship you’d always imagined, but it felt like you were chasing something that was always just out of reach. Cassandra was kind, patient even, but there was always a distance—an invisible wall that kept you from getting too close. You weren’t sure if it was something she put up or something you did.

But when she was getting mire familiar with speaking and reading, you noticed that she started to avoid you. Subtly. Cassandra didn’t see you as someone to guide or protect. In her eyes, you were fragile, someone who didn’t belong in the same world of violence and shadows that had shaped her. She didn’t want you to go down this path, in a way, she wanted you to live your life away from this.

But that’s not what you wanted. When you tried to train with her, hoping to gain her approval, she’d effortlessly disarm you, her movements almost lazy. “Not ready,” she’d say bluntly, walking away without further explanation. You were left feeling small, unworthy. And in a way, that sparked the initial tension between you and her.

As the years went by though, you hated that you were feeling jealous over the fact that your father seemed to see Cassandra as more of a daughter than with you. You’ve seen the way they bonded, seen the way Bruce’s usually stoic demeanor softened ever so slightly when Cassandra was around. It wasn’t like he ignored you, but it was different. With Cassandra, there was a shared understanding, an unspoken connection forged in the language of the battlefield—a language you never quite mastered.

You tried to convince yourself it didn’t bother you. After all, Bruce was distant with everyone, wasn’t he? But the more you watched him mentor her, the more you saw the effort he put into helping her grow—not just as a fighter, but as a person—the harder it became to push those feelings of inadequacy aside.

Cassandra, for her part, didn’t seem to notice how much it hurt. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything. She was focused, always pushing herself to be better, stronger, faster. And you… you felt like you were standing still, trying to catch up but never quite reaching her.

The jealousy festered quietly. You hated feeling that way toward her, especially when she hadn’t done anything wrong. She deserved Bruce’s attention. She deserved to be seen. But so did you. And no matter how hard you tried, it felt like you were always coming up short in his eyes.

Over time, you started pulling back. You stopped asking her to train with you. Stopped leaving notes or trying to initiate conversations. Instead, you kept to yourself, throwing yourself into missions and tasks that didn’t involve her or Bruce. Maybe if you worked hard enough, fought hard enough, they’d finally see you as an equal.

But the distance didn’t fix anything. It only made the loneliness worse. You missed the small moments with Cassandra, the fleeting smiles and quiet nods. And even though you’d never admit it out loud, you missed the rare moments of connection with Bruce too.

The truth was, you didn’t know how to bridge the gap between you and Cassandra—or anyone in the family, for that matter. You were stuck in a cycle of trying too hard and pulling away, and no matter what you did, it never felt like enough.

And as for Stephanie, you two have never actually been close. At first, you just saw her as Tim’s girlfriend, and that was it. You didn’t pay her much attention beyond that. But things shifted dramatically when Barbara and Dick allowed her to take up the Batgirl mantle while your father was “dead.”

The first time you saw her in her version of the Batgirl costume, it felt like the world stopped. That symbol, that legacy—it was supposed to mean something, and seeing her wear it felt like a betrayal. Dick brought her along as Batgirl during his time as Batman, with Damian as his Robin, and the sight of them together cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

You felt replaced. Tossed aside. Forgotten. And that feeling lit a fire in you—a desperate, burning need to prove that you deserved to be Batgirl more than Stephanie ever did. This wasn’t just about the costume or the name; it was about everything it represented. Respect. Recognition. Family.

So, yes, it became a one-sided rivalry, fueled by jealousy and betrayal. You trained harder, worked yourself to the brink, but no matter how much you pushed, it never felt like enough. Stephanie had been doing this longer than you had, and her experience showed. But that didn’t make it sting any less when you watched her work alongside Dick and Damian with an ease you couldn’t seem to replicate.

When your father returned, you thought things would change—that maybe this would be your chance to finally step into the role you’d been striving for. But even then, Stephanie remained Batgirl, and Bruce seemed to call on her more often than he did you. For recon missions, patrols, you name it—she was his go-to. It hurt, deeply.

And when Stephanie eventually stepped down from being Batgirl to return to her original mantle as Spoiler, it didn’t bring you the satisfaction you thought it would. You didn’t “win.” There was no triumph, no validation that you were the better Batgirl. Stephanie left on her own terms, and that only made it worse.

You felt like you’d lost. Lost the unspoken competition you’d waged in your own head, lost your chance to prove your worth. And that sense of failure—it ate away at you, leaving behind a bitterness you couldn’t shake. Instead of quelling your insecurities, it only made them worse, fueling a toxic cycle of self-doubt and a relentless need to prove yourself.

Maybe in another life, things would’ve been different. Maybe you and Stephanie could’ve been friends, allies even. But the weight of your own jealousy and toxic mentality made that impossible. You wanted to reach out, to connect, but every time you tried, that voice in your head reminded you of all the ways you’d fallen short. And so, the distance between you and Stephanie only grew, just like it had with everyone else.

As for Damian, your relationship with him has always been a mixed bag. When he first showed up at the manor, you didn’t know what to make of him. He was brash, arrogant, and entirely too confident for someone so young. At first, you thought he was just some spoiled brat with a superiority complex. And honestly? You weren’t far off.

He didn’t waste any time asserting himself, loudly proclaiming that he was the true heir to Batman’s legacy and making it clear he saw you as competition. Not a sibling, not even an ally—just someone to outmatch. He called you soft, mocked your fighting skills, and dismissed your efforts to keep the peace as weakness. It was exhausting, to say the least.

At the same time, though, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him. He’d been thrust into a completely unfamiliar world, taken from the League of Assassins and dropped into the Wayne family chaos. It was clear he didn’t know how to connect with anyone, and for all his bravado, there was something lonely about him.

You tried to bridge the gap at first, hoping to at least build a sense of camaraderie. But Damian made it difficult. He was quick to push you away, and any attempt to be friendly was met with biting remarks or scornful looks. Over time, you learned to keep your distance, picking your battles carefully.

What made it worse was how Bruce and Dick always seemed to take his side. When he antagonized you or picked fights, their solution was always the same:

“Be patient with him,” or, “He’s still adjusting. Give him time.”

But how could you? He was the one who started the fights, who insulted you at every opportunity. No one seemed to care about that part.

Still, as much as Damian constantly undermined you, there were moments—fleeting and rare—when you noticed something different. He wasn’t as dismissive as he pretended to be. There were times when you’d find your weapons repaired after training or your notes on a case mysteriously corrected. He never said anything about it, and you never brought it up, but you knew it was him.

Even his insults, as cruel as they were, sometimes felt… purposeful. Like he was testing you, pushing you to be better. At first, you thought it was just an excuse you made up to deal with his attitude, but over time, it became clear that his criticism wasn’t entirely baseless. Damian had a way of pointing out your flaws in a way no one else did—harshly, yes, but sometimes accurately.

As the years went on, your dynamic shifted. The outright animosity faded, though it never disappeared entirely. There were still arguments, snide remarks, and moments where you swore he was intentionally trying to get under your skin. But there was also a strange, unspoken understanding.

You’d never call yourselves close. You’d never confide in each other or share heartfelt moments. But there was a bond, however tenuous, forged by shared experiences and blood. There was a mutual, begrudging respect that neither of you would admit out loud.

At the end of the day, Damian was still Damian. He still had his sharp tongue and holier-than-thou attitude, and you still had your resentment. But underneath it all, there was a flicker of something—rivalry mixed with loyalty, disdain mixed with a reluctant sense of family. It wasn’t perfect, and it probably never would be. But it was enough.

For Duke, it’s a bit different. He joined the family relatively later than the others, and Bruce didn’t officially adopt him into the family—he only fostered him. That distinction didn’t seem to matter to anyone else, though. From the moment Duke stepped into the manor, he fit right in.

Whenever you and Duke crossed paths, he was always nice. Friendly, even. But just like with the others, there was this invisible wall between you and him. Why? You weren’t entirely sure. Maybe it was because you noticed how easily he got along with the rest of your siblings, how seamlessly they accepted him. They included him in more things, leaned on him more during missions, and spent more time with him than they did with you.

It wasn’t like you hated him for that. No, never. Duke wasn’t the problem—it was the growing realization that once again, you were on the outside looking in. You couldn’t help but feel like you were being edged out of your own family. And that hurt, both your pride and your heart.

There were moments when you tried to connect with him, telling him about a lead you’d found or an idea you had for a case. Duke always listened, but his responses left a sting. Comments like, “Are you sure you can handle this stuff by yourself?” or, “You don’t want any help?” or even, “Maybe you should get Dick or Cass to help you out with this.”

You knew he probably meant well, but those words dug deep. It felt like he didn’t think you were capable, that he saw you as someone who couldn’t hold their own. You never said anything about it, of course, but it only strengthened your resolve to prove yourself.

And maybe that was the problem. The more you tried to show him—and everyone else—that you were competent, the more strained things became. It wasn’t outright hostility, not by any means, but there was a tension that lingered between you. A mutual awkwardness neither of you ever addressed.

At the end of the day, though, Duke was Duke. You weren’t enemies, and you didn’t resent him. You were friends, at the very least. But there was always that wall, a quiet reminder that, even in your own family, you were never quite enough.

I hope this was able to effectively portrag the fact that the reader is far from a perfect person, because I don’t think I was able to show that in the first background info. I feel that growing up in such an emotionally stunted family would inevitably shape her into someone complex and flawed. She wouldn’t be endlessly hopeful or optimistic. How could she be? She’s not just some perpetually kind, selfless girl with no negative emotions. Instead, her experiences have made her someone who struggles with jealousy, insecurity, and a need to prove herself, even if it leads to toxic behavior… but i hope y’all enjoyed this part!! lmk what you think <3

Part 1 (Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Jason Centered)

m.list

taglist (open): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows | ask to be added <3

(idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)

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spidernuggets · 1 year ago

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Hi! Im new here. I was wondering if you could maybe write something inspired with "Gorgeous by Taylor Swift"? Jason Todd obviously lol, that's why i am here for.

Thx,

🌵

Jason Todd x Reader

I SHIT YOU NOT, I've been thinking about this song with Jason Todd all week

Note: For the sake of the song, Jason has blue eyes here.

It was once again another Bruce Wayne Gala. You were already on your 3rd drink, less than an hour in. You already promised Bruce that you'd show up, and it seemed rude to not go last minute. Being there would've been easy if that didn't mean trying to avoid Jason all night.

You knew if he found you, he'd try to ask you why you're always avoiding every time, everywhere. So you've been busying yourself at the gala, trying to talk to as many people as you could so Jason wouldn't disturb you. You talked to Dick, Steph, Tim, even Damian!

You're now on your 4th champagne, and your vision was getting a little blurry already.

But Jason, being Jason, he made it his personal mission to find you. You were his friend, and you always accompanied him during Bruce's long, boring galas. Well, except for the previous two. The last two galas were during the period where Jason was dating Artemis. And you couldn't stand being in the same room as them. Of course, you were happy that your best friend loved someone, but damn, you wished that someone was you. You knew for a fact you could've loved Jason better than any person he had clinging to his arm.

Two could play that game.

Did you try and make him jealous by bringing another guy (a significantly older guy at that) to the last gala. You sure as hell fucking did. Did the plan work?

Fuck no.

Jason came up to you, last gala, asking who the guy was. You introduced him as your boyfriend, but really, you just promised a guy a chance to see Bruce Wayne in return for being your date. And all Jason said was, "I'm glad you found someone to spend time with here. I didn't want to leave you alone while I'm with Artemis!" You wanted to strangle yourself.

You spent the rest of that night alone anyway, as the guy was just bothering Bruce the whole night. You had to formally apologise to him.

But this time, you came alone, expecting Jason to be with Artemis again. But you didn't see the tall red head anywhere. She was probably running late, but you would've expected her and Jason to come in hand in hand like the last two times.

"Y/n!" You grumbled at the voice that called out your name. You tried to casually speed walk away, but in a failed attempt, you felt a rough, calloused hand holding yours, preventing you from going away any further.

"Y/n! I've been looking for you all night," Jason says, turning you around. His warm hand embracing yours made your face heat up even more than it needed to. And the dimly lit room didn't help hide it. "Why are you so red?" He asks, placing the back of his hand to your forhead to check if you were feeling ill or such.

"Nothin'..." You murmur. You never really had a high alcohol tolerance. You tried to swat his hand away from your head.

"You sound drunk, sweet thing," he smiles down at you, hand now placed on your shoulder to keep you balanced.

"No, you sound drunk. You always talk nonsense. No one understands shit comin' out of your mouth," you tried to bite back.

"Okay, that means that's enough for tonight. It's barely two hours in, N/n," he says, taking your champagne flute away from you, holding you back as you whine, trying to take it back from him.

You sigh, knowing it was no use trying to fight against him. "Where's red head?" You murmur, leaning into his hold as he tried to keep you upright.

He looks down at you. "Artemis? Did I not tell you? We broke up. Uh.. well, she broke up with me. I don't know. It's complicated."

Well, that's just fantastic! Sure, when he was dating Artemis, you were jealous as hell, but at least it was easier to stay away from Jason and get rid of your feelings for him. Now that he's available, your brain is going to feed into the poor delusion that you actually might have a chance with him. And to top it off, now that you're on the edge of being wasted, your dumb mouth might run on its own an actually confess to Jason.

"And where's your date, Y/n? The old guy," he snickers.

You scoff. "Hardly old... only.." You count with your fingers. "Ten years older," you show your ten fingers to Jason.

"Mm.." He hums in response, combing your hair back with your fingers. "That's old, sweetheart. So, what happened to him?"

You sigh. "I don't know. Clubbing, probably. He's not allowed back here. Annoyed Brucie last time," You mumble.

"So.. Are you going to tell me why you were running away from me all night?" Jason asks.

You shook your head. "Was not.." You pathetically tried to lie. Suddenly, you felt your stomach gurgling. "Mm.. feel sick, Jay," you say, pushing away from him, not wanting to get sick on him, but he immediately pulls you back.

"Aha, okay, sweet thing. Bed time now." He laughs, placing your arms over his shoulder, guiding you out of the ballroom.

"Can go on my own," you mutter, trying to walk faster than him, but his hand remains on your waist, holding you closer to him.

"Yeah, yeah, sure you can. C'mon, up to my room." He says, leading the way to the elevator and up to the bedrooms.

"Want me to help you out of your clothes, or do you want to do it yourself?" He asks after letting you sit on his bed.

"Myself," you were able to sputter, reaching your arms out to take the shirt and sweatpants thathe already fetched from his wardrobe.

He kisses your forhead after giving it to you and heads towards the bathroom. He comes out with makeup wipes and micellar water.

"Eyes up, babe. You got eyeliner smudged all over," he whispers, grabbing hold of your chin to stop you from moving around.

"Up, up," he says, grabbing your hands and pulling you up as he leads you to his bathroom. He throws away the wipes and puts the water back in the cabinet. "You said you feel sick. You need to throw up, yeah?" You only mumbled in response, kneeling in front of the toilet.

Jason lightly rubs your back, waiting for you to throw up as your hand is over the toilet seat, your head leaning on it.

You started to groan, which alarmed Jason that you were ready to hurl. He combs your hair back, away from your face.

"You done?" He lightly asks, grabbing a paper towel and wiping your lips.

"Mm.. water."

"I know, I know, sugar. Come on," he helps you up again, going back to the bedroom. He opens a bottle of water and raises it to your lips, swatting away ypur hands that try to take it off him.

You hum when your thirst has been quenched, and he wipes away any droplets on your lips with his thumb. He then moves a small trash can beside the bed. "Bin is here if you need to get sick again, okay, Y/n?" He pokes your cheek to ensure you are listening.

You nod and hum in response. Jason lays the blanket over you, tucking you in, and you couldn't help but admire his features; His curly, black locks, sharp nose, plump lips, and those annoyingly gorgeous blue eyes that looked so deep that you could drown in them, but you'd still die happy.

"You're pretty, Jay," you mutter, your consciousness at the edge of giving up on you.

He shushes you. "It's bedtime now, sweet thing," he tries to get you to sleep.

"I'm not that bad of a person, am I?" You ask, now staring at the wall behind him.

"No, no. Why would you think that, babe?" He asks, fingers, once again, travelling through your hair.

"I don't think I can be your friend anymore. 't's Too hard," you're now ranting your silly little thoughts. The one thing you prayed wouldn't happen. And Jason stares down at you in hurt and confusion. Before he can ask why, you speak up again. "I don't think I can..mm. be your friend and not be in love with you. Not fair. I can't have you.. you chose.. uhmm.. red head.."

Jason couldn't help but smile. You were so adorable, and he just wanted to kiss all over your face so bad. But he knew you'd forget by morning. He can wait.

He gets up, removes his blazer, and shirt, leaving on the floor, and walks to the other side of the bed. He lifts up the blanket, getting into bed behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he shuffled to lay closer to you.

He kisses the back of your head. "Me and Artemis broke up, remember?" You grumbled an "Oh yeah."

"Wanna know why?" He finds your hand, holding it, and caresses your smaller hand. You hum in a questioning tone. He leans in closer, his lips just barely grazing your ear lobe. "She said I couldn't stop talking about you. Everything we did, I'd always find a way to bring you into the topic. She said I was in love with you. I kept denying it because I knew - Well, I thought you didn't, and you'd never feel the same. Guess I was wrong," he also knows you wouldn't remember this in the morning.

He felt you take a breath. "Remind me in the morning? When I'm sober? I wanna remember. And kiss you." You say, voice muffled into the pillow.

He kisses the back of your head one last time. "Of course, sweet thing."

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vanguard-if · 1 year ago

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Care to tell some facts about the ROs?

YES OF COURSE!! these are going to be random because, well, you know how i am.

Cirrus - birthday December 15th

good with children, and is particularly fond of letting them colour in his patches of vitiligo with paint

spends an ungodly amount of time getting ready. 45 minutes is his "rushed morning" routine. god knows what he's doing

can tie a cherry stem with their tongue (claims it's easier because they have a forked tongue. whatever.)

Vera - birthday May 20th

has a pet hamster named Bruce that she keeps in the breast pocket of her vest

has an unnatural tolerance to alcohol, and has never lost a drinking battle EVER

was best friends with Keyóna Rayne, the Eastern Prince, when they were children. she also did not believe him when he told her he was a prince. spoiler: he was.

Emilio - birthday August 1st

an absolute nightmare to wake up in the morning. consistently beats the shit out of his sister and Charles when they attempt to get him out of bed

reads a LOT of erotica (with a straight face, also). it's 70% of the books that he owns

deathly afraid of blood. he will pass out if he sees anything with a drop of blood on it

Nia - birthday August 1st

is actually the older sibling...by 2 minutes. she still calls Emilio her little brother just to annoy him

adores shopping for other people. even though she's a princess, you bet that she's going out into the North's biggest city to shop for her female servants and maybe Emilio and Charles if they aren't being stupid

awful at cooking. like she tries so so hard but whatever she makes has a 20% chance of being classified as "edible."

