#and make him completely able to understand what bruce is saying without using words

[snowcoming]

i love when people try to make bruce and jason's relationship cuter by making it sound like dick does NOT exist AT ALL like "batman's first son and he loved him" and "he would rather lose everybody than lose jason" like im pretty sure that bruce would prefer to lose neither dick nor jason but you know what you do you 💀��

[sirxaibs]

Kon-el | Connor Kent X readerbatsis!

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° Batblood ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ °

uhhh self indulgent bat family stuff

masterlist

This is mostly Batfamily X Batsis. Though I think I had enough Conner Kent X Reader to classify this as a thing.

GUYS I WROTE DAMIENS NAME WRONG THROUGHOUT THIS WAIT

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩ The first thing you learn about your parents is that they are fundamentally incompatible. The second thing you learn is that they will never stop trying anyway.

You don’t remember a time when Bruce and Selina were ever something as simple as together. They exist in contradictions she flirts, he broods; she steals, he stops her; she leaves, he waits. You used to think they would eventually find a middle ground, but you’ve long since given up on that idea.

Bruce and Selina have always been on and off, a constant push and pull. He loves her, but he can’t accept her choices. She loves him, but she refuses to change for him. You grew up watching them dance around their feelings. One moment, she’s draped over his desk in the Batcave, teasing him, and the next, she’s gone without a trace, leaving only a cryptic note behind.

Still, they make sense, in a way that defies logic. And despite all their back and forth, they both love you just in completely different ways. The truth is, Bruce and Selina will never be able to give you the same kind of love.

⸻

“Again.”

You grit your teeth, clenching your fists as Bruce circles you in the Batcave’s training area. You’ve already gone through this drill a dozen times. Your muscles ache, your ribs are sore from earlier blows, but he’s relentless.

You feint left, then pivot sharply, throwing a kick at his side. He blocks it easily. Too easily. His expression remains unreadable, but you can feel his disapproval.

“Sloppy,” he says, stepping back. “You’re letting yourself get tired.”

“That’s because I am tired,” you snap. “We’ve been doing this for over an hour.”

He crosses his arms. “On the field, you don’t get to decide when you’re done.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, but Tim does? Jason does? Even Damian doesn’t get this much micromanaging.”

Bruce’s jaw tightens. “This isn’t about them. It’s about you.”

“No, it’s about me being your daughter.”

His silence confirms it.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You trained all of them, let them fight their own battles. You trusted them to figure it out. But me? You’re scared to let me.”

Bruce’s expression darkens. “I’m not scared.”

“Then what is it?” you challenge, stepping closer. “You push me harder than you ever pushed them, but you still won’t let me prove myself. What’s the point of all this if you’re just going to hold me back?”

His voice is quiet when he finally answers. “Because I can’t lose you.”

The weight of those words presses against your chest. You want to be angry, to keep fighting him on this, but the raw emotion in his voice makes it impossible.

You don’t know what to say, so you settle for the only truth you have.

“You won’t,” you murmur. “But you have to let me go.”

Bruce doesn’t answer. He just exhales slowly, tension still radiating from his stance. You don’t expect him to change overnight, but at the very least, he doesn’t call for another round. That’s something.

⸻

Selina finds you hours later, sprawled out on the balcony of her penthouse. You weren’t planning on coming here tonight, but after your fight with Bruce, you needed air. And if there’s one thing Selina understands, it’s the need to escape.

She slides the glass door open, stepping onto the rooftop with effortless grace. “I thought I’d find you here.”

You don’t turn to face her. “Bruce is being impossible.”

She chuckles, settling beside you. “He’s still your dad don’t call him bruce, though when isn’t he?”

You sigh, tilting your head back against the cool metal railing. “I just… I don’t know how to make him see me as more than just his kid. He acts like I’ll break if I take one wrong step.”

Selina hums thoughtfully. “That’s what he does. He builds walls around the things he loves, convinces himself it’s the only way to keep them safe.”

You glance at her. “And you?”

She smirks. “Oh, I’d never keep a bird in a cage. I’d teach her to fly.”

There’s something appealing about that. With Selina, there are no rules, no suffocating restrictions. Just a quiet, unwavering confidence in your abilities. Even if you don’t approve of the way she lives, you can’t deny that she makes you feel free.

She pulls a small velvet pouch from her pocket and tosses it into your lap.

You raise a brow. “Do I want to know?”

She grins. “Just a little something I picked up.”

You groan, shoving it back at her. “I told you to stop giving me stolen jewelry.”

Selina only laughs. “It’s not stolen technically. I swapped it for something better.”

“That’s still stealing.”

“Details, darling.”

You can’t help but laugh. She winks, ruffling your hair before standing. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat before you let your father’s brooding ruin your whole night.”

You shake your head but follow her anyway.

For all their differences, Bruce and Selina have one thing in common: they both love you, fiercely.

Your dad will always try to protect you from the world. Your mom will always remind you that it’s yours to take. You exist in the space between them.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

Patrol had been standard until it wasn’t. You and Tim had been watching an arms deal go down from the rooftops of Gotham’s East End. The intel from Oracle suggested this was a simple exchange one that didn’t require much interference. The plan was to observe, gather intel, and report back if things escalated. But you weren’t convinced.

Something felt off. You crouched beside Tim, scanning the warehouse below. The deal was happening inside, but your eyes were locked on a figure slipping through a side entrance, unnoticed by the others.

“Tim, we’ve got movement,” you whispered.

He barely glanced at the figure before shaking his head. “Not our priority. We wait and”

“I’m going after them,” you interrupted, already moving.

Tim grabbed your arm. “That’s not the plan.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you insisted, shaking him off. “Cover me.”

And before he could protest, you were already gone.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The side entrance led you through a narrow corridor, crates stacked high along the walls. You moved quietly, using the shadows to your advantage.

The man you were following a mercenary by the look of his armor spoke softly into an earpiece. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the urgency in his tone sent a chill down your spine.

You pressed closer, peering around a crate. Then you saw it.

This wasn’t just an arms deal. There were bombs. Crates of them. Military grade explosives, lined up and ready to be moved.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oracle,” you whispered, touching your comm. “We have a problem.”

“I see it,” her voice came through your earpiece. “I’m running facial recognition on the men inside. This isn’t just some street gang these guys are mercenaries.”

“Figures.”

Tim’s voice suddenly crackled through. “You were supposed to wait.”

“I’d say ‘I told you so,’ but I’m a little busy.”

A movement caught your eye. The mercenary was reaching for a detonator.

Shit.

You sprang from cover, knocking him back with a swift kick to the ribs. The detonator clattered across the floor.

“Got company,” you muttered.

“On my way,” Tim responded.

But it was already too late.

The other mercenaries had heard the commotion, and within seconds, you were surrounded.

⸻

Fighting in the Fire

You moved on instinct, blocking the first blow aimed at your head and countering with a knee to the gut. The second merc swung at you with a baton, but you ducked, sweeping his legs out from under him.

The fight was brutal there were too many of them, and you were alone.

A blade sliced across your side, and you hissed, twisting to avoid a deeper wound. Blood soaked into your suit, but you ignored it, focusing on staying alive.

Then the explosion hit.

A grenade thrown from somewhere behind you detonated against one of the stacked crates. The force sent you flying, crashing through a pile of debris. Your ears rang, and your vision blurred.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard Tim’s voice in your earpiece. “Hold on I’m almost there!”

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to move.

You weren’t dying here.

When the dust settled, the mercenaries were either unconscious or retreating. The explosives were still intact, and Tim arrived just in time to secure them.

But you were wrecked.

He looked at you, taking in the blood seeping from your side. “You’re an idiot.”

You gave a weak smirk. “Yeah. But at least I was right.”

Tim muttered something under his breath before helping you out of the warehouse.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

The moment you step off the platform, you feel him before you see him.

Bruce is waiting. Arms crossed. Silent.

He’s still in the Batsuit, the cowl pulled back, his expression unreadable but you know better. You’ve seen that look before.

Tim doesn’t say a word. He just gives you one final glance and walks off, leaving you alone with the inevitable.

You brace yourself, but Bruce doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. His disappointment is a physical weight in the air.

“You abandoned your partner,” he says, voice like stone.

“I chased a lead.”

“You disobeyed orders.”

You grit your teeth. “It was the right call.”

He steps forward, and suddenly, you feel small. Not because you’re afraid Bruce would never hurt you but because his presence alone is suffocating.

“The right call?” His tone sharpens. “You were injured. You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t,” you argue, though the sting in your side says otherwise.

Bruce exhales slowly, his jaw tightening. “You’re reckless.”

“You don’t say that when literally anyone else is on a mission,” you snap.

He doesn’t answer immediately, and that silence stings. Because you already know the truth. You’re different. You’re his daughter. And that changes everything. but it doesn’t Damien is younger than you. You don’t get it.

“You’re dismissed,” he finally says, voice cold.

You hesitate, fists clenched, but there’s no point in arguing. Not when his mind is already made up.

You turn and head toward the med bay, fuming the entire way.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

You’re half out of your suit, sitting on the medical table while Alfred patches up your side, when Jason storms into the Batcave like a force of nature.

“The hell happened tonight?”

You groan. Of course he found out.

Bruce, still near the Batcomputer, barely glances up. “Jason”

Jason ignores him, turning straight to you. His eyes flick to the bloodstained bandages, and his expression darkens. “Who did this?”

“Relax,” you sigh. “It’s just a scratch.”

Jason scoffs. “A scratch?” He turns to Bruce, eyes blazing. “What the hell was she doing in a situation where she could end up like this?”

“I made the call,” you interject. “It was my decision.”

Jason looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “That’s not a good thing, dumbass.”

You scowl. “It’s part of the job.”

Jason shakes his head, pacing. “Nah. No. You shouldn’t be out there like this. He shouldn’t be letting you”

“I let her do nothing,” Bruce interrupts, his voice a low warning.

Jason laughs humorless, sharp. “Oh, really? Because it looks to me like you’re putting her through the same damn cycle we all went through. How long before she ends up dead in an alley too?”

“Jason”

“No, screw that,” Jason snaps. “You’re just letting her walk into this life like it’s fine. Like it’s not gonna chew her up and spit her out like the rest of us.”

You push yourself up from the table, ignoring the sharp sting in your side. “I chose this, Jason. No one forced me.”

Jason turns his glare on you. “You don’t get it, do you? You think this is just about being a hero, about doing good?” He scoffs. “It’s a death sentence.”

You clench your jaw. “So what, you expect me to just sit at home and do nothing?”

“I expect you to be smarter than this,” he snaps.

Before you can fire back, his eyes narrow, and suddenly, the conversation takes a sharp turn.

“Speaking of dumb decisions,” Jason mutters, crossing his arms. “You’re still with Superboy, right?”

Your frustration spikes. “Oh my godseriously?”

Jason gives you a deadpan look. “knock off superman? Really? You could do better.”

You throw your hands up. “Why does everyone have a problem with me dating Conner?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Because he’s a walking red flag wrapped in blue spandex.”

You glare. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Jason scowls. “I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

He doesn’t deny it.

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples. “Look, I’m tired, I’m injured, and I don’t have the energy for this right now.”

Jason studies you for a moment, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. His anger hasn’t faded completely, but the sharp edge of it has dulled.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But if he ever screws up, I will break his face.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of something warmer underneath the annoyance. Jason will never say it outright, but you know what this is.

It’s not just anger. It’s fear.

Bruce was right about one thing losing people leaves scars. And Jason? He has more than most. He won’t stop you from fighting your battles. But he’ll sure as hell be there when you fall.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

Dating in the Batfamily was a challenge. Dating Conner Kent? That was practically a declaration of war.

You weren’t an idiot you knew what your family thought of him. Bruce didn’t trust him. Superman’s clone, an unpredictable force of power, a boy with too much strength and too little control. That’s how your father saw him, at least. Jason didn’t respect him. “A knock off in a leather jacket? Come on, you can do so much better.”

Tim was wary. Conner was his best friend, but even he had his doubts when it came to you.

And your mother? Selina raised a delicate brow when she first caught wind of your relationship, a teasing smirk playing at her lips. “Oh, darling,” she had purred. “You know how your father’s going to react, right?”

You had sighed, rubbing your temples. “Yes, Mother, I know.”

She had hummed in amusement. “Well, Im starting to think i’m a bad influence, at least try not to be like me and your dad.”

“Mom.”

She had only laughed.

At first, it was easier to keep it hidden. You and Conner met in the shadows, in places no one else would look.

Abandoned rooftops, dimly lit diners on the outskirts of the city, quiet parks in the dead of night where he could float just above the ground, keeping you wrapped in the warmth of his presence.

He wasn’t like Superman and you weren’t just Batman’s daughter.

That’s what you loved about being with him. When he looked at you, he didn’t see the vigilante, the heir to Gotham’s dark legacy. He didn’t see someone who had to be perfect. He saw you. Your flaws, your fears, your messy, complicated emotions. And he never tried to change them.

“I don’t care about what your dad thinks,” he had told you once, leaning back against the fire escape outside your window. “Or your brothers. Or your mom, even.”

You raised a brow. “Not even a little?”

He grinned. “Okay, maybe a little. But it doesn’t change anything.”

You had smirked. “You are stubborn.”

“Says the girl who won’t admit she likes me.”

You scoffed, but he had been right. Liking him had been the easy part. Accepting that he was yours? That had been harder.

Gotham was a city of ghosts.

Your life had been built on shadows, on silent movements, on always thinking five steps ahead. Mistakes had consequences, emotions were weaknesses, and attachments?

They got you killed.

But Conner… Conner made you feel like you were alive.

He never cared about the weight of your family name. He never expected you to be perfect. He let you be wrong, and he still stood by you.

One night, after a brutal mission, you had been exhausted, bruised, and pissed at your father for another round of overprotection.

Conner had found you on the rooftop of your shared apartment, sitting at the edge, staring out at the skyline.

He had landed softly beside you, his presence warm against the cold night.

“You okay?”

You hadn’t answered right away.

Then, quietly, you had admitted, “Sometimes I think its much more worth it to leave this place”

Conner had been silent for a moment before he shifted closer. “Yeah. I get that.”

And you knew he did. Superman saw him as something broken. A project. An accident to be controlled. Bruce saw you as something fragile. Something not ready.

