#he was still worried about his family minus bruce

[natpetersoncore]

just got all the arkham knight audio files and :(

[dontbesoweirdkira]

AH DO I LOVE YOU RANTING

about the weaponized incompetence batsis, thing is what you said is true about them not really that insistent to force reader to the vigilante route because she DOES have a valid reason. Barbara? On a wheelchair. Jason? Tortured, dead, replaced, revived. Steph and Cass? Dead and revived. Happened too many times already to kids under Batman. If anything it's called self-preservation.

I think that honestly the being peeved and possible jealousy is also true. If reader were to be skilled than most YET refuses to join? Boy. Jealousy of her skills, peeved at her indifference.

I can see potential routes to this.

A) Reader still weaponizing her incompetence, while the Batfam has mixed feelings of jealousy, peeved, disappointment yet can't bring themselves to force her because she is right! Girly just wants to remain alive.

B) If reader is petty as fuck, going foul aka bringing up the deaths and failures of her siblings during an argument with batfam, telling him that he got blood on his hands.

C) Somehow ending up as a vigilante but again, a petty as fuck one. REFUSES to be associated with the batfam, even having a really different aesthetic and working separately. Either kill like Jason OR do everything bad minus killing to the enemy to spite Batman.

D) If she has an assassin mama, goes back to her mother's side of the family because she ain't dealing with Bruce.

Hello again! I'm happy you enjoyed the last post :)))

For an interesting plot, if you were to write it, i'd say go with the kids being upset/jealous with the reader thus thrusting her into the line of fights with them. They want her to be side by side with them. Patrol is not always about crime fighting because some nights nothing happens. It's a bonding moment. They rooftop hop and act silly, they want you there with them. They feel like you don't want to be there with them...it's hurtful. They bug Bruce about it to get him to force you into it but he allows you to choose. They might be pissed because they didn't really get a choice. You're going to be here with your siblings.

Maybe they don't fully understand your worry because all of them will obviously protect you. Especially the older ones in the group. You'll be fine. You don't get to be miss perfect, Bad things happen and you don't get to escape that out of fear.

I personally would say C option. Perfect example of weaponized incompetence . Jason would be loving you so much. Ya'll would be amazing together and everyone else is like...maybe don't be so brutal?? they'd try to split you up and explain what you are doing wrong. Doesn't work obvi and you are back to being a menace with Jay.

Bruce would intervene and maybe threaten you with going back to your moms. Or maybe he'd force you to stay back like you wanted...Who knows.

But B is my personal favorite because i live for Bruce slanderrrrrrr. Spit on him too just to add extra flavor.

All of these are good options though!! A lot for the imagination. Especially depending on how you view each character. You can get insanely dark with this if you want tooo.

[artistmarchalius]

broppy capture au question

how did the bros and viva feel about branch and poppy being captured seeing as 1. branch or poppy will say poppy name meaning jd will mention it at one point that their brother and his girlfriend poppy is captured, and 2. there is no way viva would stay behind if she knew poppy was captured or she will, who really knows.

The bros are really worried about Branch. They all (minus Floyd) still think of Branch as the baby of the family so they have this image in their head of him being scared and waiting for them to come rescue him like when he was a baby and had a nightmare or something. Floyd views Branch as an adult (like in the movie) but he’s still really worried about him, for obvious reasons, but he feels extra guilty because he’s been knocking about Mount Rageous since before Velvet and Veneer became famous. He feels like he should have known something was up and saved them just because he was nearby, even though that’s unrealistic. Kinda like “It was practically happening right around the corner from me; I should have known, I could have rescued you”.

When John and Bruce come to collect Clay, Viva tries to keep them at Hole ‘N Fun like in the movie, but as soon as Viva hears that the Queen of the Pop Trolls is trapped too (and confirming that her name is Poppy), she agrees to come with them, even though she’s terrified of the outside world. She feels a wild cocktail of ecstatic, relieved, worried and scared the whole time. It’s a bit of a miracle that she’s functioning but she’s got Clay with her to help her stay grounded.

[ghostbsuter]

Batclan and Catband (part 2)

> previous part

> next part

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Dinner ended up a relatively calm affair, or as calm as it can be with the batclan and the cat catband in one place.

"Where is elle actually?" Selina asks, leaning on the table with a grin.

"With her aunty harley and pam," he answers, phone in hand. "They're bringing her over soon, tho."

Dick, sitting opposite of Danny, perks up at that. "Your daughter, right? How old is she?"

The teen practically glows at the question, proud and not far from showing it.

"Become 2 recently! A gremlin in sheep clothes, truly. She knows how to get what she wants, a habit learned from her glam glam." At the last words, he gives catwoman the stink eye, huffing when she laughs at him.

"I have been wondering, how old are you, danny? If you don't mind." Bruce has an easygoing smile on, but Danny knows that glint in his eyes.

"Also freshly turned 18."

Both Selina and Danny watch the other man carefully, one hiding her sharp stare, the other openly showing it.

"Isn't that a bit young to become a single parent?" The man asks in concern, no matter he should be with emotions, mother and son recognise the tone of worry and relax slightly.

"Her circumstances of appearing in our life is not much to be desired. However, we are very happy with her joining our little family at that time."

Danny speaks fondly, smiling as he recalls the moments. "Selina helped immensely when needed and didn't shy from showering the little gremlin in love"

While the batclan would have loved to continue the conversation, Alfred appeared with a gentle smile.

"Master Danny, there is a guest waiting patiently at the front door for you, I'm afraid she might just run off with no one watching." He gives a very amused look at the members of the table.

He shoots out of his chair, letting the butler lead him out and about.

Once the teen is gone, does Bruce straighten his form and look at selina.

"What about the mother? Is there anything—"

"I'll stop you right there, bat dear." She holds up her hand, giving a sharp smile.

"While I'd rather not talk behind Danny's back like this," she gives the table a look, noting that every member seems to be in their vigilante persona.

"Elle doesn't have a mother, I won't explain any details without Danny's consent, but this is more of a Kon-El situation."

(Bruce, in particular, doesn't like how that info makes everything else snap into place, and the final picture isn't much better.)

"Kon-El situation– isn't she a toddler??"

"Why would anyone go for danny??"

"Was it Lex Luthor–?!"

Their questions were silenced by the sound of tiny footsteps running to the door and swinging it open with no grace.

The tiny being runs around the table, peeks over it to see where a certain woman is located at and sprint to her lap.

The father of said being isn't far from her, making sure she doesn't trip nor fall. Alfred closes the doors and flawlessly slips next to Bruce, the amused smile very much still present.

"Glam glam!" The tiny girl squeals excited, getting pulled up and seated, just in sight of everyone else.

She is like a carbon copy of her father, minus the gender, but at the stares she becomes quite shy, very endearing.

Danny sits next to them, grin on his face and gesturing to the batclan.

"Wanna meet your uncles and aunts, elle darling?"

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Burning Branches au - Part 3 Aftermath

Okay so if anyone has not read the other posts on this AU, I highly suggest you do. Believe me this will be much more fun with context. The previous posts are by the same title, minus the "Part 3". I will also be tagging all of them with the title after posting this.

Char = Branch

Lets get into it...

When we last left of the Family Harmony was complete and the V-Twins were being carted off to jail. Char and Poppy kissed and wondered if they could finally get married now.

Then Floyd collapsed. The troll literally had the life drained out of him for two months, he is not walking away from that with just a new hair style. This sends the happy moment into one of panic. Floyd does not wake up when prompted, and not even when the other moved him on to Rhonda. It's clear he needs a doctor, but none on Mount Rageonus know troll physiology, so they need to leave as soon as possible.

But where will they go? Anywhere is still few days drive, and there is barely any supplies on Rhonda. No food. There was water but not enough for everyone. And most importantly no medicine beyond a very old, very basic first-aid kit John had for gotten about. Barb and Bruce stay behind to make sure Floyd doesn't die (and make sure Tiny takes a nap). Floyd has a seizure and Barb steps in taking control of the situation with Bruce freezes. Bruce asks her how she knew to tend to someone who's sick, and Barb explains that Char used to have them as a kid and she was usually the one who nursed Char through his head aches, and when he got sick from the volcanic fumes. This leads to bonding between the two of them, and Bruce starts to think of Barb as his little sister too.

When the others get back, John and Clay kind of freak out about the seizure when told. Trips home can wait they need a doctor. Rock territory is closeted and the doctor that treated Char originally is still around and on call. Still few days drive, but it's the best guess they got.

When Floyd finally wakes up he's a mess. Exhausted, nauseous, with a killer head ache. It's also in the middle of the night, and everyone is still asleep. Well, everyone except Poppy and Char. They were still up due to some shared insomia, and discussing their re-do wedding plans. Floyd's perception of things are still hazy, so he's calling Char by Branch and not noticing the latter's discomfort over the name. Still Char helps alleviates Floyd migraine so he can go back to sleep. Floyd asks how Char would know that it would work, Char says it works for me. Floyd would continue to ponder that, until he passes back out.

When they get back into Rock Kingdom territory, Floyd is taken into the hospital rather quickly, and is put on supportive devices, to combat server malnutrition, dehydration, and oxygen just incase. Brain scans, reveal scaring on his brain from several concussions that went untreated. The source of his seizures, and possibly other symptoms that have yet to show themselves. Once he's conscious he reports of, numbness, pain and tingling in his legs and is looking at possible nerve damage.

During this time, with the help of Barb, Bruce manages to get a letter out to his family explaining what was going on and it would be little longer until he was home. Char and Barb re-unite with their Dad and Riff. And the rest are just trying to make sense of everything.

Floyd has, at least one of his brothers with him at all times. When he's awake they talk and bond, and when he's asleep they comfort his nightmares. He notices that Char isn't there most of the time (he's out making princely announcements explaining the situation and dealing with some back-lash about "returning to his own kind" from some of the less accepting citizens), and is worried that his Brother is mad at him for not coming back. He practically breaks down upon hearing about Char amnesia, and asks to see him.

Char comes, but is very awkward when he first arrives. Floyd takes in all the difference, and mentions the green vest. Char says he can't remember being without it, Floyd says he gave it to him, before beginning to apologize for leaving him. Char shuts it down, telling Floyd his injury isn't his fault, maybe a few days ago he'd have been mad, but he doesn't regret how his life turned out. He hugs Floyd and wipes his tears. Floyd tells Char that comforting was his job, Char says no matter who's older siblings comfort each other. Floyd wants to know how Char's life turned out. Char, eagerly tells him about Barb and Thrash, how he grew up as a prince, and his betrothal to Poppy. Floyd is shocked his brother grew up as a prince, but is happy his brother grew up in a good home, and wanted to meet Poppy, Thrash and Barb as soon as possible.

Eventually, Floyd is released. He's on crutches, with braces on his legs and has physical therapy routine he needs to follow to walk again. They stay at Char and Barb cavern (their royalty they have the room, and Thrash is loving the company, he's convinced their all his kids and no one corrects him) during this time and for a few days after the release, but tension with the public is spiking and they can't stay for long. Barb stays behind to control the crowds and the others go to Pop village. Viva would re-unite with Peppy, and begin preparations to move the Put Put trolls to the village, with an escort of Rock guards off course.

The saga would end, with Poppy and Char finally getting married and Char coronated as king of pop...with an epilogue of years alter when they had twins trollings, named Rosie and Ash (named after Grandma and Thrash).

---

Part One and Part two

And those are my currently plans. I'm going to outline this, but Not sure if I should fully write this thing out now or later. What ya'll think?

[phantom-dc]

Dad Hood - part 12

When Jason wakes up, he is a bit confused. This isn’t his appartement? After a few moments he realizes that he is in his old room in the Manor. Why is he here? Last thing he remember is a fight with Bruce about-

‘Danny!’

Sitting up, Jason looks around him. He is about to leave his bed, when Alfred enters the room.

‘I suggest you get back into bed, master Jason. You gave us quite the scare.’

Alfred explains that Jason collapsed due to stress and Bruce brought both him and the child here.

‘Where is Danny? Is he ok?’

Jason was still worried. Who was looking after Danny while he was recovering? As soon as Jason said this, he noticed Bruce entering the room, Danny on his arm.

‘Good morning Jason. How are you feeling?’

Bruce had been very worried about Jason, so he was very glad that Jason woke up so soon.