Charles - birthday May 30th

grew up in a farming family! except he didn't like farming and wanted to study magic all day long. he has an older brother named Lucca

gets scared SUPER easily i'm talking about if you breathe a little too hard around this man he screams

he fucking loves curry chicken. on the contrary, hates pineapple. gags whenever he's in the vicinity of the fruit

#charles vanguard #emilio vanguard #vera vanguard #cirrus vanguard #nia vanguard #vanguard if #twine interactive fiction #vanguard #ask #itch.io #if wip #they are all so??#strange??#answered

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wanaery · 6 months ago

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Socionics Type: LSI

Examples & Description ⚔️🛡️🏰

Logical Sensing Introvert, LSI, ISTj, Maxim Gorky, Beta Quadra

For LSI, life must correspond to a specific system both in the material world and that of human relations, and one should exert efforts to ensure its betterment, maintenance, and restoration if it has been disrupted. LSI attempts to find such logical system, to become incorporated into it, to follow it and to perfect it. He analyzes and thinks over everything that surrounds him. From this information, he creates classifications and designations, creates hierarchies, derives maxims. All of this must be clearly stated and presented in various directions and instructions that aid in understanding and organizing life.

It is clear to him that whoever does not waver and follows such prescriptions will attain more in life, if he ceaselessly works hard and achieves commendable results then such person will be able to attain a worthy place in society. He is proud of having such ability, and it is exactly in this that he realizes himself. His pride suffers if another person is capable of doing the same job better than him. In such situations, LSI is capable of assuming work with thrice the force in order to not fall behind, for he finds it absolutely unacceptable to fall to a lower position in the conceptualized hierarchy he is aware of in his mind.

Such a person can be very productive. LSI is usually very conscientious: he considers it paramount that he works qualitatively, sequentially and systematically with this he builds himself a foundation and asserts himself.

LSI is inclined towards realism hes interested primarily in concrete and actual problems, rather than hypothetical issues. LSI thinks deeply about any problem, tries to understand its essence and roots. When he doesn’t understand something, he refers to established databases of information to check that everything corresponds to what is already known. In such situations, his mind starts to resemble a computer with a built in program, which he will follow without skipping a line. Carefully plans events, thoroughly examines and works out all the specifics. Puts work matters above sentiments. Takes all regulations into account. Keeps his personal things in order. He can always be relied on. Stoically endures life’s hardships.

A representative of Stoic philosophy, goals and principles are known and adhered to despite unfavorable societal conditions. Reserved by nature, introversion is not always apparent. LSI is a person of strong will, diligent and enduring. He/she is insistent and demanding in execution and verification of tasks. Takes care of those who are confused and uncertain, explains to them how they can do their work. In his assessments - a sober realist, who does not tolerate infertile, unrealistic fantasies. Proves his point and supports his case citing numerous facts that he has collected.

In communication with friends and colleagues, he is polite and courteous.

Can make an impression of an intelligent and well-mannered man. However, in closer, more familiar relations, he can be rather insensitive. Despite the fact that he is quite communicative in a small groups, periodically he needs to spend time alone. Has a tendency to be didactic, to deliver lengthy explanations on his understanding of a subject. May lecture on ethical topics.

What he deems himself capable of doing, he will also require from others. May become too deeply immersed in the details and the calculations, at which point he risks losing sight of the broader view. Uncompromising in his convictions. The fall of the ideals that he has previously followed treats as a personal tragedy. Distrustful of strangers and people about whom he knows too little. When he discovers some negative traits in another person, loses trust in him for a long period of time.

Examples:

Peter Steele

James Hetfield

Ghost Rider

Bruce Wayne

Din Djarin

Joel Miller

Rick Grimes

Natasha Romanoff

Gamora

Simon Riley

More Examples:

Dexter Morgan (Dexter)

Darth Vader (Starwars)

Magneto (X-Men)

Robin (Teen Titans 2003)

Nikto (COD)

König (COD)

Crosshair (Starwars)

Captain Rex (Starwars)

Jessica Jones (MCU)

Michonne Hawthorne (TWD)

Stannis Baratheon (GOT)

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mangoisms · 2 years ago

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ok here are my current thoughts on ck and tim’s silly goose-ness and steph’s very low tolerance to it

aka an excuse to introspect on their past relationship and also my first ever attempt to write a canon character’s pov which might or might not be good so! You Have Been Warned

(also excuse any typos LOL)

“What do you think you’re doing?”

A slow blink. “Updating Redbird’s security protocols?”

The garage of Tim’s townhouse smells sharply of oil and rubber. But he isn’t elbow-deep in the engine today, just seated off to the side, laptop perched on his lap and hooked up to its system. ‘Updating’ it. God knows why. The Redbird’s security protocols are just as stringent as the Batmobile’s.

Jason once regaled them with his plan, way back when, to blow it up. Bruce included. And how he went about it.

“It’s got safeguards like crazy, right? Even when it’s idle or shut down. Come up to it, fire a gun, launch a missile—doesn’t matter. Not gonna touch it before the security protocols kick in. It can sense you on thermal, air currents, video recognition, all of it.”

“So, how’d you get past it?”

“SEAL-grade wetsuit. Invisible to thermal with reflection fibers that play hell with video. But the biggest thing? Going slow. And I mean slow. Like five seconds per inch slow.”

The insane attention to detail and paranoia runs in the family, obviously.

Tim had sat in for that. Stephanie remembers the look on his face. Begrudging respect, combined with a familiar twitchiness that told her he was absolutely dying to run out and start updating his stuff.

Question everything. That’s what Bruce says.

Tim tries to separate himself from it. He really does. It gets tiring, exhausting, to live like that. But old habits die hard and his big brain precedes him sometimes. Wondering at the possibilities, at the million-in-one scenarios.

Ordinarily, Stephanie has more sympathy for him. Really. But right now, after your phone call about his little visit to Circle K…

She’s pissed.

“Don’t play dumb,” she says, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“What is it that I’m playing dumb about?” he asks, averting his attention back to his laptop, keys clacking quickly, pausing momentarily as he takes a swig of Red Bull.

She tells him.

At the sound of your name, he stops.

But now that she’s started, she can’t stop. “Visiting her? As Red Robin? What are you thinking, Tim?”

The clack of keys resumes. The set of his gaze on the laptop screen is very intentional now. Avoiding her.

“It’s nothing, Steph,” he says and she almost believes it. But she knows him, so she doesn’t. “It’s harmless.”

“So, why won’t you hang out with us? Her? Because I assume you’re also avoiding her individually.”

A little sigh. Impatient. “I’m not avoiding her. I really was busy. Have been busy. You know how the heat messes with the city.”

It’s the excuse that bothers Stephanie.

Tim is making some kind of choice here. Choosing to favor Red Robin over himself, over Tim Drake, and it makes no sense. Red Robin isn’t your best friend. He isn’t even your favorite vigilante. (Black Canary is. She agrees, though it would be nice for Spoiler to get some spotlight but that is neither here nor there.)

You know who is your best friend? (One of them, anyway.)

Tim freakin’ Drake.

Stephanie knows why he’s avoiding you all of a sudden. The connection will be too easy to make. It’s why she—as Spoiler—keeps her distance. Tucks away her hair, hides her face even more, when she and Cass visit Circle K.

Even though! They had talked about telling you. Stephanie wanted to tell you so badly. You know who her father is. Was. You know how her mom used to be like. You know everything and you never once judged. You were, to be sure, a bit wary of them—the vigilantes—but most were. You wouldn’t turn them away if you knew.

If there is anything Stephanie knows, it is that.

But then she went away to Metropolis for a week and a half and suddenly, he’s visiting you as Red Robin. And he’s not trying to ease you into it, not trying to help you latch onto some clues, to make it easier—because they’d discussed that, too!—he’s doing it because… Well, she doesn’t really know. But there is a reason. She knows that much. A big reason.

It makes no sense to her, considering his feelings. Complicates things unnecessarily. Especially with how he’s avoiding you because of it, because he apparently got cold feet on telling you the truth.

And it��s the excuse… it’s the excuse that pisses her off.

Their relationship, back when they were kids, had some questionable origins. It did. Stephanie did things she wasn’t proud of. He did things he wasn’t proud of. It was messy. She tries not to kick herself about it—about being a silly girl in love, awed at the attention of a boy like Robin, knowing he was dating a girl (Ariana Dzerchenko, her name was, she would later find on) and making moves on him despite that, moves that he always, always went along with. Like two magnets that couldn’t help but fall together.

Don’t get her wrong! The blame is not solely on her. It’s on him, too. She shouldn’t have pushed. He shouldn’t have went along with it, knowing he had a girlfriend, too. He shouldn’t have held his knowledge of her identity over her head the way he did. He isn’t mean-spirited at heart but he had an advantage over her. He knew she was Stephanie Brown. She knew him only as Robin and nothing else. Not until later on that would change and that… that was another mess entirely.

But they were dumb and young. Stephanie tries not to hold it against herself. They know better now. She knows better now. Knows what she deserves.

But this feels too close to him crossing that line.

No, he has crossed that line.

Given one persona up for another.

Approaching you as Red Robin, while you know nothing of him, and doing god knows what…

Someone is going to get hurt.

Last time, it was him. The circumstances, Bruce’s unceremonious reveal of his identity to her—a mistake, an egregious overstep—it all culminated in Tim feeling betrayed. Betrayed that Bruce would reveal that to her without Tim’s say so, without even asking him if he was okay with her knowing. Betrayed that Stephanie went along with it.

This time?

Stephanie feels it in her bones.

The person who is going to get hurt is you.

You, clueless about these lives they lead, clueless as Tim monopolizes your time as Red Robin, all the while you have no idea it’s him. You, her best friend. Stephanie loves you to the end of the universe.

She doesn’t want to see you hurt.

The mere thought of it, of the potential fallout, leaves a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Steph. Steph, it’s fine.”

She blinks, coming back to herself. Tim is standing in front of her now, dark brows knitted together, blue eyes intent on her face. Concerned.

“You’re lying to her.”

“We’ve been lying to her.”

“Not like this,” she says quietly. “Not this way. You’re… This is too much, Tim. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he says. For what it’s worth, to anyone else, it sounds believable. But like she said. Stephanie knows him. For better or for worse.

And on that end, she also knows he is not going to budge. No matter how much Stephanie wants to drill this into him, grab him by the shoulders and make her point. Once he’s made a decision, he commits.

Or more like he’s dug himself into this grave and he doesn’t (can’t?) want to get out.

“This is a mistake,” she says. “And you know it. I just hope you actually try to fix it sooner rather than later. Because if you break her heart, I’m going to break something of yours.”

Stephanie loves Tim. He’s a great friend. They’ve had their ups and downs—even discounting their relationship—but they’re solid. They are.

But she loves you, too. So much so it sometimes feels like she’s going to burst with it. She’s never had something like that, like this, and in the end, she doesn’t want to choose, but Tim knows better. And because he knows better, you are her first priority.

Even worse, he doesn’t seem bothered by the threat. Relieved, if anything.

“I’m counting on it, Steph.”

Which is so unfair in so many ways (fix it, she wants to yell, don’t rely on me to come clean up when shit hits the fan—do it yourself!) but she’s had enough of this conversation and all the ways this can go wrong.

Maybe he will turn around. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But she doesn’t think so. He won’t. Not until the consequences of this, of his lies, of his excuses, come hit him in the face.

She wishes it weren’t like that—knowing what it will result in.

But some things you just can’t change.

She knows better with Tim.

She really, really does.

#wrote this last night directly in post #my phone autocorrects her to hee. for some reason. god knows why. genuinely #so if there’s any mistakes. i didn’t edit it too much or read too closely #it was just a silly little thought that ended up turning out a pretty good scene #i’m not sure if i’ll put this somewhere on ao3. maybe

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 4 years ago

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A Game of Jealousy

Word count: 4050

This one is focused more from Loki's perspective, lots of fluff (and tickles!) Guest starring Bucky 😎

* * *

Loki never needed anyone to make him happy. He’d spent the better part of his life on his own, learning to rely on himself and not others for comfort. He’d been lied to his entire life by his parents, and while his relationship with his brother was at least improving gradually over time, he still remained very guarded, afraid that anyone he let in would only hurt him the way everyone else in his life had done. No, Loki felt he was better off alone.

That is, until he met you.

You had joined the team about a year ago, just a few months after Loki himself had finally given in to his brother’s persistent requests for him to move into the Avengers tower. The others were polite enough, but Loki could still sense the fear and anger in their eyes when they looked his way. Thor insisted they would warm up to him over time if he’d just try to be more sociable, but it was difficult to bring himself to want to spend time with people who burned holes into his soul with their eyes.

The day you had arrived to move into the tower to join the team, your few belongings in hand, his curiosity was piqued almost instantly. Steve had showed you around that first day, introducing you to all the members of the team. Loki had been in the study, reading in one of the oversized armchairs Tony had furnished the place with, when he saw Steve walking by the doorway with you in tow. You’d paused for a moment, taking a few paces backward to peek inside the room, eyes trained on Loki. He had braced himself for the inevitable exclamation of surprise and fear when you realized that you were living in the same building as the monster who tried to take over the city.

But it never came. You had merely smiled at him, waving in greeting, and introduced yourself as you would with anyone else. Even when he told you his name, your eyes lit up in recognition, but without an ounce of fear. You had hurried along to catch up with Steve after expressing your pleasure to have met him, a slight bounce in your step as you disappeared from sight.

He couldn’t deny it – he was intrigued by you.

Loki’s interest only grew as he began to get to know you more over the next couple of months. The first day he had seen you working with Natasha in the training room, you had impressed him with your grit and determination, not to mention the graceful ferocity with which you fought. And you were smart, too. He’d never forget the day Tony was teasing you, and you’d come up with such a witty retort that even Tony had to applaud you.

Unfortunately, Loki wasn’t the only one in the tower who had started noticing you.

As you became more integrated with the team, the others began to get more physically affectionate toward you. You spent a lot of time with Wanda, often leaning against her on the couch as you watched TV or giving her hand a squeeze when one of you was excited about something. Steve often put a comforting hand on your shoulder after a rough day of training or patted your back in encouragement when you came back from a successful mission. The friendly gestures never bothered Loki to any significant degree.

But there were other team members, notably single team members, whose advances tended to irk him more than the others. Thor was one of the worst offenders, as it was in his nature to wrap any one of his friends into a giant bear hug whenever he saw them. Bucky often liked to push your buttons, teasing you and egging you on until you’d start play wrestling with him on the couch. Even Bruce, on occasion, would wrap an arm around you in a side hug and squeeze you against his side for a moment in silent thanks whenever you’d help him with something in the lab.

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He just… wished they’d give you more personal space sometimes.

You were physically affectionate with Loki as well, which took some time for him to get used to at first. Once Loki started swallowing his pride and began initiating conversations with you instead of waiting for you to talk to him, the two of you became fast friends. He found he didn’t mind it when you squeezed his arm after a jump scare during team movie night, or if you rested your head on his shoulder on a long plane ride home from a mission. Dare he say… he even enjoyed it a bit. Recently, he’d developed enough confidence to initiate physical contact with you himself – giving you a quick hug goodnight when walking you to your room after a late-night conversation or resting his hand on your knee when sitting side by side on the couch.

Yes, you were someone he was willing to tolerate.

One evening, Loki was wandering through the compound, trying to find a quiet place to sit and read. Normally he lounged in the study, but it seemed Peter had overtaken the room with his schoolbooks as he studied frantically for one of his final exams the next day, and he showed no signs of leaving. He decided it would be easiest just to read in his room tonight but decided to swing by the kitchen to grab a glass of water before making his way back there.

As he paced down the hallway, a sound coming from the common room captured his attention. He drew near enough to the door to elucidate that it was your bright, infectious laughter that he was hearing. His heart swelled at the sound. Loki very much enjoyed making you laugh, often telling you embarrassing stories of Thor from their childhood, or otherwise whispering inappropriate jokes in your ear during team meetings, just so he could hear you snort before erupting with giggles. He reached the common room and stood in the doorway, trying to identify the cause for your hysterics.

You and Bucky were sitting on the large sofa in the common room. Although, admittedly, you couldn’t really call it sitting. You were leaning away from the super soldier, giggling frantically and swatting at his hands as he wiggled his fingers into your sides.

“Buckyhyhy! Cut it out!” you ordered, grasping at his wrists. Bucky’s agile hands evaded yours, poking and prodding at your belly and sides.

“What? What’s the matter? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish,” he teased, squeezing gently above your kneecaps, and eliciting a squeal.

A pang of jealousy stung in Loki’s chest. He had discovered your ticklishness a few months ago himself, having accidentally jabbed you a bit too gently in the side during an impromptu sparring session. When he dug his fingers into your torso with more intent, you had shrieked and laughed, but hadn’t pushed away as hard as he knew you could. He interpreted it as you enjoying the playfulness, or at least not minding it all that much. Since then, he had experimented on occasion, proudly discovering over time that you were definitely most sensitive right along your ribs where your back and sides met. He delighted in the silly, giggly mess you became when he scribbled his fingers into that spot, practically melting into his side as your muscles weakened with laughter.

Now, watching you and Bucky as he tested out your vulnerable spots, he felt his throat tighten a bit. He knew he had to find a way to interrupt this little exchange without letting on how he was really feeling inside. Luckily, the God of Mischief knew how to tell a good lie, and above all he most definitely knew how to spin a partial truth.

“You’re doing it wrong, Barnes,” he called into the room, leaning with his forearm propped against the doorway. Both you and Bucky glanced up at him, Bucky’s fingers slowing a bit against the back of your knee but not quite stopping.

“L-Lokihihi! Help!” you pleaded, a bright smile on your face, cheeks tinged with the exertion of your laughter. His heart skipped a bit at the request, proud that you would seek his assistance to escape the winter soldier. But he had to hold firm in his resolve. He couldn’t let you think he was soft for you, after all.

“Now, why would I want to do that? It’s so entertaining to watch you squirm.” He flashed you an evil grin, slowly striding into the room. “Move over, Barnes. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Bucky obliged, an equally mischievous smirk on his face. “Please, do tell!”

Loki motioned to you to scoot closer to Bucky so he could sit on your other side, gently pushing you over when you refused to make space for him on your own accord. You were now sandwiched between him and the super soldier, glancing nervously between the two men. In a desperate attempt to escape, you suddenly leapt to your feet to make a run for the door. Loki predicted your movement, his hands pulling you back down by your waist before you could even fully stand up.

“Ah, ah! You won’t be going anywhere, darling,” Loki teased, holding you in place while he leaned around you to look at Bucky. He ignored your desperate protests in favor of keeping you trapped there beside him. “Now then. First, you must understand that you won’t be able to access her worst spot until you weaken her adequately. Personally, I enjoy beginning right here.” He slid his hands slid around your waist to your belly, fingers drumming tauntingly against your T-shirt. Loki felt your muscles stiffen immediately under his touch, which made him grin.