You had glanced at Conner then, at the way he looked at you not as something to fix, but as someone whole. You had leaned into him, and he had let you.

That was the thing about Conner.

He didn’t just love you. He trusted you to be exactly who you were.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Your father was the last to acknowledge it.

Bruce had spent months pretending you weren’t sneaking out to see Conner, pretending he didn’t know why your patrol routes started conveniently lining up with the edge of the city.

But Bruce noticed everything. eventually, he noticed him. It started with the little things.

Conner was always near you in battle, always the first to shield you from an explosion, always ready to catch you if you fell.

Bruce watched the way Conner would take the hit for you not because he thought you couldn’t handle it, but because he could. Conner was powerful, but he never used that strength to control you. He never underestimated you.

One night, after a particularly nasty fight against a group of assassins, you had ended up battered and bloody, a knife wound deep in your side.

Conner had carried you back to the Cave.

Bruce had been waiting.

The air had been tense as Conner laid you gently on the med bay table, his jaw tight, eyes burning with barely contained fury.

“She shouldn’t have been alone,” Conner had said, voice sharp.

Bruce had met his glare, unreadable. “Yeah she shouldn’t have.”

“Then act right on this and she wouldn’t have been alone,” Conner snapped. “shes strong but I don’t care like assholes like you neither does she.”

Silence.

Then Bruce had simply turned and walked away. It wasn’t approval. But it wasn’t rejection, either. You supposed, in his way, Bruce was starting to understand.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

Looking back now, lying in the med bay once again, you let out a slow breath.

The room was empty.

The cave was silent.

Your body ached, your side still throbbing from the mission gone wrong. You stared at the ceiling, letting exhaustion creep in.

Jason’s words still echoed in your head.

“Tights and a cape? Really?”

You sighed.

They’d never understand.

when Conner held you, when he saw you, when he treated you like something more than just Batman’s daughter… It didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

Gotham was different when Dick was in town. Maybe it was the way he carried himself loose, easy, like the city didn’t weigh on his shoulders the way it did on everyone else’s. Maybe it was because he didn’t live here anymore, so Gotham’s shadows didn’t cling to him the way they clung to you, to Jason, to Bruce.

Either way, his presence always changed the air. Right now, though? It just made the tension in the Batcave feel even heavier.

Dick had barely been back for a full twenty four hours before he noticed. The way Bruce’s jaw was tighter than usual, how Jason was avoiding both of you, how Tim kept smirking behind his coffee cup like he was enjoying the chaos. And you?

You were just done.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched.

Watched as Bruce checked your gear three times before your patrol. Watched as Jason kept throwing pointed glances your way, muttering curses under his breath like you were the idiot. Watched as Tim leaned back against the Batcomputer with the most entertained expression, like this was his own personal sitcom.

Eventually, Dick just sighed.

“Alright, kid,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Burgers. Let’s go.”

Bruce barely looked up. “She has patrol.”

Dick raised a brow. “No, she has burgers with her favorite brother.”

Jason scoffed from across the room. “Favorite? Yeah, okay, Nightwing.”

Tim sipped his coffee. “I don’t know, Jay. He is also my favourite.”

You didn’t argue. You just grabbed your jacket and followed Dick out before Bruce could protest.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The diner was a little hole in the wall place, tucked between two crumbling buildings. Greasy food, crappy lighting, the kind of place that felt like Gotham to its core. You slumped into the booth, arms crossed as Dick slid in across from you.

He didn’t push. Didn’t prod. Just casually unwrapped his burger and took a bite, waiting. It didn’t take long for you to break.

“He treats me like a soldier,” you said suddenly, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Not even a good one. Just one he doesn’t trust to make their own decisions.”

Dick chewed, nodding. “Bruce?”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously Bruce.”

You picked at your fries. “he’s such an ass, i know he’s had this tough love thing since Jason but god why cant he let me be? Every move I make, he second guesses. Every mission, he reroutes my patrol to keep me ‘safer.’ He acts like I’m some reckless idiot who’s one bad decision away from getting killed.”

Dick hummed. “Jason probably isn’t helping.”

You huffed. “Oh, he’s worse. At least Bruce lets me fight Jason acts like I’m made of glass. Like I need protecting, like I can’t handle myself.”

Dick smirked. “Well, you did almost get blown up yesterday.”

You scowled. “That’s not the point.”

“Mmhmm.”

You ignored him and kept going.

“And then there’s Tim. Who just smirks. Like he enjoys watching me get lectured by dad and chewed out by Jason. Like this is all some kind of entertainment to him.”

Dick laughed. “It is entertaining.”

You threw a fry at him. He caught it without looking.

“It’s just” You exhaled sharply. “Bruce doesn’t trust me, Jason coddles me, and Tim thinks it’s all a joke. And yet Damian gets to do whatever the hell he wants.”

Dick raised a brow. “Ah. So this is about Damian.”

You stabbed your fork into your fries. “It’s not. It’s about all of it. But also? Yeah. It’s about Damian.”

Dick took another bite of his burger, chewing thoughtfully. “Bruce would let him get away with murder?”

“Literally,” you muttered. “Meanwhile, I take one risk one calculated risk and suddenly I’m ‘not ready.’”

Dick sighed, setting his burger down. “Okay. So, what’s the actual problem?”

You frowned. “I just told you”

“No, I mean the real problem. You don’t actually care that Bruce is strict. You expect that. You don’t even care that Jason’s overprotective he does that to everyone he loves.”

You looked away. “…So?”

“So,” he said, smirking, “what you actually hate is that they don’t see you as an equal.”

You frowned.

Dick leaned back, crossing his arms. “They see you as their little sister. Their daughter. They see someone they have to protect, not someone they can trust.”

Your grip on your fork tightened. “And that’s not fair.”

“No,” he agreed easily. “It’s not.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, casually, Dick added, “But hey, at least Conner treats you like an equal.”

You froze mid bite.

Slowly, you looked up at him.

He grinned.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he teased. “You could’ve gone for someone normal, but nooo. You had to pick another dark, broody, overpowered meathead”

“Dick, I swear”

“You surround yourself with annoying guys”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Never speak again.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” He leaned forward, eyes glinting mischievously. “In fact, I think I should speak more. Maybe bring this up at family dinner. Hey, Bruce, did you know your daughter has a thing for emotionally constipated guys in leather?”

You threw another fry at him.

He dodged it effortlessly, laughing.

“Dick. I will kill you.”

“I kinda want to meet this guy.”

You glared.

He just smiled. But despite your annoyance, despite everything Bruce’s overprotection, Jason’s coddling, Tim’s smirking something about the conversation helped. Because at least one of your brothers saw you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

You regretted ever telling your family now. Dick knowing about Conner means you’ve been introduced to hell.

oh satan over there? yeah he’s on the body of your bug brother.

Not because he was mad not even because he was disapproving but because he was Dick.

Which meant relentless teasing.

Which meant grinning at you like he had the world’s juiciest blackmail material. Which meant the exact sentence that had been haunting you ever since your burger night.

“I want to meet my younger sister’s hero.”

It had been two days. Two. And he would not let it go.

You tried to avoid it. Tried to make excuses. But Dick was persistent.

So now here you were on a Gotham rooftop, arms crossed, glaring at him as he sat on the ledge like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m interested,” he corrected. “I mean, c’mon. I’ve only ever heard about this guy from our brothers, and none of them have anything nice to say.” He smirked. “Figured I should form my own opinion.”

You groaned. “Can you not?”

“Oh, I definitely can,” he said. “I just won’t.”

Before you could argue further, a gust of wind swept through the air, and There he was.

Conner landed a few feet away, hands in his jacket pockets, red cape billowing slightly behind him. His gaze flickered between you and Dick, brows furrowed in mild suspicion.

“You okay?” he asked you first, like he always did.

You exhaled. “Yeah. I just ” You shot Dick a look. “Had a situation to handle.”

Conner raised an eyebrow.

Dick, meanwhile, was grinning.

“Well, well, well,” he said, standing up and brushing off his suit. “The infamous Superboy.”

Conner’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you’re…?”

Dicks mouth dropped glancing to you “Oh, wow. That actually hurt.” Then he extended a hand. “Dick Grayson. Also known as Nightwing. Also known as best older brother. Nice to finally meet you.”

Conner eyed him for a second before shaking his hand. “…Right.”

Dick’s smirk widened. “So. You’re the little guy my little sister’s been sneaking around with, huh?”

You instantly regretted your entire life.

Conner’s gaze flickered to you before he answered, clearly unsure how to respond. “Guess so…?”

“Oh, I like him already,” Dick laughed. “Got that classic ‘brooding hero’ energy. I see the appeal.”

You glared. “Dick”

“I mean, you do have a type,” he continued, grinning at you. “The whole ‘dark, broody, overpowered’ thing? Classic. keep the family values. I respect it.”

Conner glanced at you, fidgeting slightly as if trying to hold back a laugh. “its not a wrong point.”

You smacked his arm. “Not you too.”

Dick just laughed. “So. How’s the Super life treating you?”

Conner shrugged awkwardly, clearly not sure how to navigate the conversation. “Could be worse.”

“Dealing with my family yet?”

“All the time.”

Dick nodded sagely. “Yeah, that’s rough, buddy.”

Conner gave a quiet, awkward chuckle. “It’s not that bad.” His gaze softened slightly when he looked at you. “She makes it easier.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. Then slowly he grinned.

“Oh, man,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re down bad.”

You groaned. “Dick. it’s gross when you say that. Shut up.”

“I love this,” he continued, delighted. “This is so much better than I imagined.”

Conner crossed his arms and tried to lean against the ledge nonchalantly, but there was a slight stiff tension in his posture. “I wont stop her if she starts fighting”

Dick gasped, hand over his heart. “You’d turn her against me?”

“mmmmm i’m in a Y/n wrongs and right are rights morality,” Conner pointed out with a soft, awkward chuckle.

Dick sighed. “ew you sound like me with women.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay. We’re done here.”

But before you could drag Conner away, Dick clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, all jokes aside,” he said, suddenly more serious, “I get why Bruce and Jason are… difficult about this. You’re powerful. You’re dangerous. You’re not one of us.”

Conner tensed slightly, glancing over at you like he didn’t know how to respond.

Dick met his gaze. “But I see how you look at her. And I see how she looks at you.” His expression softened. “So, for what it’s worth? You’ve got my approval.”

Conner blinked, clearly caught off guard. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “Wasn’t asking.”

Dick grinned. “Oh, I really like you.”

You groaned. “I hate both of you.”

Conner just took your hand, squeezing lightly, trying to brush off the awkwardness that had started to settle in. “You love me.” he whispered

You muttered something under your breath. Dick slung an arm around your shoulders, still grinning.

“Alright, Superboy. Don’t break her heart. Or I will break you.”

Conner didn’t flinch. “You could try.”

“Ohhh, I really really like him.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

The gala was everything you dreaded about Gotham’s elite. The high end designers. The glittering chandeliers. The fake smiles and empty conversations about stock markets and charities you knew were just tax write offs. You were dreading it. But you had no choice. Your dad had insisted.

“You’re going with me,” Bruce had said, his tone one you couldn’t argue with. “Damien’s going too.”

Damien.

You rolled your eyes. If there was one silver lining, it was that Damien would make the night more bearable. Sure, he was insufferable, but deep down, he was your favorite… well one of them.

You didn’t know when it started, but you couldn’t deny it. Every time someone made a comment about you, something snide about being Bruce Wayne’s daughter or how you’d grown up in a world of privilege, Damien was right there. He might have been a bratty little boy, but he had a surprisingly soft spot for you.

He’d bark back at anyone who dared talk down to you. And that always made you smile.

Still, you hated the galas. The whole act of pretending to be someone you weren’t, of feigning interest in the people who rubbed elbows with the most corrupt figures in Gotham. It made you feel like you were just another part of Bruce Wayne’s PR machine, just another Wayne for the rich to admire, the perfect daughter.

You weren’t. At least not in the way they thought you were.

⸻

You stood in front of the mirror in your dress, adjusting the neckline slightly. It wasn’t too flashy. Not as tight or revealing as some of the other dresses you’d seen at these events. It wasn’t your style to try and look like you were above everyone else. There was an elegance to it, sure, but it wasn’t over the top.

You sighed, glancing at the clock. You were almost late. You had not been in the mood to get dressed up and pretend you weren’t itching to leave this stupid party as soon as you walked in.

The door to your room creaked open just a bit, and you turned to see Damien standing in the doorway, his usual scowl plastered on his face.

“Are you done yet?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

You blinked at him. “Are you done yet? You look like a little mini Bruce.”

He shot you a glare. “I’ll have you know, I’m a Wayne too, and I’m far superior to Father in many ways.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Mm. Sure, Damien. If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

Damien’s eyes narrowed in the way they always did when he was being stubborn. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t embarrass the family again.”

“Again?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

You chuckled. “Whatever, Damien. Just don’t get in my way.”

He huffed, but his expression softened for a second. “You know, you don’t have to act like you don’t belong there. It’s your place.”

The rare kindness from Damien caught you off guard. You almost wanted to tease him about it, but something in the way he said it made you pause.

Before you could respond, Bruce’s voice echoed from downstairs. “Damien, [Y/N], let’s go.”

You rolled your eyes. No escape.

⸻

The gala was in full swing when you arrived, the grand ballroom filled with well dressed Gotham’s elite, all laughing, talking, and pretending to be better than they really were. As you walked in behind Bruce and Damien, you couldn’t help but feel like a fish out of water.

Damien, ever the mini Bruce, stepped confidently beside you, his posture straight, eyes sharp. He barely even looked at anyone around him, already ready to shoot down any attempts at conversation. You, on the other hand, put on your best poker face, walking with your head high, but your mind already halfway to escaping.

Bruce was already surrounded by some of the usual suspects, but it didn’t take long for the first person to notice you.

“You know,” a woman with a glass of champagne in hand said, smiling in that way people did when they thought they were better than you. “It’s nice to see the Wayne family so well represented. A fine, upstanding family, despite… well, you know…”

The pause was intentional, like she wanted to see if you’d react to the snide remark. It was a comment about your family’s history, a little jab that no one dared speak out loud but always found a way to slip into their conversations. Isnt being a woman supposed to be about supporting other women? Damien arguably had the same history as you.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Damien beat you to it.