‘Hi daddy! Are you feeling better? Grandpa Alfred said you were reeeaaaallyyy tired and had to sleep a lot! Did you sleep well?’

Danny un-clung himself from Bruce and climbed up to Jason, hugging his dad.

‘Hey kiddo. Yeah, I feel much better. How do you like the Manor? Are you getting along with everyone?’

Jason ruffled Danny’s hair. Even feeling so tired, his first instinct was making sure Danny was ok. He didn’t notice Bruce looking very proud.

‘Yeah! It’s great! It’s so big, but not green and gold and ugly! Grandpa Alfred is really nice, like Hobson! And everyone else is really nice too! Uncle Duke bought sunglasses so he could play with me, and auntie Cass let me do her hair, and uncle Damian showed me his penguin-’

‘Excuse me, young master Danny? Could you be so kind as to show me this penguin?’

Alfred took Danny away, as Jason was still very tired and needed sleep. Bruce still needed to talk with Jason after all. And besides, there was a penguin that needed to be removed.

‘Are you alright? You fainted so suddenly?’

Bruce sat down on the bed. He had been very worried seeing his son in that state. Tim had told him there were some issues with how Danny ended up with Jason that caused stress, but also told Bruce to ask Jason about it. Then Tim had opted to forgo coffee and go to bed, so he too must’ve been very stressed and tired. And Bruce wasn’t even going to mention Dick’s condition.

‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just had a very stressful 2 weeks. Everything just happened so fast, I barely got time to process anything.’

Jason was already feeling much better than before. Knowing his kid was safe with his family was such a relief.

‘Look, Bruce. I’m sorry for attacking you like that. It’s just-’

Bruce cuts Jason off:

‘You thought I had hidden your child from you and tried to clone him. Tim told me. I felt similair when I first found out about Damian. Just rest, Jason.’

After Bruce leaves, Jason dozes off. Before he truly falls asleep, he hears Dick yelling at Damian that Danny in not ready for sword-training. Jason smiles. Everything would be fine.

Bruce headed to the Bat-cave. As much as he wanted to spend time with his grandson, and god he had a grandson, Batman had work to do. Getting on the Bat-computer, he revisits the case that has been bugging him for days. Where had the Joker escaped too?

When Jason wakes up again, he is feeling much, much better. He really needed that rest. He gets out of bed and heads down to the main living room. There he finds almost the whole family minus Bruce, all doting on Danny.

‘And this is my dog, Titus. You may let him sniff your hand.’

Damian was introducing Titus to Danny, who was very excited. Then Danny noticed Jason.

‘Good morning daddy! Uncle Damian is letting me meet his friend! He is so cute!’

Danny was very happy, and giggled when Titus licked his hand. Duke asked Danny if he likes dogs. Danny answers him with a big grin:

‘Yeah! I have a dog too! Well, he’s not really my dog, but we play a lot! He’s really cute, until he gets angry. Then he gets really big and scary, but he is still a good boy. He’s dead!’

The room gets uncomfortable. Steph wants to ask Jason about this, but he cuts her off.

‘Don’t even ask. I have no idea what he means. Just roll with it.’

Bruce enters the room as well. He looks a bit tired, but perks up upon seeing all his family. He immediately walks over and scoops up Danny.

‘There is my new grandson! How’s the little man doing?’

When Bruce notices Jason is awake, he asks him if he is doing better. Jason waves him off, saying he is fine now that he had… 36 hours of sleep. Turns out he’d been running pretty ragged. Bruce agrees. Dick jokes that Jason didn’t even have the energy to argue with Bruce, earning him a laugh from his other siblings. Danny starts to struggle out of Bruce’s grip, wanting his dad. Bruce puts him down, but is visibly sad about it.

‘Come now, master Bruce. You spend all day with young master Danny yesterday. Let the boy see his dad.’

Alfred scolded Bruce. Bruce had spend nearly all day doting on Danny the day before, happy to have a grandson. He’d actually made his other kids a bit jealous. He only went back to work after Alfred had taken Danny and put him to bed.

‘By the way, B. How is your case going? Did you figure out where the Joker went?’

Dick was curious. Bruce still didn’t know Danny had been there, and Dick intended to keep it that way. But he had still felt weird about it. Why had Joker left without doing anything? He hoped Bruce would know something. Unfortunately, Bruce had to tell him there were no new leads. It was like the clown had gone up in smoke. Seeing that Jason was getting uncomfortable, no doubt because the clown had nearly hurt his kid, Tim decided to change the topic.

‘By the way, Jason. You were sleeping, so you don’t know yet, but tomorrow I’m having some of my friends over at the Manor. All supers, though. Kon, Bart and Cassie wanted to see the Bat-cave.’

Jason gave him a nod, but Danny got confused.

‘What do you mean? Auntie Cass is already here?’

Dick told him that more than one person could have the same name. Aunt Cass and Cassie shared their name, which is why they made sure to always call Tim’s friend ‘Cassie’, and never ‘Cass’. Danny seemed to understand, saying it was just like him and ‘Dani’ with an i! That had started a whole conversation about Danny’s clone. Jason didn’t like Duke’s joke:

‘Wait, Jason, does that make you a grandpa?’

First - Previous - Next - AO3

[luffyrose]

Dc x Dp Random Blurb #2

I know I just made the first but it's midnight, I can't sleep, and I'm thinking about random things.

Anyway. Siblings. And Pranks.

You know how people always kinda portray Dick as a little chaotic but mainly the one doing damage control for his brothers? Yeah, that's total bs when it comes to siblings.

My oldest sibling most literally tried to convince me to jump off the roof of a church on time. I WAS 8. They also cried when I went on a school trip for a week because they were worried I would get hurt or something.

So. Got me thinking. Dick is SEEN as the tame one by his siblings solely because he's too tired tm to do anything and no one seems to remember him being an absolute gremlin so he's not gonna just out himself when he could cause mayhem later.

Only Cass is vaguely aware of how chaotic Dick can be and that's only because she walked in on him pouring a literal ton of sleeping meds into various things Tim eats while giggling maniacally to himself. Of course, she's not gonna rat him out though, he gives the best hugs.

Either way, no one is aware or remembers how much of a gremlin Dick can truly be, especially being the eldest sibling of many.

In comes Danny. For whatever reason.

Danny LOOKS just like Jason and that tripped everyone up. But when he settles into living with them, they discover that this 'Jason 2.0' is in fact a mini Dick Grayson running around causing absolute chaos.

Dick is delighted by this news and get out of here depression, he must show his newest sibling how to hand from a chandelier long enough to drop a bucket of the most rancid things imaginable onto the first person, minus Alfred, to walk under it.

Upon the gremlin duo having free, acrobatic range, of the house, Bruce is reminded why he questioned adopting his oldest son when he was still younger. That plus the chaos he did with the other heroes in training at the time.

It's one prank too many that Bruce, at dinner, stares dead ahead and just sighs.

"Not again Dick, not again."

Because I think we can all guess who a moody teen who runs around beating up bad guys at night would prank the most if said baby hero had been grounded. Danny's own abilities just seem to make it much easier for the now SUPPOSEDLY adult hero to do the same pranks to his very unsuspecting family.

[violetswritingg]

Only in Darkness

Jason Todd X OFC!

Description:

"Only in Darkness can you see the stars."

Or

Marlowe Knight stumbling upon a girl prophesied to end the world and going on the adventure of a life time.

Rating: M (Blood, cannon typical violence, sibling rivalry, scars, torture, trauma, angsttttt)

Want to read the other chapters?

Click here

11

Gotham City, New Jersey

November, 2017

Heavy footfalls filled the long hallway of Wayne Manor, well-worn high tops slapping on the carpet on top of hard wood. The laces sloppily tied and swinging about, threatening to come undone at the slightest tug.

The owner of the shoes carrying a dark cloud over his head as he trudged on. His lips curled down in a scowl, muttering obscenities under his breath, a couple faint dots of crimson painting his cheek from his activities earlier in the night.

"Jason!" The light voice of his newfound training partner ringing out with hurried, jogging footsteps.

"I don't wanna hear it Marley." The nickname let the girl know he wasn't angry with her, but her shoulders were tense as she caught up and surpassed his pace. Whirling in front of him and holding out a hand in front of her, her fingers just brushing his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Marlowe worried, her brows cramming together in the middle of her forehead.

"Anywhere but here." Jason ground out, Marlowe sighing heavily in response, "What? Are you gonna lecture me too? Please, tell me everything I did wrong tonight." Jason's biting sarcasm hurt the girl, who thought they had come farther than that in their relationship, but she didn't let it show. Her jaw clenching, eyes flashing with annoyance.

"I'm sure Bruce already covered everything." Her tone wasn't unkind but Jason could tell she wasn't happy with him. Bruce was enough for him tonight; he didn't need to hear how disappointed she was in him too. He just wanted to leave, but she wasn't letting him. His hands started to twitch, missing the feel of his switch blade he used to carry on the streets, hidden in any pocket he had and ready to be whipped out in a moments notice. The switch blade he had to use one too many times when someone tried to steal his stuff when he slept.

Marlowe breathed out and dropped her hand, letting Jason pass, but keeping pace with him down the hallway and into the foyer.

"What are you doing?" Jason questioned harshly, his exhaustion betraying him and showing itself in his stance.

"Tagging along.... If that's okay?" Marlowe tried, softening at seeing his shoulders slump. The warm lights of the manor illuminating the way his eyes flickered with something dark and intangible to anyone who hadn't been through the kinds of things they had been.

"....Fine." Jason sighed, shaking his head as he gave in. Knowing that if Marlowe cared enough, she would just follow him in the shadows, something she was getting better at thanks to Bruce's teachings. They hadn't known each other long, but they considered each other allies at worst and friends at best. The boy reached across Marlowe to the closet by the door and grabbed a coat, all but shoving it at Marlowe before stepping through the doorway, "Keep up."

Marlowe smiled at the jacket in her hands, the smooth leather motorcycle jacket soft in her hands.

"Wait up!" Marlowe rushed to slide her arms through the sleeves and jog after Jason, closing the door behind her with a quiet thud.

In the cave, Bruce, still in his suit minus the cowl, watched the crystal clear camera feeds he had set up early in his Batman career around the city. Alfred's footsteps, with an extra click of his cane, ringing down the metal staircase and filling the air of the cave.

"Master Jason and Miss Knight have left the building." Bruce only acknowledged his long time friend and family member by getting up and offering him his chair.

"They'll be back."

"I just thought you'd like to know the goings on of our two young guests. Miss Knight especially, since you did promise Jack you'd look out for her, let her be a normal teenager." With his last few words, the butler sat and sent Bruce a meaningful look, the man's jaw twitching as he shifted a millimeter. Subtle movements nobody but the people closest to Bruce learned to look for.

"She's a fighter, always has been. It's not in her nature to just sit back and do nothing, Jack has good intentions but he's blinded by his emotions. Always has been. What she needs is training, and to not be treated like a flower that could wilt at any second." Bruce gruffed, standing to his full height, shoulders back. Offering Alfred a hand up.

"Oh, is Gotham safe for the night?" Alfred quipped, taking the help. Bruce smiled, just a little bit, a softer amusement dancing across his face.

"It's Gotham. Things could be worse."

"I've never heard a truer statement."

Bruce was right, things could be worse. In Gotham, in Opal city, he just didn't know how bad they would get in the coming months. The horrors that would come to pass and darken Marlowe's soul even further, turning her from the light she had fought so hard to get back after Kyle went rogue. Bruce was right.

Things could be worse.

~~*~~

Washington, District of Columbia

2018

There was a clear division in the group as they regrouped by the cars. All the members of the party dressed back into civilian clothes and loading up their cars with their equipment. Dick shoving his case into his hood trunk with a vengeance, feeling hot guilt climbing up his throat, making it hard to breathe.

"I don't remember Robin being so..." Marlowe trailed off as she watched Dick move from across the space the man had put between them.

"That makes two of us." Hank muttered under her breath, Marlowe glancing his way, the cogs in her head turning.

Soft footfalls alerted Dick that he wasn't alone anymore, he couldn't find it in himself to actually turn around and look whoever it was in the face though.

"Junior Olympics, May, 2015," Marlowe's voice drifted the space between them in the alley, "They were held in Gotham, who the hell knows why, but they were. I had just finished my bar routine that landed me a spot in Olympic trials. Perfect score. Not a second after I landed my dismount, the windows in the convention center exploded. Glass went everywhere. Gas, green gas started to fill the room, screaming – laughter. I, and all of my teammates had no idea what the fuck was happening, it was a shit show. In true Gotham fashion."