“Loki! What the hell! Why are you helpihiHING HIHIHIM?” Your scolding of your mischievous friend was made much less intimidating as giggles bubbled from your lips once again, Loki’s fingers having sprung into action, expertly skimming across your belly. Your hands closed around his wrists and tugged to try to remove them from your sensitive torso, but Loki maintained his hold on you.

“Ah, yes, I see that is quite effective,” Bucky noted somberly, his eyes flashing. “Please, continue to show me your ways.”

“Notice that she will continue to fight you when you tickle her here, but trust that her laughter is slowly beginning to weaken her,” Loki continued, conversing casually as if he weren’t torturing you. “However, if you aren’t cautious-“

“Ha!” you shouted triumphantly, having twisted out of his grip and jumped to your feet.

“-she may find a way to escape.”

“That is unfortunate,” Bucky lamented. “What do you suggest if that were to occur?”

“No! No suggestions!” you demanded, defiantly holding out a hand toward the boys to protect yourself. Loki raised his eyebrows, looking up at you with a serious expression, although he was unable to prevent a smirk from pulling at the corners of his lips. You appeared so much more composed on the battlefield and in the training room – seeing you so disheveled, yet still with an involuntary smile on your face, made a thrill run through Loki’s chest.

“If she does escape,” Loki continued, completely disregarding your protests, and trying desperately not to start laughing at your adorably indignant expression, “you simply need to ensure you have a backup plan. Catch her off guard, if you will. Like this-“

Taking advantage of his inhuman speed, he lunged forward and grabbed your leg just behind your knee, causing your leg to buckle unexpectedly beneath you. He chuckled as he watched you stumble a bit on your other leg to try to remain standing but couldn’t maintain your balance and toppled to the floor. Loki swiftly took advantage of your bewilderment at finding yourself suddenly on the ground, standing up and grabbing hold of your ankle.

“Now, you won’t find her worst spot on her legs or feet, but she is most definitely still sensitive here – this can serve to weaken her resolve further,” Loki continued, fully aware that he was causing a blush to rise in your cheeks now as he tugged on your ankle to straighten your leg, yanking you onto your back. You began cursing at him, which he quickly silenced by dusting his fingertips across the sole of your trapped foot. He had discovered this spot a few weeks ago, when you had refused to move your legs to allow him a place to sit. Not to be deterred, he had plopped himself down atop your shins, grinning at you as he had tested your reaction to his fingers dragging up the bottoms of your feet. The frenzied giggles this elicited from you were some of his favorites, only encouraging him to want to continue with the torment.

“But what about her knees? Will that help to weaken her resolve?” Bucky queried, smirking down at you as you shot him a glare.

“Allow me to show you,” Loki obliged, his hand moving to scratch against the delicate underside of your knee. You snorted, then, and he nearly broke his façade by laughing aloud. He experimentally pinched your calf muscle gently, just below your knee, and was not disappointed by your sudden violent jerking of your leg away from his touch. “Ah, a new weak spot. You see, even being an expert at tormenting our little friend, you can still learn something new.” Loki was speaking to Bucky but kept his eyes trained on you, smirking as you beat your fist against the floor in protest.

“I thought wehehe were friends!!” you cried through your laughter. Feeling somewhat merciful, Loki paused his torture and lowered your leg back to the ground, offering you a hand up.

“I apologize, darling; are you tired of this?” Loki asked, holding a hand down to you in offering to help you to your feet. He kept his hand outstretched as you sat up on the floor, your eyes fixed on his, brows furrowed as if trying to decipher whether he was tricking you. Hesitantly, you took his hand. Your skin was pleasantly warm against his own, which almost made him regret what he was about to do.

Almost.

No sooner had your feet rooted onto the ground beneath you did he grab hold of your arm, spinning you around and wrapping both arms tight around your waist. He wasted no time dragging you backward so your back was flush against his chest, his ticklish touch making its way to your lower ribs. You let out a shriek, followed by rambunctious belly laughter. He relished in the feeling of your giggles vibrating against his chest as he tightened his grip around your waist, holding fast against your desperate thrashing.

“If you can convince the girl to trust you,” he continued, having to speak loudly to be heard over your squealing, “an unwise decision, honestly,” he added, his voice rumbling low in your ear, “you may be able to trick her into falling into your trap.” You screamed his name as he walked his fingers agonizingly slowly up your ribcage, your fingers hooking around his wrists and pulling desperately at his hands.

“An excellent tip, thanks for that,” Bucky teased. You whined at his words, which somehow only made your laughter even more adorable. Loki had the sudden urge to squeeze you tighter and nuzzle his nose into your neck, but he thought that you might interpret such a gesture as a flirtatious advance, and he didn’t want to spoil this little game.

At this point you were doubled over, hands weakly tugging at Loki’s fingers as your muscles began to fatigue. Loki could sense that you were leaning more and more of your weight on his arms as you tired, forcing him to tighten his grip even further to keep you from collapsing onto the floor. He slowed his torment a bit, allowing you a moment to rest. You gasped for air, your chest heaving under his forearms with every breath.

“Notice, Barnes, that she has weakened considerably by this point,” Loki explained, continuing under the ruse of showing Bucky how to torture you. “It is only at this level of exhaustion that you will be able to target her one true weak spot.”

Loki felt you jolt at his suggestion, twisting your torso as much as you could in his vice-like grip to look back at him, wide-eyed. You shook your head, pleading with him. He hardened his expression, albeit with some difficulty as he was struggling to wipe the smile off his face, and he splayed his fingers across your ribs so his fingertips rested just along that overly sensitive spot near your back on each side. You were already giggling, bracing yourself for the inevitable torment that was to come.

“Ahahahaha… please Loki, you dohohon’t have to do thihihis!” you begged, pouting at him. Loki couldn’t help but laugh at that, his heart melting at your tiny frown and protruding bottom lip. For a moment, he considered releasing you. But then again, he was getting drunk off of your sweet laughter, and he wasn’t ready for it to stop.

“Sorry, love – I have to show Barnes how to tickle you properly,” he lamented, a faux sympathetic smile on his lips. Before you could beg him once more and break his resolve, he went in for the kill, fingers drilling into the crevices between your ribs. You screeched, torso jerking in his grip for a moment before going limp as you accepted your fate. Loki knew exactly how to tickle you, his fingers expertly vibrating against your ribcage until your laughter became silent. He finally relented after that, loosening his hold so you could catch your breath but not releasing you yet.

With his arms loosened, he could lean around to get a better view of your face. Your cheeks were bright, small tears of mirth collecting in the corners of your eyes. You still had a smile plastered across your face, so wide it caused your nose to scrunch up the tiniest bit. Loki’s heart fluttered at the sight of you, pleased that he had been the cause of your giddy laughter.

“That was an excellent demonstration,” Bucky observed, winking at you as you groaned. “Could I give it a go?”

Loki hesitated, and you stiffened, already arguing with the super soldier. He had anticipated this might occur, given he was supposedly teaching Bucky how to tickle you ‘correctly.’ Still, the idea of having to watch Bucky’s fingers skittering over your belly or scribbling into your knees made his throat burn with jealousy. If he refused, though, he would almost surely give away his feelings.

Reluctantly, though he hid it well, Loki motioned for Bucky to take his place behind you, releasing you only once Bucky’s arms snaked around your waist. Your pleas for mercy were quickly drowned out by your laughter once again as Bucky’s fingers spidered along your ribcage.

“You weren’t kidding – this is much more effective,” Bucky noted, your resolve already weakened from the prior bout of torment. Loki watched as you leaned involuntarily backward into the winter soldier, your head resting back against his shoulder as you submitted to his ticklish onslaught. Loki’s fingers contracted into a tight fist at his side, willing himself not to intervene and give away his displeasure. But damn it, if watching Bucky’s fingers exploring your ticklish sides wasn’t setting a fire in his belly. It felt as though someone had grabbed hold of his heart in his chest and was squeezing it painfully tightly in their clutches.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Knowing you wouldn’t appreciate if he lashed out at your friend, Loki placed a firm hand on Bucky’s forearm, urging him to stop without saying a word. Confusion etched itself into Bucky’s features as he stilled his fingers against your sides, his grip around you loosening. Your eyes were shimmering with exertion as you looked up at Loki pleadingly.

“I believe she has had enough for today,” Loki stated sternly. He took a step toward the two of you, swiftly scooping you up bridal style in his arms without a second thought. You let out a squeak of surprise as your feet left the ground, your arms instinctively reaching up to wrap around Loki’s neck to stabilize yourself. He turned back around with you in his arms, looking Bucky in the eye. “I’ll be taking her now, thank you.”

Bucky held Loki’s gaze, his face contorting from confusion to surprise, then finally to a knowing smirk. He nodded in approval, waving him off nonchalantly as he returned to his original seat on the couch and turned on the television. Loki carried you out of the room, a fuzzy warmth spreading through his chest as you began to giggle once again, leaning your head into his shoulder.

He arrived at your room, opening the door with his magic so as not to risk dropping you, then turned to avoid striking your head on the doorframe as he carried you inside. Carefully, he set you down on your bed. You sat up, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed as you smiled up at him.

“Your savior has rescued you from the winter soldier’s clutches,” Loki teased, smirking.

“Excuse me – my savior? If I recall, you were the one who nearly tickled me to death,” you retorted, playfully shoving him as he sat down beside you on the bed.

“You enjoyed every minute of it, love,” he smirked, giving you a swift poke in the side to make you jump. You smirked back at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You know, I know exactly what you were doing back there.” Something in your calculated gaze made Loki’s heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

“Is that so? And what is it you think I was doing?” Loki asked, trying to keep his tone casual and sarcastic to avoid giving himself away. You leaned closer to him, bravely holding his gaze.

“You were jealous of Bucky,” you declared. “You couldn’t stand to see him with his hands on me, even when it was as innocent as tickling. You don’t think I noticed?”

Loki opened his mouth to retort, but for quite possibly the first time in his life, the silver-tongued god was at a loss for words. You maddeningly perceptive thing. You’d seen straight through his little façade and into his heart. Your eyes glowed with the triumph of having silenced the God of Mischief with just a simple observation.

“Do you deny it?” you queried, your grin expanding. Loki sighed, recognizing he’d been caught.

“No, love. I can’t deny it.”

“Good.” Your hand reached up to touch his cheek, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. The shock of your sudden advance was quickly replaced by elation, and Loki kissed you back fervently. His hands found your waist, gently grasping your hips with enough weight in his touch to keep from tickling you. He felt you smile sweetly against his lips. When you finally broke away, Loki lifted his hands to cup your face, resting his forehead against yours. “Now then – I believe I’m owed some payback for the torture you just put me through…”

“Oh, really?” Loki raised his eyebrows at you, grinning playfully. “And how do you intend to execute such revenge?”

“Hmm… Maybe I’ll just take a page out of your book.” The mischief in your eye reminded him uncannily of himself. He suddenly felt your delicate fingers squeezing into his side, making him jolt. Your face lit up with pure joy as you witnessed his reaction.

Oh, he couldn’t be having that.

His arms were wrapped around you in a flash, dragging you into his chest and leaning backward until you were lying on top of his chest in his arms, eliciting a squeal. He leaned in close, his lips right beside your ear.

“Darling, you don’t want to be doing that.”

The room was soon filled with your frantic giggles once again. But this time, you really didn’t try to get away. Because in all honesty, he was right before – you loved every minute of it.

#loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle #ler!loki #ler!bucky #lee!reader

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deexchanel · 4 years ago

Text

As she should.

Word Count: 1,123

Pairing: Steve Rogers x BlackFem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, Jealousy, and Fluff.

Summary: Y/N comes to one of Tony Stark's parties looking bad as ever after her breakup with Steve, as she should.

A/N: Remember ladies, you are that bitch forever and always :) Once again gave a her a good ass outfit to show Steve what he’s missing.

“Is he here?” Y/N checked her makeup in Natasha’s mirror. Romanoff put on her heels so they could leave the room.

“That was one of the dumbest questions you just asked Y/N.”

Y/N huffed, running her hand on her slick back.“I’m just nervous, I haven’t seen him in like 6 months.”

"You nervous? The Y/N Y/L/N is nervous to see Rogers? This so shocking." Natasha remarked back, putting lipstick on her lips. Afterward, she bent over checking her phone. Y/N took that opportunity to smack her hand against Natasha's ass making her yelp.

"Y/N!"

"I saw the opportunity and took it."

Natasha rolled her eyes, rubbing her now throbbing ass. Y/N shrugged not bothered by her grumpiness.

"So you're mad at me for doing but when Bruce does it, it's alright? I demand equality!"

"Y/N hush."

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

Y/N walked in as the life of the party. All eyes were on her which she enjoyed to the max. "Excuse me." She said nicely nudging against the large frame that stood in front of the bar. He wasn't in the way but he wasn't using the spot so Y/N wanted it.

"My apologies- Y/N?" Steve turned around to see his ex-girlfriend standing in front of him. She mentally cursed for not noticing that it was him.

"Hi, Steve."

Y/N took in his features. He was larger since the last time she's seen him. Steve's beard was nicely groomed, his hair was a little bit longer, and he smelled wonderful. His nice looks were reeling her in and it took Y/N all her strength to not bring his sexy ass into a bathroom.

Steve was thinking the same thing. The way she was looking at him made his knees weak. "Y/N what are you doing here?"

"Well, I came to come party Stark style. Is that alright with you?" Y/N stood next to him, putting her weight against the bar. Steve bit his lip looking at her dress, she looked god damn amazing.

"Uh yeah, it's alright with me. Y/N you look-"

"Steve, are you still coming to the dance floor?" He was cut off by Emma who is someone who has been wanting Steve forever. Y/N despises her because she was one of the reasons they broke up. "Oh Y/N I didn't know you were here."

"Yeah, I've been here for bout an hour now." Y/N gave her a fake smile while the tension grew between the three. Steve scratched his neck out of awkwardness.

"Well, I'll talk to you later Y/N."

"No, he won't, bye Y/N."Emma grabbed his hand, pulling him to the dance. Y/N turned around to the bartender, "Give me whatever strong."

To admit, she was very jealous but Y/N didn't want to show that Emma got under her skin. So she held her composure and did one thing that came here to do and that was to party.

--------

"Another!"Both Y/N and Thor yelled holding up their drinking glasses.'. She was placed directly in his lap, drinking as well. Steve watched in jealous how she was moving in Thor's lap probably making him hard.

"Steve are you okay? You're staring mighty hard." Emma rubbed his hand but he moved back not taking his eyes off Y/N.

"I'm alright."

Y/N went from drinking with Thor to letting guys lick alcohol from between her breast to dancing with any random guy on the dance floor. Steve watched it all.

"Woah calm down big guy, you're going to break the glass."Bucky patted his back taking Steve out of his trance.

"I'm not, I just..." Steve sigh taking a sip of his alcohol. "I want to kill every guy that touches her Bucky but she isn't mine anymore and Y/N knows what she's doing."

"You don't go with Emma right?" Bucky sat down beside him. Steve scoff drowning the rest of his drink. "She's obsessed with me and I don't want her. I want and desire Y/N."

Being the good best friend he is, Bucky gave him advice. "Go get your girl back man. You love and miss her dearly so get a shot of something strong then fuck the shit out of her. It's a really simple plan."

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, "She doesn't want anything to do with me Bucky."

"You don't know that."Bucky slid him a shot of something that he didn't recall. "Now go get your girl back."

Without second thoughts, Steve took the shot then got up from the bar going over to Y/N on the dance floor. Bucky watched him like a proud parent.

Steve clenched his jaw seeing her ass grind against another dude's package. "Y/N let's go." Y/N stopped dancing, tilting her head.

"What? Steve what are you doing??"

"You're leaving with me."Steve grabbed her hand but the guy she was dancing with grabbed her waist.

"I think it's pretty obvious that the woman doesn't want to leave with you." He said but Y/N looked at him confused too because who was he to take up for her. She didn't even know who he was. Y/N pulled his hand off her waist, "Uhh excuse me sir, you don't have anything to do with this so hush."

"I was just trying to help you bitch." He pushed Y/N which Steve didn't tolerate. Without thinking, Steve punched him. Y/N gasp, covering her mouth.

Steve leaned down to him on the floor,"Disrespect my girl and I won't hesitate to give you another black eye." He stood up grabbing Y/N arm dragging her out of the party to the balcony. "This why I don't like you wearing this without me Y/N."

"You just punched some guy and you're worried about what I'm wearing?!? You just embarrassed me, Steve!" Y/N snatched away from him, angry.

"Embarrassed you? Y/N you've been showing your ass all night like I wasn't there." Steve creased his brow, raising his voice a bit.

"Steve we aren't together!!! I'm single! Get that through your head!"Y/N was now yelling at him. Steve shook his head.

"You're not single Y/N. You're mine." He grabbed her waist pulling her closer to him. Y/N wasn't going down that easy, she pushed against his strong chest but his grip stayed firm.

"Steve we broke up! I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

The couple stared into each other eyes, the way Steve looked at Y/N sent chills down her spine."I will hurt any guy that looks at you or even tries to touch you. Every part of you belongs to me Y/N." He kissed down her neck, knowing exactly where her sweet spot was.

"Do you understand me?"

Y/N moaned out in pleasure, running her hands through his hair. "Y-Yes."

Steve's large hand smacks against her ass. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Daddy."

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

Y'all this took me too damn long to write lmaoo

I don't really like it but oh well.

I should've written smut but my head hurt too damn bad to write anymore. To my girl @kalopsia-flaneur, here's your possessive steve. I hope you like it cause ya girl attempted it.

stay slutty my friends.

#steve rogers x poc!reader #steve roger x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers #bucky oneshot

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odos-bucket · 4 years ago

Text

In Which Each of Bruce’s Kids Come Out to Him

and then he comes out to them

Dick

They’re working on opposite sides of the coffee table in one of the manor’s more habitable sitting room’s. It’s become a regular part of their weekday routine: Bruce finishes up whatever office work he has to do, while Dick does his homework, and talks about his day. Usually there are snacks involved. A parenting book Bruce had read recommended trying to get their work done together. It’s a good way to keep connected with their increasingly busy schedules.

“So anyways…” Dick’s story is starting to slow down a little bit, and the shift in tone has Bruce glancing up from his paperwork. “I should probably tell you, since, well, everyone knows at school now.” His voice is still conversational, and relaxed, but a little distracted.

Bruce shifts him his full attention.