“That’s quite enough.” He said it flatly, stepping forward with a warning glare. “I’m sure if you don’t have anything productive to say, you’d be better off leaving.”

The woman blinked, surprised by the bluntness, but Damien was already walking away, his weird little aura behind him like he was some miniature Dark Knight.

You couldn’t help but smile at him. You were right. He was your favorite.

Bruce glanced at you both, an eyebrow arched. He had seen the whole exchange. You could practically feel him holding back a smirk.

“Damien,” Bruce said, his voice a little too controlled. “You don’t have to go picking fights.”

Damien didn’t back down. “I’m simply defending Y/n. Some of these people need to remember their place.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but the faintest glimmer of approval passed through his gaze, and it was enough.

⸻

The night dragged on, but you found yourself less uncomfortable with Damien by your side. His quiet protectiveness, the way he always seemed to catch the smallest slight before you did, made it easier to navigate the pretentious conversations. Every time someone made a comment about your family, you could feel Damien’s posture tense and his eyes narrow. And each time, he defended you.

Despite everything, despite how much you complained about his bratty tendencies, Damien was your brat. the weight of the night began to settle. The glittering lights of the gala still flickered in your mind, but the presence of your father and Damien beside you made the ride back almost bearable. Damien, as usual, sat stiffly, his posture perfect even in the backseat of the car, while Bruce remained uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze focused out the window.

You couldn’t help but glance over at Damien, who was looking out his own window, seemingly lost in thought. There had been a moment earlier when Bruce had shared a look with him, something small but meaningful a look you couldn’t quite place. But it was enough to make you feel something unspoken between the two of them. It wasn’t often you saw your father show a soft spot for anyone, let alone his own kids.

The car pulled up to the Manor, and as it came to a stop, you turned to Damien, the words already spilling out before you could stop them.

“You know, you’re not as bad as you pretend to be,” you said, voice teasing but soft. “I might just like you after all.”

Damien scoffed. “You shouldn’t like me. I’m better than you, after all.”

“Pfft, whatever,” you grinned, ignoring his words. The sudden burst of affection you felt in that moment made you throw all your self control out the window. Without thinking, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

Damien let out an exaggerated, dramatic gasp, his body going stiff in shock. “Unhand me, woman,” he hissed, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden outburst of affection.

You ignored his protests, squeezing him tighter. “Nope! Not until you admit that you love me.”

Damien scowled, his face flushing just slightly. “I do not love you, you foolish girl.” But there was no hiding the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he tried unsuccessfully to push you away.

Bruce, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement, cleared his throat from the front seat, as though reminding you both that you weren’t exactly alone. But it was too late to stop now.

You pulled back just enough to look Damien in the eye, still grinning like a cat. “Come on, admit it. I know you love me.”

Damien tried to glare at you, but there was no hiding the slight curve of his lips. “I tolerate you,” he said begrudgingly.

You held him tighter. “Close enough!”

He growled, finally breaking free from your grip. “This is not over,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting his suit with a dramatic flair.

You leaned back, still grinning like an idiot. “Sure, sure, Damien. You can pretend all you want.”

Bruce finally spoke up, his tone surprisingly light. “Alright, break it up, you two. We’ve still got a whole night to get through.”

Damien shot a glare at Bruce. “I’m not the one causing disruptions here.”

You and Bruce shared a look, and for just a brief second, you saw it, something rare and almost tender between the two of them. Damien wasn’t as bad as you’d thought. he had his own way of showing care.

Damien, still grumbling, marched ahead toward the front door, muttering something about how he was going to “train” and “get away from these ridiculous people.” But you knew better. Underneath the bravado, Damien was just like everyone else in this family he cared.

As you stepped out of the car and onto the front porch of Wayne Manor, the cool night air hit your face, carrying the faint scent of rain. You were exhausted, mentally drained from the fake smiles and shallow conversations of the gala, and the weight of the night hung heavy on your shoulders. You couldn’t wait to retreat to your room, get out of this damn dress, and let your thoughts settle.

But as you walked toward the front door, something or rather someone caught your eye. Standing by the door, just under the archway of the Manor, was a familiar silhouette. The figure straightened when he saw you approach, a soft smile appearing on his face.

Conner.

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t expected him to be here, but there he was, waiting for you, like he always did.

“Hey,” you said softly, as you run over to him. your exhaustion suddenly lifting at the sight of him.

He tilted his head, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. “You look… very beautiful tonight.”

You let out a small, tired chuckle. “Beautiful? someone is learning how to express his emotions”

Conner’s brow furrowed, his eyes scanning you like he could see the exhaustion beneath your calm exterior. He stepped forward, his large frame nearly blocking the door. “You okay?”

You nodded, but only half heartedly. “Yeah, just… tired of it all. Tired of pretending.”

Conner didn’t say anything at first, but his gaze softened. His next words were simple, but they always meant more than you expected. “you’re done now, don’t have to think about it now.”

You stepped closer to him, letting the tension in your body melt just a little. “Thanks, Conner. It means a lot. I don’t think I could stand much more of these stupid galas if I didn’t know you’d be waiting for me.”

He smiled at that, the kind of smile that made your heart flutter in your chest, as he stepped aside to let you in. “Always. You know I’ve got your back.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “You’re the best.”

Conner chuckled, stepping back as you passed him. “I’m just doing my job, keeping you out of trouble.”

You shot him a playful look over your shoulder. “Really? Keeping me out of trouble?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, you seem to find it even when I’m not around.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, but the moment you passed him, you felt his hand gently grasp your arm, a soft but firm hold that pulled you back toward him.

“What?” you asked, confused.

Conner was staring at you, his blue eyes intense but gentle. “You looked like you needed someone tonight. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You stared at him for a moment, letting his words settle. But instead of saying anything, you simply let out a long sigh and let your shoulders relax. You didn’t need to talk about it now. Not when Conner was here, offering comfort without the need for words.

Instead, you smiled softly, stepping into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “I think… I think I just need this right now.”

Conner wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as if to shield you from everything outside this moment. “I’ve got you.”

You closed your eyes, letting the familiar warmth of his embrace wrap around you.

The moment of quiet was shattered by the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

You tensed slightly, already knowing exactly who it was before you even turned your head.

Bruce stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable but his presence alone was enough to make the warmth in your chest falter just a bit.

“It’s late,” he said, voice even, but carrying that weight of authority only he could manage. “You should be inside now.”

You sighed, pulling back slightly from Conner but keeping your hand locked around his wrist. Of course, Bruce had impeccable timing.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” you muttered, turning toward the door but you didn’t let go of Conner. Instead, you tugged him along with you, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to your hand still gripping Conner’s, his expression barely changing, but you knew he noticed.

Conner hesitated for half a second, casting a glance between you and your father, as if gauging whether it was a terrible idea to follow you inside. But you weren’t giving him a choice.

Bruce let out the tiniest sigh, stepping aside to let you both in, but not without a warning glance at Conner.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Bruce said evenly.

Conner just glared at him, tight lipped smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

You definitely caught the way Bruce’s brow twitched ever so slightly at the sir, but you didn’t dwell on it. You just smirked to yourself and pulled Conner further into the Manor, past your father, past all the unspoken tension, and straight toward the one place you could finally relax.

Conner leaned in as you walked, voice low and teasing. “You dragged me in here.”

You grinned up at him. “What, scared of my dad?”

Conner huffed. “No. But I am scared of what your brothers are gonna say when they see me here.”

You just laughed. “Oh, you should be.”

As you pulled Conner deeper into the Manor, you moved quickly, knowing full well that the longer you lingered, the higher the chance of getting ambushed by one of your loving brothers.

You practically speed walked through the grand hall, past the dimly lit corridors.

“Ah, welcome home, Miss.”

You skidded to a stop as Alfred appeared seemingly out of nowhere, standing near the bottom of the staircase with his usual composed demeanor.

Conner tensed beside you, standing up straighter like he was about to get scolded. Clearly, even he wasn’t immune to Alfred’s presence.

You shot the butler a quick smile, still keeping a tight grip on Conner’s wrist. “Hey, Alfred. Gala was awful, as expected. Goodnight!”

And before he could reply, you dragged Conner up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Miss. Goodnight, Mister Conner,” Alfred called after you, voice laced with mild amusement.

Conner barely managed to glance over his shoulder to offer a polite, “Uh goodnight, sir,” before he was pulled around the corner and out of sight.

When you finally made it to your room, you threw the door open and all but shoved Conner inside before shutting it behind you with a sigh of relief.

“Okay, safe,” you muttered, leaning against the door.

Conner raised a brow. “You act like we just broke into the White House.”

You pointed a finger at him. “This house probably has better security than the white house.”

Conner snorted, shaking his head as he glanced around your room. He’d been here before, but it was still surreal for him standing in Wayne Manor.

You walked over to your bed, flopping onto it dramatically. “I swear, I love Alfred, but he always pops up at the worst moments. It’s like a sixth sense.”

Conner smirked, stepping closer. “Maybe he was just making sure I wasn’t sneaking in to corrupt his favorite Wayne.”

You peeked up at him through your arms. “Bold of you to assume I’m his favorite.”

He sat down beside you, resting his elbows on his knees. “You definitely are.”

You grinned, nudging him lightly with your foot. “Flatter me more, Superboy.”

Conner just chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t need flattery. You already know how great you are.”

You huffed, rolling onto your side. “Tell that to my dad.”

Conner didn’t say anything right away, just let his hand rest on yours, grounding you. You let out a slow breath, the exhaustion of the day finally settling in.

“Get some sleep,” Conner murmured. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

You didn’t even think about it before squeezing his hand. “Stay.”

And he did.

Conner sat beside you on the bed, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your wrist. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows across his face, making his blue eyes stand out even more than usual. He was warm, solid, grounding in a way you desperately needed after the night you’d had.

You shifted closer, tilting your head up toward him. He caught the movement instantly, his gaze flicking down to your lips before he leaned in, closing the space between you.

The kiss was gentle at first, unhurried. His lips pressed against yours in a way that made your chest tighten not with nerves, but with something softer, something steady. His hand slid up, fingertips brushing your jaw before cradling your face, pulling you just a little closer.

You sighed against him, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. He kissed you again, deeper this time, as if memorizing the shape of your lips, as if reminding himself that you were here, that you were his.

A loud noise from the window, followed by the distinct sound of fabric rustling, and then.

THUD.

Conner barely had time to pull back before a voice cut through the moment.

“Oh, come on I just ate.”

You both snapped your heads toward the window, where Tim stood, looking absolutely horrified, like he’d just walked in on the worst crime imaginable.

You groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Jesus Christ, Tim”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose like he was experiencing actual pain. “You know I tolerate this relationship for your sake, right? Doesn’t mean I need to see it.”

“Theres a reason we’re in my room with the door closed. what did you even want anyways”

“Ok miss shitbag, I was gonna see if you brought any food from the gala”

Conner, looking far too smug for someone just caught making out, leaned back on his hands. “You could’ve knocked.”

Tim made a disgusted face. “Knocked? On her window? I didn’t think I needed a warning before coming in.” He gestured wildly between the two of you. “I thought I was safe! But no, I have to live with the trauma of seeing my best friend all over my sister.”

You threw a pillow at him. “We weren’t even doing anything!”

Tim caught it with one hand, unimpressed. “There was face touching. That’s enough.”

Conner just shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I think she’s a better kisser than you.”

Tim immediately gagged, doubling over like he’d been physically attacked. “WHY WOULD THAT MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?!”

You burst out laughing, while Conner grinned like he’d won something.

Tim groaned dramatically, shaking his head as he turned toward the window. “I hate this. I hate both of you. I’m leaving.”

“Goodnight, Tim,” you called sweetly.

“I hope you both stub your toes,” he shot back before disappearing out the window.

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Conner, still grinning. “You did that on purpose.”

Conner smirked. “Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes before pulling him back down into another kiss because if Tim was gonna be dramatic about it, you might as well make it worth it.

[francesderwent]

ahem.

granted, there are a few scenes in Avengers: Age of Ultron that are among the worst, most soulless scenes in the whole franchise. the hulk vs hulkbuster fight that was clearly only there to sell action figures and legos, the bewildering scene of Thor going on a quest to receive a vision from water spirits, Bruce face-planting into Natasha’s chest, and Tony’s “hide the zucchini” comment—these scenes need to die. they are all indefensible, and do really detract from the film.

but! they’re also not essential to the film. so if you make an edit without them, what you’re left with is a film that is genuinely, far and away better than Avengers (2012).

allow me to explain.

Avengers shows us the thinnest possible version of every superhero character; there are literally no discernible character arcs which I could point to because everyone is sharing screen time. the causal chain is weak and sometimes completely absent; the plot moves along without being moved by specific characters making specific choices, let alone characters making choices that flesh out a theme. the last word goes to Fury, who says that the avengers will come back and save us if there are any further problems “because we’ll need them to,” which is deeply ironic since that’s why they’ve done everything they did in the film, because the writers needed them to. the point of the film is just sort of a vague, “Look how different they all are, but they’re gonna work together!” or “Look how wrong they were about each other, now they can work together!”

Age of Ultron has a much stronger causal chain—Wanda’s choice to let Tony take the scepter leads to Tony making Ultron which leads to everybody finding out about Clint’s family which leads to various team members making different choices about what matters in life. and those journeys can shine because Age of Ultron makes definite choices about which characters to focus on. it puts Thor and Cap in the backseat, so that the movie is about: Tony’s fear. Clint’s grounded ordinariness. with a subplot of: Natasha and Bruce’s dark sides.