Dick slowly turned halfway, memories filling his head while Marlowe continued, "I was in shock, I didn't know I had been separated from my coach or my team until I was getting trampled by the crowd pushing to get out. I thought I was gonna die, that was a scary thought back then...." Dick fully turned, intense eyes watching the girl in front of him look down and kick at the ground. Finding her words once again Marlowe wet her lips and started, "And then.... A hand pulled me out. You. Well, Robin."

Marlowe chuckled halfheartedly, "I can barely really remember what happened after that or how I got out, I think I hit my head. But... I do remember watching you fight off a couple of Joker's men as you tried to get me outside. Get me to safety. It wasn't like that...." She gestured to the warehouse with her head. Eyes finally coming up to meet Dick's.

Shifting on his feet Dick was the one who looked away this time, Marlowe moved on quickly, seeing all that she needed to see, "Didn't even know I had a shard about yay big," She held up her pointer finger and thumb roughly one and a half inches apart in the air, "Imbedded into my leg until I got checked out by the medics outside. I still have the scar."

"Sounds painful."

"I couldn't even feel it." Marlowe chuckled shaking her head. Dick smiled slightly at his feet, glancing up at her through his eyelashes like a dog waiting to be kicked before going back to righting his case. Trying to keep himself busy.

"Adrenaline is nice that way."

"You're not wrong." Marlowe noticed Dawn motioning for her and took the out, nodding in that direction before looking to Dick's turned back once again, "I'll see you back at the apartment."

Dick tried to be slick as he watched Marlowe get into the car with Hank and Dawn, a smirk forming over her face as she no doubt made fun of Hank from the backseat. The man biting back, softer than if he would if he was actually mad.

Dick unable to keep the small smile off his face, even though it didn't really meet his eyes. Knowing that he was doing the right thing in his mind but the bubbling guilt only choking him even more.

~~*~~

The tense atmosphere didn't dissipate when they made it back to the apartment, Dawn and Hank leading the way to their door with Marlowe in between them and Dick. Dawn, Dick, and Marlowe bunched together behind Hank as he unlocked the door, Marlowe uncomfortably stuck in between the brunette and the platinum blonde.

"You weren't kidding about having changed. I've never seen you like that before." Dawn didn't wait for a response as she followed Hank into their apartment. The door creaking, giving way to the dim light inside the living space. Marlowe glanced Dick's way before entering behind the owners, calling out for Rachel, not immediately seeing the girl. No response led to Dick doing the same as he entered the premises. Again no response.

Blood covered gloves and glassy coffee brown eyes invading her mind and making it particularly hard to breathe.

"I'll check the bathroom," Marlowe didn't wait for a response before she was off and looking for the teen girl she had silently taken responsibility for. Her heart found a home in her throat and she all but tore apart the apartment, Dick's voice carrying down the staircase leading to the roof and through the open door of the apartment a saving grace. Marlowe ran up and all but burst through the door.

"What the fuck Rach? I was worried, I thought something bad had happened." Marlowe rushed up to the girl, taking up the spot next to her opposite Dick. Rachel grabbed onto Marlowe's hand by her side, confusing the older girl but Marlowe let it happen. Confusion plaguing the blonde when Rachel ripped her hand away as if she had just been burned.

"You knew." The betrayal in Rachel's eyes set off Marlowe's fight or flight.

"My sister told me she'd always have my back no matter what. You're just like him you know? Always fucking lying."

"What are you talking about?" It was only then that Marlowe saw the stuffed envelope in Rachel's hands and came to a conclusion she really hoped was wrong. With her luck though, the worst case scenario would happen and somehow get even worse.

"You were gonna leave me here. You said you weren't but you lied. And you knew." Rachel was calm, icy, directing her words to the bird cage in front of her. Ignoring both Dick and Marlowe. Marlowe swallowing thickly, and avoiding Dick's eyes, trying to connect with Rachel again.

"Rachel-"

"You must lie a lot, you're good at it." Marlowe didn't know who that was directed to but felt the punch behind the words in her stomach. Rachel glanced at Marlowe for a split second as she played with the envelope, "I thought I could trust you."

"Rachel-" Marlowe was interrupted again by Hank and Dawn coming through the rooftop door, the blonde huffing in annoyance, a buzzing building under her skin and tying her stomach in knots.

"What is she talking about?"

Rachel walked to meet the couple and handed them the envelope, Marlowe shooting a glare at Dick and following the girl, Dick two steps behind her.

"Rachel, I wasn't going to lea-"

"Hank don't read that-"

"It's got my name on it," As Hank opened the envelope and skimmed it's contents Marlowe tried to connect with the Rachel, reaching out for her hand but Rachel didn't care for the contact. The older girl getting the message and taking the hit. Stepping back and giving the girl space, pacing away as she dragged a hand across her mouth. The buzzing under her skin getting worse. "What the fuck?"

"You were gonna leave them here? You were gonna pay us?" Rachel, done with it all went back to the bird cage, Marlowe tracking her with her eyes. Not missing the 'them' but not really caring. She would have taken Rachel with her, away from Washington DC, away from it all. Made sure she was safe, probably in Opal with Hailey, Rick, and her dad – where she would be surrounded by good people who would keep her safe, and then get back to her original mission.

"It's not that simple."

Marlowe scoffed on instinct, running a hand through her hair. Hank read from the letter sounding like glass shards on chalk board. Her blood was boiling. Her skin buzzing as if caffeine had inlaid into her cells. Heart beat elevated under her sternum, threatening to bust out of it's skeletal prison. 

"My sister told me she'd always have my back no matter what. You're just like him you know? Always fucking lying."

Marlowe, like the others, was too caught up in what was happening to hear the rooftop door open and close. And Also like the other's was snapped out of the situation as the saccharine voice called out a robotic greeting.

"Well, hello there you five." 

~~*~~

[owengrose]

Black Batman

I've been thinking about how dope a Black Bruce Wayne would be, so here's a story summary and fancast:

Thomas and Martha Wayne both come from old money Black families in the predominantly Black town of Gotham. The city was flooded with supervillains over time, mirroring the way real-life Black communities have been flooded with drugs to create a reason to crack down on those communities. Some of these supervillains were planted there by the government, some are Gothamites reacting to the stressors of life there. Inspired by the actions and policies of the Black Panthers, they start a number of community programs, like free breakfast for kids during the summer when they can't get a meal from school. When their actions start getting a little too radical, someone in Gotham has them assassinated.

Lamorne Morris as Bruce Wayne. When, shortly after his parents' murder, a paparazzi harrassed Bruce with comments like "Smile, Brucie! Why so serious?" he cultivates a carefree but dimwitted party boy persona in public to protect himself. He regularly exposes corrupt dealings, both political and corporate, by "endorsing" them and saying the quiet part so loudly that it ruins their aspirations and credibility, while making himself look too dumb to know that he wasn't supposed to say that. In private, Bruce is much more serious and reserved. He uses both Wayne Enterprises and his own resources as Batman to try and provide for the people of Gotham. He can see Gotham for what it is, both the glamorous facade and the gritty reality, but Gotham (and others) can never see who he truly is, under his Batman mask or his Bruce Wayne mask.

His rule of no killing, in addition to a reaction to his parents' murder, is also born out of his belief in community. No matter what they've done, all these people are still citizens of Gotham who have been failed by the institutions that are supposedly there to protect them. For better or for worse, Batman refuses to kill because Bruce wants to save them all.

LeVar Burton as Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred did his best to raise Bruce the way Thomas and Martha would have wanted. Seeing how Bruce was floundering after his parents' death, Alfred arranged for martial arts training to give him an outlet for his pain and rage. While he worries about Bruce's safety (and the safety of the Robins down the line), he understands the motivations behind Batman and won't ask him to stop. He will tell him to be careful every time, though.

Brian Tyree Henry as Clark Kent/Superman. Mild-mannered investigative reporter Clark Kent by day, heroic Superman by night. Whether he's a literal alien as Superman or one of only a handful of Black people in Kansas, Clark has always been perceived as a violent threat. Where Batman leans in to being feared, Superman actively shies away from it. Where Bruce cultivates a public persona, Clark represents himself exactly as he is (minus the not being human part). Clark thinks Bruce is dishonest while Bruce thinks Superman doesn't go far enough. Clark resents Bruce's ease of access to exposing corruption, Bruce resents Clark's relative safety. They come into into conflict over each other's methods and approaches. But there is significant respect between the two, and they trust each other implicitly.

[marauderundercover]

The Strings that Bind Us: Chapter Two

AO3

Prev

Marinette dances around her apartment, feeling lighter than she’d felt in years. She had dinner on the stove, a movie on the table, and her boyfriend of two weeks coming over in ten minutes. Honestly, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier. She grins when she hears the knock at her door. Quickly pulling the pan off the heat, she rushes over to the door, nearly falling on her face in her rush. Without even checking the peephole, she throws the door open and grins widely at Bruce. He smiles back at her and she kisses his cheek quickly.

“Hey, dinner’s almost ready.” She says, tugging him in and closing the door.

“You really didn’t have to cook tonight, we could’ve ordered in.” He says, and she turns to him, wrinkling her nose.

“Bruce, I’m honestly worried that all you ever eat is takeout.” She says flatly. He just laughs, and shakes his head.

“Mari, I can assure you I don’t always eat takeout.” He says, snaking his arms around her waist. She raises an eyebrow, giving him a softer version of her Ladybug stare. He just grins and leans down, kissing her gently. She instantly melts into the kiss, standing on her toes to try and deepen it. Just as he lifts her up, the timer goes off and she groans.

“I’m going to throw that damn thing out the window.” She gripes, giving him a quick peck before jumping down and pulling the pan with the steamer off the heat. “Could you grab some plates?” She calls over her shoulder, focused on moving the dumplings out of the steamer. She smiles as she does, the familiar feeling of working closely with someone she cares about washing away all of her worries. She grins as she feels Bruce’s arms wrap around her waist again as he nuzzles his head into her neck. She just hums in content, dishing out the dumplings and veggie stir fry. She could honestly get used to this.

---

Marinette blinks sleepily as she sits up on the couch, trying to figure out when she fell asleep. Glancing around, she smiles tiredly at Bruce.

“C’mere.” She says, reaching out for him. He chuckles.

“I’ve gotta go, Mari.” He says softly and she whines.

“No, don’t leave.” She asks, smiling in success as he sits back down next to her. She leans up against him, almost back asleep when he says:

“I have to go love, but I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” Well that’s not gonna happen. She pushes herself back up and forces her eyes open, frowning at Bruce’s laugh.

“If I sleep, you’re gonna leave.” She says with a pout. Bruce kisses the top of her head and she melts into his touch, eyes fluttering shut and- NO. Stay awake.

“How about I come back in the morning and we can have breakfast together?” He suggests and she sighs, leaning against him again.

“Fine, but I’ll get you to stay sometime. The nightmares always stay away when you’re here.” She says sleepily. He says something, but she doesn’t process it before she’s asleep again.

---

“Bruce, hi?” Marinette says, blinking in confusion at her boyfriend.

“Hey Mari, you didn’t forget about breakfast, did you?” He asks with a teasing smile. She frowns, as she tries to remember when they scheduled that. Her eyes widen when she realizes he definitely asked her last night. When she was half asleep. And had no filter.

“Oh my god, please tell me I didn’t say anything too embarrassing last night.” She begs, hiding her head in his chest. He chuckles.

“You mean besides the proposal?” He asks. She gasps and jumps away.

“No, I didn’t- did I-” She stammers out, pausing when she realizes he’s barely holding back a smile. She narrows her eyes. “You are an absolute ass, Bruce.” She says, glaring at him. He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry love, it’s just so easy to tease you sometimes.” He says, leaning in to kiss her. She huffs, but kisses him back, the butterflies exploding in her stomach. After a few more dizzying kisses, she pulls back, taking a deep breath.

“So is there a reason for our random breakfast date?” She asks, trying to decide how she should dress as she was still currently in her pajamas.

“I actually thought we could talk about a few things.” He says, with a small wince. Her heart drops.

“Are you breaking up with me?” She asks, terrified of his answer. His eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically.