“See, what happened was Cameron Josephs in my third period biology class came to school with nail polish on today, which I noticed with my clever detective skills, and promptly dismissed as unimportant, and everyone else noticed with their nosy pre-teen skills, and promptly lost their shi- I mean, minds over. And that was Mrs. Horton’s class, and she has absolutely no control over her students, so it sort of became this whole big thing. Kids were making fun of him, and other kids were yelling at them to knock it off, and he was just trying to do his work, but the rest of the class got into a big fight. And then Brad Cormick- he’s on my basketball team- made a homophobic joke, and we were sitting at the same table, and I could tell that he wanted me to laugh at it. So I told him to shut up, and said that I was bisexual, not that any of it really had anything to do with anything else that was going on, but it did get him to shut up, which was good. Except that I think it may have been because I have more friends than Cameron does, which is totally unfair, and everyone should just be nice to everyone else no matter what, but also I guess not really the point… The point is, yeah, I’m bi. Oh, also frog dissection got moved to tomorrow because one kid threw up.”

Dick takes a deep breath (finally) and a long sip of his juice, before immediately returning to doodling athletic stick figures in the margins of his algebra homework.

Bruce studies him for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of response is expected of him, what would be helpful for Dick to hear. He’s really not very good at this kind of thing.

He’s saved from the risk of putting his foot in his mouth when the science class story continues.

“Are frogs really that gross? I don’t think they are. But I guess our basement is filled with guano, so maybe my tolerance is heightened by regular exposure to the substance most frequently equated with insanity.”

Dick hadn’t seemed nervous before coming out, or relieved after. And if he’s not going to make it into a big deal then neither is Bruce, even if a part of him feels pleasantly warmed by the casual show of trust.

Jason

Bruce loves picking up his kids from school. It’s not something that his schedule allows him to do very often, and Jason- as Dick had been before him- always seems pleasantly surprised to see him. It’s a little thing in the grand scheme, but it’s just nice, normal. And he would never say it out loud- he’s not sure why, he knows he should- but he cherishes the little bit of extra time spent with his boys.

But today Jason isn’t happy to see him.

Bruce pulls up to the curb, and only has to scan the crowd of teenagers for a few seconds before spotting him. He’s on a bench with another student, their shoulders pressed together despite wide swaths of free space available on either side of them. Jason’s pointing out something in a textbook, while the other boy plays with his free hand.

Bruce pulls slightly to the side to let another car drive around him, figuring he’ll give Jason a few minutes to finish up, and notice that Bruce is there, rather than call out and risk embarrassing him.

It’s not even a full minute before they make eye contact across the lot, and immediately something in Jason’s expression changes. His eyes go wide and startled, his posture suddenly tightened. In one fast motion he shuts his book with both hands, muttering something to his friend as he practically throws himself off the bench.

Now feeling on high alert, Bruce sweeps an intense gaze over the school yard for anything that could have upset his son. He doesn’t manage to spot anything before Jason arrives at the car and pulls himself into the backseat (where he never sits, unless the front is already occupied). He starts talking before Bruce can ask what’s wrong.

“That wasn’t what it looked like!”

Bruce frowns, and looks over both Jason and the area in front of the school in an attempt to identify something that isn’t like how it looks.

“He just-“ Jason flinches, seemingly realizing something wrong with whatever he’d been about to say, and cuts himself off with a sharp breath. “I mean-“

Feeling lost is by no means a new part of parenthood for Bruce, and he’s sure it’s something he’ll experience many more times going forward. But, god, he really hates not understanding what’s going on, not knowing what to do, and he doubts that he’ll ever get used to it.

“Jason,” he tries. “Slow down.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason answers automatically. “Sorry.”

It’s been over a year since Jason’s called him ‘sir’ and the sudden reintroduction of the honorific sends a cold chill down Bruce’s spine. For a second they just stare at each other, with what Bruce is pretty sure are matching expressions of partially concealed horror.

“Jason,” he says more quietly.

“I know,” Jason interrupts. “I’m sorry. Please-“ He stops himself, covering his mouth before he can finish the thought, and then just as quickly lowering the hand back to his lap.

Another silence follows, short but harrowing. Then finally Bruce makes a rare admission

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Jason stares at him, and the wider his eyes get the younger he looks, and the more Bruce wants to scoop him up into his arms. But he just waits, and tries not to look too expectant.

“I-I was holding hands with Derek,” Jason breaths out.

“…Alright?” He’s heard that name before. Jason doesn’t have as many friends at school as Dick had, so they’re a little easier to keep track of, even if Bruce has only ever met any of them in passing. “Is this someone you’re worried I’ll embarrass you in front of?” He asks after a brief pause.

Jason keeps staring at him, expression crinkling as his breathing grows erratic.

Bruce finds himself automatically exaggerating his own inhales and exhales, resting the side of one hand against his sternum, to remind Jason of some of their breathing exercises.

“That’s it, chum,” he says as he sees it slowly begin to work. “Everything’s okay.” For all he knows- or doesn’t know- right now it might not even be true, but dammit for his kid he will make everything okay.

“Everything’s okay,” Jason obediently echoes.

Bruce takes his hand off his chest, and starts to reach towards him. But Jason flinches away from him, not as violently as he had back when they were still new to each others’ lives, but it’s enough to make Bruce feel sick. He can practically feel the wrongness of it squeezing his heart into shards as he slowly withdraws his arm back into the front seat. He had truly thought that they had gotten past this.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” he says softly, a small concession to the part of himself that wants to beg his son’s forgiveness for whatever he’s done to make him afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason’s not looking at him anymore. His head is down, and his gaze is fixed on his knees.

Bruce hesitates.

“I’ll never hurt you.” It’s a reassurance he had thought they were past the point of needing, but if they aren’t he’ll say it as many times as he has to. “Never.”

“Are you mad?”

“Is there something particular that I’m supposed to be mad about?” Bruce asks carefully.

“... That I was holding hands with a guy,” Jason elaborates, after a steadying breath.

Oh, Bruce is an idiot. What kind of detective is he if he can’t even- He cuts himself off, realizing he can’t wait too long to respond to that.

“Of course not. That’s what this is about?”

“I never meant for you to find out,” is the response he gets. And doesn’t that just hurt like hell to hear?

“That you like boys?” Bruce confirms.

“And girls, both. But I didn’t know what you’d think, so I figured if I couldn’t be sure it was better to keep it to myself.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a second to calm his own breathing.

“I never want you to feel like that,” he says. “About anything. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I love you, Jaylad, that isn’t contingent on anything.”

I wish I could have protected you from whatever it was that made you feel like this was something you had to hide. He doesn’t say it.

Jason is finally looking at him again, gaze thoughtful and careful. A long moment passes, before he surprises- and momentarily terrifies- Bruce by getting out of the car. But before he can react to that, Jason’s climbing into the passenger seat, and after a second of hesitation, leaning into Bruce’s side.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sounding a little choked up.

Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders. The closeness is a balm after the pain of having his son flinch away from him.

Tim

Tim isn’t supposed to come over today. His parents are in town, and Bruce had made a point of hiding his reluctance when he’d given Robin the week off, chastising himself for the empty nest syndrome he has no right to be experiencing- at least in regards to this particular child.

So he’s surprised when he hears Alfred’s throat clear, and looks up to see both Alfred and Tim lingering in the doorway to his office. It would be odd to see him here at this time of day even if they had been planning to go on patrol; sunset is still a few hours off.

Bruce immediately has a bad feeling. He knows it’s commonplace for the Drakes to disappear unexpectedly partway through whatever length of time they were meant to be spending at home. As Batman it’s made his life easier numerous times. As a parent it’s beyond his comprehension. If he still had his boys at home- but he can’t think about that, not without breaking down, and if Tim’s just been abandoned that’s the last thing he needs.

As he approaches the door, Alfred’s pointed look, and Tim’s vacant expression confirm that he’s right to be concerned.

“Tim.” He keeps his voice neutral. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

He picks up on Alfred’s glare a fraction of a second too late to realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry.” There’s something miserable in Tim’s voice, that makes Bruce want to bundle him up in a blanket. Before he can assure him that he has nothing to apologize for, Alfred cuts in.

“I told Master Tim that he’s welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs.”

Bruce nods automatically, looking down at Tim, who’s glassy expression looks a million miles away.

“Tim,” he says gently, eventually drawing the boy’s gaze, but feeling disconcerted by how delayed the response is.

Alfred leaves with a comment about putting a kettle on for tea, closing the door firmly but softly behind him. The sound it makes as it pulls all the way shut still makes Tim twitch.

“Do you want to sit down?” Bruce offers.

Tim stumbles a bit on his way to the couch. He’s so out of it; He won’t be patrolling tonight, even if his schedule’s suddenly open for it. Bruce sits down on the other side.

“Are they gone again?” He asks, trusting fully that the vaguely worded question will be completely understood.

There’s a worrying delay before Tim shakes his head, giving Bruce ample time to wish for Alfred back before he can register the response enough to be surprised by it.

“So...“ he begins uncertainly, before being cut off.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says again. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t a bother, Tim.”

The- admittedly somewhat monotone- assurance just gets him a shrug.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He tries.

“Do I have to?” Tim asks after a long silence. “Can’t I just stay here?”

Bruce frowns.

“Of course you can stay here. But I think I really need to know what’s going on.”

Tim stares at him, eyes shining, mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks.

“Can I- Alfred says I can tell you something, and you won’t get mad?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” Bruce says, thinking back on every time a robin has had something to tell him, but first wanted confirmation that he wouldn’t be angry.

Tim seems to shrink at his words, his breath catching audibly as he curls in on himself. Fuck, Bruce is bad at this.

“What do you have to tell me?” He asks.

“Well now I don’t know if I want to!” It almost comes out as a yell, strained by the sound of held back tears, and Bruce is a little taken aback.

“I’ll probably find out at some point,” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tim chokes on something that sounds like a suppressed sob.

No, no, no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Bruce reaches out for him in an awkward and hastily aborted movement.

“I can’t,” Tim says after a minutes, tears streaking over his pale cheeks. “If you don’t-“ His voice catches. “I need you to let me stay here.”

Bruce’s heart hurts as he scooches a little closer, reaching out to rest a hand- hopefully not too awkwardly- on Tim’s shoulder.

“Of course you can stay here,” he reiterates. “I told you you could stay here. Even if I’m mad at you you can stay here. If you-“ He searches for a moment. “-Took the batmobile out on a joyride, and drove it into the harbor, I’ll be mad at you, but you’ll still have a place here. One will never have anything to do with the other.”

Tim makes a noise that’s over too quickly for Bruce to be able to tell if it had been a laugh, or just more crying.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Dick,” Bruce corrects.

This time Tim definitely snorts, which has Bruce smiling in spite of himself.

“Did you do something worse than that?” He asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tim makes an unhappy face at the question.

“I- no!” He says, defensive, but confident. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it.

“Then why would I be mad at you?”

The humor that had begun to make its way into Tim’s expression disappears again, and Bruce curses himself.

“Mom and Dad were mad,” he says quietly.

Bruce scowls. He tries pretty hard not to let his dislike of Jack and Janet show around Tim- though he’s long suspected the young detective can tell- but it’s harder to hide sometimes than others.

“You said they were still home,” he remembers. “Tim, did they kick you out?” He does his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

And then he finds himself doing his best to keep the anger off of his face when it takes Tim a moment to answer the question.

“I don’t think forever,” he says uncertainly. “Just- They said they needed time to think about it, to d-decide what to do.”

The slight stutter puts him over the age, and fury starts to trickle into Bruce’s voice.

“To think about what?” He demands. Hell, that place is more Tim’s home than it is theirs. They have absolutely no right to ask him to leave! And where the hell do they expect him to go? Bruce forces himself to clench his jaw, and take deep breaths.

“...I’m gay,” Tim finally says.

Bruce stares at him for the second that it takes for the words to register, and connect back to the rest of the conversation.

“That’s it?”

He’s wincing at himself before the question is all the way out of his mouth, immediately convinced that he’s said the wrong thing again. But then, to his immense relief, he realizes that Tim has started laughing. It isn’t deep, or sustained. His voice is still a little weak, and his eyes are still a little red. But he’s definitely laughing, and Bruce realizes vaguely that a robin laughing is still his favorite sound in the world.

“That’s it,” Tim confirms, on the tail end of his laugh.

“Oh, Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess the motion before he pulls the boy into a hug, satisfied that it was the right course of action when he feels Tim melt against him.

“Of course I’m not mad, of course I’m not mad,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m sorry I let you think I would be. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass, and he realizes there’s a wet patch at his shoulder where Tim’s face is buried. Bruce freezes, totally unsure of what he’s done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” Tim breaths out. “I- thank you. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if- I- I don’t want to be alone!”

“Not alone,” Bruce promises. “You’re not alone. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tim presses closer, and Bruce takes it as a cue to tighten his hold.

Alfred finds them like that a few minutes later, Tim curled up in his arms, while Bruce cycles through reassurances. The look they exchange is enough to confirm that they’re both thinking the same thing: this kid is ours.

Cass

One day Cass hangs a little pride flag up on her door. Later in the week when she catches Bruce glancing at it, she comes up to him, gives the flag a meaningful nod, before just saying, “Girls!” in a happy voice, giving him a hug, and disappearing down the hall.

Damian

Bruce can identify every member of his family by their knock, but Damian’s is particularly distinctive. Not just because it tends to come from a lower part of the door, but because Damian has cultivated a strong knock, the way businessmen cultivate a strong handshake. It’s a very confident and determined sound, that he often finds himself stifling a smile at, knowing that that isn’t at all the intended reaction.

“Come in,” he calls, and there’s no pause before Damian strides into his office, confident as ever. When he speaks however, the undercurrents of his voice tell a different story.

“Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you.” There are a few hesitations, that don’t quite manage to turn into stutters in his voice, ones it’s unlikely anyone outside of their family would notice.

Bruce doesn’t comment on them, just nods for Damian to sit down and continue.

His legs don’t fully reach the floor. Something else that Bruce has learned not to let himself smile at.

“Grayson says…” he begins confidently, before trailing off.

Bruce just raises an eyebrow for him to continue, not feeling like he has enough information to put anything together from at the moment.

“Richard says,” Damian continues more carefully. “He came out to you as bisexual when he was around my age?”

Bruce nods. He has a feeling that he knows where this is going this time.

“He did.”

“He said that you were okay with it?”

Bruce nods again.

“Dick is my son. My love for him isn’t conditional, certainly not on that. There’s nothing wrong with not being straight.”

Damian had broached the topic using Dick as a proxy, so Bruce had followed his lead and assumed that Damian would know to automatically apply the assurance to himself. But Damian’s face just falls into a puzzled frown.

“So why…” he begins, before changing track. “Richard isn’t your biological son.”

Bruce frowns back.

“Damian, you know that doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t love your siblings any less because they’re not-”

“I know,” Damian cuts in. “It isn’t about loving us differently.” He says it very matter of factly. “I have the ability to carry on your bloodline, whereas they do not.”

“That ability isn’t an obligation,” Bruce says, wondering why his kids never seem to be able to just worry about normal things. “And it’s certainly not something that you need to be thinking about at thirteen years old.”

Damian nods slowly, staring down at the desk with a look of intense concentration, before slowly raising his gaze to Bruce.

“Mother and Grandfather said that you wouldn’t like it, if I wasn’t interested in girls,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. of-fucking-course they did. He gets up from his chair, and moves around the desk to kneel in front of Damian.

“Well they’re wrong,” he says simply. “And they had no right to lead you to believe that it would make any difference to me. Just like I don’t love your siblings any less, my love for you is no more conditional. Understand?”

It takes a moment, but Damian nods.

“All right. In which case, I suppose... I’m gay.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Bruce says, before pulling his son into a hug.

Bruce

Bruce looks at his assembled family, and begins to feel a strange sense of trepidation tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

They’re all here. Trying to get the whole family together all at once is like pulling teeth. But he told them it was important, and they all came. There have been plenty of points over the course of the years when that wouldn’t have happened. And even though they’ve all been pretty settled with each other for a while now, he never wants to take for granted having his whole family together- not that he thinks the part of him that only seems to settle when he has all of his children within arm’s reach would let him.

The comfort of having them all be together is overwhelming, but the trepidation is still there, just like it probably always will be any time he manages to round up the courage for anything resembling feelings talk.

They’re all in one of the living rooms, sprawled in a comfortable half circle across various couches and chairs.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all,” Bruce starts to say.

“Are you dying?” Stephanie asks casually.

Beside her, Cass freezes, looking horrified.

“I’m not dying,” Bruce says quickly.

At the same time Steph rubs a hand up and down Cass’s arm and assures her she was kidding.

“Not like he’d tell us if he was,” Dick says.

He knows it’s meant to be a joke, just like Stephanie’s question had been, but it still sends a chill through him. Mostly because he can’t say for sure that Dick is totally wrong; it’s the kind of thing he easily could have kept to himself. But then he sees the uncertain frown that Damian is giving him, and Cass’s wide, anxious eyes, and decides that he has to be wrong.

“I’m not dying,” he repeats, reaching out for Tim who’s sitting closest to him, and who’s been staring very intently at the floor since the topic came up.

Tim leans into the touch without shifting his position.

“And I would tell you,” he adds seriously, feeling absolutely wracked with guilt over the fact that up until this moment he doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to claim that with any certainty.

“I swear, if there’s anything wrong with me, all of you will know as soon as possible.” By the time it comes out of his mouth, he knows he means it with total certainty.

“I think we’re all pretty tuned into the fact that there’s something wrong with you,” Jason offers, and the tension in the room breaks.

Bruce smiles despite himself. That was agonizing. Compared to that getting on with the conversation he’d previously been so apprehensive to have will be a relief.

“What did you want to tell us?” Duke asks.

“It can be… difficult for me to articulate what it means to me whenever one of you trusts me enough to share something about yourself. I thought that I owed it to all of you to return the favor, and share a… recent discovery of mine.” He stumbles through it as awkwardly as he’d expected to.

“This is weird,” Stephanie stage whispers.

“I’m bisexual,” Bruce admits.

“Bruce!” Dick says excitedly.

“Unacceptable,” Jason cuts in. “We already have enough of that nonsense in this house!”

Tim kicks him in the side.

“Well, seeing as it’s an option, I for one prefer the idea of you pursuing romantic entanglements that bear no risk of resulting in pregnancy.”

“Noted, Damian.”

“I’m happy for you, B,” Tim says. “It can be hard figuring yourself out.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Is that it?” Duke asks. “I mean, not that it’s not a big deal- and I’m happy for you too by the way- it’s just that most of our family meetings involve addressing some kind of crisis.”

“That’s it,” Bruce admits.

“Perhaps- seeing as we’re all here anyways- we could take this opportunity to have dinner together as a family for once,” Alfred offers.

#batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #batman #batfam #dc #my writing #fluff and angst

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sserpente · 4 years ago

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A/N: Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Loki, Happy Birthday to you! Let’s wish our favourite Trickster all the best! ♥ Requests from @hanzimmer and anon.