Tony is afraid that he’s not going to be able to protect the people he loves, and so he wants to build a suit of armor around the world, to have peace in our times. but because Tony was so afraid that he was willing to sort of skate over the issue of freedom, willing to take the human element out, the suit of armor he builds is inhuman—it sees the path to peace as eliminating the human element entirely. Tony wanted to end the team, wanted to not have to take responsibility and risk anymore—and so Ultron wants to end everything. Tony wants to stop being a hero, so Ultron wants there to stop being people.

then we have Clint—who, it is revealed, isn’t just an ordinary powerless guy on the avengers’ team, whose vulnerability is almost their undoing in the opening fight of the movie. he has a completely ordinary life, with a house and a wife and children. and yet! he is still an Avenger. there is no moment where Laura asks him, “please, stop putting yourself in harm’s way, stay home.” she knows all of what he goes through—knows just where to look for his scar—and she understands that he does it for the sake of her and the kids. the Avengers need him, because he shows them who they’re fighting for, and reminds them the fight is worth it. his courage pushes them to be brave. the point of Clint in this film is: extraordinary heroes exist to serve ordinary people. (this thesis is underlined by Vision being born out of Jarvis, who was based on a butler. Ultron says Stark wanted a savior and got a slave, but Jarvis wasn’t a slave—he was a servant. Vision, as Servant-Savior, is more truly Godlike than any of Ultron’s delusions of godhood.)

then, we have the widely-panned Bruce and Natasha dynamic, which is introduced by this absolute home-run of a line from Natasha: “All my friends are fighters, and then I meet this guy who spends all his time avoiding the fight, because he knows he’ll win.” Natasha and Bruce both have this side of themselves that they feel very conflicted about and have to some extent suppressed or run away from. Bruce is afraid of the Hulk, afraid of the damage he can do. and all of Natasha’s skills were learned in the Red Room, designed for evil. they’re both trying to harness that for good—but Bruce still doesn’t have control, and Natasha just found out SHIELD was compromised, so when Wanda gets in their heads, they start to wonder if the darkness can really be put in service of the light, or if that’s just wishful thinking on their parts. Natasha says she woke up from a dream that felt real while she was in it—“What did you dream?” asks Bruce—“That I was an Avenger,” she says ruefully. their conversation about their inability to have children is symbolic of the deeper issue: they, both of them, are beginning to believe that nothing good can come out of all that bad, that there will be no miraculous fruitfulness. Natasha comes to grips with it, willing to give her life in service to save the people of Sokovia, to die alongside them in solidarity with the ordinary people, even though she’s not ordinary anymore. but in coming to grips with it, in choosing to fight, she rejects Bruce and chooses the Hulk, which alienates them from each other.

all three of these arcs are deeply intertwined with each other, and cross my heart, I’m not doing that thing where I project themes onto the movie—these are all present and central in the dialogue. the movie is saying: heroism is choosing to take all your own baggage and darkness and use it for the sake of ordinary families, ordinary children. that is why it’s worth stepping into the fight, and you cannot abrogate your responsibility to step into the fight. that is a clear, poignant theme for a story.

did it play well here on tumblr? hell no. the fact that the movie dared to prioritize blood relationships (and specifically children) was met with righteous fury from those who felt it was saying people were only worthwhile if they chose to procreate. but I think that’s missing the point. Natasha calls herself a monster because she chose to cut off her ability to create life, so that she could more efficiently deal out death. and her story, in the movie, is about finding a way to still serve life, despite that choice which she can’t take back. if you pare the message down to its bare essentials, it’s very classical (and very Biblical): if you have gifts, powers, or wealth, the point is not to store them up as a hoard for yourself, it’s not to bury them so they’re safe, and it’s not to use them to make yourself happy and free. it’s always and only to use them for others. so if you’re in a family, the point of your life is to serve your family. and if you’re alone, you still have to find a way to use your powers for the community.

and, as a side note, Steve and Thor aren’t central, but the movie does a decent job with them anyway. Thor is extremely funny, but also clearly has the respect of his teammates. and one of the cleverest moments of characterization in the film is when Tony questions why Steve wasn’t taken out by Wanda’s mind magic, and Steve brushes him off—because Wanda didn’t show him anything he isn’t already thinking about 24/7. Wanda shows Tony and Thor their greatest fears, puts Natasha back in the midst of her worst memories, and turns Bruce into his worst nightmare. but the worst has already happened to Steve; he’s living the nightmare, tasting the regret, all the time. and Steve is able to be the moral compass for the team in a way that matters—his line about trying to win a war before it starts is straight to the point.

yes, the movie is quippy. there are scenes that do not let you rest, there are so many quips. but I think in a weird way that works, because it allows the scenes at Clint’s home to really, really breathe. everything feels frenetic when they’re fighting—but at Barton farm, Tony can take a minute to fix a tractor. people can have conversations that matter. there are kids’ drawings and home improvement projects.

I think people hated Age of Ultron because it didn’t do what we expected or wanted. we didn’t expect or want Clint to have a family—we wanted him drinking coffee out of the pot in his crappy apartment. we didn’t expect or want Natasha and Bruce to have a romance—we wanted her with Clint. but based on what we had been shown of these characters in the previous films, these were choices that fit. they weren’t the only possible option! but they were possible, they don’t contradict what came before. (arguably, Avengers is more contradictory—its Loki, who wants to rule earth because freedom is the great lie, is a huge departure from the previous iteration.) if you watch the film on its own merits, it knows what it’s doing and it’s doing it on purpose. it has something to say. that’s absolutely more than you can say for the original Avengers.

[rolandtowen]

oh - my - god - keep - me from going lunatic: chapter 12

Chapter Summary: Jason & Sam consider a brain injury diagnosis. Bucky discovers YouTube knitting tutorials.

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

Jason was supposed to be retired. He was supposed to be playing with his grandkids right now, watching his youngest on their newest swingset and keeping the older two from accidentally burning the house down. 

But when Sam Wilson called him up and told him that the Bucky Barnes needed a neurologist and deprogramming specialist, how could he say no? In his study, Jason pored over the Winter Soldier files, stopping frequently to remind himself to breathe, dammit. If Barnes had to live through this, he should be able to read it. 

What he saw in the Middle East was nowhere near what was described in these files. He wasn’t kidding when he told Sam a heads-up would’ve been nice. Really, he should have known it was gonna be awful. Makes having your medical convoy blown up by an IED sound like a picnic. 

The longest captivity he’d seen during the Gulf War was only six weeks. Barnes had been held for over sixty years. Some of that was cryostasis, but still, doing the math and adding up time outside of the cryo chamber gives Jason a number of roughly five years. And HYDRA only took him out of cryo freeze when they had to do something to him–five straight years of medical experimentation and programming and training. He probably didn’t see the sun from the time he’d been captured to the time of his first mission. 

The files don’t mention it, but Jason suspects that the abuse Barnes suffered at HYDRA wasn’t constrained to the “necessary” stuff needed to maintain a brainwashed POW. It never is. People who are willing to completely erase a human and leave behind a tool tend to be sadists. Barnes had been completely vulnerable for decades, suggestible and malleable, and–Jesus, Jason doesn’t want to think about it. He’s gonna have to trust Rebecca and her ability to guide Barnes through becoming a human again. His job is to understand the science behind the brainwashing and develop a way to break the trigger sequence. 

Fucking bleak. 

The Avengers had redacted the actual trigger words from the files, but Jason doesn't need them. The important bits are all there. The trigger sequence consists of ten words, which must be uttered in the same order. The trigger sequence often follows a "reset" from the Chair, but Jason notes several times in which handlers used the sequence without the application of electricity. He concludes that the two serve separate functions: the Chair selectively wipes memory and keeps the subject suggestible, while the trigger words induce obedience. 

The recent brain scans sent by Bruce offer some hope. There is evidence of neurogenesis, new cells filling the gaping voids in Barnes' white matter. The behavioral briefings he gets are promising too. Rebecca says Barnes has been able to challenge some of the programming left behind by HYDRA. He’s started expressing preferences, choosing how to spend the free time allotted in his schedule. He’s even begun giving intel to the team so they can wipe out what’s left of HYDRA. But Rebecca also notes that Barnes is still having a tough time with executive functioning and dissociating, nevermind the whole process of regaining his decades of lost memory and personality.  

Contrary to what pop psychology and true crime shows have led the public to believe, there’s no tried and true way to deprogram someone who’s experienced a high control environment, like a cult or captivity. Everyone’s trauma response is different. Some people fight. Some people flee. And it sounds like Barnes’ trauma responses are freezing and fawning. Withdrawing into himself and desperately, desperately trying to please the people around him that he views as superiors. He talked with Natasha a bit, tried to understand what it was like for her coming out of the Red Room and the KGB. There was indoctrination, certainly, but nothing on the same scale as the complete and total dehumanization Barnes suffered at HYDRA. The Widows were never made to doubt whether or not they were human. 

It’s not like there’s a whole lot of peer-reviewed studies Jason can reference about his best course of action here. For obvious reasons, there’s no randomized controlled trials on conditioning and dehumanization. Much of the original research and theorizing about brainwashing and conditioning is tainted by anti-Communist sentiment. What he does have is his education as a neurologist, his field experience with soldiers in Afghanistan, and a few accounts of recovery from prisoners of war in Vietnam. The experiences of American POWs in Vietnam would probably be the closest to Bucky’s experience, but the psychologists and neurologists who worked with those soldiers are long dead. 

Jason’s flying blind. And hoping he doesn’t crash and burn. 

He starts with the literature on brain injuries. There’s no doubt that Barnes’ brain is, indeed, injured. Most of the physical symptoms you would expect to see in a brain injury patient–headaches, dizziness, loss of coordination–appear to have been compensated for by the serum. Or, Jason notes, Barnes could just be very good at hiding his symptoms. Dammit. Fawning again. He makes a note to tell Sam and have them ask specifically about physical brain injury symptoms. HYDRA probably had Barnes on that cocktail of drugs to compensate for the physical deterioration that followed each reset. The cognitive symptoms, those are all present. Memory loss, executive dysfunction, difficulty sleeping, all that jazz. 

Barnes’ condition could best be described as an acquired brain injury. Traumatic brain injury, that’s the flashy stuff. The kind of injury that plagues American football players, where an outside force causes the brain to physically collide with the skull. But Barnes? Barnes had been repeatedly subjected to several hundred volts of electricity, aimed strategically at the temporal lobe, causing cell death and hemorrhage and lesions. For years. Until recently, doctors used to think that brain injury was something that was fleeting, temporary – that the brain could stabilize in a few years given the right therapies and support. But for people with severe brain injuries, or even a few successive concussions, brain injury can be a chronic, lifelong recovery. 

Jason’s never encountered cryo freeze before, but he can guess that, given the damage Barnes’ brain has been subjected to, even with serum enhancements, his brain is still pre-recovery. For every. Single. Reset. Healing factor inhibited by the cryofreeze. If they want to break that trigger sequence, they have to be able to address the damage done by the resets, even if it means Barnes looks like he’s regressing a bit. Jason glances at the clock. It’s late in Seattle, which means it’s definitely too early for a phone call. He’ll have to text instead. He dictates a message using voice-to-text. 

J: when you get the chance, can you do a brain injury screening on B? Worried he might be masking physical symptoms. 

S: It’s too early for this shit. 

J: It’s too late for this shit. 

S: But yes. Good catch. I’ll let you know what I find. 

***

Sam’s not entirely sure how he became an ex-assassin’s favorite regular human, but hey, he’ll take it. Maybe it’s his counseling training, or maybe it’s his immaculate vibes, but whatever. He’s just glad that Bucky has at least one friend who’s not also adjusting to the 21st century. Not that Steve has been doing a bad job or anything – quite the opposite – but Sam knows that Steve has his own baggage, enough to fill a damn cargo hold. Point is, Steve can’t do this by himself, though that sure would be a sight to watch him try.

After he returned from destroying the Siberian base, Sam has kept a close eye on Bucky, even beyond his scheduled visits. He just has this gut feeling that there’s something more, like the refeeding syndrome, something they’ve missed. So when Jason texts him in the middle of the night to ask him to do a proper brain injury screening on Bucky, it clicks. Of course, Bucky would be hiding any physical symptoms. But the breadcrumbs are all there. The trouble sleeping, the vomiting after a flashback, the problems with temperature regulation, the anxiety while standing still for the brain scans. True, most of that could be attributed to trauma, but still – Sam can’t really remember anyone asking Bucky outright if he was feeling pain or nausea or any physical symptoms after the refeeding scare. 

He prints out a worksheet. Bucky’s gotta be drowning in worksheets, but this one is important. 

When he goes for one of his afternoon visits, Bucky is watching something on the TV, enraptured. Sam has to do a double take, but it appears that the former Winter Soldier is watching YouTube tutorials on…knitting? 

Bucky looks up as Sam enters the living room, then gestures towards the TV. “I asked JARVIS what knitting was. He has been most helpful.”

Sam chuckles, taking a seat next to Bucky on the large couch. “What got you interested in knitting?”

“The doctor…Helen. She brought something called crochet to the movie night and it – it looked familiar, but not quite right.”

“Bucky asked me about activities similar to crochet and I have demonstrated numerous forms of fiber arts for him,” JARVIS interjects. “We have determined that knitting is likely the activity Bucky recalls.”

“Huh,” Sam ponders. “Do you know, are you remembering someone else knitting, or yourself knitting?” 

Bucky’s silent for several seconds, his lips pursed together, brow furrowed in thought. Sam gives him the time to think it through. “I think…I was knitting. Socks.” 

Now that’s interesting. Sam’s certain the memory is connected to the war effort, or maybe even the Great Depression, which means that Bucky’s recovered memories are reaching back further and further. “Would you like us to get you some knitting supplies?”

Again, Bucky pauses, his eyes trained on the TV where a woman explains how to use something called a ‘magic loop’. Finally, he says in a small voice: “I’d like that.”

Sam flounders for a moment, because while he’s overjoyed that Bucky has actively chosen a hobby to participate in, he doesn’t know the first thing about knitting supplies or where to buy it or – 

“Not to worry, Sergeant Wilson, I can order the items necessary to complete several beginner-friendly projects,” JARVIS announces. Sam breathes a sigh of relief. Thank God. He pulls out the worksheet he’d brought, torn between asking Bucky to walk through it or just letting the man watch knitting tutorials for the rest of the afternoon. Blessedly, Bucky notices the paper and looks up from the TV. 

“I am ready for a task,” he offers. Which sounds a lot better than ‘ready to comply’, but it still makes Sam squirm a little bit. So much of Bucky’s phrasing is still devoid of choice and autonomy. He’s ready for tasks, for work, for whatever, but very rarely does he express his wants still. Sam loses himself in his train of thought before looking up to find Bucky staring at him expectantly. 