“No, oh god no, Mari, I- I just wanted to tell you some more things about me, let you decide if you want to get out now.” He says, and she lets out a sigh of relief before jumping forward and wrapping her arms around her boyfriend’s neck.

“As long as you aren’t secretly a super villain, you couldn’t get rid of me.” She assures him, sighing as she feels him relax. She steps back and grins at him. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I thought that maybe we could drive through somewhere and grab something quick, then go to my place?” He suggests, and though it sounds simple enough, she can see his nervousness.

“Bruce, if you don’t want me to-” She starts, but he shakes his head.

“I want you to be in my life. I’m just worried that you’ll see me differently.” He says and she kisses him quickly.

“Well let me go get dressed so that we can go and maybe reassure you that I’m not about to run for the hills.” She says softly before rushing back to her room to get dressed. Her mind runs through a million different scenarios as she gets dressed, but she honestly can’t think of one where she would just leave him. Minus the whole villain thing. That was the only deal breaker she could think of. Shaking her head, she grabs her purse before walking back into the living room and grinning at Bruce. He smiles back and grabs her hand, but she can practically feel how nervous he is. She raises an eyebrow as he opens the car door for her.

“Do you not like it?” He asks, and she snorts.

“Bruce, honey, I have no knowledge on cars except this one is shiny. And a different one than I’ve seen you use before.” She says, grinning as she manages to make him blush slightly.

“Oh, uh, well. I like this one more, and thought it would help with the conversation.” He says and she raises an eyebrow. How would a shiny car help with a conversation? She just gets in the car, frowning at the person across the street taking a picture of them. Once Bruce is in the car, the person walks away and she narrows her eyes.

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but that person definitely just took a picture of us.” She says, surprised that instead of getting angry, Bruce just sighs.

“Marinette, how much do you know about the Wayne family?” He asks.

“Well, I know that they own Wayne Enterprises and that Wayne Enterprises owns a lot of Gotham. And they do a lot of charity work, but that’s about it.” She admits, grinning sheepishly. She’d meant to look into it more after Bruce told her he works at Wayne Enterprises, and especially after she heard a customer talking about a recent attack on the building, but she’d forgotten and now she felt like an idiot.

“My last name is Wayne.” Bruce says, and she just shrugs.

“Okay, so you’re related to the Wayne Enterprises people?” She asks, and he sighs.

“Mari, I am the Wayne Enterprises people. I’m Bruce Wayne, CEO of the company.” He says and she suddenly understands. It’s just like when she was in lycée and Adrien got nervous around people who knew he was an Agreste. Her amazingly sweet, smart boyfriend was worried about what she’d think about him now. She reaches out and grabs the hand that he had left between them, squeezing it tightly before smiling.

“And my last name is Dupain Cheng. My parents own one of the most successful patisseries in France. I adore you, mon cher, because you’re you. Not because your last name is Wayne.” She reassures him, he smiles at her softly and she laughs. “Look at the road, Bruce. I’d rather get where we’re going in one piece.” She says.

“There’s something else, Mari.” He says. She hums and raises an eyebrow. “I have two sons.” For a moment she panics. She didn’t know anything about being a mom, the most she’d been around kids was when she babysat throughout school. Before she can let herself spiral, she takes a breath. He wasn’t asking her to be a mom all of a sudden, he was just telling her. He was opening up.

“How old are they?” She asks, grinning at the wide smile he gives her in return.

“Dick is 18 and recently moved out. Jason is 13.” He says and Mari frowns. Was Bruce a teen dad? He hadn’t mentioned their mom, did he do it all on his own? That must’ve been extremely stressful. It couldn’t have been easy. And the company? It- “I can see you panicking, love. What is it?” He asks, frowning.

“You must’ve been a teenager when Dick was born! Did you do it all on your own? How in the world could you run a company and be a father so young and-”

“They’re both adopted.” He says, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

“I was so concerned for little you!” She exclaims. “I felt so awful that you had so much responsibility so young.” She admits and he chuckles.

“Trust me, even if I had been a teen parent, I wouldn’t have been alone. Alfred would have been there for me.” He says.

“Alfred?” She asks.

“Technically he’s the Wayne family butler, but he’s more like a father to me than anything else.” Bruce explains and she grins.

“He sounds amazing.” She says and Bruce smiles awkwardly.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to introduce the two of you. Today.”

Next

Tag list: @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @ashbrea381writings 

[ellana-ravenwood]

Can the Batman get flustered ? - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Batman has a reputation of always being impassive. Of being very in control of his emotions. But of course, you being his wife, you know his secrets and weak spots... And apparently, sending him dirty texts while you guys are in public definitely works very well to fluster him /Drabble-Minific.

You know that Tik Tok trend where people send a dirty text to their s/o while they’re in public ? I don’t know why I find it so funny and all, but today during my lunch break I was scrolling through the app and fell on a few of those and...boom. This story was born haha. Written in half an hour while I was eating pasta, I hope you’ll like it nonetheless :

TW : SLIGHTLY Nsfw. I mean. The subject itself is “dirty texts” so ya know haha. No actual texts will be shown, but insinuation will. 

My master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

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                                                    ******

Not amused. 

One. Two. Three. Fo-

Here it goes. 

He hears the little “beep” of his phone, notifying him that he just received a text.

Not any text though. 

A text from a family member. It was a very specific “beep”, for when one of his kids, you, or Alfred were sending him a text. 

You’re a little disappointed he changed the alert sound back to that boring “beep” it has always been.

You rather liked, when Jason pranked him and instead put a recording of himself saying “dingityding motherfucker, ya got a message from one of us”. 

It wasn’t very tasteful for sure, and yeah, you probably shouldn’t’ve found it so funny...But solely for the face your husband and the people he was talking to made, it was all worth it. 

So what if you were nodding along to Bruce’s sermon as he was scolding your son, while simultaneously, when your husband wasn’t looking, giving two thumbs up to Jason ? 

Anyway. Here was the family “beep”. And here it goes.

A smile to the people he was talking to meaning : “Apologies, I have to take this.” as he takes his phone out of his pocket. 

Not that it surprised anyone. He was Bruce Wayne, a busy billionaire who owned multiple enterprises and who was constantly on the move to something new. His phone ringing wasn’t exactly something special. 

Him answering during a conversation wasn’t either. 

Not only did he have the reputation of being a rather busy bee, but he was also  known as quite a protective father. His children were not present at the gala that night, meaning any calls or texts could be an emergency from them. 

Of course, nobody even suspected himbo Bruce Wayne to be the scary Batman, so no one could quite understand how worried Bruce could get about his kids. Yet Bruce Wayne has been a family man long enough by then for everyone to know he was a “doting father”. 

The fact he always protected them from too much media coverage, or how angry he would get when someone would be a little too chummy with them purely by interest...

You always found it sweet. 

That he cared so much about his family that even those not knowing him at all, even those only seeing his “Brucie Wayne” persona (minus the Playboy side he gave up long ago when deciding to make it official with you) noticed.

Of course, you knew he wasn’t always the perfect father. Or husband. But the fact he always tried so hard, and no matter what, always cared so much (maybe even too much ?) made everything worth it. 

Ah, but today wasn’t about how sometimes, it was a little difficult to be Batman’s wife. 

Today, it was about how fun it could actually be. 

Like right now, as he excused himself and took his phone out to see what the text he just received said. 

He was reading it now. And suddenly...

His eyes widened, his face turned a light shade of red, he hurriedly hid his phone’s screen, and cough a little to hide how hot he suddenly felt. 

“Are you alright, Bruce ?” 

One of the man he was talking to asked, and with an awkward smile (very unlike him), he answered : 

“Yes, yes everything is ok. Haha. The um, the children.” 

The man nods, and says something like : “Aaah children, never cease to worry us right ?” and Bruce chuckles. Of this utterly fake chuckle only you knew was fake. 

His real laugh sounded nothing like that. 

A few more seconds pass, before Bruce excuses himself, saying he has to go check something, and...Finally. 

Finally, his eyes are searching for you. 

Finding you easily amongst everyone else. 

His slight frown, his rosy cheeks who would stay this color for a little while still, and the way he walked towards you with incredible resolve...How adorable. 

“I bet you find this funny, mm ?” 

“No idea what you’re talking about, dear.” 

Your small smile is infuriating. And oh, oh how Bruce wished he didn’t love it as much as he did. Oh how he wished he could actually be mad at you for sending him such a thing, in such a public place.

“You need to stop doing that.” 

“Doing what, exactly ?” 

“Sending me -he lowers his voice and continues- sending me those, things.” 

“Things ?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

You smile at him, coyly. But he can see the mischievous spark in your eyes. And he scoffs, frustrated that you always seem to easily get to him. 

Nobody does that. Only you. 

Sure, his kids will sometimes get under his skin just for the sake of it. Or could have rather hurtful words if they weren’t feeling well. But he was always able to control his emotions in those cases. 

The Batman was always so impassive. He always looked so in control of his emotions. And Bruce worked for years and years to achieve this. To be able to hide it all deep within him, to pretend he’s not feeling anything, and stay neutral. 

But you...You always burned through his very being. Wether it was because you smiled at him, or send him a rather dirty text in the middle of a crowded charity ball, as he was talking to some of the most powerful people in Gotham. 

Oh. Oh this was a treat. A flustered Bruce. It wasn’t often, you could get him like that. And it was such a treat. 

He can see you’re enjoying this. And passed the initial shock of you telling him such dirty things in your texts, he can see how funny and rather sexy this entire thing could be. 

If only, if only he could control his emotions when around you. 

But he can’t. He can’t because he loves you too much. And because you know exactly how to play him (to be fair, he also knew exactly how to play you, and could drive YOU crazy if he wanted to, too...each had a turn, you guess). 

He bites the inside of his lips, as he usually does when he’s slightly amused, yet a bit annoyed. Yes. That was a mood that was fairly frequent with Bruce. Especially when it came to you. 

You always knew exactly which buttons to push to rile him up, to fluster him, to exasperate him to no end, too. 

And when he bit the inside of his lips, it was when he felt a mix of amusement, and annoyance. 

To be honest, that was exactly what you were looking for to get out of him. 

And sending him a dirty text in public always worked. You loved, the flustered way he reacted. The flushed cheeks, the blabbering and how it took him a little bit to regain countenance while usually it’d only take him a few seconds to hide his feelings. 

You smile at him again, happy you still have any effect on him and...

Ah. And there it was. Passed the initial shock of receiving such a text, and the slight annoyance at you trying to fluster him...the smile. A genuine and soft smile. One only always directed at you. One that showed you, and everyone around, just how much Bruce Wayne loved you. 

He throws an arm around your waist, and says : 

“So. Should we get out of here ?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

Another smile. Genuine. Making everything worth it. 

The hardships, but also this sort of simple moments. 

When Bruce Wayne could act like a “normal” man, and get flustered as his wife send him sexy texts while they were in public, and very crowded places. 

Bruce smiles at you. Genuinely. Yes. You could always get to him. And, frankly, even if he loved to complain about it...He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

And now ? Now he was definitely ready to go try out what you suggested in that god forsaken text. 

Why do you chose such moment do to this ?! 

One. Two. Three. Fo-

Like clockwork.

He was in an important business meeting, but everyone here recognized that special “beep”, the one Jason oh so loved to change up to ridiculous things. 

It was even worst lately, as he started a “game” with his siblings : “Whoever can get their hands on dad’s phone and replace all his notification sounds with something stupid, wins”. Needless to say, your children’s competitive side was driving your husband crazy. 

It was rather funny, to watch him, each mornings as he was getting ready to leave for work, getting slightly unnerved as he made sure his alarms hadn’t been changed (your children could be sooooo sneaky).  

Tim won, when he slyly and sneakily replaced the “beep” with...that same “beep” a few times, as to not make his father suspicious, only for, after the third “beep”, the phone screaming the main theme from the “Barbie : Thumbelina” movie. Damn.

Your kids were geniuses. 

It was hilarious, to see your husband’s face suddenly turning pale. 

Ah but your children, all genius that they were, were still amateurs. 

They couldn’t get him to feel as mortified as you could, when you pulled this particular little trick on him...

Annoying him ? Making him feel embarrassed for a few seconds ? Exasperating him to no end ? That, they were always good at. But he would always regain his countenance fast. 