Words: 2422 Warnings: so much fluff, Asgardian!Reader

Midgard wasn’t so bad after all. You hadn’t been so sure—after all, you had heard the stories. Pollution of all kind, wars over silly things like religion and food drenched in unsaturated fats. You wrinkled your nose, hoping that Thor had organised some proper snacks for his Yule… no, you corrected yourself, his Christmas party.

He had invited his closest friends from Asgard—Heimdall, Sif, Volstagg, Hogun, Fandral and you. Heimdall was the only one who, for obvious reasons, had been unable to attend. So here you were now, walking towards this huge building they called Stark Tower. You were familiar. Loki had used it to open a portal to lead an alien army to New York City.

You smiled at the thought of meeting Loki again despite of what he had done. Odin had sentenced him to remain among the mortals for a few centuries to come, serving and aiding them if need be, as an “Avenger”. You had not seen him since the day he had let himself fall into the void beneath the Bifrost, believed him dead and mourned and cried your oldest and most dearest childhood friend… and had rejoiced and hurt all at the same time when he returned and wreaked havoc on Earth.

He must have changed so much—but not enough for you to stop loving him. He had no idea, of course. You had been friends for as long as you could remember and Thor had always been around too. He had loved occupying your attention by bragging with his berserker skills wielding his hammer and creating thunder and lightning.

You suppressed a giggle. Loki and you had often sneaked off together after supper, stealing some fancy dessert and hiding somewhere in the castle so you could chat in peace. How often had you wished Loki would dare a chaste kiss then?

Looking back at it today, it made you wonder if Thor had purposely tried to keep you away from his adoptive brother. Come to think of it, he had always attempted to find a way to embarrass Loki one way or another, and often with the help of his friends who were currently walking right next to you, a little confused about the elevator technology in this realm.

When the metal doors opened again with a pling, you were not disappointed. Thor had decorated the spacious living area with all the Christmas decorations Earth had to offer. There were tinsel and baubles and other ornaments, nutcrackers and fake icicles and snow, sparkling Christmas trees, countless holiday lights blinking away, candy canes, gingerbreads and a massive Santa Clause statue.

“My friends! I’m so glad you could make it!”

The other people in the room you knew from Thor’s stories whenever he returned to Asgard to see if everything is alright. You recognised Captain America instantly due to the muscles and Hawkeye and Black Widow. The two men remaining must have been Tony Stark and the scientist who turned green when he was angry. The person you were interested in the most, however, was the god dressed in green and black next to Thor.

Your face lit up when you spotted Loki and his lips parted barely noticeably in response. You greeted Thor with a brief hug but never took your eyes off of him. Then, for a second, you took in his appearance, admiring how much more grown he looked… how much more mature and experienced. His innocence, so you realised, had vanished from his aura like damp fog in a forest.

You shivered when he spoke your name. “Good to see you.” You weren’t quite sure what he had expected from you but apparently not that you would throw yourself into his arms, pressing yourself against him as if he were a piece of wood in midst of a roaring sea.

“How are you doing, you silly Trickster?” You muttered once you managed to let go of him again, almost complaining when his hands left your body.

His smile was faint but honest, albeit there was still confusion sparkling in his eyes.

“I didn’t think you would be glad to see me.” He admitted instead of responding.

“W-why wouldn’t I be? Loki, I haven’t seen you in years. I thought I had lost you. Did Thor not tell you how the guards almost threw me in prison because they wouldn’t let me see you after New York?”

He frowned. “Not a word.”

“I almost stabbed them… I missed you.”

Loki had no chance to reply this time. Volstagg scattered forth towards the buffet, forcing you to step aside and indicating Thor must have finally started the festivities. You had barely risked a look at the buffet yourself yet but the selection of cookies, cakes and sandwiches looked indeed very promising.

The Warriors Three and Sif made sure to ignore Loki as best as they could—they had nothing to say to him anymore, after all and just like back in the old days, Thor made no move to change that. So while he was introducing them to some Midgardian Christmas traditions, you stepped aside with the fizzy drink he had handed you, quietly talking to Loki.

“Loki!” Volstagg suddenly called out, followed by a chuckle by Fandral. “You need a refill.”

You covered your own glass when they poured the same pinkish liquid (Thor had said it was ‘cotton candy liqueur’) into Loki’s who watched the scene with utter dismay. You could see Thor grinning from the corners of your eye and even Hogun was cracking a smile—Sif only rolled her eyes and one of the mortal men you did not know and had not yet made any effort to get introduced to, pressed his lips together so he would not burst out laughing. Idiots. Just leave him alone for once, will you?

“Who is who?” You asked once they had turned away again. “I recognise the redhead and the archer, and Captain America, what about the others?”

“Stark is the man to the left.” Loki said, downing almost the entire drink at once. Alcohol was supposed to numb unease, after all.

“The one with the beard?” The one who had failed to show his amusement when Volstagg clearly made Loki uncomfortable, you added mutely.

“Yes. The other is Bruce Banner.”

“The Hulk.” He nodded.

“How are they… treating you here?”

Loki snorted. “After what I have done? They seem to have forgotten I was the reason they assembled in the first place, not, however, that it was I who attempted to subjugate the planet.”

You glanced at him for a moment. “What happened, Loki? You were never like that. You never wanted a throne, you merely wanted your father to treat you and Thor as equals. Why Midgard?” Loki’s expression was pained, yet at the same time, relief flooded him. No, you were right—he had never been like that. Thor had still not realised that but here you were, his oldest friend whom he had secretly been in love with for decades, realising in a mere second that there was going on with him.

“Not here.” He shook his head slightly, making you frown. Something was up, you could tell. Something weighed heavy on his mind, tearing him down. You sighed. It was nothing new that besides Frigga before her death, no one but you ever truly bothered to listen to what Loki had to say. It had never been as important as what Thor had had to say.

Not here, he had said. Well then for now, all you could do was cheer him up a little. “What cake is that?”

Loki raised his eyebrows, irritated by the sudden change of topic. “Thor said something about marshmallows.”

“What are marshmallows?” He shrugged. “It looks really good though…” You said, a devilish grin forming on your lips. “What do you think? Let us grab that cake and get out of here?” Just like in the old times?

Loki smiled—it suited him, being this blithe. You wondered when he had last had the chance to be like that. Sneakily, you reached for some white forks (they were very light, a very cheap material, apparently) all the while Loki yoinked the cake. You made sure no one would notice before you followed him out of the vast room and took the elevator to another level where it was so quiet one could have heard a needle drop.

“Where exactly are we going?”

“My room,” he answered. “I am quite surprised they gave me one to be truly honest.”

But very apparently, their generosity had been kept within limits. Compared to his chambers back on Asgard, Loki’s room here on Midgard was pathetically small. A single bed and a desk along with a wardrobe and a tiny bedside table were the only items of furniture and to be quite frank, the room resembled a prison cell more than a proper accommodation. Unlike the rest of the Tower, there was not a single piece of Christmas decoration in here. You were almost disappointed. Surely, Loki would adore some green and gold tinsel as well. You wondered if Thor had even bothered to ask if he wanted any.

You didn’t need his permission to sit on his bed, you had never needed it back on Asgard either. Loki and you were so close you sometimes wondered why he had never tried to take you with him on his conquest. You wouldn’t have minded to be the queen of evil if only that meant you could be with him…

Loki sat down next to you, setting both your glasses aside. You grinned when you handed him a fork and you both dug into the marshmallow cake as if it was going to be your last meal.

“Oh…” You mused. “It really is good.”

“Hmm…” He confirmed.

You giggled. “I’m glad you didn’t lose your sweet tooth.”

Your heart jumped when Loki winked at you, his mouth still full of cake. You had already transformed the pretty and edible creation into an utter crumbly mess but then again, who needed those paper plates these mortals used as dishes, regardless of the cute snowmen and snowflakes on them?

“It was not the same without you, you know.” You said then.

“I bet Thor kept you occupied.”

You shook your head, the both of you still munching away.

“We barely spoke after your death, I mean… after we thought you had died… to be truly honest, I think I only tolerated Thor because he is your brother.”

Loki tilted his head. “One might think it was the other way around.”

“Yeah… that’s probably what he is telling his mortal friends right now. I meant it, Loki. I really missed you. I was heartbroken when they told me you had flung yourself down the Bifrost…”

“And then?” He interrupted. “Were you repulsed when you learned about what I did here on Midgard?”

You shook your head. “I was worried for you. You were always on my mind. Did you… Did you ever think about me?”

“Well, of course I have, I love you.” He blurted out, only to close his mouth in utter shock the fraction of a second after.

You nearly choked on the cake. “W-what did you just say?”

“N-nothing, I… I said I have been in love with you unconditionally for centuries.” Loki bit his tongue, his eyes widening. You had positively never heard him stutter before. What he was saying was true, there was no mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes, but even though your heart leaped at the thought of him reciprocating your romantic feelings, your first instinct was to figure out what had made him spill the truth like that.

Unceremoniously, you reached for his pinkish drink and gave it a smell. Yours smelled different, without a doubt.

“Oh, Loki… they’ve spiked your drink with a truth potion I believe.”

“They did what?”

“That… that must be why they snickered so much upon refilling your glass, my love. I’m glad we left, I bet they were waiting for you to make a fool of yourself.”

Loki scoffed. “Well… I did that now anyway, did I not? Perhaps you should leave, I—”

You only smiled. “I love you too, Loki.” You said, making him look up in utter surprise. The cake between you on the bed was now entirely forgotten. You brushed it aside, not caring whether the icing would stain his bed sheets.

“What?” He breathed as you crawled towards him and made yourself comfortable on his lap, feeling confident now that he had admitted his feelings for you.

And as you wrapped your hands around his neck, you smiled, touching his forehead with yours.

“Nothing you do could ever stop me from loving you, Loki. If Thor had not thrown this stupid Midgardian Yule party… I might have never seen you again.”

Loki took a deep breath. “I think I understand now what Thor meant by ‘Christmas miracles’…” He uttered in response, his lips only inches from yours. Laughing quietly, you closed the small distance between you and pressed your lips against his. It was a chaste kiss—to test the waters, get used to how it would feel and, much like you had anticipated, it stole your breath away.

“Let us leave together.” Loki suggested hoarsely when you broke apart again, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“How? Odin sentenced you to be here, with Thor. He would know—and Thor and his Avengers would come after you.”

“Oh, they will not.” He retorted, a mischievous smirk growing on his lips.

“Loki? What have you been up to again?”

“I have the Tesseract.” He revealed smugly.

“You… what? How?!”

“Shhh… keep your voice down, sweetling.”

“I’m sorry… how? It’s supposed to be on Asgard, locked in the king’s treasure chamber.”

“Well, it was. Until I took it. We could go anywhere. They will never be able to trace us.”

You bit your lower lip, excitement rushing through you. Life on Asgard was dull without Loki and you certainly did not desire to stay here on Midgard with those mortals and their strange traditions and customs. Loki’s proposal was a dream come true, at long last.

“Then let us do it.” You beamed, making him smile. “But first… we finish that cake. Leave them a goodbye present.”

Loki laughed—and you did not move off his lap again until the very last crumb of the marshmallow cake was gone.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 5 years ago

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A Second Chance?

One-shot

Description- Steve cannot forget Peggy and you become his second choice.

Warnings- Angsty Steve

This one-shot is for the exciting weekly challenge set by @donutloverxo and her friends! For this week, the fic is inspired by their moodboard below! Check out the challenge here

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

...

Red. That was all that Steve saw when he entered the party. Red. Raw anger radiated from him like heat from an asphalt road on a hot summer day. Everyone at Tony's party looked at the angry Captain and gave him plenty of room, unwilling to bear the brunt of his temper.

He slowly walked across the room, his eyes searching for your silhouette. Finally, he found you talking to Pepper on the balcony of the Avengers tower. You were wearing his favourite dress, the white one with lace on the top and a little bit of flare at the knees. You were your usual charming self, making Pepper smile with your innocence. Huh, Steve snorted, if only they knew how petty you could be.

You looked at him as he stepped towards the balcony, feeling his presence. But, his expression made you stop. It was obvious he was furious, but why? As far as you knew, there were no new missions at the moment and the world was safe, at least for the time being. Apparently, Pepper noticed Steve's body language as well and slightly nodded when you excused yourself.

In the last year with Steve, you had gotten pretty good at handling his temperamental nature. In all the time you had shared with him, you had never seen Steve this furious. You followed him quietly into his apartment that you shared with him, and flinched when he closed the door with a BANG.

He glared at you from across the room, his nostrils flaring as if he could breathe fire. Fists clenched, he slowly started walking towards you. "How many times have I said that you will NEVER measure up to Peggy?" he spat.

"Al-almost everyday Steve," you stammered. Even after all these years, Peggy still claimed a special place in Steve's heart and he didn't miss any opportunity to bring it up. His words and his compass were a constant reminder that you would always hold a second place in his life. But you didn't mind though, because for you, Steve was the only one there could ever be.

"And how many times have I asked you to stay away from the compass?" he asked. "Many t-times Steve. W-what happened?" you asked, clearly nervous with Steve's demeanor.

"Why did I find my compass covered in red wine on the couch?" his voice dripping with anger. This was news to you as well. You had never touched the compass, knowing it would upset Steve.

Shaking your head, you tried to reason with him, "Steve this is the f-first time I am hearing about this. I-I promise you I had n-nothing to do with this. Should we ask F.R.I.D.A.Y? M-maybe she caught something on tape?"

"Do you honestly think I am that dumb?" Steve snapped as he stepped further, "Her tapes have been wiped clean. And only you have access to that, don't you? Ms. Head of Security?"

"Steve, please believe me, I did no such thing. Let's go to my office and we can figure this out," you pleaded with him.

"YOU disgust me. I can't even look at you. Make sure your stuff is cleared out of my apartment by tonight," he stormed out after the command.

You couldn't just stand there and watch the love of your life just breakup with you. And so, you rushed out after him, hoping to knock some sense into his arrogant brain.

In an attempt to get away from you, Steve headed to the party, with you almost near his heels.

"Steve," you called out to him, not wanting to create a scene, but he had already entered the party and was walking towards the bar near the pool. You almost sprinted to catch up to the man. When you finally did, you placed a small hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Steve please l-lis… ARGGHH!"

In an attempt to shake you off, Steve had pushed you. Now in his head, it was a light push, but for your petite body, the impact of the push threw you into the deep-end pool.

You fell with a loud splash. Panic gripped you as you kept sinking into the water, flailing your arms and legs around as you miserably tried to swim.

Almost instantly, you saw yourself being enveloped by a ball of red light, lifting you out of the water and onto the edge of the pool.

As you coughed up water, someone covered you with a blanket and started rubbing your back. You looked up to see Bruce's reassuring face.

"Good job Wanda," you heard, was it Clint? "Thank God this went better than the wine accident."

"Sshhhh," you guessed you heard Wanda shushing him.

"What do you mean by 'wine accident'?" Steve asked with authority.

"Uhhh," Clint fumbled for words as Wanda looked guilty, "Wanda and I were practising her powers in the living room when, by mistake, she kinda spilled red wine on your compass. So yeah… But it was closed…"

Steve fumed at Wanda, and received a silent apology in return.

You slowly stood up and started making your way towards the apartment, wanting to clear out your stuff before the night. You had never thought that Steve would get physical with you. All this time, you had patiently tolerated his temper, telling yourself that he led a hectic and violent life and that he probably needed an outlet to blow off his steam. But today he crossed a limit.

Steve saw you walking out, and stepped in your direction, hoping to follow you to the room. But he was stopped by Natasha, "Don't," she said sternly, "Let her go. She doesn't deserve to be treated this way."

…

It had been a year since that fateful day. You had quit your job at Stark Industries and moved out to California, where you were working with an international tech company.

Everyday, without fail, you had received a red rose, with a single note - I am sorry, written in Steve's almost illegible handwriting. It didn't matter where you went, you always received a rose, which you dutifully gave to your old neighbour, always managing to make him smile his toothy smile.

Today, however, you received a small package with the rose. Without a second thought, you threw the package in the garbage bin on your way to work. But as you entered your office, you found the same package on your desk. Again you threw it into the dustbin, immersing yourself in your work.

You reached home quite late, exhausted with day. As you entered your modest apartment, you found the package sitting on your living room table. Exhaling loudly, you picked it up and threw it out of the window.

"It's not nice to throw away somebody's gift," Steve said quietly from behind her.

"Yes but it is nice to throw your girlfriend into the swimming pool," you snorted, not surprised to see him there.

"I am sorry," he spoke with remorse, "I didn't mean to. You didn't deserve to be treated like that." "Wow, who managed to knock some sense into you?" you said with as much sarcasm as you could muster.

He blocked your way, careful not to touch you as you were headed for your bedroom. "Just open this once," he said, revealing the real box from behind him. "No. I don't want to have anything to do with you," you said crossing your arms.

Sighing in defeat, Steve opened the box to reveal his compass. "I hope this shows you how serious I am about you, about us. Here, open it," he offered you the compass.

"No," you again replied with defiance.

He huffed as he pressed the button to open the compass. Now, instead of Peggy, it was your image that adorned the metal inside. You raised your eyebrow at him as he looked at you expectantly.

"Do you really think this will make up for everything you have done?" you asked him incredulously. "No, I know it won't," he hung his head shamefully, "but at least it's a start. I am sorry. I know I hurt you, but please give me a second chance. I…" he sighed, "I need you."

Stepping away from him, you headed for your bedroom, "I honestly need time to think about this Steve. You cannot just expect me to move on with you like nothing happened just because you are sorry."

Turning the doorknob to the room, you said with spite, "You let yourself in my house, you can see yourself out Captain," and with that, you entered the bedroom and closed your door.

#captain america #steve rogers #captain steve rogers #captainsweeklychallenge #steve rogers angst #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #captain America x reader #captain America x you #captain America x y/n #Avengers

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thanks-captain-obvious · 5 years ago

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So here is the continuation of my Daminette hc since it seems that no one really like to stop me.

No. The Batfam did not abandon Marinette suddenly because of seemingly questionable reaction to fear toxin. But more on that later.

So as I was saying, Robin is acting really weird during patrol and the Batfam couldn't help but notice.

But who could blame him when it really bothers him? Marinette seems so always cool and collected. Always moving with grace and with purpose.

But that Marinette that he saw? The Marinette who cries in her sleep. That is not the Marinette he knew. And it bothers him.

He chalked it up to a reluctant sibling feeling on his side and dare he say it, he's already warming up to Marinette.

Marinette just seems—invicible. Just like his mother.

Cool. Calm. Collected.

How wrong he was

Why would she cry?

Anyway, Batfam decided its Dicky bird that will talk to Damian by the end of patrol because nothing has bothered their youngest this much since Talia.

But Robin easily evaded Dick's concern by saying he's tired.

So now, the Batfam has two dillemas. Namely— Damian and Marinette.

Anyway, Damian decided to watch Marinette closely the next day.