“Right,” Sam says, shifting on the couch. “I actually don’t have a task for you today, more of…an assessment.” Bucky eyes him cautiously, and Sam continues. “Nothing physical, I just have some questions to ask, about how your body’s feeling at this moment. I’m asking these questions so that we can develop a more effective treatment plan, does that make sense?”

Bucky nods twice, and positions himself to face Sam. “I can answer.”

Sam looks down at the worksheet, then hesitates. God, it’s never this complicated with his VA clients, not even close. Some of them do offer resistance to being screened for certain diagnoses – the stigma around PTSD and brain injury is still alive and well in the military – but none of their situations are even close to as complicated as Bucky’s. “I want to emphasize that you can answer honestly,” Sam says slowly. “Nothing bad is gonna happen to you based on how you answer, and this isn’t a test. I’m just…gathering data. Do you understand?”

Bucky nods again, then says: “No punishment, I understand.”

Sam breathes a sigh of relief and finally looks down at the worksheet. “I have these statements, and I’d like you to indicate on a scale of 0 to 10 how applicable the statement is to you, okay?” Sam shifts so that Bucky can see the worksheet, with 0 labelled as ‘not at all’, 1-3 as ‘mild’, 4-7 as ‘moderate’, and 8-10 as ‘severe’. “So, right now, are you experiencing any pain in your head?”

Bucky nods, and points to the column marked ‘7’. They continue like that down the rows. 

Neck pain, 3. Bright lights, 8. Loud noises, 9. Dizziness, 5. Nausea, 7. Eyesight, 4. Clumsiness, 4. Once they reach the cognitive statements – it takes me longer to think, I forget things, I get confused easily, I have trouble concentrating – Bucky’s indicating in the ‘severe’ columns across the board. They reach the statement about getting angry or irritated quickly and Bucky hesitates, his finger hovering over the page and his eyes flitting between the paper and Sam. 

“It’s okay,” Sam assures him. “There’s no right or wrong answers.” 

Bucky indicates an 8, quickly qualifying it by saying “irritation. Just irritation.” The last few statements – I feel restless, I feel tired during the day, I find it hard to sleep at night – Bucky all scores as 9s. He watches nervously as Sam does some math in the margins of the page. Sam tries not to react, and it’s what he expected honestly. Bucky’s score strongly indicates brain injury, with a cognitive symptom cluster. He looks up at Bucky, who’s watching him expectantly. “Thank you,” Sam says with sincerity. “This is really helpful, Bucky. Is there anything else you want to share with me while I’m here?” 

Bucky shakes his head, and they sit in silence for several minutes, a knitting tutorial still playing on the TV on mute. After a while, he turns to look at Sam, his mouth opening and closing hesitantly. Sam doesn’t prompt him, lets the words come on their own. “Is…am I always going to feel like this?” Bucky asks quietly. “Am I ever going to get better?”

Sam’s heart breaks for him. How lonely it must be, to have no memory of who you are, to feel trapped inside your brain with programming yelling at you for having wants and needs. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I think that you’re already showing progress, you know?”

Bucky shrugs. “I just – I don’t know what I’m good for.”

A lightbulb goes off in Sam’s brain. The team has been trying their darndest to give Bucky structure in the schedule, but he doesn’t really have structured goals. Just the nebulous idea of ‘get better’ and ‘heal’. But for Bucky, who’s been mission-oriented for several decades – and his entire life, if you believe Steve’s stories – being told to sit around and listen to music and color and try and regain his memories. The man needs a task, not just a one-off thing like learning how to make tea or take a shower. He needs something tangible he can work towards. Some visual progress. Cracking a smile, he turns slowly to look at Bucky and asks, “well, how would you feel about making me some socks?”

Bucky grins. 

[ao3feed-superbat]

Does he love me?

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Fpgvuy2 by PSKarmel Clark spent his entire life without experiencing what it was like to be fully human, not only because he was a Kryptonian, but because he couldn't understand the dynamics of Earth like a normal human. Kryptonians didn't have a caste system, so he could only figure out how it worked by observing the people around him and living his life making excuses and using the beta caste as camouflage. But then, he starts hanging out in Gotham and everyone starts saying that he's Batman's mate. ... Bruce learned very early on to separate his lives well. Two entities so well separated and defined that his body was able to adapt to them, emanating completely different pheromones depending on who he played. Two alphas in the same body. Over the years, Batman allowed himself a few slip-ups, like having a mate, a mistake he swore he would never make again, and then Kal came into his life. Words: 4962, Chapters: 2/3, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, SuperBat, Superman/Batman - Freeform, Superman - Freeform, Batman - Freeform, ABO, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Miscommunication, Alpha Batman, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent without dynamic, Misunderstandings read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Fpgvuy2

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Does he love me?

by PSKarmel Clark spent his entire life without experiencing what it was like to be fully human, not only because he was a Kryptonian, but because he couldn't understand the dynamics of Earth like a normal human. Kryptonians didn't have a caste system, so he could only figure out how it worked by observing the people around him and living his life making excuses and using the beta caste as camouflage. But then, he starts hanging out in Gotham and everyone starts saying that he's Batman's mate. ... Bruce learned very early on to separate his lives well. Two entities so well separated and defined that his body was able to adapt to them, emanating completely different pheromones depending on who he played. Two alphas in the same body. Over the years, Batman allowed himself a few slip-ups, like having a mate, a mistake he swore he would never make again, and then Kal came into his life. Words: 4962, Chapters: 2/3, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, SuperBat, Superman/Batman - Freeform, Superman - Freeform, Batman - Freeform, ABO, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Miscommunication, Alpha Batman, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent without dynamic, Misunderstandings via https://ift.tt/YQqPuFd

[bothoutsiders]

word: grudge

It wasn't easy for him to handle his emotions and feelings. It wasn't very easy back when he was just a child, and it wasn't easy right now that he was older and carrying trauma.

It never crossed his mind that his mood could actually get better whenever he would spend time with more people than himself. It was probably why he would feel his nights getting a lot better whenever Red Robin would join him for patrol.

Of course it was all secret. Things that Batman didn't need to know, because fuck you, bastard.

But when Red Robin was there, fighting crime along him, chatting about the city or telling him what happed in class, it always made his nights... brighter.

There were nights they would argue. For Tim it seemed that it was just banter but for Jason... Things were a little bit different. He would take things personal and that would make him feel angry, defensive, and confused. It didn't happen whenever he would be talking nonstop with criminals, but when it was about Tim, things were completely different.

Perhaps it was because they were kind of new into this dynamic. They had been doing this for months now so their relationship-- friendship was new.

When was the last time Jason talked to someone without feeling defensive or like he needed to hide things? It has been years. The last person he did that to was Bruce and Alfred, back when he was just a kid. When he came back from the death he closed off completely and carried his grudges with him, as if they were the only things he had left in him. They were probably now part of his identity, if not all of it.

So when Tim would get a little bit rude on things that Jason liked or wanted to do, he would feel confused and defensive, and if it continued, he would get angry without knowing why.

He was standing outside the Ralli's restaurant, reading the menu while the people inside began to feel anxious as they looked at him. If Red Hood was there, it only meant there would be trouble. Bullets, blood, corpses. Of course he was here to kill someone, not to get dinner. Right?

That's what civilians thought as they whispered and felt their bodies tense with fear.

But outside Red Hood was only wondering if it was a good option to eat while Red Hood stood behind him, not even glancing at the menu to speak.

"That food is so cheap." He sighed dramatically.

Red Hood stopped reading the menu immediately. His intention of taking Tim to dinner disappearing completely.

This wasn't the first time that Tim had made that kind of comments these past nights. Whenever Jason was looking at any restaurant or bar to eat, Tim would make a negative comment about it. O'Shaughnessy's had rats, the Bottomless Barrel stunk to vomit, ADAH'S deli only had stupid people going there.

It made Jason upset but he didn't say a word. But tonight, he was getting tired of it. So tired.

"You have a problem," Red Hood spoke as he turned around. "This is probably why you're all skinny, bony ass."

"It's true, the food is cheap. I don't know why you even stop here to take a look."

Red Hood snorted.

"Fuck off."

"--what?" Red Robin only saw how Jason left using his grapple gun. There was no explanation, no nothing and it only left Tim even more confused. Did he touch a nerve?

These were things that Jason couldn't understand yet. How to handle a conversation when he was feeling attacked, when he was starting to feel ashamed of his own intentions.

When he was just a child he would be around Ralli's, sniffing the air, imagining how it would be to be able to have the money to pay their food. The delicious warm bread that he could see through the window panes. The steak and even the small vegetables. It all looked so delicious. How he wished he could take some for Catherine at least.

He tried to be patient with Tim but the more he continued doing those things, the more he would think about how unfair it was. Tim was someone with money, Jason wasn't. He only wanted a good place to invite Tim for dinner, to be the one who pays and feel like he was finally doing what his old self, the child, could never do.

It wasn't that he was holding a grudge to anyone who had more money or better opportunities than he did. It was only to those who spoke without thinking-- or maybe it was only because he felt vulnerable with Tim.

Maybe he should just cook his own food and stop thinking about doing something special to someone who doesn't even care.

[flying-ham]

thinking thoughts about a sunny superpowers au instead of working so here have some word vomit

Dennis -> low level mind control

able to influence peoples thoughts and emotions, make them more susceptible to persuasion

inherited from Barbara, one of the reasons she favors him over dee

NOT complete mind control, only works on people who don’t know about it/ have weaker minds

uses powers to get women to sleep with him probably

effects wear off if he isn’t around to reinforce them, one of the reasons why dens hookups think he’s a creep after the fact

Dee -> strength

didn’t have any powers manifest until summer before high school when she started getting chronic pain

turns out her bones were changing, getting stronger but causing intense pain

forced to wear the brace to keep her bones in alignment, had to tell everyone it was scoliosis to keep her secret

once transformation finishes, dee is basically indestructible, able to take intense damage without being hurt (ei all the times she fucking runs into walls and falls off shit lol)

also got stronger, why the gang talks about her giant man hands and feet

inherited her physically based powers from bruce, one of the many reasons barbara doesn’t favor her

Charlie -> survival/adaptability

originally wanted to say poison immunity but gonna go for overall adaptability

can survive in the most insane circumstances, inhales bleach for funsies, lives off energy balls when he’s broke

no physical changes (like that one dude from x men) but just generally able to thrive in the worst circumstances imaginable

once kids at school figured it out they started making him eat gross shit since it wouldn’t make him sick (dirtgrub my beloved)

Mac -> aura reading

always expected to get physical powers like his parents (mrs mac is a pyro and Luther has super strength)

didn’t realize other kids don’t see colors when they look at people until he met charlie

extremely ashamed of his “pussy” power and a disappointment to luther, so he never really honed or practiced understanding what the auras mean

uses his powers to do ocular patdowns but is H O R R I B L E at interpreting them, so he’s basically useless

once he comes out and starts accepting himself more, he starts learning more about his powers and actually using them properly

Frank -> no powers

should have been one of the tipoffs that dennis and dee aren’t his kids

part of the 90% of the popular that doesn’t have powers

[dialingyoudarlingyou]

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

Tw: none, just fluff. so much of it. blame Taylor swift’s songs for being the best thing that has ever happened. Since my brain isn't letting me write the second part for this love I wrote this instead hehe. This is based on that one line in New Year's Day. I heard it and I couldn’t stop thinking about how it’d make for a perfect prompt.

He looks at her. Because somehow that makes things easier for him. Sometimes he feels like this is a dream and he might just wake up any second. Sometimes he wonders what he did to deserve her because there is no way in hell that someone as beautiful and understanding as her would ever be with someone as pathetic and boring as him. He looks at her like she is the sun. Resting in the warmth she gives off. When she smiles, it radiates a calming warmth like nothing else. The peace and hope her warmth gives off fills his heart with overwhelming amounts of love and devotion. 

So, he sits down next to her and stares with astonishment at how the person he loves has brought so much colour to his life. And he blissfully wonders if she knows how much beauty she radiates every time she laughs or smiles, and how every time he looks at her his heart soars and fills with joy, he feels as if time could never catch up with him.

He wonders when he’ll be able to tell her how he feels without stuttering and mumbling. They have been together for almost 2 years now, but it feels as though they have been together forever because he cannot imagine his life without her.

‘I love you' these three words are always on the tip of his tongue. Anytime, anyplace it doesn't matter.

Funnily enough, he used to struggle with saying those words but then he discovered something peculiar.

“You remembered? Oh my god!"

Her voice echoes as she enters the Batcave. She rushes in with a big grin on her face and he knows exactly what she is thinking. Bruce knows that face all too well. She skips a few steps and gives him a tight embrace. He eventually melts into it.

"I can't believe this bruce! You remembered and I only mentioned it once- and you-" she sniffles as her grasp on him tightens. His fingers slowly run through her hair, and he murmurs "do you like it?" "Like? Bruce, I love it. I love you. But you didn’t have to- This complete set of merchandise is so expensive Bruce. So expensive, it's worth my one month's salary."

"Love, I'll give you anything you want all you have to do is say. I'll give you the stars, the moon, and the fucking planets." Bruce inhales her scent and sighs. God, he cannot think about how he would ever live without her. Her eyes seemed to have teared up at his words and she just squeezed his hand three times in reply.

His eyes were piqued with curiosity. He asked her what the gesture meant. “It means I love you,” she whispered, her voice was so soft it was scarcely audible. But he heard it. a smile made its way onto his face; he immediately squeezed it back. and no, he didn’t stop after three; he repeated the gesture six times.

From that day onward, Bruce repetitively told her ‘I love you.’ Sometimes he squeezed her hand randomly- before he left for his nocturnal ventures.

Aside from that sometimes when it was just the two of them alone in the Batcave, he would casually tap out the gesture with his finger on the desk.

tap. tap. tap.

She would look up from her book and make eye contact with Bruce who was sitting across the room. She knew what it meant. She somehow always did.

Bruce said I love you all the time now, more often than the ones she said out loud.

She realized that he had a unique way of declaring his love, and it was okay because, in the end, it was the love that mattered.