But what you did ? Haha. Aaah it would stay on his mind for long after the event, and would most definitely...Fluster him. 

Flustered. 

Not a state the great Bruce Wayne was in often. 

And most of the time, you were the source of the “flustering”. 

Like right now, as he was in an important meeting, and heard his phone “beep”. 

The “family beep”. 

Unfortunately for him, it was one of “those texts”. That you just send because well, maybe you were a little evil ? Maybe you liked, to fluster him when he was in public ? To show people he was actually human ? 

He looked at his phone, straightened up in his chair and...Of course, he guessed that you must be around. 

And there you were indeed. Right outside the room.

He quickly glanced at you through the glass walls of the conference room. 

You saw him readjust his pants, and you knew you definitely got to him today. But his reaction wasn’t that grand. Maybe he had um...A little “pants being too tight” problem, but it was clear he could easily hide it. And he got hold of his face rather fast. 

Still, it was very entertaining, how clearly bothered he was. How unable to focus on the meeting he was. Only you though, who knew him better than anyone else, would notice the shift in his behavior. 

It wasn’t enough, though. And he wasn’t looking at you anymore. That wouldn’t do. 

You decided to give him the coup de grace and slipped to the restroom to um...Take a nice picture of yourself, let’s say that. 

You went back to wait outside the conference room, where you’d have a GREAT view of him. And of his reaction. That was certainly going to be...Something. 

“Beep”. The family “beep”. 

It’s uncanny, how Bruce never suspects you’re going to trick him TWICE in a row. He should though. You often do it. 

Ah but his fatherly instincts always get the best of him, and when he hears that specific “beep”, he can’t stop but look. In case anyone needs him. 

He should really find a “beep” just for you, shouldn’t he ? Then again, even then, even with the knowledge that you LOVE to send him dirty text while he’s in public, he’d still jump on the notification. Just in case something happened, you know ? 

Nothing happened today. Well. Except for your little restroom trip. 

He barely takes a look at the photo you send him, that his eyes widen, he spits the drink he was taking all over the papers in front of him, and he slams his phone screen first on the table (shattering it in the process).

“Um...are you okay, mister Wayne ?” 

His associates and employees are concerned. For good reasons. And Bruce hastily tries to dry his paperwork, and apologize saying it’s nothing, that they’re all doing a great job and to continue, please. 

They do. Writing this incident off as yet another one of their boss’ eccentricities (as far as they were concerned, there were lots of them). 

And you are LIVING. It’s always nice, you can get such reaction out of him. 

He looks at you again. And as the meeting went on, for ten more excruciating minutes, he kept looking at you, although he tried really hard to focus on what was being said. 

Oh well. He’d ask Lucious for a recap. 

His eyes also kept going to his shattered phone, playing that photo over and over in his head...Finally, the meeting was over, and he rushed out. 

No one was surprised, they all saw you waiting patiently (haha) outside. They all liked “Mrs. Wayne”, you were nice, and always lifted their boss’ spirit. 

And they knew that when you were around, it was usually to pick him up. So yes. It wasn’t a surprised when he hastily said goodbye, and went to you. 

“You need to stop doing that !” 

You don’t even bother answering, smiling at him in a mischievous almost evil way. And you kiss him on the lips. A simple, very chaste peck. That light his heart on fire. 

It’s crazy, the effect you have on him. No matter how much he tries to keep himself in check. Of course, he has the same effect on you. And to be honest, he flusters you much more than you fluster him. 

After all, rare are the perfect occasions to send him dirty texts in moments that will fluster him. If you did it in any other time, he’d just smile and immediately go to you. Or answer with an equally heated text (when he was away, sexting was totally a thing). 

More often than not, he was the one in control. Oh but when you could get to him...When you could get to him, you REALLY got to him. And if anyone else would notice how truly flustered he got, they wouldn’t recognize him. 

But you knew him. You knew how sweet and soft he could be. How many people had the wrong ideas of him. And how adorable it was, when you got him all hot and bothered in that way. 

How, no matter how much he tried, you always got to him, during those moments. And how much it meant. 

How much it meant. 

It meant that you were his only one. That nobody understood him more than you. And that honestly, no matter how annoyed, flustered and such he would get...he was just always feeling a little happy nonetheless. 

Yes. 

It meant a lot, that you knew him that well. And that only you, with a few well placed words, could fluster him so. 

In the Watchtower.

This was rather dangerous. 

Which added even more spices to everything. 

Not that usually, it wasn’t “dangerous”. So far, you did it to him while he was in a meeting, at a gala, not far from many paparazzis...

There had always been a sort of danger, to you sending this kind of texts to him while in public. 

But today...Ah today there was even more. 

Because today, you guys were in the Justice League’s watchtower. 

And there were MANY people, in that place, that could easily take a peak at what Bruce had on his phone. And that would NEVER leave it down that the Batman was receiving such filth from his wife. 

That’s why you did it. And also because that very same morning, Bruce had been a little too grumpy and unpleasant, and you wanted to take a little revenge on him. 

It was rare, really, that he would be a jerk to you or his kids nowadays. But sometimes. Just sometimes...Well. He wasn’t a perfect being. He had many flaws. And he could be a bit of a dick, at times. Even to you and your children. 

Hence, the well deserved little revenge you were about to get (not that you really needed a reason to want him flustered...but here, with all your superhero friends, it was a particular treat). 

One. Two. Three. Fo-

“Beep”. The specific family one. 

Batman was sitting at the tip of the meeting table. You were sitting a few seat from him, a wide evil grin already plastered on your face. And all your best friends were around the table, discussing plans to secure Earth a little more from intergalactic attack. 

“Excuse me for a minute.” 

Your husband says. And no one is surprised. They all recognize the “family beep”. And despite the reputation he dragged for years, they also all know what his family means to him... 

Clark is right there, slowly leaning towards Bruce, and you know he’s about to ask if the kiddos are alright. Turns out, Clark Kent is an amazing uncle. And friend. He worries a lot about “y’all”, very often. 

And oh, oh this was going to be fun. 

At the very moment Bruce’s eyes see your name on his phone, and what is the content of your text, his eyes widen, turn to Clark and...

“What the hell Bruce ?” 

Your husband, by pure instinct, shoved Clark’s face away, while at the same time hiding his phone in his pocket again.

Clark could’ve avoided it easily, you knew. But he probably wasn’t really expecting the Batman to get weirdly panicky and shove him away like that ? 

“You were-...Too close.” 

Bruce says a bit abruptly, trying really hard to hide how worked up he feels after he read what you send him. He avoids your look like the plague, and pretends as if this little incident didn’t happen, returning to discussing plans. 

The incident passed fast, and although Clark was a bit sour about it, he didn’t ask further. He guessed yes, he was a little too close ? He just wanted to be sure whoever send the text was alright. 

And oh. Oh that whoever was definitely alright. 

Because it was you. And this entire scene unfolded to your utter delight. Bruce abruptness and such was very much like him to all his friends. But you...You saw beyond that. 

You saw how rosy his cheeks got under his mask. And how his eyes kept wandering to you, even as he was working on something very important. 

You saw how truly flustered he got. So flustered in fact, that he couldn’t think of a clever way out of why he shoved his friends away, but that he was “too close”. 

A little unlike Bruce. 

Or was it really ? Was it truly unlike him, or just unlike the idea so many people had of him ? Because you...

You knew the real Bruce. And sometimes, he could be clumsy and shy and stumble on his words. He could be awkward and cute, all flustered and blushy. 

He could be...He was so many things. 

And so many sides of him were absolute secrets. Secrets only you and your children knew. 

You were privy to the most secret parts of him. 

The adorable ones that would get flustered by a dirty text send in public. 

But also the very sexy one that would later act upon it...

He could act annoyed, embarrassed and like he was mad at you all he wanted. You knew he secretly LOVED it, when you took this kind of risk. 

And oh. Oh how you knew. 

Really ?! In front OF MY SALAD ?!

It was a “family and friends” barbecue. One of those occurrences that happen very rarely, when your entire circle of close friends and family is free. 

One of those very rare occurrences where you could all meet up, and have a relaxing time. Today, a barbecue. 

The summer heat was heavy, and you couldn’t help but smile as you looked at your kids and Clark’s son, Jon, playing in the pool. 

Jason and Jon were having a fight against Tim and Damian, and you weren’t sure it was a very fair one...Up until Tim kicked his brother in the nuts, and Jason fell in the water, cursing him. 

You probably should’ve told them to “play nice”, but then Jason emerged from the water and grabbed both his little brothers and...It was clearly all in good fun. Jon was bursting in laughter, cheering along with Duke and Cass for whoever they were siding with to win. 

Ah. Ah you lived for days like this. When you could all pretend to be normal. Then again, you would change your lifestyle for no others. 

The vigilante thing, making Gotham (and by extension the World) a better place...this was what you chose. What you all chose. 

You turned away from your children playing in the pool, screaming (you were pretty sure they could be heard all the way in Downtown Gotham) and having fun, to look for your husband. 

And there he was. Flipping some burgers on the barbecue. Looking hella fine in his polo shirt and cargo shorts. Then again, that man could wear a burlap sack that he would still look good. 

You were shamelessly staring at him when he turned to look at you, giving you the smuggest look you’ve seen on his face in a while. 

Oh. Oh the bastard. He knew the effect he had on you. And he loved it. 

Mmm. 

That sort of called for a little lesson, right ? Punishment, perhaps ?

And the environment was perfect. Here he was, taking care of the barbecue, while surrounded by friends asking for burgers...The perfect setting to fluster Bruce Wayne. 

You took your phone out, and wrote everything you wanted to do to him. The way that polo shirt was clinging to his muscles definitely fueled your imagination. 

You pressed send, and sat back in your chair, sipping on your non-alcoholic cocktail. You smiled at Lois and Dinah as they came to sit next to you, and took part in their conversation (they were talking about how annoying Oliver and Clark could be, yet how great they were too, and ah you could relate to this haha). But you kept a lookout for Bruce. 

His phone rang. The infamous “family beep”. But he didn’t immediately react. Probably because his entire family was reunited here, and he could see none of them were in trouble. 

He was probably thinking it was you sending him a text about how well you wanted your burger. Or something like that. And that’s when...

Your oldest son was coming with a plate full of uncooked food for the barbecue, and was about to settle it on the table next to his dad, but his phone was in the way. So he took it in his hand, and as he settled the plate Bruce’s phone rung again. 

You stood up, and called out, a little panicked : 

“No no no wait Dick ! Hey ! Don’t look at-”

Too late. You could see, as your son turned very pale, eyes widening and looking very ill, that he saw what you send your husband...

Damn it. And it was a very imaginative one at that, today...You sighed, knowing what was about to happen.

“WHAT THE FUCK ?!” 

Dick turned towards his father, looking as if he had just been betrayed. And Bruce has no idea what’s happening. 

“WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE YOUR PHONE OUT LIKE THAT IF THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE GONNA RECEIVE ?!” 

And suddenly, your husband understands. And he’s not sure if he’s amused or if he wants to frown at you. He gives you a quick glance, and you shrug. You definitely didn’t intend on traumatizing your son with this... 

Dick takes hold of his salad bowl, looks at his father straight in the eyes and says : 

“You disgust me.” Oh, but it was said in such an overdramatic, over the top way. It was impossible for you not to grin. 

And on that note, absolutely outraged and rather grossed out, Dick leaves to go grumpily eat his salad, alone at one of the outside table. Slowly, his siblings go to him, wondering what happened and why he screamed like that. 

But as they see you slowly laugh your ass off, as they see their father who’s not sure if he should be flustered, ashamed or amused, and as they see Dick’s face...They all understand the subject of it all. They don’t know the exact things that happened. But they know their parents enough, and particularly the way you sometimes couldn’t get your hands off of each others, to know what this all was about. 

Cue a bunch of “oh no ewwwww”, and a few “in front of your salad ?!” doubled with “this is a family event...”, and you definitely can’t stop laughing. 

You feel a little bad, because you really didn’t intend on your son seeing what you had to say. And this was definitely one of the worst thing that happened on the spectrum of “my parents are gross...ly in love”. But you can’t help it. Your kids’ faces are just too funny. 

And the way Bruce tries to resist looking at his phone to see what you said, while obviously being very curious (and feeling a little hot, the heat outside not being the reason)...it was just the icing on the cake. 