Marinette is her usual, sunny self. Smiling kindly at everyone, bonding with Alfred in the kitchen, playing UMS with Tim or just watching Jason lift weights in the gym.

It may seem like a dickish move but Damian deliberately spilled coffee on Marinette's sketches just to rile up Marinette.

Jason is so ready to shoot him right then and there. After all, it was only recently that Marinette started designing clothes again.

And it may be worth it after all. Because Damian saw it.

For a split second, Marinette's eyes had misted over it like she is about to cry. In fact, if Damian isn't watching really, really close, he would miss it.

It quickly change over into something unreadable before her eyes settles into those calm sapphires once again.

And so for the next few days, Damian will try to provoke Marinette over and over again.

To no avail.

Meanwhile, Dick tried to talk him again. Of course, he dismissed the concern easily by saying he got it handled.

Anyway, Bruce will finally had enough of Damian's obvious attempts at provoking Marinette so he will talk to his son about it.

But before he could let a word out, Tim will rush into the study and blurt out two words that will instantly make both of them pale.

She knows

During dinner with Cass and Steph in the Manor(they wanted to meet their new sister), the Bats will address the elephant in the room.

Marinette will then explain how she find it odd that Bruce offered to adopt her just after she mentioned to Batman that she is an orphan.

She then will tell them all about herself (minus being Ladybug) and say that she will kept all their secrets and there is no need to worry.

Marinette will also explain how she deleted her data on the internet and steal all her school records in Paris before burning them off.

She explained when she went to Gotham, she wanted to start over.

Tim is impressed with all that of course. But one question remains, how are you immune to fear toxin?

Which Marinette answered happily and she narrated all about Hawkmoth and his reign. Living under Hawkmoth had enabled her to control her emotions not just on surface level.

Bruce expressed his concerns if she had been akumatized.

Marinette smiled graciously and said no and kept it at that.

Batfam is appaled to learn that something of this magnitude happened to Paris under their noses without anyone noticing.

Alfeed then stepped in and expressed that Marinette needs her rest now.

But in the midst of all that, something still nags at Damian.

Why come to Gotham? Another city full of terror.

The answer came to him when Damian got hostaged by the Joker.

She is Ladybug, the hero that once protected Paris.

He realized this when Marinette easily managed to save him single-handedly through some convoluted plan.

Ladybug's trademark and way of defeating akuma, if what Tim had managed to unearth about Ladybug is true.

And while he may not have Tim's genius mind, Damian is not the son of the greatest detective for nothing.

Of course he managed to put two and two together.

So Damian confronted Marinette about it much later.

It was then that Marinette completely opened herself up.

And to him nonetheless!

Marinette told him how she got her Miraculous— the thing that gives her powers, about her partner, about Hawkmoth, about everything that lead up to the confrontation against Hawkmoth and how she is too late to save her parents.

And how, every single day, she tortures herself of what could have been.

And so she explained that the fear toxin did not much do anything to her because she is, in fact, already living in her nightmare every single day— her parents dying because she had been too careless.

No matter how much Damian tried to tell her its not her fault, to Marinette, everything had been her fault.

After that conversation, Damian and Marinette had been closer.

Everybody in the Manor noticed of course. Damian and Marinette would spend hours alone sketching and walking around Gotham. Or just plain talking.

Damian would also sometimes spar with Marinette to train her knowing that she defeated a supervillain before without any semblance of training, what more if she had mentor who actually teach her how to fight?

Dick, as usual, had been the first one to confront Damian about the pair's newfound closeness. But Damian just rolled his eyes and say that he realized that she is more tolerable than any of you combined.

Then, Bruce, Tim, Jason, Steph.

It was only Cass that actually managed to get something out of Damian.

"She is so much more than meets the eye." He said.

After that, the Batfam contentedly accept the situation, even if the obvious inside jokes are a bit unnerving, to say the least.

I mean, Damian is smiling and joking around with her.

And where even the nickname "Little Lady" had come from?

Everything is sunshine and rainbows until Marinette received a call one day. A call from one Adrien Agreste.

Damian recognized the name and immediately rushed out to defend Marinette. Adrien Agreste, Gabriel Agreste's son.

He is so sure that Adrien is here to take revenge on Marinette for his father.

Only to be surprised by Marinette's squeal of excitement upon seeing the blonde.

Marinette rushed out to the bottom of the stairs and into Adrien Agreste's arms.

For some reason, seeing Marinette hugging Adrien tightly made him want to kill the bastard more.

Cass saw Damian's reaction and squinted her eyes at his brother.

Anyway, their hug is interrupted by Damian clearing his throat.

When Marinette looked at him, she gave him a sheepish smile and a look that says "Later"

Everyone welcomed Adrien and offered to have him stay for a week after Marinette said that he is a dear friend from Paris. Adrien easily agreed and the two went off with Alfred to sort out the room Adrien will stay in.

Meanwhile, Tim saw Damian's dirty look at the blonde and his tight grip at his cutlery. Cass caught his eyes and mentally confirmed what he just saw.

Cass gave a subtle nod at that.

Smirking, Tim took a gulp from his coffee.

For a few days, Marinette will tour Adrien around the City while Damian will sulk at his room. Whenever Marinette and Adrien is around, Damian will always snap irritably at the two of them. This will result at Bruce scolding Damian.

Damian, being the brat that he is, will leave the table.

Marinette will confront Damian one night and explained that Adrien is Chat Noir and a dear friend of her and for Damian to act nice around him.

Damian will say he already knows by seeing how the blonde is being as bratty as his superhero namesake.

Marinette slapped him before promptly leaving the room.

On the other hand, Marinette and Adrien will finally have the Talk.

Adrien will reveal that he is in the process of being adopted by Amelia and Marinette will likewise admit that Bruce is in the process of adopting her.

Adrien will then give her a chuckle and say: I don't know about that, Bugaboo. One of your "brothers" seems like he will be against the idea.

When Marinette demanded what he meant, he simply gave her a wide chesire grin.

And there it is! Another one of my cringe-worthy Daminette hc. Let me know if you want me to stop or you are so bored you have nothing to read anymore aside my cringy Daminette ideas.

Part 1 • Here • Part 3

Taglist:

@loysydark @eliza-bich @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @iwritelikeimrunningoutoftime @goblinwhoships @amayakans

@pawsitivelymiraculous @i-am-ironic @emilytopaz

Edit: added the links.

#daminette fanart #daminette headcanon #daminette sort of fanfic #daminette #maribat #mlb x dc

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anarcoqueer1994 · 4 years ago

Text

You Are My Sunshine

A little Shrinkyclinks fic I am working on. Not beta read so ope.

Steve had retired a few months back, giving Sam the shield. His life had been quiet enough since then, getting a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with Bucky when Bucky returned from the blip. Bucky, though,would still go out on missions with Sam and did some freelance work for the government. Steve would never admit that though his friend was more than capable, he would still get nervous when he was away for days at a time, worried that he would lose his friend for a third time. But overall, it was going fine. That is until one day when one of Bucky's jobs followed him home.

An unfortunate result of the recent Flag Smashers attacks, some anti-super soldier terrorist groups rose-up out of fear. Some wealthy elites, both part of world governments and independent ,backed these groups in secret, supplying tech and money, as they see super soldiers as a threat to their power. They weaponized these people’s fear. These groups were ruthless in their pursuits, ordered to not care who they hurt, as long as they eliminated super soldiers.

Bucky and Sam had faced one of these groups recently, when they attempted to come after and kill Bucky while they were out on an intelligence mission. The two men thought that they had taken care of the group after a long, drawn-out battle, rounding them up to deal with the consequences. What they hadn't had counted on was a second team following Bucky back to Brooklyn, after he and Sam went their separate ways. He had done well to keep he and Steve’s location a secret, but got careless this time, letting his guard down.

So now these militants were in New York in front of their apartment building, threatening to hurt other people, to get to Steve and Bucky. Of course the men don’t back down, not waiting for backup to arrive. The fight had been tense, Bucky and Steve vs 10 well-armed men, but nothing they couldn't handle. So they managed to subdue them. But as a last-ditch effort, one shot something right towards Bucky who had been occupied with another one of the men. It appeared like a red laser beam, almost something out of a sci-fi film. Steve noticed it coming, and not having the time to warn Bucky, jumps in front of his friend, taking the hit. He goes down hard to the ground, unconscious instantly. "Steve!" Bucky yells out, heart sinking. When his friend doesn’t move, he is urged back into action, protecting his now defenseless friend. It takes everything in him not to revert to killing, like the Winter Soldier, but the man who shot Steve was definitely in bad shape by the time backup,government agents, arrived. They round the would be terrorist up and get them hauled away.

As the men are being taken away, Bucky runs towards Steve who is unresponsive on the ground but still breathing. He yells for an ambulance. He scoops Steve up in his arms, and against his chest, kneeling on the ground, whispering "Come on, Stevie…" he feels like this is all his fault. He was the one who brought them there, he was the one the gun was aiming for, and now the love of his life, however unrequited that may be, is lying unconscious on the ground, and god only knows what that laser did. He feels a tear well up in his eye, forcing himself not to shed it. This is not the time to break down. But he is terrified. He hasn’t seen Steve completely unresponsive in years, not since they were kids and he would get into fights and get knocked unconscious. Bucky, then too, would often lose his mind, beating up anyone who had touched his Stevie, whether Steve knew it or not.

But before the ambulance arrives, Steve is opening his eyes again, smiling at Bucky. “Hey Buck.” He sounds completely fine.

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief, it looks like whatever the laser was intended to do didn’t work on him. “How ya' feeling, pal?” Bucky smiles back.

“Great, just a little tired, but I don’t feel any different otherwise.” Suddenly, Steve becomes aware of Bucky’s arms still wrapped around him, pulling him close to his chest. He blushes as he clears his throat. “You planning on squeezing me to death, bud?”

Now Bucky is going red, trying to laugh it off as he lets go. “I thought you were dying, punk.”

Steve just laughs back, sitting up right as the ambulance arrives. They bring him to the truck and check him out, giving him a clean bill of health. So, Steve and Bucky return to the apartment. Both showering and then Steve opting to go lay down. Seriously injured or not, being knocked unconscious took a lot out of him.

Bucky sat in their living room, trying his best to block out the events of today. For those few minutes, when he thought he could lose Steve, he had felt like everything around him was going to crash down, burying him in a pit of loneliness and sadness that he knew he wouldn't be able to escape. The thought of losing Steve again made him sick to his stomach. Steve was his everything, even when they were kids in Brooklyn, when sickness would ravage the blonde’s body and he would spend days at the Rogers’ home, sitting near his bedside, or sliding into bed to pull him close to keep him warm. Worried that he could lose his Stevie at any moment. Terrified at the thought. And seeing Steve unconscious today, brought all those feelings back. It was worse than seeing him roughed up in battle, because at least those times he had been conscious. But this time was different. He doesn’t know what he would do without his favorite person in the whole world, the one person who understands him. The person he would do anything for, be anything for, just to make him happy. But Steve was fine, he reminded himself.

So, he tries to shake away those feelings, sending mindless texts to Sam, who had messaged him as soon as he heard what happened. Bucky filled him in, told him Steve was alright. Then deciding to read, he picked up where he left off on The Lord of the Rings. He has to say, he loves these books, always liking The Hobbit, so being ecstatic to find out that the author had written more later. One good thing about waking up in the future. This did the trick, immersing himself into the story, melting away any lingering thoughts of today.

That is until a couple hours pass, and he hears rough coughing from Steve’s bedroom. This catches him off guard. Steve (and himself), don’t really get sick thanks to the fantastic immune system afforded to super soldiers.

He gets up and makes his way to Steve’s bedroom, knocking as he hears the continued coughing fit, punctuated by wheezing. When Steve doesn’t answer, Bucky just opens the door, too worried to care about etiquette. When he enters the room, he stops dead in his tracks. There, sitting up coughing, is Steve. But Steve is different then when he went to lay down, He is much shorter, lacking any muscle mass, skinny, drowning in the navy t-shirt and grey sweatpants he went to sleep in. He looks like he did before the serum, give, or take a few years due to the time he has spent outside of the ice.

Bucky steps closer “Stevie?” He is shocked and worried again.

When Steve finally catches his breath, he looks down at his own hands instead of meeting Bucky’s stare, mortified by his sudden appearance change. The other man stepped closer to the bed. “Steve, I think the ray wasn’t so harmless.” He tries to say plainly, not showing the worry in his voice. For as much as he had been angry at Steve back in the day for letting the military experiment on him, he was ultimately grateful that the serum had helped his body fight back diseases that had tormented him his entire life.

Steve’s bright blue eyes, which always stood out more against his paler, sicklier skin, shoot up and meet Bucky’s and he snaps “You think?” His harsh tone caused Bucky to recoil slightly. Steve, seeing this, quickly apologizes, feeling guilty. “Sorry, Buck…” Bucky nods and steps forward again, taking a seat on the edge of Steve’s bed. "Don't worry about it, it was a dumb thing to say. "Bucky blushes slightly, cursing himself for being such an idiot sometimes.

Steve sighs, not towards Bucky but in general, towards the room.“I’m just frustrated. I woke up a few minutes ago and I was this…and then it got hard to breathe and for the first time in years it felt like I was having an asthma attack. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Something switches in Bucky’s head when Steve calls himself pathetic, something more protective like how he used to feel when they were much younger. He reaches over like it is nothing, placing his hand on Steve’s bony knee. “I’m going to tell you like I did back then. Nothing about you is pathetic. You can’t help what your body does. And you…you jumped in front of a gun to protect me. I wouldn’t call that pathetic. I’d call that being a hero.”

Steve cracks a small smile. “Whatever you say…” He does not believe him but knows Bucky won’t back down on this, he never has. He lets out a shiver. The apartment is freezing. It is February but they keep the heat low since both men had such a high tolerance to cold. Bucky notices his friend shivering. “Oh shoot, I sorry Stevie. Let me get the heat and then…I’m going to call down to the Avenger’s Tower.” Pepper has been keeping it going and he knows she will know who can help them.

Steve nods, hating feeling so useless, but knowing Bucky is there to help. That he can rely on Bucky not to make him feel worse, just be there to support and help him. He used to hate the way Bucky would always step in. He used to think it was because Bucky thought he was weak. But in reality, its because Bucky is the best friend a guy could ask for.

Bucky turns the heat up before making the call. It’s pretty late at this point, so Pepper tells them to come down tomorrow and they will take a look at him. Bruce can be there in the morning to help. Bucky hates that, hates that he has to wait. He is worried about Steve and wants answers now. But he knows she is right. They should just rest, but first thing in the morning Bucky will be down there with Steve.

He makes his way back to Steve’s bedroom not bothering to knock on the half-opened door, wishing he did though. Steve was facing away from him, but he was naked, ass in full view of Bucky. Even when he was small and skinny, Bucky thought he had a fantastic ass, not that anyone would have been able to tell back in the day, Steve always wore clothes too big for him. Bucky blushes as he tries to get out without Steve noticing him, but he is distracted, clumsily bumping into the door framing, causing a loud bang. Steve, turns around, suddenly covering up with the shirt that is in his hand and turning red.

Bucky stumbles through an apology. “I am so sorry…sorry…I…uh...” before just running out of the room like an embarrassed school girl.

Smooth Barnes. He thinks to himself as he slumps down on the couch. He doesn’t know why he got so flustered, it's not like he hasn’t seen Steve naked before, changing around each other all the time as kids. Well, until his dad said they were too old to be getting dressed around each other. That was also the same time his dad had told him that they were too old to be “hugging like that”, too old to be holding hands, “Boys your age don’t need to be that affectionate with their friends'' and “Do you want folks to think you are a pansy?” Bucky closes his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to rid his mind of that memory. He thanks god that his dad never found out how he really felt for his best friend. Not that Steve felt that back, so nothing happened but still. Steve was just a good guy. He sits and tries not to drown in his thoughts.

Steve can’t believe Bucky just walked in on him like this. He feels so unattractive, so weak, and sickly. His mom had told him once that he was just a "late bloomer, but he was still a very handsome person that any girl would be "lucky to have", a sentiment that Bucky would back her up on. He never believed them, and without the serum he would have never "bloomed." To be fair, he also didn’t want "any girl". He just wanted Bucky. And he knows Bucky is not checking him out, why would he be? But if Bucky were to see him naked, he would have preferred it would have been in his serum enhanced body, strong and not so fragile.

He sighs to himself and goes back to what he was doing, looking for something, anything he could wear without it practically falling off him. It's hopeless, so he settles on a pair of boxers that happened to be too small prior to today, now having to roll the waistband to get them to stay up. As far as clothing though, he doesn’t even have a pair of sweatpants he could pull tight enough to prevent from falling off. He frowns to himself, knowing Bucky was a little smaller than him, not quite having the same muscle mass. Maybe he has at least a shirt he could wear and a pair of sweatpants he could pull tight. Bucky does have some pretty tight shirts he wears when he is working out. Steve begins automatically blushing, picturing the way they cling to his muscular chest after working out, before shaking his head back to the current moment.

Given the embarrassing situation that just occurred, he is a little apprehensive about asking. But he knows he has to, already feeling terribly cold in just these oversized boxers. He calls timidly from his room. "Buck?"

His voice snaps Bucky out of his thoughts, instinctively jumping to his feet to see what Steve needs. Walking in this time, he is met with Steve staring at the floor, obviously embarrassed, clad only in some comically large boxers and socks. He feels bad for his friend, who is clearly struggling with this. He tries to stay calm, not letting it show that he thinks Steve looks absolutely adorable...and fucking hot.

Honestly though, Bucky has thought Steve has looked hot, both when he was skinny and when he was muscular, but he has always had a soft spot for his pre-serum appearance, loving how perfectly Steve fit under his arm when he used to pull him close "to keep him warm." He is also very careful about not staring down at the boxers, knowing from accidental glimpses when they lived together in the tiny one bedroom tenement, that even before the serum, Steve was packing a lot more than you would think by looking at him. Bucky had spent countless nights picturing what it would feel like if it was inside of him, ultimately just hurting himself more with fantasies that would never come true.

Realizing quickly that he had been standing there awkwardly in silence, Bucky speaks up. "Um, what did you need pal?"

Steve refuses to look at him, Bucky understanding that this is definitely pretty hard for him. The blonde shyly asks "Um...all my clothes are too big. And um...I know you wear a slightly smaller size. Do you have anything that is tight on you that I could wear?"

Bucky lets out a small huff from his nose, smiling as he says, "Sure thing, give me one moment." Without another word, Bucky turns around and walks out of the room towards his own.

His thoughts have been in a constant struggle with themselves since this happened. He is worried beyond belief for Steve, and what this all means to him. Will he get sick again? Can he be changed back? Should he be changed back? Is it safe? But then a part of himself, a part that he hates, is so turned on by Steve right now, having not seen him like this in years. He is having feelings he has no right to have. He is always attracted to Steve (inside and out), it's always there, and punctuating all their interactions, even if Steve couldn't see it. He was head over heels for the man. But he hates that right now while Steve is in such emotional distress, that he had the nerve to still let his head wander into fantasies. He is appalled by himself and his fucked-up head.