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝔻𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕖𝕤

___________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Bucky gets hit with that god awful (but really hot) sex pollen. (this was requested)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Dub-Con/Non-Con as per usual with sex pollens fics (although i try to write them as consensual as possible :T) Smut obvi (18+ minors dni), slight daddy kink, age gap?, public male masturbation; it's brief but still

TW: very brief mention of possible suicide

ᴀᴜ��ʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hot

____________________

“Where are those daisies we collected from the last mission?” Tony asked you, eyes staying glued to the hologram in front of him.

“I left them on the quinjet. Fury said to wait for transportation until Shield confirms safety. It’s literally in a glass case, but whatever,” you rolled your eyes, making the older man laugh.

“Just protocol, kid,” he snickered.

Meanwhile Bucky sat with Steve eating lunch, chatting it up like old men do.

“So what did you bring back from the last mission? I saw a bunch of agents in hazmat suits,” Steve said sipping his coffee.

“Uh, well Thor said we should bring some plants back for research, but it seems like a bunch of normal lookin’ daisies,” Bucky shrugged.

“Y/n loves daisies,” Steve smirked.

“Ok?”

“And you love Y/n,” Steve teased.

“No I don’t-”

“Hey boys!” you skipped past the kitchen.

“Y/n,” Bucky said standing up with a big goofy smile on his face.

“Where ‘ya going?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

“Quinjet. Fury gave us the go to start doing tests on that plant you brought the other day,” you smiled lightly jogging to the runway.

“Why don't you ask her on a date, Buck,” Steve nudged.

“Come on, she’s way too smart to go out with a dumbass like me,” Bucky joked.

“Seriously.”

“I don’t know. It’s been years since I’ve talked to another woman. It doesn’t come naturally anymore. Wha- what’s even the first I’d say to her?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m on the same boat with you. Just… Tell how nice she looks today when she comes back.”

“Really?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Yeah, be nice to her.”

“I am nice to her.”

“I mean be extra nice. Flatter her,” Steve told him, “Go wait in the lab until she comes back and tell her she looks pretty today.”

“Isn’t Tony in the lab?” Bucky asked.

“Ha ha, yeah,” Steve teased, patting his back before leaving to his room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony mumbled seeing Bucky waltzing in the room awkwardly.

“Nothing,” he mumbled back.

Tony dropped his hands and stared at Bucky with an unimpressed look on his face. Everyone but you knew about Barnes’ little boy crush on you but he’s never had the balls to say anything. You were close to Tony and seeing as though he doesn’t particularly like Bucky, he didn’t want you hanging around him. But you were an adult so of course you hung out with whoever you wanted.

He was sure you liked him back too which never ceased to make him roll his eyes.

You walked back from the quinjet with the glass container of daisies. You weren’t exactly a plant expert but it was apparent that these daisies were mutated seeing as though the pollen swirled around the flowers gracefully. It was beautiful but then again they might be extremely dangerous considering it was a Hydra experiment.

“Hey Y/n, off to the lab again?” Steve smiled.

“Yup, gotta check these babies out according to Thor; said they might be dangerous if they’re what he thinks they are,” you said, still walking.

“And what’s that?” you just shrugged at his question unsure of the answer yourself.

“Well, Bucky’s waiting for you in the lab,” he slipped in the conversation.

“Really? Why’s-” Crash!

“Oh no,” Tony mumbled, seeing the collision in action.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you stuttered.

“No, no. I should be sorry. Here let me help,” bucky knelt to the ground grabbed the fallen daisies with his bare hands.

“No! Don’t touch-” Tony shouted practically sprinting towards you two.

The golden pollen swirled in a misty manner engulfing Bucky completely. You stared with furrowed brows confused at the sight before you and what was going on. Bucky’s skin began to burn and his senses were being overloaded. All he could smell in that moment was you; the same scent that he got a whiff of this morning when he hugged you, the perfume and the shampoo that filled his senses when you walked passed him.

Tony pushed you out of the lab roughly throwing you in Steve’s arms who was just as confused.

“FRIDAY,” Tony called out.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” the familiar voice answered.

“Lock all the doors to the lab and maybe turn on the a/c,” he commanded.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

All the glass walls and doors instantly shut and locked, locking Bucky inside. Bucky’s eyes found your and slammed his body against the glass desperately trying to reach you. You too ran up to the glass wall trying to understand what had happened to him. Everything was happening so suddenly.

Your forehead was pressed against the glass as was Bucky’s; both of you staring into each other’s eyes momentarily. In that moment, you could see his eyes turn golden for a quick second before his pupils dilated ridiculously before your eyes.

“Is he going to be ok?” you turned away.

“Y/n! Please!” Bucky’s muffled screams shocked you.

“Uh… where’s Thor?” Tony panicked.

“What the hell is happening?” Nat asked; Sam, Wanda, and Vision trailing behind closely.

“Nat,” you ran to her.

“What happened to Bucky?” Same asked.

“He- I ran- I ran into him by a-accident and the box dropped. There was mist everywhere and Bucky's eyes. His eyes,” you stammered breathlessly.

“Please! I need her!” Bucky hit the glass in an attempt to break it.

“Oh my goodness,” Wanda gasped at the sweaty Bucky hitting and practically going feral.

“Oh god, is he gonna be ok?” you teared up. This is your fault, dammit.

“I can asure he will experience no physical harm,” Thor’s voice made all of you turn around.

“Just physically? What the hell does that mean?” Sam argued.

“Well, uh… I’ve never actually seen it’s effects in person. Especially not on a Midguardian…” his voice trailed off and his eyes grew big.

Nat snapped her head, eyes widening as well. Bucky with absolutely no shame held his hard dick in his hands pumping it with his eyes trained on you. You went to turn around seeing nat’s expression but she covered you eyes before you could actually see the lewd behavior Bucky indulged in.

“What’s happening?” you asked holding onto Nat as she led across the room.

“Nothing, they’re gonna take care of Buck. Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly.

You sat in your room bouncing your leg as the movie on your TV played. Every now and then Bucky would moan and cry particularly loud making all of you wince and cringe. But your mind felt foggy simply thinking about Bucky and his safety; especially that moment when his eyes went from confusion to you don’t even know what. Hunger? Desire? Lust?

Whatever it was, it made your tummy flutter.

“Steve, any news on Bucky?” Steve stood at the doorway with a worrisome face that did nothing to ease your already panicked nerves.

“Well, as far as Thor knows the plant that was mutated with the daisies was pollen extracted from a breeding plant common among other galaxies; for species that can’t… reproduce like we do. The pollen enters the system and targets the nociceptors causing excruciating pain without physical harm. If untreated the victim can reach a traumatic state and truthfully, they will do anything to stop the pain; even kill themselves.”

“What the hell does any of that mean?” Sam grunted.

“It means the tin man is painfully horny,” Tony interrupted.

“Are you fucking serious?” Sam said in disbelief.

“What’s the cure?” Nat said.

“Oxytocin, of course,” Tony said.

“The cuddle hormone,” you whispered.

“Yup. Banner and I are already working on a serum containing artificial oxytocin in hopes to minimize the pain or even better cure him completely. We-”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit more complicated than that,” Thor interrupted Tony.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, see the pollen, it’s a little tricky. The oxyputin-thingy you mentioned…”

“Oxytocin,” Tony clarified but Thor didn’t care too much.

“I don't think artificial love is going to cure the boy. If you want results, he needs to be the one he desires most. That’s where you’ll get your oxy-pudding.”

“Oxy- You know what, we can figure this out without anyone needing to have sex,” Tony groaned.

“Tony, maybe we shouldn’t-” you started.

“Nope, we can do this. We’re science bros,” Tony stormed away like a child.

“Isn’t your lab being ‘occupied’,” Nat called out.

“Shit!”

-

Hours went by and the oxytocin experiments were clearly a fail. The first dose did nothing. The second also nothing. The third relieved him for only ten seconds before he went back to his painful state. Since then, they haven’t been able to help or relieve Bucky’s circumstance any longer.

You thought about Thor’s words, about how the one he desires most could cure him. A ping of jealousy struck your heart but you knew you to find the woman Bucky loved and just pray that she'd help him. You made your way back to the lad area where Tony and Bruce had their new makeshift set up while the lab was locked down.

“Tony, this is ridiculous. It’s been going on for too long. You heard what Thor said about what happens when it gets too much,” you begged.

“And what do you suggest we do?” Tony said angrily.

“We need to find the woman that Bucky loves so she can help him,” you argued back.

“It's not just some woman, Y/n! He wants you.”

“What?”

“All the bastard’s been doing for the past eight hours has been masterbating while moaning your name. I’m not putting you in that situation,” Tony yelled.

You couldn’t speak. Was he telling you the truth? Did Bucky want you like that? The same way you secretly wanted him? It’s not like you haven't thought about what being with Bucky would be like before. He was perfect; so handsome and charming.

You ran back to your room where the rest of the guys still were practically out of breath; your heart hammering out of your chest and your stomach fluttering like it does whenever you think about Bucky.

“I need to get to Bucky,” you panted out.

“What?”

“Please you guys need to help me. Tony said that Bucky wants me; I mean can you believe. A guy like him wanting me? I’m just… nobody. He’s way too out of my league and-”

“Y/n, focus,” Nat said.

“Right. I- I want to help him. I know I can.”

“Y/n, we don’t know how dangerous this is. I mean, it came from Hydra, this could be weaponized and you could get hurt,” Steve argued.

“Bucky could never hurt me,” you whispered; Nat looked at you softly, understanding the situation better realizing you were probably Bucky’s only chance of a cure.

“You’re not actually considering letting her do this are you?” Steve scolded Nat.

"Are Tony and Bruce making any progress?" she sighed.

"They haven't been to even relieve his pain for longer than ten seconds," you whispered.

"Steve, this is Bucky we're talking about. Hasn't he endure enough torture in his life?" Nat said softly.

That seemed to convince him. Seeing Bucky in so much pain like he had been only years ago was unfair, especially when they technically already knew a cure. Waiting this out was pure evil at this point.

"How do you suppose we go about this?" he asked.

You devised a plan in order to let Bucky from the lab; he'd find his way to you on his own. Wanda stood from afar using her powers to tamper with the equipment. Tony frustratingly would have to run across the compound to the conference rooms to grab new devices in order to continue with his notes and tests.

On his way back, Steve and his convincing and charming ways would stall Tony's return asking him all sorts of questions about Bucky's state. Meanwhile, Thor made up some excuse to lure Banner away just for a minute so Nat and Sam could override the lockdown through Friday and free Bucky.

All the while you sat in your room waiting anxiously for Bucky to barge through the door and have his way with you.

A few minutes went by and no sign of a ruckus you'd assume would accompany the escape plan. You fiddled with the hem of your skirt biting your lip in anticipation. Still no sign after a couple more minutes. Wanting to make sure you still looked alright for Buck, although he'd probably not even acknowledge your appearance, you stood up to walk to your bathroom.

Just as you stood up, Bucky in all his muscle and broad glory slammed the door behind him staring at you with nothing but desperate hunger. Your stomach flipped when you saw him lock the door, pushing a small chair you had just next to it in front of the door under the handle.

He stalked towards practically panting and you took in his appearance. His hair was quite disheveled and sweat lined his forehead and slightly down his neck. Despite that, he still looked so handsome and sexy.

"маленький, all dressed up for me to ruin," he growled crawling up the bed as you crawled back.

"Buck, are you ok? I want to help you," you whispered.

"I'm more than ok now, beautiful," he whispered leaning into you, his nose brushing against yours, chuckling when you visibly trembled.

"Is my красивый маленький ангел gonna let me use her?" he whispered, huskily.

"Bucky, I don't understand what you're saying."

"так драгоценно," he whispered against your lips before pressing himself completely against you.

His hands, contrast between hot and cold, crept under your shirt brushing lightly over your delicate skin. You had somewhat expected Bucky to have no control and use you relentlessly, of which you wouldn't have minded, but this soft ginger foreplay was really making your panties wet.

Bucky slowly lifted the shirt from your body before tossing it to the side and removing his own. His hands cupped your breasts squeezing the soft flesh quite roughly making you sigh and moan at the feeling.

His lips attached themselves to your neck biting and sucking harshly littering your skin with dark purple marks. He nibbled on your ear as he grinding his pelvis against yours, his large erection poking your center making you even more aroused.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. It smelled just like you," he whispered.

"T- The daisies?"

"I've been craving you, aching for you. Thinking about how good you're gonna feel wrapped around my cock," he panted speeding up his grinding thrusts.

"Buck," you breathed out.

Bucky shuddered over you before stilling for a moment. He couldn't help it, your scent, your warm skin pressed against his, he couldn't hold back anymore coming straight away in his pants.

You brushed his hair softly soothing him from his high. You thought it was over, that he felt better and was finally cured but almost instantly you felt Bucky harden under you, poking between your thighs and you gasped knowing very well it was going to be a long night.

Bucky stood on his knees and pulled your bottoms down your legs nearly ripping the material. He too rid his bottoms throwing them god knows where before climbing back on top of you. You stared adorably up at him and Bucky almost came again. He smiled softly at you before kissing you once more.

Suddenly, loud bangs on your door startled you but not Bucky.

"What the hell are you doing!" Tony screamed.

"Tony, you gotta stop! This is the only way! It's not fair to him to let him keep suffering. He's done enough of that, ok?" Nat shouted.

"She's gonna get hurt," Tony sighed.

"No she won't. This was her idea."

Tony looked back teary eyed. He really cared for you as his own and putting you in a situation like this wasn't fair to you either. He really tried to help but this was just too complicated and too advanced to solve in only a few hours. They were right, Bucky needed you as much as he didn't like that idea too much.

"Fine."

Bucky lined his cock with your entrance wrapping your legs around his waist. Slowly he pushed in pulling moans from you both. You've only had a couple lovers previous to Bucky but neither of them ever filled you so perfectly. Bucky stretched you out like none other and admittedly he wanted to use his fingers on you first but he'd been away for too long it was too painful to go another second without being inside you.

"So tight and warm, little one. Feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

"Buck," you moaned.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer to you as you kissed along his neck and jaw. Bucky moaned breathlessly in your ear and you couldn't help the clenching around him from arousal.

"Fuck, keep doing that, little one," he groaned.

Toy squeezed your thighs together and clenched around him again making him groan louder this time. His thrusts became sporadic and you moved against like a ragdoll unable to keep up with his relentless pace.