So what if you were a little evil, and liked to tease him a bit too much ? And what if there were some little collateral damages along the way ? 

As you always said, nobody was perfect. 

Sometimes, it is welcomed.

Oh but there are days. Harder than others. Where you do it, not to fluster or annoy him, but to take his mind off of his troubles.

Like right now.

You could see him, in the middle of this sea of people. Not feeling like he belongs. And dwelling on painful past events.

You went to get him a drink, for once. You left him alone for a few minutes, as you made your way to the bar and ordered the usual non-alcoholic drinks you two got. But when you turned around...

Here he was. 

Lost. In a place he did not want to be in, but had to so he could keep the “Brucie” facade he put up all those years. So the suspicion about him being Batman could never even start. And so he could put his money to good use. 

Charity, rebuilding the city, funding schools, hospitals...All of this required his presence. 

But oh. Oh he really didn’t want to be there. If it was up to him, he would probably be home, with his kids, in front of a movie they chose. Bonus point if you were snuggled up to him. 

This was his “one night a week” he HAD to not go out as Batman. And it killed you, that this night was too often used for such events... 

But alas, choosing the life you both chose required certain sacrifices. Including a few hours mingling with people you don’t even like, to try and make your city a better place. 

There was, however, something you could do for him. Something that would cheer him up, in this moment of “I wish I was somewhere else”. 

The “dirty texting to fluster Bruce” tactic wasn’t only used in mischievous way, to make him fluster and blush and such. 

No. No sometimes, sometimes it was used to cheer him up. 

Like now. 

Bruce’s mind was elsewhere, drowning in this sea of people he couldn’t even remember the names of. 

Until a familiar “beep” resounded in his pocket. 

The family “beep”. 

Without a second thought, he takes his phone out and...

Yes. There are certain moments, in which you sending him the dirtiest text he ever read (and being the “most eligible bachelor” for quite a while, he already received quite the saucy sexte), while you are in public, instead of flustering him would...

He finds you in the crowd easily. 

He always found it easy, to single you out. Even while amongst this many people. It’s because to him, you shine. Almost quite literally. 

He never had any difficulties finding his way back to you, even in the most crowded places...Sometimes, he joked that it’s because he could feel his love for you guide him. When he feels extra sappy, he says it with a serious tone. 

And he means it. 

He does. 

It’s easy, to find you. Because he knows where to look. As if instinct linked you to him all those years ago. And he knows. He knows it’s because he never loved anyone like he loves you. 

And right now, as you sent him a particularly graphic text in the hope to take his mind off of whatever dark thoughts he was getting lost in, he definitely finds it extra easy to find your face. 

There you are. 

And he smiles at you. Widely. So pure. Rare, for a man like him. 

Because he knows. He knows this time, you didn’t send this to him to fluster him in front of people, but to distract him. 

And it works. Oh damn it works. 

His smile turns “sexy”, as anyone would say, and he looks very smug, as you walk towards him. 

In truth, whenever you send him such a text, he always feel a little rush. Wether you’re trying to fluster him, or just cheer him up. 

That man was as in love with you as if it was the first day, forever stuck in the honeymoon phase...Why wouldn’t he appreciate receiving hot texts from you ?

Even when you were purposefully trying to make him blush, there was a little part of him, although it was infuriating how satisfied you look that you ALWAYS succeeded, that just loved those texts. 

You’re right next to him now, handing him his drink. He takes it smoothly from your hand, 

“Thank you, my love.” 

You wink at him, reveling in his warmth, snuggling a little closer albeit staying rather discreet, as this was an official event, after all. 

His hand squeeze your waist a little, and you know what he’s about to do. He bends down to your ear and whispers, all suave and smug : 

“What was this about needing um, a little disciplining ?” 

You smile, knowing your mission was a frank success as he’s definitely not thinking about not wanting to be there anymore. Well. He most likely does. But he’s not dwelling on pain and misery for sure. And he’s not thinking those dark thoughts he can have sometimes...

You give him a coy look, and then you say : 

“When we get out of here, I’ll show you.” 

Oh you make him melt. Unable to hide his bedroom eyes, he gives your forehead a chaste kiss in the hope to regain countenance. 

But it’s too late. You successful diverged his thoughts from any darkness...But now all he can think about is you. 

And what you told him you wanted him to do to you. 

Yes. Sometimes...Sometimes, you sending him absolutely dirty texts in public was everything he needed to come back to life. 

As ridiculous as this sounded. 

You were his lifeline so many times...He had no idea, at this point, what he would do without you. He couldn’t go back to the way he lived before you. No. He couldn’t. 

And you wouldn’t let him anyway. Because no matter what, you were here for him. Your unconditional love, and self-admittedly cheekiness was here for him. 

Ah. How good it felt, to be the only one in the world that could show off about being able to “fluster” the Batman himself. 

_________________________________________________

I think I haven’t written something that short in like...ever haha. I haven’t re-read myself, this is just a quick bonus story :).  It’s really just a little fun thing to write, nothing too serious or detailed or with too much feels ^^'. A quick drabble written for the sake of writing haha. I hope you liked it anyway, and aren’t disappointed or something ? 

Just wanted to show an unknown almost “evil” side to Batmom ? Hahahaha. Anyway : Any comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated ^^. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with an actual story ! There’s one coming just this week-end ;).

[ckbookish]

BATMAN BINGO MASTER POST 2020

1 "I thought you were dead.": I Still See Your Ghost 

Today was just not Dick's day. First he overslept his alarm and was late to work. Amy had been less than impressed at his tardiness... Then He had bungled what should have been an easy take town... But the straw that broke the camel's back was Tim. Dick had forgotten to call Tim. 

2 Friendly fire: Fratricide 

Jason was pissed. No, Jason was enraged. Yeah, he was enraged at the whole mess his family-- if that’s even what they were to each other anymore-- had gotten him in. It was meant to be a simple night. Break in. Torch the drugs. Maybe shoot a couple of people and go home. But no, Batman heard about his plans and decided that arson was too extreme. “Someone could get hurt.” Well someone had gotten hurt, a lot of someones. 

3 Hypothermia: Weekend Commute 

Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

Chapter two Bruce's perspective.

4 Superman: Bringer of the Dawn

The Aftermath of when the Joker shoots Dick.

or

Where do you go when your family tells you to get out?

5 Shot: The Gratitude Trap

Bruce finds himself in the dark, a place he never thought he would be when it came to Clark Kent and Dick Grayson. Yet here he is digging for answers, because he is too scared to pick up the phone and call. 

6 Two-face: The Better Choice 

How do you reconcile the man who was once your friend with the monster he has become? Bruce reflects on how the man he once called his best friend changed. How could the man who helped him foster Dick, hold that baseball bat? 

7 Drowning: Omori’s Law

Deep in the sewer's under Gotham, Batman is trapped. There is no back up, no Robin. He is faced with the single truth that he tried to teach each of his partners... You have to save yourself. 

  8 Found Family: A Restoration from a Resilient Heart

Dick just wants to not be alone with the shadows in the house. Bruce doesn't realize he has lived with them for far to long, and maybe he doesn't have to anymore.

9 Adoption: The Irrefutable Truth

When he reached the reception, he found himself looking around a fairly empty room. There were a few call girls in the corner filling out forms, an older woman holding a dog, a kid that looked about twelve and a middle aged man who looked like he was ready to cry. He knew no one. Dick was about to turn around and head back to his desk when the on duty officer called out to him. Officer O’Conner was one of his fellow rookies, he had a thick accent. Dick thought he might be from Louisiana. “Grayson! Why didn’t you say your brother was coming to see you?” Dick looked at him with his mouth slightly open. There was no way he heard that right. “My what?” 

10 Bruises: Mr. Wayne

Tim is new to this. He's only been Robin for a little over six months. It was going well. But now he was going to be fired. Batman wouldn't want a partner who got caught at school with a black eye. Would he?

11 Bruce is dead: You Have One Saved Message 

Gotham gossip columns spread lies and smear good people's names. But yet Damian can't help but think maybe this mornings article was true.  That despite all his claims of being the true son of Bruce Wayne, he was in fact the only unwanted one.

12 CPR: Vital Signs 

Robin wakes to find him and Batman in an exploded factory. With Batman injured and the building burning around them, Dick struggles to get them both to safety.   

13 Dad:  Storge 

Bruce could have sworn his spirit had left him momentarily.  The sudden hollowness that filled him couldn’t be explained in any other way. 

 “Your dad must have his hands full with you.”  Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray.  

Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view.  It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world.  The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield...  Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad.  But he wasn’t. 

14 Stealing the Batmobile: T-Minus Six Hours

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.

15 Wayne Enterprises: Amidst the Absence of Meaning 

Bruce is worried. He's running on less than three hours of sleep, and way too many cups of coffee. He had messed up. That much was obvious. The question was would Dick forgive him?

A gruesome night on patrol bleeds into Bruce's work day and now all he can wonder is if this is the thing that will push Dick over the edge? Had he finally seen to much pain?

16 Ransom: Sum of My Worth

The ring of the phone seemed to echo through the manor’s still too quiet long, winding halls, and everyone present collectively held their breath. Bruce lunged for the phone.   

17 Secret Injury: Hiding in Pain Sight

“What?” Dick asked sharper than he meant to. He was tired.

“Nothing.” Tim said with a small smirk. “Heavy is the head.”

Dick closed his eyes, glad that Tim couldn’t see them. He was so sick of this. Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass all didn’t think he was good enough, well Cass hadn’t said that, but Dick could read her. They didn’t think he was up to the job. Well they didn’t need to tell him that. He knew it.

18 Superboy: An Interlude in Breathing 

Tim looked out over the water in a daze. Bruce and Dick had gone somewhere below deck and he was alone. Well there were strangers on the ship mingling and talking excitedly--but Tim gave them no notice. Instead he watched the water lap up against the hull and crash down back to meet the dark, cold waters. They were far enough out that he could no longer see the shore. It was just endless expenses of sea and sky. Something tickled his neck and he started, only to realize he had been crying. It was only a tear slipping under his collar.

The days after the battle of Infinite Crisis

19 Betrayed: Smother

She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll in her lungs for a long moment before allowing it hiss out between her teeth. The screams from the warehouse weren’t completely muffled by the distance, or the walls. Perhaps she was only imagining them. But then, sounds like that, she didn’t think she could dream up. She jumped after a particularly high pitched yelp. “Get a grip.” She dropped the cigarette and pulled out another. Her hand shook as she lit it. “It’s just some random kid. He’s not--” She bit back a sob. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had no right to tears, not when it was her fault.   

20 Crowbar: Breaklights

The mail fell to the ground and the paper smacked the tiles hard.  The sound in reality couldn’t have been all that loud, but it seemed to echo around the entryway.  Bruce didn’t look at the dropped bills and the invitation to a fundraiser for the new Gotham women’s shelter.  He was too fixated on the small stamp with the queen of England's head on it.  Wolverhampton.  

The large envelope was far heavier then it should have been.  Bruce could feel bile crawling up his throat.  

He had forgotten.

21 Deathstroke: Debts and Dues

There were some things that were never pleasant, getting caught in the snow without socks, losing your keys, and not being able to remember the name of a song. Having a gun pointed at your chest, Dick felt, qualified as extremely unpleasant. He stood stock still. The barrel of the gun was still hot, it burned slightly as it dug into his sternum. Even with his uniform he could still feel the heat left over from previous rounds fired. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t flinch. “Move.” “You know I can’t.” Dick wondered if Slade had the guts to do it.   

22 Mission Gone Wrong: Murmur in the Quiet Hours

Superman? Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no. Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.   

23 Kidnapped:  Chum 

Dick trumped through the leaves, stopping his feet roughly. He relished the sound of the crunch beneath his shoes as he tread on the brown, dead leaves before him. He felt rather justified in his satisfaction. After all the world had taken so much from him, why wouldn’t he do his best to crush it in return. The woods were cool and as he went deeper into them they grew darker. The sun had long set, and the sky was quickly vanishing as the trees grew thicker. Wayne Manor was far behind him. He was never going back. He hated those pristine walls, those old floor boards. He hated the quiet. He hated the stuffy furniture and the rules and the vases and pictures. He hated his new guardian and that… that… Dick couldn’t remember what Alfred was called, but he hated it. The bag on his back felt heavy. It had everything Dick owned in it. Well and a toothbrush that Alfred had given him. But he didn’t think that was really stealing. 