As he reminds himself of his continued shortcomings, he grabs his tightest pair of pants, a pair of compression running leggings, the ones he usually wears underneath some of his other pants. He hopes the stretchiness of them means they are small enough to fit on Steve. He grabs a t-shirt he recently got that is too tight on him, never wearing it but buying it at a yard sale because he had to have it. It's a little embarrassing though, pretty sure Steve has not even seen it before. It was a Captain America shirt from the 80s with a fade shield across the front of it. Bucky had tried it on once, though it was too small for him to even justify it as a workout top.

He anxiously walks back to Steve’s room, trying to make up a lie about the shirt other than "I like it because it makes me think of you and sometimes I take it with me on missions so I can pretend you are with me." Luckily when he hands Steve the clothes, Steve only raises his brow for a second, before smiling and nodding in gratitude for the clothes. Bucky sees himself out Steve could get dressed.

After a little bit, Steve joins him out into the living room. Bucky has to hide a smile when he sees Steve in his clothes. The shirt is still too big for Steve and he can tell the pants must be pulled up high above his waist. Steve chooses not to acknowledge it, opting instead to sit down on the couch next to Bucky.

Steve doesn’t want things to be weird. Today has been weird enough, and the last thing he wants right now is his best friend being freaked out around him too. Steve, in the most casual voice he could muster says “Want to order a pizza and watch a movie?” His blue eyes stare, waiting as Bucky turns to look at him.

He simply replies “Sounds good, Stevie. I can call and you pick out the movie?” Steve nods before bending down to look at their collection of VHS tapes (they like those better than a million different streaming services.) He listens as Bucky orders, as he grabs their copy of Snow White. It always serves as a comfort, something connected to their time. He and Bucky went and seen it in the theater. Bucky had secretly saved a little extra to take Steve. Steve cherishes that memory, one of many.

Bucky for his part does everything in his power to not steal a glimpse of Steve’s ass in those leggings, scolding himself when he does anyways. Little does he know; Steve always takes any opportunity he can to check Bucky out.

Once the pizza arrives, they settle onto the couch, and watch the movie. The pizza box starts between them, on the middle cushion as they eat. But halfway through the movie, Bucky can see Steve is shivering, the apartment still too cold for him and his body, that was lacking the ability to properly circulate his blood. He says quietly “Stevie…do you…” he blushes, embarrassed for what he is about to ask, turning his cheeks pink. He reminds himself that it is for Steve’s good. He continues. “Do you want to…cuddle?” Steve gives him a questioning look, so he quickly adds. ‘Because you're cold. I can tell you are shivering, man. Like when we were kids, you can steal my body heat. I’m basically a human radiator.” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

But Steve, regardless, looks anxious as he tentatively nods, moving the pizza box to the floor as he scoots closer, moving very close to Bucky. He looks expectantly at the bigger man to raise his arm so he can press against him, hoping he doesn’t come off as desperate and weak. But Bucky smiles as he obliges, lifting his arm and pulling Steve to his side, arm fitting perfectly around him, like Bucky was made just for Steve. He wants to melt into the feeling. He wants Bucky to never let go.

Steve is careful to keep looking forward, to not let himself get distracted and drawn in by his friend. But it is hard. He has been in love with Bucky since he was 14 years old. He always walked a thin line between appreciating Bucky’s touch as a way to get warm, like when he was sick, or in the one bedroom tenement they were living in together didn’t have proper heat, and loving Bucky's touch as something more. Just wanting to feel Bucky's skin on his, even if it was a selfish little fantasy. But he always craved that touch. Even little things like when he would put his hand reassuringly on his shoulder, or when Bucky would playfully throw his arms around Steve.

But he noticed that since the serum, Bucky had touched him less. Less casually pulling him in by the shoulders and just walking with his arm around him, or climbing in bed to keep him warm. Obviously, he didn’t need that second one any more, but he was desperate for something. Anything. Sometimes he would just squeeze Bucky’s shoulder, or pat him on the back just to feel him. Sometimes when Bucky had a nightmare, Steve would hold him, but that was only because Bucky was scared. No joy in that touch. On rare occasions they would hug, and if he thought about it too long, he could swear something more was there.

Lost in his thoughts, he does not realize the movie has ended until Bucky yawns, snapping him out of his head. "Hey, Stevie I think I'm going to hit the hay. You should too, we are going down to see Bruce and Pepper early tomorrow. Night, man." Steve is still staring ahead but he feels Bucky start to untangle himself from him. As Bucky stands up, Steve does not want the sensation to end, not wanting to lose the touch he desperately needs, the only silver lining of this whole ordeal.

Without putting any thought into it, he reaches for the bottom hem of Bucky's shirt as the other man had turned to walk away. Bucky freezes as Steve hurriedly lets go of his shirt, feeling ridiculous. Steve whispers in a voice that is barely audible. "Can I sleep with you? I'm cold." He feels guilty, knowing he isn't saying the whole truth. He is cold but could have done with a pile of blankets, they aren't in the depression anymore with only one blanket each. This was 2024 and they are way better off now. But he wasn't ready to lose Bucky's touch again.

Bucky clears his throat, suddenly hard to breathe, lump forming before he can swallow it down. Steve wants to sleep with him and Bucky wants this so bad. But he has to remind himself that this is for Steve to stay warm, not because he wanted him. His love fogged mind coupled with his own self-dislike, prevented him from putting together that Steve had blankets to keep him warm. He looks back to Steve, whose face seems torn by something, maybe guilt? Bucky didn’t want his friend to feel guilty so he finally replies. "Of course, Stevie."

Steve’s eyes light up for a moment before he reminds himself not to be so…obvious. Bucky thinks he saw something but plays it off as Steve being relieved over Bucky not making this situation any more awkward. He watches Steve smile shyly as he gets off the couch silently, ready to follow him to his bedroom, so he leads the way.

Once in there, Steve just crawls into bed like it was nothing. He figured he might as well rip the bandage off and just do it. He stays completely dressed because he really was freezing in the apartment. Bucky on the other hand was extremely warm, not used to sleeping with the heat on so high. He doesn’t know how uncomfortable Steve would be if he slept in his boxers but decides to do it anyways. It would be more suspicious of him not to. He knows Steve isn’t dumb and has to realize that he would be extremely warm in these temperatures.

So, Bucky slides out of his sweatpants and T-shirt, throwing them into his hamper. Steve tries his hardest not to watch, turning on his side to avert his eyes. He pretends to be preparing to fall asleep, but, in reality, he is attempting to bargain with his heart to not pound right out of his chest and fly away. They haven’t slept together in more than 80 years, not since before the war.

While Steve is busy forcing himself to pretend to try and fall asleep, Bucky sneaks a look over at the blanket, letting himself smile at the lump under the hidden beneath, blonde hair peeking out. He makes his way over to the other side of his full-sized bed and slides in under the covers. It feels like the most normal thing in the world, like things are more normal than they have been in a long time. He reaches over, turning out the light, before scooting close to Steve. Again, he reminds himself that he is just helping him stay warm. He pulls Steve’s back against his chest, wrapping his arm over his hip. For a moment, Bucky wonders if he is over doing it, if this is too far for Steve.

Steve forgets how to breathe for a moment when he feels himself pressed against Bucky’s body so tightly. He worries he may have an asthma attack. He doesn’t remember them ever being so close, well when they were awake that is. Usually they would only get like this in their sleep. Steve remembers one particular time when he was 19, when he woke up in this position, with the still sleeping brunette’s morning wood pressed against his ass. He had to force himself out of bed and into a cold shower after that. All of this is to say that his position really did something to him, and it took all his energy to keep his breath steady.

They lay in the dark, quietly like this for a while. For all of Steve’s worry, and all of Bucky’s self-doubt over this, both men were content. Both men lie together, keeping their secrets, but cherishing this moment. They lay for a long while before it is obvious that neither man is sleeping. It may be subtle, but it was impossible to not feel the electricity that filled the air around them and every space in between them. It was an energy that has been there for a while. It was something that should have been obvious from the start if it weren’t for the fact that both of them were painfully oblivious.

Steve shifts in the bed, turning so he is facing Bucky. Even in the dark, Bucky could see the light blue tones that make up Steve's eyes. He would be lying if he didn't admit they were the most beautiful things he has ever seen. He has been around the world, has seen so many beautiful things, He has seen sparkling oceans, the large majestic sweeping expanses that surrounded Wakanda, tall, purple mountains throughout Europe, but nothing he could think of could make him feel the way he felt whenever he stared into Steve's eyes.

There are some things he has never admitted to Steve about his time as the Winter Soldier. One of these things being that every so often, he was able to bust through, have a moment of clarity before frozen again. In those moments of clarity, he would think of these eyes, of being home. Staring into Steve's eyes, whether Steve was hulking and muscular, or skinny and small, felt like home to him.

Seeing him like this, back to the way he was prior to war has reminded Bucky that beneath all the bravado and responsibility that came with Captain America, he was still Steve. His Stevie. He knew that though, but he has been so wrapped up in guilt for all Steve has done for him, as well as countless atrocities he has committed as the Winter Soldier, he had refused to think about it. Refused to get comfortable. Refused to just be with Steve, always feeling less then, undeserving.

Steve was like the sun, bright and powerful. Bucky had always been content to be sucked into Steve’s gravitational pull. He felt like Steve was the reason he existed, giving him life. He was just a planet who was lucky enough to be pulled in by the sun. But the sun didn’t need the planet that revolved around it, and he always felt that at some level, Steve didn’t need him. He was afraid that if he tried to be more than a planet, wanting more from the sun, Steve could easily destroy him, reject him.

But Steve has been there all along for him, never changing. Bucky had fallen all those years ago, losing his sun, ripping through space aimlessly. The sun had fought, got himself trapped in ice in the name of his planet. Waking up in the future, getting new planets, people finally seeing what Bucky had seen all along in Steve. But as soon as Steve saw that his planet was alive, he was willing to rip his new galaxy apart like it was nothing, to pull his first little planet back in.

Steve had always loved Bucky, and Bucky had been so wrapped up in the fear of losing his sun, that he never let himself appreciate that. Maybe...maybe it was okay for Bucky to want more out of their friendship...because maybe Steve wanted more.

He doesn't know what makes him do it, but he reaches towards Steve's face, and rests his flesh hand on the golden-haired man's face. Both lay perfectly still for a few seconds before Steve closes his and lets out an anguished sigh. When they open back up, Bucky sees a tear running down Steve’s face, worry is coating his features, his brow scrunched up in a way that Bucky just wants to reach up and smooth out. In a soft voice, the brunette asks "Stevie....what is it...."

Steve closes his eyes again, taking a pained sigh as he moves his own hand softly over the hand resting on his face, doing his best to hold on for a moment longer before he comes clean. "I don't want you to hate me..."

Bucky feels his chest tensing up, not knowing what could have prompted Steve to say that. "What makes you think I could ever hate you? I don't think that is possible. " Bucky replies truthfully.

"It’s...just..." Steve takes a deep breath, before sitting up and staring down at Bucky. Bucky frowns at the loss of contact before sitting up as well, facing the blonde who looked like he might break if Bucky stared too hard. He continues, "It's just, I didn’t need you to keep me warm, Buck."

"What?" Bucky stares back, genuine confusion on his face.

"We have plenty of blankets now, I would have been fine in my own bed. But since this happened, earlier I hated it. I hated feeling small again, weak and sickly. But...there was some good. You...you were holding onto me again, like you would when we were younger….and I missed feeling your arms around me. " Steve is blushing like crazy. "And when we were on the couch, it felt so good for you to be holding onto me, and so I lied. I didn’t want it to end...so I told you I needed you to keep me warm. I'm so sorry, Buck. You must think I'm a freak." Steve takes a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling the covers off, readying himself to stand up. He stutters "I'm going to go to my own room now…I'd appreciate it if you never bring this up again. I am so sorry."

Bucky is confused, trying to put together what is happening. Before he could respond, Steve had shuffled out of his room, leaving him alone.

Steve drops onto his bed, mortified at himself. He really was pathetic, too scared to even stay and find out the fall out of what he has done. He just admitted to his best friend that he lied to him and used him all because of he wanted to be touched. He wishes he didn’t have this weird crush on him. But he does and for him it has always been Bucky, and probably will always be. It wasn't fair to push that on Bucky, though. He buries himself in blankets, dreading what the morning will bring.

He lays there for a few minutes, mauling over what will happen. Will Bucky move out? Will he not talk to anymore? Did he just mess up everything? All the worse scenarios play in his mind like a horror movie. He feels a tear run down his face and he just lets it happen. Soon tears are covering his pillow,the dam broken, his body shaking. He feels like he will never stop, terrified he just lost his best friend.

He is so wrapped up in his own mess, he doesn't hear the door opening. But then he feels the nattress shift as someone gets inside the covers on the other side. He doesn't turn his head, afraid that he is just imagining it, that he is going to lose whatever is there if he looks. But then he hears "Hey Stevie…I'm cold."

Steve’s head is spinning, what is going on. He finally gets the nerve to turn around, finding a beautiful brunette, his Bucky, smiling at him. "Buck….what are you doing?"

He softly replies "I just told you, I'm cold and need someone to cuddle with, is that okay?"

Steve can’t help the smile that comes to his face as the last few rebel tears fall. Something tells him that the shirtless man in front of him was in no way cold, but he plays along. "Yea, its alright. Will alway be alright…."

With that, Bucky pulls Steve into his arms, Steve’s head falling onto his chest as the other man holds him close. Both men able to fiy fall asleep.

Maybe not quite a confession yet, but its babysteps. As long as they keep moving forward,they could take their time getting there.

#bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #steve x bucky #captain america #tfatws #sam wilson #marvel #shrinkyclinks #stucky fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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enchantedlokii · 4 years ago

Text

We Don’t Have To Be Ordinary

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language, depression, mention of suicide attempt

Characters: Loki Odinson, Thor Odinson

Mentioned: Odin Borson, Brunnhilde, Bruce Banner, Korg, Miek, Heimdall, Tony Stark, the Other, Thanos, Ebony Maw, Cull Obsidian, Corvus Glaive, Proxima Midnight, Frigga, Malekith, Jane Foster, Amora, the Lurking Unknown, Hela Odindottir

Loki had become accustomed to his new life. New Asgard was different. Not that he minded. He had always loved Asgard, but the place had become more of a prison than home to him since his spiral years ago. He never truly felt safe there after his mistake, and he enjoyed the new start. And as much as he acted as if he hated Midgardians, he enjoyed Midgard. Earth.

For one, Norway was cooler than Asgard. It was more suitable for him, and he didn’t constantly feel too warm like he often did in his old home. It made it easier for him to help with the building process, and he was comfortable most nights with only a window open, a gentle night breeze rustling the curtains and pulling him into a deep sleep.

Then there was the laxity of the place. Of course it could be more the fact that it was Thor who was king now rather than Odin, but he didn’t constantly feel trapped by his duties. Sure, he still had to help out. He was still a prince, although he had questioned his brother if he truly deserved the title now, and he had to make appearances. But on a normal day, he could just relax. He didn’t have to worry about dressing up or donning his armor. Even if he was simply walking the streets, no one was bothered by the more casual attire he preferred. Thor often did the same, so it didn’t really matter all that much.

For a long time, he would join Thor for dinner along with Brunnhilde and Bruce. Sometimes Sif or Korg and Miek would join them as well. Even Heimdall had sat at the table with them on occasion. It was lighthearted. One might even call it fun.

Every night, Thor would invite Loki to stay with him. He had originally intended for his brother to live with him permanently, adding a room furnished for him when it was built, but Loki insisted he would be fine on his own. Occasionally he did accept the request. He always said it was because he was too tired to walk home and told himself it was to please his brother since he went through the trouble of building the room for him, but sometimes he just felt safer knowing that Thor was in the next room.

The Asgardians has been lucky, really. When they had come to Midgard, Bruce had gotten in contact with Tony. He had agreed to help fund the building of the city; both buying supplies and hiring workers to help get the job done faster. He even helped get in touch with the Norway government to make sure everything was completed legally. They hadn’t had any trouble, and every Asgardian knew Norwegian; though it was a bit difficult because of how the language had developed over the years from the ancient Norse that they were taught in school.

What surprised Loki was that no one objected to him being on Earth. Many of the Midgardians he had spoken to knew who he was, and some had been a bit timid, but no one had showed up in an effort to take him away. He was glad, additionally, that no sparkling portals had opened up under his feet again so the sorcerer either didn’t know he was there or had come to his senses. Even the remaining Avengers — they had learned from Tony that the team had split in the past year — knew he was there and had made no efforts to take him into custody under SHIELD.

Overall, Loki thought, things were great. He thought that his life was finally starting to turn around. That was, until the city was completed.

It was a slow change. At first there were still a lot of duties. Loki didn’t kind, really. They were different than the duties he had grown up preparing for, and much less boring. He just had more time on his hands now, often having a chance to sleep in of the morning or sit by the window and read. He didn’t have many books yet, but he was sure that his collection would grow to fill his private library that he had built for himself.

There were days that being alone became too much. He would start to feel lonely and would find himself wondering the streets. Sometimes he would just listen to the noise of the city and speak to those who passed him. He might even entertain the children of the city with his magic if they asked him to. Other times he would visit Thor (and Bruce, who was staying with him until he left for New York) or even Brunnhilde on occasion.

The dinners started to grow less frequent as the work tapered off. Eventually, Bruce left for New York. Loki hated to admit it, but it hurt watching him leave. They had grown to become friends in the past months, and he knew he would miss him. He promised to visit, of course, but it would still take some adjusting.

Over time, Loki didn’t see as much of his friends as he had become used to. He understood, of course. Thor was busier than ever with the duties of being King of Asgard. Brunnhilde was working on a sparring facility and had even mentioned trying to recreate the Valkyries. It was more for the sake of tradition that necessity, but Thor seemed to believe it was a good idea. Loki had plenty to do himself, but his duties were more steady. He never really felt busy, having time to himself nearly every day.

As the days passed, his workload grew lighter. Adjusting to Norway proved to leave room for more leniency, and Loki started having full days to himself. Eventually, he only had to attend a few scheduled events from time to time and take care of scattered legal obligations. He thought that was something he would enjoy, but he was so wrong.

As a child, Loki loved alone time. He spent a lot of time in the library of the palace when he wasn’t busy, or practicing his magic. He preferred solitude over the crowded hallways upstairs. That was before the Fall, however.

It was ironic that he called it the Fall, really. He knew what he was doing that day. He didn’t feel like there was any reason to keep living. Not when his entire life had been a lie. Not after he had tried to kill his own brother. Not after he had made such a huge mistake. He only felt worse when death wouldn’t claim him and he was left to float through darkness for what he later learned would be several months.