Your legs began to shake and your back arched into his chest reaching you first high of the night, gushing all over his cock. You realize he hasn't come and gently push him off you before flipping over to let him take you again from behind.

As expected, Bucky pushed into once again deeper this time and you shuddered under his hand that rested atop your arched back. Bucky smacked and kneaded your ass thrusting in and out. The lewd squelching sound of his thrust mixed with the sound of skin slapping against each other echoed in the room.

"Shit, little one. Taking my cock so fucking well," he reached forward and bunch up your hair pulling your head back harshly.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sheets as hard as you could. You were approaching your orgasm quickly and you weren't going to be able to hold back any longer. Your pussy clenched around Bucky's cock making him throw his head back in pleasure.

"Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"You wanna come, darling. You wanna cream all over daddy's cock?"

"Yes! Fuck!" your arms shook before giving out completely; your head buried in the sheets as Bucky continued that same wild and rough pace.

"Please let me come, daddy!"

Your body felt on fire. No one has ever made you feel this good before, it was almost too much, too overwhelming. Tears brimmed your eyes from trying to desperately hold back. You wanted to come with Bucky but seeing as his pace had yet to slow down you were beginning to think he wasn't even close.

"Let go, doll."

Your body squirmed beneath him as you released all over his dick. You came with a near shout, your body violently trembling from the intensity of your high. Bucky slowed his pace for your comfort, gently riding your orgasm slowly down despite his still aching erection.

He languidly rolled you over to your back, his hands softly rubbing your sides up to your breasts. You breathed heavily, eyes feeling droopy, all you could feel in that moment was his cum dripping from you onto the sheets.

Bucky, still knelt on the bed and still chasing his release, lifted your legs over his thighs gripping your hip with one hand and his cock with the other. You squeezed your thighs together when you felt his tip poking at your entrance once again, soft whimpers emitting from you shakily.

"Such a good girl. Gonna let me take you again? Gonna let me keep using you?" he moaned.

"Use me, Buck. I'm all yours," you breathed out.

Bucky pushed himself past your folds once again, your cum easily letting him slide in. Both his hands made home on your hips gripping hardly surely to leave marks for you to remember this very moment. You looked at Bucky as his thrusts slowly began to pick up, bringing your own hands to your breasts to play with your nipples. You twisted the perked buds, moaning softly at the feeling as well as Bucky filling you perfectly once again.

"Filling me up so good, baby," you moaned, arching your back slightly allowing Bucky to hit a newer and deeper angle inside you.

"Pussy was fucking made for me," he growled.

His hand moved from its home on your hip right over your lower belly where he could feel his cock so deep poking his own hand through your tummy.

"Feel how fucking deep I am?"

You moved your hand and he pressed yours in the same spot under his and you moaned loudly, shuddering under him.

His pace quickened and for a moment he thought he was going to finally reach his high, that release he'd been thinking about for hours today, but when he felt you clench again, squeezing his cock tightly and he didn't cum, he knew it was gonna be chase that he didn't know you'd be up for. You gushed all over his dick, back arching and your legs pressing tight around his torso, coming with a loud scream of his name.

Bucky fell forward with tears in his eyes. His skin still felt hot and sticky. His sense felt dialed up to an eleven. It was all so overwhelming and all he wanted was to cum in you and hold you closer whispering how he really loved you. He pressed faint kisses to you equally sticky and warm skin and when you felt warm liquid dripping onto your skin to lift Bucky's head to find him crying.

"What's wrong, baby?"

“I can’t cum. I just wanna cum,” he whined.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. I can go as many times as you need me to. I want to help you, let me do that.”

“Can- Can you uh… use your mouth please? I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock so bad,” he moaned.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything for you,” you smirked before pushing him and crawling over him holding his dick in your hand.

-

Hours and literally hours had passed until Bucky was finally tired out only having cum three times compared to the fifteen-plus times you had. Your bed laid on the ground; the wooden stands snapped about two hours ago. Most of your sheets were torn to shreds and marks littered your body from your neck down to your hips and your knees from, well you know.

Your body shook as you laid in a fetal position. You burned between your thighs; the soreness overwhelming but pleasant at the same time. Sweat made what was left of the sheets stick to your body until Bucky pulled them from you to clean you. He used a warm towel all over your body with tears in his eyes whispering how sorry he was about everything.

“I swear I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m so sorry. I understand if you hate me now; if you never want to see me again. Just know that I’m so sorry about your bed, the blankets, if I hurt you, everything,” he sniffled, eyes and nose red and puffy.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice raspy and croaky from your moaning and screaming all night.

“Y/n,” he whispered back. You pulled him by the back of his neck into a soft yet passionate kiss.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out when you pulled away. You cupped his face with shaky hands but a smile on your face.

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I’ve dreamt about holding you far too many times, more than I’d like to admit. I should’ve told you sooner but like everyone else, I was scared you didn’t like me back; at least not this way,” he rubbed your legs indicating the intimate love he had for you.

“Buck, it’s virtually impossible for anyone not to fall in love with you. Unless they’re Tony,” you giggled as did he.

“Can you say it?” he asked softly.

“That I love you?” you smiled brushing your nose against his; Bucky practically purred as he nodded.

“I love you, James,” you whispered.

“Fuck, I love you too.”

He laid you down softly again on the broken bed pressing light kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. You brushed his hair with your fingers as he clung onto you ready to sleep.

“Thank you again, doll. For helping me today,” he said after a couple minutes of silence.

“Of course, my love. Besides I’m the one who ran into you with those damn daisies.”

“Thank god for them then. And for your clumsiness,” Bucky chuckled.

“Meanie,” you snorted, making Bucky laugh even more.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l

@pluto-grl

@partr1dge

@stefans-wife

@cordeliaswhore

@fleurlovesbucky

@wandanatasha0720

Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@stolenxkissess

[alltheshadesofgray]

Numb Little Bug Prologue

Masterlist

DAMIAN AL GHUL HAD been taught from day one positive emotions would be his doom. Well, that, and the several ways to kill or cause severe bodily harm to someone. He knew torture methods and the best way to blackmail someone. He knew he was the heir to the greatest guild of assassins. 

His world turned upside down when he was ten. That was when Deathstroke and his band of traitors attacked the League, forcing his mother to flee with him in tow. Shove him under the care of a father who had no idea he existed. The only thing Damian knew was how to attack, how to make sure he was safe. He didn't know how to care. He didn't know how to love, like his elder adopted brother, Dick, loved unconditionally. 

You cannot let your emotions control you, Damian. His mother had told him one time, while he was sparring with another child of the League. This person's only use is to die for you. You cannot feel anything. 

Damian had learned everything from a to z. Except the art of caring. The League of Shadows had no room for emotions. The League certainly didn't need sentimental and emotional messes. Damian supposed that was why his mother had drugged his father in order to conceive him. 

Talia al Ghul was his mother in biological terms only. Damian al Ghul didn't grow up expecting love, nor did he give it so easily. And neither did Talia. It didn't really matter, because Damian wasn't an expert in love. He didn't need his mother's love to survive. And if Talia in any way wanted Damian to love her like typical mother and sons do, she had no-one to blame but herself. 

Bruce Wayne was his father, but with vastly different backgrounds, Damian and Bruce didn't connect easily. The same could be said for any of his adopted siblings. Though they'd all been through traumatic stuff, nearly none of them understood growing up and being raised by assasins. Except for Cass, who could understand his past better than the rest of his family. 

Damian al Ghul was not Damian Wayne. Though yes, Damian Wayne had the same chararistics, physical features, and overall knowledge, Damian Wayne had one thing Damian al Ghul never had. A family. Though dysfunctional and chaotic, the Waynes were a family nontheless. Damian al Ghul was cold, heartless and ruthless. But Damian Wayne had a chance to live.

 MANON CHAMACK HAD GROWN up knowing that negative emotions would get her killed. From the age six, Manon had grown up with the reality of Hawk Moth and Akumas being completely normal. That was absolute hell. But if she allowed herself to feel angry or annoyed, then she would have no control over what would happen next. She wasn't powerful enough to resist Hawk Moth. Nobody was. Eventually they all succumbed to the power and the promising words, the lies, of Hawk Moth. 

Manon was suffocating. Drowning. She tried to scream but nobody could hear her. Her terror was flooding through her veins. Get me out of here, she thought. Syren laughed maniacally, and Manon was dragged into darkness. 

Most of Paris were able to trauma block Akuma attacks. But Manon? Manon couldn't ever unsee what she did. She could recall any of her deaths perfectly. She could recall the deaths of her friends, when August had jumped in front of a strike aimed at her, when Ella and Etta were too a moment too slow, when Chris had been torn apart, blood spraying on her. 

Manon lived by a code. 1) Do not feel, 2) Should rule one fail, then everyone is fucked.

It was as simple as that. 

But it wasn't. Because humanity did not function without emotion. With Hawk Moth taking away Paris' fundamental link to humanity, it was impossible to survive or thrive. Paris's humanity relied on two teenagers to save them, teenagers who'd been thrust into the position without any forewarning or preperation. Not to say that Ladybug and Chat Noir didn't do a kickass job, but they just weren't meant to fight an emotional terrorist. 

Manon lost any ability to feel during the reign of Hawk Moth, and even after Hawk Moth, some days she just wanted to stay in bed and never get out. Manon Chamack never had any chance to live, but she was a survivor. She fought, and she stood strong at the end. 