24 Riddler: Seeking Silence on Shortwaves

Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk. In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world. Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things. Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing. Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.

Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms. When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked. But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?

25 Mr. Freeze: Glimpsing the Sun While Trapped in the Rime

He almost called Bruce between his fourth and fifth class. He pulled his phone out, leaning against his locker, and half dialed his number when a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “Hey.” Dick spun around and blinked back black spots as his body protested the sudden movement. A blaze of red hair filled his vision and Dick felt a small fire build in his chest. His face split into a wide smile.

After a run in with Mr. Freeze Dick finds himself feeling odd at school, but he can't go home, not when Barbara's asked him to drive her to Betty's party after school.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

OPTION C AKA WEAPONIZED INCOMPETENCE BATSIS TURNED VIGILANTE BEING FAVORED BY JASON IS SO FUN (and potentially comedic or dark)

If reader is petty, doing brutal yet creative EVERYTHING minus killing is fun. Like, is she KILLING anyone? Huh? She's not breaking the rules, shoo shoo. She and Jason bullying gotham scums together fr.

Pettier ideas of what weaponized incompetence batsis turned vigilante:

Immediately refuses to help the cops once they said something like her resembling Batman or any of the batsibs (jason is probably an exception)

Immediately walks away and tells people to fight crime themselves if they criticize her and redhood's brutal methods.

If her siblings and batman managed to pull her into this vigilante stuff, gives them silent treatment thr whole time except when fighting.

Asks other people for help regarding injuries during mission if Jason isn't there because she don't want her family touching her. Spite.

Treat journalists or interviewers like air. That, or saying something cryptic,leaves, refuses tp elaborate.

Heiii! Thanks for reaching out again. I was busy yesterday BUT IM BACK...

These are all great! Honestly you can use them all in combination.

My personal favorite is 4. I think that'll really hurt yan! batfam a lot. Jason would be all giddy inside. You're just waiting for him to come home, all bloody and bruised still. He's upset with his family at first, like why haven't you helped her patch up??

Bruce is like look,,, he goes up to you and tries touching you and you smack him away. "We've tried, Jason. She doesn't want anyone but you to help her. Hopefully you'll get to it soon because i'm worried her cuts may become infected."

Jason takes you to get cleaned up, but he gives his batsis the mandatory "You can't do this anymore because you'll end up harming yourself..blah blah blah." He's sortta upset with you because this is a really stupid idea. Like he gets it but...come on.

But half way through the scolding he ends up laughing at how much he sounds like Dick and Bruce. He eases up and you explain to him why you decided to be like this. Like i said he's sort of giddy on the inside. He likes messing with his family so he allows it but only if you promise to actually let them help if it's severe enough.

Might i say though, Jason is the worst person to ask to help with wounds??? Like this mf just pours pure vodka on his wounds and slaps a too-small bandage on it then goes about his day. He has walked into Bruce's office while dripping blood everywhere and used his stapler to close up the cuts. LIKE HE DIDNT EVEN CLEAN IT OFF HE JUST WALKED AWAY...

*chainsaw noises*

Jason is trying to be gentle with you but eventually he's just like screw it "..Do you want me to use the blow torch or the wood burner? Your choice."

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

    Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week. 

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him. 

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years. 

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether. 

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary. 

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve. 

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you. 

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation. 

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently. 

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory. 

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.  

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read. 

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now. 

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?” 

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind. 

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will. 

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?” 

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.  

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply. 

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time. 

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him? 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.” 

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face. 

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away. 

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

     You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang. 

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame. 

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty. 

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound. 

Steve really wasn’t here. 

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief. 

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy. 

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call. 

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself. 

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later. 

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready. 

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

      Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice. 

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him. 

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations? 

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong. 

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends. 

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

    Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health. 

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday. 

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky. 

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner. 

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course. 

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast. 

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk. 

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option. 

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you. 

“I will.” 

     The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat. 

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him. 

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute. 

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions. 

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you. 

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul. 

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres. 

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor. 

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield. 

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags. 

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later. 

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking. 

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another. 

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts. 

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here. 

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission. 

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case. 

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011. 

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy. 

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling. 

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was. 

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans. 

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache. 

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look. 

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin. 

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath. 

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly. 

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile. 

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret. 

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth. 

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown. 

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed. 

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in. 

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered. 

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes. 

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation.  And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.  

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers. 

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all. 

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades. 

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.  

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

      “There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find. 

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made. 

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner. 

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance. 

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself - 

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris. 

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again. 

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains. 

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself. 

     At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen. 

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain. 

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected. 

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?” 

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively. 

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement. 

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved. 

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side. 

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere. 

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size. 

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself. 

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms. 

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug. 

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel. 

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. 

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter. 

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on. 

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas. 

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief. 

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple. 

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple. 

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

     It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen. 

Yes, that would have been great. 

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether. 

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands. 

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting. 

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.” 

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell. 

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious. 

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have. 

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted. 

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down. 

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted. 

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

     It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them. 

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called. 

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop. 

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.  

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards. 

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing. 

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway. 

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’. 

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him. 

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words. 

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it. 

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs. 

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could. 

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. 

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?” 

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.” 

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned. 

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question. 

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.” 

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list. 

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink.  “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle. 

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky. 

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry. 

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.” 

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission. 

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call. 

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.” 

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe. 

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked. 

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway. 

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through. 

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve. 

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

     It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count. 

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret. 

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success. 

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right. 

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better. 

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner. 

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch. 

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult. 

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner. 

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush. 

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen. 

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda. 

     Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone. 

It was now or never. 

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table.  “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing. 

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin. 

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen. 

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether. 

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles. 

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -” 

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm. 

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.” 

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him. 

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss. 

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss. 

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last. 

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck. 

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him. 

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying. 

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had. 

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer. 

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it. 

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”  

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders. 

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well. 

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed. 

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you.  He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself. 

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning. 

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him. 

“You gonna let me?”

 And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra.  You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had. 

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically. 

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear. 

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it. 

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely. 

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in. 

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air. 

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass. 

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined. 

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth. 

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story. 

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound. 

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited. 

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea. 

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet. 

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now. 

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry. 

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements. 

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat. 

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself. 

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you. 

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss. 

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it. 

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor. 

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it. 

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed. 

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed. 

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring. 

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown. 

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae. 

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised. 

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again. 

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom. 

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time. 

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to. 

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t. 

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could. 

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow. 

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched. 

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again. 

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply. 

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really. 

You thought the same about him. 

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again. 

     Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up. 

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less. 

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along. 

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again. 

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

~

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​ 

[thebookwormfairy]

Captain the Retired Police and His Puppies Part 3

Sorry for not updating this story in a bit, I got distracted. I'll be starting a permit tag list for all my Daminette stories so if you would like to be add, just let me know! On with the story

Masterlist

It had been a couple of day since Tom and Sabine left back to Paris

Ace was still Captain's number one priority

So when his girl told him she was making a quick run to the fabric store for a comission for Fang's human he was a bit worried but stayed behind

He did ask that Titus try to go with her

Titus agreed and ran up to Marinette as she was about to leave

Marinette was having a day to herself

Apparently there was a big emergency at Wayne Enterprise and everybody had to go handle it

If course this was totally fine

And Marinette told them as much

She just planned to work on Jagged's comission

But she ran out of fabric and had to go get more

Marinette tried to get Alfred but couldn't find him

Figuring he went grocery shopping Marinette sent a quick text to Damian letting him know she was going to leave for 1 hour tops

As Marinette was heading to the taxi after checking in on Captain and Ace, she was about to head out when Titus came trotting up to her with his leash in his mouth

Marinette: What is it Titus?

Titus nudge Marinette's leg with the leash still in his mouth

Marinette: Would you like to come with me?

Titus gave an enthusiastic bark

Marinette giggling: Okay. It should be fine. We're just popping into a shop real quick.

Marinette put on Titus' leash and sent another quick text to Damian letting him know she was taking Titus with her

The taxi driver took them to the closest fabric store and dropped them off at the corner

The girl and dog was walking by an alley when they heard talking from inside

A woman's voice with a Brooklyn accent: Is that the girl who was able to take down Eddie.

Another woman's voice: Yeah she's dating Wayne's youngest too.

Marinette watched as Harly Quinn and Posion Ivy stepped out of the alley

Marinette took a step back a Titus stood in front of his human's mate

Harley: Aren't you the cutest? Isnt she the cutest Ivy?

Ivy: Yeah but what are you doing out here? It's not safe right now

Marinette gathering her courage: I was just going to buy some fabric

Ivy: Well you need to get off the street now. Joker is doing one of his big plans right now

Marinette: Oh I'll just leave then.

Harley: No why don't you come with us?

Marinette: Umm

Harley wrapped her arm around Marinette ignoring the dirty look Titus was giving her and started to drag Marinette to her and Ivy's apartment a couple of blocks away

Ivy following along: You sure it's a good idea to kidnap Bruce's youngest kid's girlfriend?

Harley: It's not kidnapping, it's forced temporary adoption.

Marinette remained quiet as the two older women dragged her to a secondary location (a/n: STREET SMARTS)

Marinette could sense that these two didn't mean her any harm

And if worst comes to worst she could transform

Titus followed along keeping close to Marinette ready to protect her if anything went wrong

The group made it back to the apartment on one piece

Marinette was able to see parts of the emergency Harley eas talking about

Some streets they passed were completely destroyed

Marinette wondered if she could use her Miraculous Cure to undo the damage

She'll have to ask Tikki about it later

As Marinette entered the Villians' apartment she spotted a young boy about her age sitting on their couch petting two Hyenas

Harely: Hey Edwin, we're home and we brought a temporary guest

Ivy: Don't say it like that. Edwin this is Marinette we found her close to the situation and brought her here until she can be picked up. Marinette this is Edwin-

Edwin: Edwin, but people also call me Puzzler. I believe you've met my father, the Riddler

Marinette blushing: Oh yeah, sorry about what happened at the club

Edwin grabs Marinette's hand and kisses her knuckles: Please do not apologize for such a brilliant show of cleverness. Father was never meant to go after you, rather your loud mouth classmate. Such a soft look but such a fire within, you are quite the paradox.

Titus growled at this strange biy showing too much affection to his boy's mate

Edwin laughing: Oh and is this your little dog? I thought you had a German Sheperd

Marinette: Oh no this is Ti....How did you know I have a German Sheperd?

Edwin taking a step towards Marinette: After watching your brilliance I had to know more about you so I did some research

Marinette taking a step back: Then you'll also know that this is Titus my BOYFRIEND'S dog

Edwin waving off the mention of Damian: yes yes

Ivy: Make yourself comfortable Marinette, you'll be here for a bit

Marinette sat down on a chair away from the two hyenas and the flirty teenage boy

Marinette gesturing to the hyenas: So what are their names?

Harley sitting between the two animals: Oh I'm so glad you asked. This is Lou and Bud. Their my little babies!

Harley continued to baby talk the twon hyenas as Ivy turned back to Marinette

Ivy: So Marinette you're obviously here to visit the Waynes, how are you liking your time in Gotham

Marinette: Oh it's great! Originally Damian was suppose to come visit me this summer and I was going to come back for winter break, but with Ace pregnant and my dog, Captain's the father, we decided to switch so Captain and I could be her for the birth

Harley: Ace is pregnant!! Oh you'll have to call us when she gives birth!

Marinette laughing: Sure

Marinette and Titus spent 3 hours in that apartment with Ivy, Harley, and Edwin laughing and talking. She surprisingly felt safer with them then she did her old classmates

Marinette was having so much fun she didn't realize her phone had died

But Harley let Marinette know that she sent a message to the Waynes letting them know where Marinette was as soon as they got to the apartment

That did not help the Waynes though

They finally defeated Joker after 5 hours of fighting

Damian was ready to go back to the Manor and cuddle Marinette

So imagine his distress when he couldn't find the girl anywhere in the Manor and checking his phone showed that she left somewhere with Titus 3 hours before

He worry grew when he found a worried Captain pacing in Damian's room, waiting for his girl's return

Damian ran down to the cave where is family minus Bruce who had to deal with some messages were still debriefing

Damian panic: Alfred do you know where Marinette is?