It was when his fall ended that he met the Other. The Other, who introduced him to Thanos and the Black Order. At first he had just been glad to not be alone anymore, but that gladness soon faded as the torture began. Because Thanos showed no mercy. He continuously weakened him until his mind was in such a weak state that he couldn’t fight off the power of the Mind Stone.

Even then, there were lapses. He would try to push a way from the mind control. He almost did, at one point. A dazed feeling had came over him during the fight when Thor was speaking to him, telling him to look around at the destruction the Chitauri were causing. He had snapped out of his trance for a moment before it washed over him again, staying in place until the Hulk had smashed him and the blow to his head had knocked him back to reality.

Only for him to go back to being confined to a prison cell. It wasn’t as bad as the Void. At least he had light and saw other beings. Frigga tried to make him comfortable, bringing him books and furniture to make the cell more homely. Still, he knew that he was deteriorating. He had nightmares and flashbacks, sometimes waking up thinking he was in the Void once again before a guard would come into view and he would remember that he was back in Asgard.

Then Malekith killed Frigga. That was Loki’s breaking point. He had known something was wrong. He felt that something was different even before the guard had come to send him the message.

At that point, he went wild. He lost control, destroying his cell. Broken glass scattered across the floor as his lamp shattered. Sharp fragments impaled his feet as he paced, leaving blood on the stone beneath him, but he didn’t care. He welcomed the pain like an old friend.

Despite it all, the one thing he wanted was for someone to visit him. He was alone. He hated being alone. Part of him had thought that Thor would come running as soon as Frigga died, breaking the shield and holding him in the way he had when they were younger. He had hoped that he might be allowed to leave the cell long enough to attend her funeral. But they left him to mourn alone.

When Thor finally came, seeking help to avenge their mother’s death, he saw an opportunity to escape the loneliness. He knew enough magic that faking his death was easy. Physically, it was simple, but it hurt watching Thor grieve. He thought it was a show at first. He was only pretending to care because Jane was there, perhaps. He learned later that he was wrong. That Thor had been heartbroken. Maybe that’s why he chose to stay with his brother instead of leaving the Asgardians after Ragnarok, but he wasn’t sure.

But as he started to be alone more and more, he started to doubt himself. He worried that Thor only kept him around because they were brothers. He worried that the people only tolerated him because he was a prince. He worried that they wished he weren’t there. He worried more than anything that no one wanted him or cared about him; even Thor.

It was those spiraling thoughts that kept him inside. He started leaving less and less. Some days he would never leave his bed. He wouldn’t eat. Some nights he didn’t get any sleep. Other nights he kept waking up from nightmares. He was a mess.

Loki had been in bed for days when he heard a knock on his door. At first he had just rolled over, burying his face in his pillow and hoping whoever it was would leave. Then the knock came again. He sighed and pushed himself out of bed and twisted the doorknob open. He squinted a bit at the light, glancing up to see that it was Thor standing in front of him.

“Loki?”

“Hey,” he replied simply, moving a bit so Thor can come in.

“Are you alright?” Thor asked as Loki closed the door behind him. The two moved towards the couch, sitting down near the edge. “I haven’t heard from you in days.”

Loki blinked up at him, surprised by the amount of concern in his tone. His eye seemed to sparkle with worry as he looked him over, and when Loki glanced over his shoulder at the mirror on his wall he realized he looked awful. He stared for a moment before quickly changing his appearance. “I’m fine,” he told him, turning back. “I just hadn’t got out of bed yet is all.”

“It’s nearly nightfall, Loki,” Thor pressed. “You couldn’t possibly have been in bed all day.”

“So what if I have?” Loki asked, raising his voice a bit as he stood up. He hoped that his brother couldn’t see how tense he was as he started to walk around, making himself busy straightening the few trinkets he had on his shelves. He could feel Thor watching him, but tried to ignore him.

“You missed the dinner,” Thor prompted, causing Loki to freeze. He searched his mind and then moved to the calendar on his desk, making a fist and slamming down on it as he saw the scribbled note.

“Sh*t,” he muttered. There had been an important dinner the night before. One that was meant to be a sort of memorium for his mother. One that he hadn’t wanted to miss. He felt himself falling into the seat at the desk, bringing his hands up to grip his hair as he fought the overwhelming emotions that washed over him at the realization. He could cry later, right now he had to put on a brave face.

“Hey,” Loki was surprised by the softness in Thor’s voice. It was a tone he rarely used. One that he couldn’t remember his brother ever using on anyone other than him. One he hadn’t used in so many years that it made his throat feel tight. He felt a hand on his knee and glanced down to see his brother crouching in front of him. “No one is upset with you for missing it. We’re only worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Loki told him sharply, bringing his knee up to throw Thor’s hand off. His brother only moved it to his shoulder then, rubbing a thumb over the thin fabric of his shirt. “Thor.”

“I know you, Brother,” Thor said, an air of certainty in his voice. “You are definitely not fine.”

“Why do you even care?!” Loki asked, standing up and pushing his brother away before walking towards the mirror. He didn’t look at it, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m a f*cking monster, Thor. You shouldn’t even. . . I’m not even your brother.”

It happened before Loki even realized. He summoned energy using his magic and blasted it at the mirror, shattering it into crystals. He froze at the sound, a flashback taking over. Him and Amora in Odin’s vault. A crystal striking the Tuning Fork and summoning the Lurking Unknown. The creature feeding off his fear.

He was pulled out of it as Thor rested a hand on his shoulder. He realized that he was on his knees now, glass cutting through his clothes in several places. He breathed heavily as Thor carefully started to pull them out. “You are my brother, Loki,” he said gently. “You will never be anything but that.”

Loki felt his chest burning as he stared at the broken mirror. He felt his disguise falling, his appearance becoming frazzled. “I should have been arrested,” he breathed.

“Hm?” Thor prompted, putting a hand on Loki’s cheek to force his brother to turn towards him.

“The Godseye Mirror,” he explained, his breathing growing more rapid. “I broke it.”

“Amora broke it,” Thor told him.

“No,” Loki pressed. “She-she couldn’t summon enough energy. I-I put my hands on it and it shattered. She took the blame because she saw how terrified Odin became of me. She took my punishment. I-it should have been me.”

“Loki.”

“I fulfilled the prophecy.”

“Loki, look at me,” Thor said sternly. Loki blinked up at him in response, falling silent as he searched his brother’s eye. He could see nothing there but concern and sincerity. “Did you see the vision in the Godseye Mirror before it broke?”

Loki shook his head. “But we know what he saw. He saw me at Ragnarok.”

“Did he?” Thor prompted, leaning back. “Think about it. . . No one knew about Hela at that point. What if. . . What if he saw her and had to say it was one of his sons so that he didn’t reveal her. Or maybe. . . You two look alike. Maybe he was confused. Maybe the vision wasn’t clear and he saw the black hair and just assumed. We don’t know that he saw you, and even if he did, it wasn’t true.”

“The way he looked at us. . .”

“Loki, what he saw in the vision was a warrior leading the army of the dead,” Thor said. “You didn’t do that, Hela did.”

Loki blinked a few times, searching his memory for that day centuries ago. What Thor said made sense. The pieces didn’t fall perfectly into place.

“And, I mean,” Thor started, catching his attention. “The Godseye Mirror warned Father of the war with Jotunheim. . . Without it, we would have never had you. Surely it wouldn’t have warned us of the war if you were not meant to be here.”

Loki was silent as Thor continued pulling fragments of glass from his skin. When he was finished and Loki hadn’t replied, the elder brother helped him to stand and led him to the bathroom, sitting him down on a stool. “I’m going to go get a bowl and some clean clothes,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”

Loki shook his head and grabbed Thor’s wrist, looking up him. Thor looked back down with a worried expression. “Something’s wrong with me,” he choked out, feeling his strained facade breaking. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with me you, Loki,” Thor said softly, crouching in front of him and taking his hands. Loki forced himself to look him in the eye despite the tears he could feel brimming in his own. “You’re not okay right now, and there’s nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with you.”

“When I fell. . . Let go. . .”

“I know, Loki,” Thor said sincerely, squeezing his hands. “I don’t think I realized it until I met the others in New York. . . But I know that you were hurting. I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

“It’s not your fault,” Loki told him, his voice breaking.

“And it’s not yours,” Thor assured him. He hesitated for a moment. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

Loki hesitated for a moment, looking down at his bleeding arms and torso. “I’ll get blood on you,” he murmured.

“I don’t mind,” Thor said with a small smile before gently raising up and wrapping around Loki’s smaller frame. Loki tensed at first, then melted into the embrace, loosely wrapping his arms around Thor. He pressed his face into his brother’s shoulder, squinting his eyes shut to fight against the tears that were flowing down his cheeks now.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, feeling Thor squeeze him a bit at the words. “I love you. I-I never stopped. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Thor whispered. “I know. I love you too.”

Loki felt a small weight lifting off his shoulders. Because even after everything that he had done. After trying to kill Thor years ago. After New York. After faking his death. After Sakaar. After Ragnarok. After all of that, Thor still loved him. He still claimed him as his brother after knowing that they shared no blood.

Thor carefully pulled away, his hands lingering on Loki’s shoulders. “We’re going to get you cleaned up,” he started. “Then we’re going to go home. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“The mirror. . .”

“I can send a guard to clean it up later,” Thor promised. “Will you be okay alone for a minute?”

Loki nodded in response, watching as Thor left the room. He sighed, lowering his head and taking a shaky breath. For a moment, his mind flickered back to the night Amora had been arrested. He sat in his mother’s chambers after the fight with the Lurking Unknown, his knees pressed to his chest as she prepared a spell to heal his bruised ribs.

He had raised his voice at her that night. He had pressed her to tell him the truth, only admitting that he and Thor had been eavesdropping on her and Odin in the process. He had begged her to teach him how to use his magic that night, and she told him that she would. It was the first time he ever remembered her going against her husband’s wishes, and she did it for him. He had asked her that night what would happen to him.

“Patience, my son.”

Her words echoed in his mind almost as if she were there saying it now. A small warmth grew in his chest he felt a faint smile touching his lips. He hated that he missed the dinner in her honor, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t be upset with him. Not when he thought of her so often. He knew that she was well aware he hadn’t meant it when he said she wasn’t his mother. That didn’t mean he didn’t regret it, but it helped. It helped knowing that she never stopped loving him as her son. That she raised him as her own even knowing the ice that run through his veins. That she believed in him when his father didn’t.

Loki was far from okay. He wasn’t sure he would feel better anytime soon with the darkness that seemed to follow him recently. But he knew that Thor would be there for him. He wouldn’t fight this alone, and in time he would heal. He just had to be patient and all would be well in the future. The sun would shine on him again.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #tw depression #loki odinson #thor odinson #loki #thor #post thor ragnarok #infinity war noncompliant

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fsketchart · 5 years ago

Text

A Second Chance - Part 5

A pale-skinned boy with once bright green eyes stood shaking and shivering. All he could feel was this empty, dark void. Surrounding him, was a dark pit of emptiness. The cold surrounded him as mists of dark smoke brushed up against him once in a while. It left a sickly dark feeling all over him, leaving him weak and defenseless. In front of the boy stood another figure, dressed in a black leather suit, his eyes were a disturbingly bright purple, almost identical to Chat Noir, aside from the sickly twisted grin on his face. The boy’s knees trembled before he collapsed, his finger aching from the burden of the corrupted miraculous that lay on it.

I need to break the curse, the blonde sickly pale boy thought. His green eyes were tired, and almost all the light was gone from them. The purple-eyed monster just cackled a high pitched laugh, before stepping back. From beyond the purple-eyed copycat, another man stepped forward. His suit was a dark gray, and for a split second he looked almost guilty and pained at the sight of his son on the ground, but his stare hardened and he stepped forwards.

“Adrien, I will offer once more. I’m begging you, son, please join me. I’m trying to help your mother, if you gave me your miraculous willingly I can remove the corruption, you won’t have to suffer and then we can work together to heal your mother. You, Emilie, Natathlie, the Gorilla and I, we can all have the live happily ever after we-”

“NO! You...you were the one who did this to me. You corrupted my miraculous, YOU’RE THE ONE WHO RUINED OUR FAMILY! You’ve cut open the wound that mom left when she...when she left this world. You aren’t letting heal our family, you aren’t letting go, you aren’t moving forwards!”

“I’m doing everything for us, I can’t give up on our family! I’m trying to bring her back, for us, for you, my son-”

“HOW DARE YOU INSULT FATHERS BY DARING TO CALL YOURSELF ONE! My friends made me strong, they taught me what I know and made me who I am, they are my family and I won’t let you hurt them! You’ve torn MY family apart, a family which you have no part of!”

“I...I am sacrificing EVERYTHING for this plan to succeed! I have every move calculated, I have every upper hand, and I will reverse everything, I promise, once I get Ladybug’s earrings. Once I get them I will become powerful, stronger than ever before, and I will be able to protect us. I need your help, Adrien, I’ve sacrificed too much to get to this point, I need you to stand by my side.”

“You think you know what sacrifice is? You have NEVER given to anyone else, you are greedy, manipulative and abusive on so...so many levels. You have only ever taken more than you gave, I will never betray Ladybug, break me down as much you want. But I will never turn my back on my family as you have yours.”

Hawkmoth sighed before hitting his cane loudly on the ground and turning on his heel to leave. He took one last look of longing towards Adrien, before vanishing from the void, the purple-eyed Chat Noir following suite, both returning back to the physical world. The pale boy was left, shivering in the darkness.

-------(ಥ﹏ಥ)-------

The rest of the family filed into the room, and some additional new faces seemed to be around. Scoping out the dining hall, Marinette sees Bruce and Alfred file into the room, followed by two boys, both tall with black hair and blue eyes, though one of them has a white stripe of white in his hair. She froze as she took in the sight of them, as they did the same. Bruce held up his hand towards and then gave a look towards Alfred. The boys nodded and took a seat at the table.

There was an awkward silence until the one with the white hair broke the silence.

“So you’re Alfred’s...cousin’s daughter? Is that right?” he asked.

“Uh, yes. My name is Marinette. And your name is…?” she asked hesitantly.

“Jason. Jason Todd. Besides me is my brother, Tim Drake. We’re Bruce’s sons, as is Damian who you seem to have met,” he responded stiffly. Marinette nods, before facing Bruce.

Bruce holds out his hand to shake her hand, and she does so, while maintaining eye contact.

“I’m Bruce Wayne, my other children aren’t home right now due to work. How long do you plan to stay in Gotham?”

“I’m hoping to leave as soon as possible- n-not that I hate it here, here I’m sure there are nice things to see in Gotham, especially since you’ve been so kind as to host me here! I’m just hoping to get in contact with the Justice League, and bring back assistance with me to fight Hawkmoth and his army,” Marinette said while fidgeting under his cold stare.

Bruce nodded once at her before looking towards Alfred.

“We can have that arranged, no?”

He turns to his sons and gives them a stern look, daring them to say otherwise. Damian looked like he was about to say something before Tim elbowed him in the ribs. He bit back his words, opting to attempt as cold of a stare as his father.

Marinette looked anxious, shrinking in on herself as the tension in the room rose. Alfred stepped in, noticing her distress, and placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head at Bruce. Bruce paused for a moment, surprised, before seating himself down at the dining hall table. The rest of the standing brothers followed as the morning offered a silent breakfast.

--------(☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞-------

The sound of another building crumpling shook the old man out of his shock.

Ryuuko grabbed the last remaining children and rushed them through the tunnels, following from the back as Viperion lead them in the front. Queen Bee just stood there numb, seeing the building collapse upon themselves, reminding her of the people who they couldn’t save. Master Fu nearly dared to run out there again, to see who they could save, but Queen Bee grabbed his wrist and ran as fast as she could.

They hurried into the tunnel as quickly as they could, hearing the opening to the tunnel beginning to collapse with every step they took. Children were heard sniffling in the front but were silenced by Viperion’s shushing, as the children tried to hold in their tears. They were nearly completely silent as they made their way through the tunnel, the Guardian keeping his hand on the wall as he walked on through the tunnels.

Then, they heard the sounds of footsteps from behind the Guardian and Queen Bee, accompanied by the sounds of boulders being sliced. The children gasped as Viperion attempted to quiet them, but Ryuuko realized it was too late. She grabbed several children and began running past him. Viperion gave up quieting the children, and grabbed the remaining ones and began following Kagami. The sounds of footsteps from behind sped up and Queen Bee and Master Fu exchanged a look. Queen Bee looked towards Master Fu panicked.

“Get everyone to the safety camps. Once Ladybug returns we will have the upper hand, especially with the help from the Justice League. I will stay behind here and make sure you all can escape. Besides, I’m getting old. My time here is limited, but your future is limitless, Queen Bee,” Master Fu said. He gripped his miraculous tightly, before shaking his head. He slipped off the Miraculous and placed it into Queen Bee’s hands. She looked down at the miraculous in shock, before looking back up at him. “Get my Miraculous out of here, we can’t risk Hawkmoth getting it. Now hurry, before you can no longer escape.” Queen Bee debated the options in her head, before nodding. She ran out of there, silent tears brewing from her eyes. I’m sorry Ladybug, she thought. I’m so sorry.

Disclaimer: There was some confusion (that I only read about last night,) that I took the idea of Marinette being related to Alfred from another AU. Rest assured, this fic was created before I dived too deep into Maribat, I hadn’t seen another fic doing this and I didn’t want them to just be like oh cute black hair and blue eyes check and check okay she’s let inside the bat fam now. I don’t at all hate this trope and I think it’s cute, I just wanted there to be more angst and distrust, keyword distrust, and introduced Alfred and Tom as cousins, to give Marinette a reason to be let into the Wayne Manor. Thus they were close but didn’t grow up together, only really writing letters as they were kids until they met in real life when they were older. Thus, different accents. It gave Marinette a reason to be let into the Wayne Manor, while still having most of the Bat Fam distrusting her to be there, but tolerating her because of Alfred. I hope that clears that up!

PS: I’m so sorry this chapter was short. I’ve been busy these last two weeks, busier than I was expecting. The next chapter will be longer, and that’s probably when Marinette will be introduced to the Justice League. I’ll also probably introduce Tom and Sabine next chapter as well, so stay tuned!

Tag-List! :

@kceedraws @resignedcatservant @shamefulllove @emotionalsupportginger @ellerahs @littleredrobinhoodlum @graduatedmelon @mooshoon @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mystery-5-5 @kuroko26 @noirdots @tazanna-blythe @friedchickening @crazylittlemunchkin @princertain @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @thornangelic727 @felicityroth @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @constancetruggle @ozmav@northernbluetongue @miraculous-ninja @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @violatiger8

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#daminette #marinette x damian #maridami #maribat #sorrythiswaslate #mybad #ASecondChanceFSketchArt

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