Alfred: I believe she's in her room working on a comission

Damian: She's not! She sent me a text three hours ago saying she and Titus were going to get more fabric, but there's nothing else from her since!

Jason: What?!?! What if she got caught up in the attack?

Tim taking over the computer: I'll seeif I can track her phone to find where she is

After a minute of Typing Tim came up with nothing

Damian: We got to go back out there and find her! There's no telling what type of danger she could be in!

Jason: I'm with Demon Spawn let's go!

Bruce entering the cave: Everybody calm down, I got a message from Harley. She and Ivy found Marinette close to the action and took her back to their apartment. She's completely safe and their not even asking for ransom to get her back we just have to go pick her and Titus up

Damian: Then what are we waiting for?! Let's go get Angel!

Tim: Hold up Damian we need to change out of out costumes first

Damian: You guys do that I'm grabbing the car! And going there by myself!

Bruce: Damian calm down! Marinette's safe, atleast let me get change and go with you just to be safe okay?

Damian groaning in frustration: Fine but hurry up father

They were able to get Marinette back with no problems, but Edwin calling her Paradox in a flirty way As he said goodbye to her

Harley: I'll definitely be contacting you about that outfit you drew, I must have it!

Marinette giggling: Will do Harley!

That night Damian and Captain refused to let Marinette put of their sight to afraid that she'll disappear again

Though Marinette was able to talk to Tikki and she just might be able to help Gotham and fix the damage that has been done, but as Marinette laid cuddled up to Damian with Captain laying on top of her she planned to go out tomorrow night and she what she could do

And maybe find out the truth to where her boyfriend and his family disappeared to at night

@felicityroth @northernbluetongue @mystery-5-5 @sidefrienda @tbehartoo @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @sonif50 @t-nikki10 @dawnwave16 @nach0

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 9

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

“yeah sure thing pal”- my friend when I asked for something to put here

First< Previous > Next

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“Ok, we’ll be arriving at the museum soon,” Marinette tells Marion, who is focusing on his phone.

“Great, by the way how do you feel about a meet and greet before the concert?” Marion confirms the dates with their manager for said meet and greet.

“Hm, It’ll be tough to fit it in, maybe in our free week?” Marion nods knowing it was already set up in their free week, “I don't know Ri,”

“It’ll be fun,” Because a large event in Gotham is always fun and goes off without a hitch, “Besides it’d be kind of rude to do meet and greets in every other city we’re visiting but Gotham,”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Marinette smiles, looking out the window of the bus, “Oh no Kate's going to kill us for deciding last minute,”

“Don’t worry she already agreed,” Marion ignores her confusion, “It’s a week from now, so it’ll be in our free week,”

“What! You already set it up and didn’t ask me!” Marinette raises the volume of their whispered conversation.

“I did you agreed,” Marion reminds her, "Remember we were in the airport, you were staring at Adrien, and I asked quietly,"

“... and you don't see anything wrong with that?" Marinette deadpans, "Or even considered that maybe I couldn't hear you or wasn't listening.

“Huh, didn't consider that,” Marion looks away with a smile not needing to see Marinette's glare

“You are unbelievable,” She lectures raising her volume, "You know I'm not coherent when he's around!"

“When who’s around?” Adrien pops up behind them from his seat next to Nino.

“No one!” Marinette yells, drawing all eyes on the bus towards her blushing.

“Marinette you please keep your voice down, it's aggravating my tinnitus,” Lila says as sweetly as poison.

Marinette rolls her eyes and they both ignore Rose and Sabrina fussing over her.

“Alright class,” Madame Bustier addresses them after they exit the bus, “You’re parents are all quite concerned over yesterday's events, so we all must stick together today, this isn’t like Akuma attacks where you’re expected to go home, I have to know where you are,”

A chorus of ‘yes Madame Bustier’ is heard as they follow their teacher into the museum. They meet their tour guide for the day falling into a similar pattern of Lila’s posse talking throughout the tour. This tour guide seems to be more accustomed to school kids ignoring him, although he does seem pleased that the twins keep asking questions. The class had been given time to look around the Atlantean exhibit. The twins deciding to look over a mural that seemed to depict a past miraculous holder.

“Hey,” They both turn towards a young man with his phone up like he was recording, “You’re the Wayne twins right?”

“Excuse me?” Marion exchanges glances with Marinette, equally confused.

“Bruce Wayne's new kids right?” The guy pushes, taking a step forward.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette tries to explain, taking a step back.

“Alright I get it, want to keep it on the down low, don’t worry I won’t tell anyone,” He assures, Marion looks doubtfully at his phone he makes no effort to put away.

“You’re recording,” Marion states the obvious, which seems to irritate him.

“No I’m not, just tell me!” He demands, Marinette pushes Marion back slightly to try and get away.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about and you’re being very rude,” Marinette scolds, as the camera is pushed nearer her face.

“Why won’t you just admit it!”

“They owe you no explanation,” Kagami appears, grabbing the man's arm and forcefully pointing the camera away from the twins.

“And you don’t have permission to film or take pictures of them,” Chloe plucks the phone out of the startled man's grasp.

“I just-”

“You just nothing- now shoo,” Chloe chucks his phone onto a nearby bench, presumably with the footage deleted, and guides the twins to an empty hallway, “What was that about?”

“No idea, he approached us out of nowhere,” Marion tells the two seething girls.

“He was calling us the Wayne twins,” Marinette supplies more helpfully, “We should probably call Aunt Selina, she might know something,”

She usually did. Kagami and Chloe nod leaving them to the call, but Marion spots them waiting just outside the hallway.

“Hello?” Their Aunt says through speaker phone.

“Hey, Auntie something weird just happened,” Marion can think of no better way to describe it.

“What happened, you weren't attacked again were you?” Her tone is joking but with a hint of doubt, knowing that it was absolutely a possibility with them.

“No this guy came up to us filming, asking if we were the 'Wayne twins'?” Marinette sums up, wording it far more politely than the actual interaction.

“Wayne twins? Just a minute” She hangs up with a beep, leaving them in the empty hallway.

“... So that exhibit huh?” Marion tries to fill the silence, “You think we should investigate it?”

“I wonder if the Atlantean's part of out order of guardians or if they have their own,” Marinette keeps her voice hushed, she opens up her purse slightly "Do you know Tikki?"

“I’m not sure, we Kwami’s were rarely aware of the whereabouts of Kwamis from different miracle boxes," Tikki tells them from the purse.

“Maybe a branch off the order, I mean the miraculous can be powered up to go underwater so working together wouldn’t have been improbable,” Marinette theorises.

“Then any miraculous they held would have likely been in circulation when the temple was destroyed,” Kaalki adds.

"If thats the case then the order probably can't locate them," Marion frowns, glancing at Marinette's backpack that held their miracle box.

"And those that hold them might not know what they are," Marinette adds, after all Alix's family had passed a miraculous down for generations.

“We could-”

“We’re not going to Atlantis,” Marinette cuts Marion off.

“But-”

“No,”

“I thought it was cats that were meant to be scared of water,” He pouts, getting ignored by Marinette.

“To be fair the last time I was in Atlantis things didn’t go so well,” Plagg says, "Plus it was above ground,"

"Then I'll take Kaalki,"

"We aren't going to Atlantis," Marinette scolds, as the phone starts ringing.

“Here's the thing,” Aunt Selina says as soon as she's put on speaker phone, “Apparently some people took pictures of you the past few days with the Wayne family and figured you must be Waynes too,”

“That's ridiculous!” Marion has apparently been spending too much time with Chloe.

“.... yeah people come up with some crazy theories,” Selina sounds strained, “Look don’t worry about a thing, just enjoy your trip we’ll handle everything,”

“Ok,” They both agree hesitantly.

“Alright call me if you have any other problems, anything at all,” They agree, saying goodbye before the call is disconnected.

“Just a heads up, the whole class saw what happened,” Chloe warns them as soon as they reenter the exhibit, “We looked up the whole ‘Wayne twins’ thing-”

“A ridiculous rumour,” Kagami has apparently also been spending too much time around Chloe.

“Long story short, Lie-la’s trying to convince the whole class you two made it up for attention,” Chloe finishes glaring over at the group gathered around Lila. Minus Max and Alix the latter of which looking at the mural the twins had been earlier.

“And succeeding,” Adrien adds pityingly, as some of their classmates glare at the twins.

“By the way,” Chloe elbows Marion playfully, “You didn’t tell me you were child billionaires,”

“Of course we didn’t,” Marion grins slyly back at her, “Wouldn’t want to make you jealous of our diamond toilet, we know how insecure you get with only a gold toilet,”

“Honestly Chloe, how do you get by?” Marinette sighs over dramatically.

“Does this officially make us the rich kid club?” Adrien chimes in, as they walk out of sight of the rest of the class.

“I suppose it does,” Kagami agrees, with her usual stoic tone, but clearly in on the joke.

“We would make a great reality tv show,” Chloe declares.

“Well we have enough money to buy a camera crew apparently,”

“I like your thinking Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe teases, getting a mock curtsy in response.

They continue with the tour doing quite well at ignoring the slides from Lila against them. That doesn't mean they aren’t glad to go back to the Hotel away from her.

“I think we should just order room service,” Marinette cuts through the arguing.

“It’ll probably be safer,” Kagami hands the menu to Nino, who had been trying to convince them to get pizza.

“How unglamorous,” Chloe sneers, like she had with every other option presented, especially Nino's pizza. He had made it his personal mission to get Chloe to eat pizza. Marion was all for it, but not tonight they had to meet up with Batman later.

“We can paint our nails,” Kagami offers, tired of them arguing for the past half hour.

“Yeah if I still had my nail polish,” Chloe pouts.

“I brought some,” Kagami says, much to the other girls surprise.

“I have some back in my room,” Marion adds.

“And I have face masks!” Chloe exclaims running to her room to get them.

“I’ll invite Max and Markov,” Marion offers shooting them a text, “I’ll tell them to pick it up,”

“They don’t have a key,” Adrien leans over Nino’s shoulder to read the menu.

“Max built a sentient robot when we were, like 13, do you really think he needs a key?” Marion finishes typing, getting an instant confirmation.

“Touche,”

“Why don’t you shout us billionaires?” Chloe picks through her food. Sitting at the table with Kagami, both refusing to balance dinner on their knees.

“What? I thought we were the rich kids club, can’t you pay for your own meals?” Marion cringes at the feeling of chewing while wearing a face mask.

“Atlas the rest of us are lowly millionaires,” Chloe slumps back dramatically, fork in hand.

“I’m not a million are or billionaire,” Nino sounds annoyed but it's probably more at his painted nails that Marinette promised they would remove later.

“Neither but I plan to be,” Max had managed to avoid his nails getting painted, but got a face mask to match Markov.

“Oh-ho confident words from the nerd, alright you get early admission, Nino you have to leave,” Marion teases, pointing Nino towards the door.

“What?! I’ll be making millions with my music in no time,” Nino crosses his arms, startling a second later at the nail polish now smeared on his shirt.

“Yeah right,” Chloe scoffs, watching as Marinette fumbles to remove the stain before it sets. Adrien trying, and failing, to help with his still wet nails.

“Thanks, Anyway dudes it was probably a bad idea to spread that rumour on purpose,” Nino says with genuine concern, after Marinette had gotten the stain out.

“What? Nino we didn’t do it on purpose,” Marinette cleans up the tissues and nail polish remover that had ended up ruining her own nails.

“I know,” Nino has a look that screams he definitely didn’t know, “but you probably could have been more careful instead of parading around,”

“We didn’t know we had to be careful,” Marion starts collecting everyone's empty plates.

“Is this what Lila’s been telling you?” Kagami demands, standing to help Marion who immediately sits her back down. Kagami has many skills, house work is not one of them.

“Calm down dude, she just doesn't know the whole story,” Nino picks his plate back up, being the only one still eating,“She’d probably ask but you dudes aren't exactly close,”

“Lila shouldn’t be talking about them behind their backs at all,” Chloe criticises, coming to sit down on the couch now.

“She isn’t-”

“She is,” Chloe challenges Nino, helped by a death glare.

"..."

“... Anyway Nino, do you have any dates planned with Alya while we’re here,” Adrien breaks the silence, not at all searching for ideas on where to take Marinette.