But truly living was a foreign idea to her. What did it even mean? How could she live when she was vitally broken? 

~~~~

bruce thomas wayne

son of the late martha and thomas

and

marinette dupain-cheng

daughter of tom dupain and sabine cheng

request the honor of your presence at their wedding

the wedding and reception will be located at wayne manor

this is a black tie event

[yourmcu]

Forgotten (CONTINUED VERSION)

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader, Peter Parker x Stark!reader (platonic)

Request:

Hello i love your story could you do angsty tony x daughter reader. Wherein the reader has a twin brother and Tony and the avengers prefer the twin brother and becaus of that, the reader became rebel and badass. She always getting trouble and almost drop out student. The avengers and her father were seem disappointed and dont know what to do. Not until the reader involve into car accident and she's critical injured. The reader also slipped to coma. Everyone is devastated about the reader conditione. And they realized that the reader only rebel because she wants to get attention from them. It depends to you what the end come, I just want a full angst this week and I hope you dont mind my English. Anyway I hope your alright.

A/n: y’all wanted it, I finished it :)

Word count: 3,984

(more notes at the end!)

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort? bad writing of an anxiety attack, accident, knife, hospitals

read it on ao3!

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

Being a genius/billionaire/superhero’s kid doesn’t always sound nice like it usually does.

You were one of the Stark twins, the other half being your brother, Ethan.

The both of you showed signs that you inherited the commonly known Stark trait (intelligence) at a young age. But Tony mostly focused on his son, showing him all his inventions and gadgets, teaching him everything he knew while you on the other hand, were being babysat by Happy or Pepper, sometimes Rhodey.

You tried so hard to get your father’s attention but he always had his excuses:

“I don’t have time for that.”

“I’m busy with Ethan right now.”

“Maybe later.”

At first you didn’t mind if your brother got all the praise and attention. It wasn’t until your mid-teens that you really started to feel left out and ignored.

You were left to frown when the other Avengers never found anything interesting about you, just like Tony did. They all liked Ethan better. The topic of him being the next Iron Man when Tony retires is getting exhausting.

There was this one time when Tony announced that they were all going out to dinner since Ethan got, yet again, a full set of A’s on his report card.

“Did you get my card?” You tapped on Tony’s shoulder lightly.

He gave you a side glance, “ah shoot, I forgot. I’ll go get it tomorrow.” Then returned his attention to your brother.

But he ended up forgetting again the next day and you had to convince your teacher to give it to you instead. Your marks had A’s, but littered with B’s as well, of course that was no match for your brother’s perfect marks.

And that sort of scenario wasn’t just a one time thing, Tony forgets to pick up your report card every. single. time. The messed up part was you and Ethan literally attended the same school, he was just in a more advanced class than you.

As time passed, Tony went from ignoring you to getting annoyed and pissed at you for everything you did. In his eyes, you were always in the wrong. And the reason? You didn’t know.

“Dad? Can I borrow Bruce for a minute?” You knocked on the glass door of his lab to get him to look up.

He didn’t, but responded, “kinda busy with him right now.”

You looked at your fractured arm, regretting your decisions. “W-well, Ethan was training with Nat, and... and he wanted to try the new moves he learned on me. He went a little hard and - I think my arm’s broken, I just wanted Bruce to check it out-”

“Goddammit!” He shouted after you heard a glass shatter. Bruce covered his face with palms, muttering an ‘oh no’.

Tony glared at you, striding to where you were standing. All that was left for you to do was to brace yourself for what was about to come. “See, this is why we never let you do anything with the team,” he spat. “That right there?”-he pointed to your arm-“that’s on you. Things go wrong because you’re in the way!”

“I’m... I’m sorry-”

“Just get out of here.”

Your arm remained untreated after that.

Then Peter Parker came into the picture. Friendly guy, he was actually nice to you. Him and Ethan got along right away when Tony first recruited him. The fact that he treated Peter better than you made you even more miserable. It made you think he never wanted a daughter in the first place.

You first met Peter when he accidentally entered your room without warning, thinking it was the bathroom. Cliche, but that’s what happened.

“It’s on the first door to your other left,” you stated.

“Yeah, yeah okay, thanks,” he turned around to leave but stopped to look at you again. “I’m Peter Parker, by the way.”

“Y/N Stark.”

Peter’s eyes lit up at your last name. “I... I didn’t know Mr. Stark had a daughter - no offense! It’s just-”

You sighed and waved him off. He didn’t even notice the similarities you had with your twin. “It’s fine. I get that a lot.”

After many events of being, to be blunt, treated like shit, you finally had enough. You neglected your studies, only went to school when you felt like it (which was rare). No one cared your grades anyway, so what’s the point? You became a whole new person, you surrounded yourself with the wrong sort of people, causing you to dabble into smoking and alcohol.

Since you were always in trouble, you could recite Cap’s detention speech at school by heart now.

The principal of your school wanted to see Tony to talk about your behavior. Normally he’d make an excuse not to go if it wasn’t that important but he got flooded with messages from the school, so he couldn’t say no.

You had your legs crossed, sitting across from Tony who had his eyebrows furrowed as he listened to the principal. For some reason you didn’t feel nervous. “Y/N barely attends her classes. I’ve seen every attendance. Are you aware of this, Mr. Stark?”

Tony only maintained his usual relaxed posture and avoided your gaze.

“Some students have also seen her smoke in school grounds. We gave her a few weeks suspension for it, but it doesn’t look like she’s learned her lesson.” They pulled out a couple boxes of cigarettes from the desk drawer. “We found these in her locker.”

“You went into my locker?” You shot up from your seat. “You can’t just do that!”

Tony cleared his throat and got up, gripping your wrist. “I’ll take it from here - will that be all?”

On the way out he doesn’t say a word to you, only that his grip on your wrist got tight as you near the car.

“So,” he started the car. His voice was calm, but it screamed that you were in deep trouble. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

You sighed and slouched in the passenger’s seat, crossing your arms. “I’m... sorry you had to know...?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna be honest with you here,” Tony still doesn’t look at you. “When I found out I had two kids, I got worried about Ethan.”

You let out a snort. Of course he would.

“I didn’t want him ending up like me. But surprise surprise, my daughter did instead.”

“I’m not ‘ending up’ like you, Dad-”

“Then what do you call - this,” he referred to you. “What, you’re just gonna waste your life, drop out of school? You’re a fucking mess, Y/N, and here I thought I raised you right. Sometimes I think: why can’t you just be like your brother?” He had a hard grip on the steering wheel as he drove, the way he spoke affected the speed of the car greatly.

You opened your mouth to speak but you couldn’t fine the exact words you wanted to say. “I... well, I’m sorry I’m not a goody two shoes like him!”

“That’s not what I-”

“Please, that’s exactly what you meant.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Look, I’m grounding you until you pull yourself together, understand?” And he did. He gave new orders to Friday when the both of you got home. You weren’t allowed to leave the compound without Tony’s permission.

Were you giving up that easily? Of course not.

You were on your laptop for the rest of the day, hacking into Friday’s system, the security to the elevator and the entrance. That night, your executed your plan and everything went smoothly.

“This is why you never underestimate me,” you sighed, deactivating the hack once you were out of the building.

Your friend who was picking you up was already waiting a few blocks away from the compound. “I hope you’re cool with me staying over for a couple days.”

“If a bunch of Avengers come and destroy my place to look for you, I’m not going to be friends with you anymore.”

You laughed at out, “oh trust me, they don’t care.”

----

The next day no one noticed your absence, nobody did for another two days. Tony just assumed you were mad about your punishment, so he didn’t think of it much.

Not until Peter came to the compound on the third day, wanting to hang out with you.

“Whatcha got there, Pete?” Ethan asked.

“Star Wars movies. I wanna watch them with Y/N - she could use some company, don’t you think?”

The older Stark twin shrugged, “yeah, I guess she could.”

Peter then headed to the elevator and stopped at the floor where your room was. He knocked on your door and waited a bit, after a few minutes of silence he knocked again, still nothing.

“Y/N? Is it okay if I come in?” He called out. No response. He hesitated a bit, for all he knew you were probably changing or something, or you could be in danger. He went to open the door anyway. “I’m coming in, I’ll close my eyes just to be-”

To Peter’s surprise, your room was empty.

----

You were at a 711 parking lot, waiting for your friends who were buying supplies for a house party. You gave them your wallet, not really caring about anything anymore. Your phone was starting to pile up with messages and missed calls from Tony, Edward and Peter, occasionally from the others as you scrolled pass more.

Without thinking you threw your phone to the ground, cracking the screen, breaking it completely. They’d be able to track you through it now that they know you ran away. You really had no intention of coming back. You weren’t wanted, what’s the point of going back?It’s early but you’ve had a few drinks already. You weren’t sure if breaking your phone was a good idea but there’s one thing you’re sure: you didn’t care anymore.

You didn’t have to turn your head to see who just arrived and ambushed your friends inside the store. They ran out and left you behind. The sound of webs coming out of his shooters was enough for you to tell.

“You shouldn’t be here, Peter,” you sighed defeatedly.

Peter gently took a seat next to you, not removing his mask since you were in public and handed your wallet back. “I don’t understand why you left.”

He took in your awful state. His suit scanned how intoxicated you were, estimated how many cigarette packets you’ve had. His frown deepened at the information.

“I care about you. We all do. Mr. Stark’s not going to stop the search party until you come home.”

You rolled your eyes at the term. “Stupid search party – pathetic – I’m not coming home anymore, Pete-” you slurred and tried to get up but stumbled back, almost twisting your ankle but fell to Peter’s side. “Ow.”

He sighed, struggling to get ahold of you since you always pulled away.

“Stop being so stubborn, okay?”

“If you don’t like my stubborn fucking ass then maybe you should just leave,” you stated. “I’m not wanted there. I got the message. I didn’t run away just to be fucking found.”

Peter stared at you for a moment. He didn’t know why you got grounded in the first place, how you got here and why you didn’t want to go back home. There was something off in the father-daughter relationship, he knew that, but it was news to him that it was that bad. That bad for you to waste your life, to run away. He always thought Mr. Stark was an awesome parent, the way he was treating Ethan, and him…

“It’s unfair,” you ranted. “God, if you only knew how pathetic I feel whenever he tells me off. I’m always annoying to him - not just to him, to the whole team, I’m always wrong in everything I do and it’s honestly tiring? What the fuck do I have to do just to feel loved and wanted?”

You went on rambling while Peter tried to comfort and deny every negative thing that came out of your mouth. He didn’t believe any of it, but the way everyone’s been treating you. He hated that he didn’t notice sooner. He could’ve defended you.

“I have nothing against you, I really don’t,” you sighed. “But you should be grateful they’re treating you perfectly.” You got up and strode to the opposite direction, mentally cursing because your friends ditched you and you has nowhere to go, phone destroyed and everything.

But you were staying true to your word: you didn’t have any plans to go back to the compound. You were going to figure your life out on your own.

“Y/N, I… I’m not leaving you alone out here!”

You were so fed up of the spider-ling. How good he was, how perfect, how Tony clearly wanted him more than you, how he always wanted to do the right thing, because none of you expected what happened next when he went to grab your shoulder. The action was so sudden that it Peter didn’t have time to avoid it.

Knife, shoulder, really deep.

Maybe it was just how wasted you were, because he knew you would never do anything like that.

“You’re really annoying, Parker,” you muttered, not wasting any more time watching him stumble out of shock and pain, sprinting across the streets.

With his uninjured arm, he shot webs while trying to pull the knife (the blade wasn’t even visible anymore on how deep it was) out of his shoulder. There was a loud bang, and Peter never sprinted so fast in his life, not caring less about the pain and blood, because what mattered most was your safety. When he got there, you were far from safe.

-----

A week went by. And during those seven days Tony was on edge, I mean, how can be calm at a time like that?

Peter managed to show up at the compound the same night, breathless and shaky. His state made everyone worried but he wasted no time telling Tony what happened. He got you to the hospital, making sure you were being sorted out right before leaving to break the news.

Tony didn’t think twice and went to the hospital where you were admitted, not listening to Peter’s apologies and leaving Steve to sort everyone out on what they should do.

They didn’t expect you to show signs of waking up after only a week since the accident got you mangled up, it was mostly a blow to the head and as expected, you slipped into a coma.

Right, what happened: an awful timing really, not sure if Peter’s the one to blame but he accidentally stuck you to the ground with his webs, and it just so happened a car was driving at a fast speed – there you go.

Tony made sure you got the best treatment possible. He even went and asked Strange if he could do all the surgeries needed, but he declined, claiming he couldn’t anymore despite the sympathy he felt inside. Instead he asked the best doctors he knew, but still helped out sometimes in any way he could.

You took a breath, trying to open your eyes but the blinding lights of your room and them almost feeling as if they were glued shut from not being open for so long prevented you. You also tried moving your hands, only to feel a warm one rest on top of it, you finally opened your eyes.

“You’re awake,” Tony mumbled, rubbing a thumb on the back of your palm soothingly. “You’re awake and you’re okay.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter called out, spotting his mentor sitting outside the room where they were doing the final surgery on you. It was his first time visiting, seeing as the knife wound was worse than he thought. “I’m so sorry, I-“

“What happened?” Was the only thing Tony said, not looking up to look at the kid. Peter stood there for a moment but told him everything that happened.

After that and after he made sure you were okay, resting in your room and everything, he let Natasha look after you for the night and headed back to the compound.

The kid would never lie to him but he had to see it all for himself. The Spider-Man suit caught everything through the baby monitor protocol. From when he arrived to the convenient store, when you told him countless of times that you weren’t coming back, and when your drunk self ranted about what you felt.

“What the fuck do I have to do just to feel loved and wanted?”

“He seemed to like both of us equally when we were younger,” you sniffled. “Of course he would, but… my brother just turned out to be special and talented and,” you frowned, “he’s all Tony ever wanted for a kid. Maybe I reminded him of the chick he fucked, I don’t know – must be it, right?”

“Y/N, you’re just as special as-” Peter tried to reason but you threw him a glare. Tony could see the pain and heartbreak in your bloodshot, tired eyes. One that said you didn’t want to hear anything like it anymore. You didn’t want to believe it.

“The thing is, they only want you when you’re gone. Missing. Dead,” you shrugged. “I can take a hint, you know? My only family hates me. My only family doesn’t want me. Now you – all of them – are looking for me… why?” Peter flinched at the loudness of your voice. You truly were broken.

Tony fast forwarded, it didn’t clearly show how you got hit, but he had enough anyway. He wanted to make things right with you. He could only hope that you make pass this, hoping that you’ll let him make it up to you.

“It’s not too late, you know,” Steve said from the entrance to his lab. “Y/N is strong. She’ll make it.”

“Why am I not dead?” You croaked, looking at your father with an anxious expression. You letting out another shaky breath as you struggled to move and look around. “I should be dead. Why am I here-”

“Take it easy-”

“Don’t you understand?” You felt your throat aching, breath quickening. “I don’t want to be here!”

“No, you’re okay. Y/N you’re okay,” Tony tried to calm you down when he saw the lines in your heart monitor go up and down in rapid pace. 

“I’m not - no I’m not - not okay,” you struggled to let out. It felt like you were choking on your own breath, getting harder and harder to breathe by the minute, soon tears started to prick your eyes. “I don’t want to be here!”

“Tony, what's going on?” Steve bursted into the room with an alarmed but calm expression.

“Call Strange. Anyone.” He told the captain but his eyes never left you. He rubbed a part of your arm that wasn’t injured soothingly in attempt to calm you down. “Just breathe for me, okay? I’m here and you’re okay.”

Something about the softness and encouraging look in his eyes made you nod eventually and follow his breathing patterns. He held a glass of water for you to drink, holding your struggling hand softly to get it out of the way.

He’s never looked at you like that before.

Most of the time he ignored you, most of the time he looked at you at anger or annoyance when you’ve fucked something up.

“There we go, we okay now?” You looked away and nodded lightly. That was enough for him. Tony wanted to let you know how sorry he was so bad, but thought against it, at least for now. He was scared you might start freaking out again.

Stephen entered the room with the doctor, the other Avengers following closely behind. The amount of people in the room overwhelmed you a bit, but you were strangely calm because of how your father’s acting. Soft and caring, it made you feel safe.

Both doctors concluded that you had some sort of amnesia. In English, your past memories were blotchy, all of them even from your childhood. Again because of the blow to the head it was already expected. But you remembered the recent ones clearly, which was the reason why you avoided looking at Peter and his patched up arm.

Which also meant it was possible you didn’t remember all of the pain you felt concerning your family. It was unfair on your part.

Strange insisted that you stay a few more days, or one more week, just to run tests and make sure you get enough medicine and stuff.

They decided to see how bad your memory loss was.

“I did that to you,” you still refused to look at Peter completely. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Peter gave you a smile.

You moved to the next person. Red hair, seemed to give off a friendly but civil nature. “Natasha? You’re Natasha.”

The Russian merely smiled and crossed her arms.

“Steve,” you stated, moving to the next person. “You always read old books in the kitchen.”

Steve chuckled, nodding to confirm.

“Ethan,” you smiled as you looked at your twin. He gave you a small wave even if he felt as guilty as Tony about everything even if he wasn’t the one to blame.

You stared longer at the next person, almost shoulder length dark brown hair, he’s wearing a jacket to cover his metal arm but you knew it was still there.

“Ducky?”

Peter let out a giggle, so did you brother.

“It’s Bucky, doll,” Bucky smiled, covering his face with his hand to suppress a chuckle as the rest laughed.

“Oh, right, I’m sorry,” you let out a weak giggle yourself.

You meet Tony’s eyes again, the softness still there.

“Dad,” you stated. “You’re my dad. Tony.”

No, you didn’t completely forget how he treated you. You knew he was annoyed with you, which lead you to think that you did something that made him act that way. “Am I bad?”

Tony’s hopeful expression dimmed. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

You shrugged. “You’re mad at me, I just… I guess it’s just not clear on why.”

Steve thought it would be best for everyone to head out for a bit so he ushered everyone out of the room except for your brother who took a seat at the corner.

“About that, it’s about time we talked, yeah?” Tony sat on a chair backwards beside your bed. It made you nervous, but you were reassured. “You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.”

He exhaled, resting an arm on the top rail. “You deserve so much better. I should’ve treated you better,” you opened your mouth to ask but he continued. “Look, I haven’t been fair with you and it’s a problem. You’re smart, talented and beautiful. I figured you needed to hear it more often because it’s true. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I really am.”

Your bottom lip involuntarily trembled. “You – you really mean that?”

“From the bottom of my heart.”

You sighed, a genuine smile plastered on your face. “Thank you. And I’m sorry if I was a pain in the ass-“

“You never were,” Tony shook his head. “You always did your best and I really should have acknowledged it more. Give me a second chance?”

“Of course.”

Tony smiled, getting up and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Everything in life was so much better after all that. Tony treated you and Ethan equally, same goes for Peter. The other Avengers were nicer, not the kind of nice that was almost fake, but it was genuine. All of them were. And you were thankful.

----

TAGLIST: @contanto-que-voce-me-queira @angeldreineedshelp @legendarymcnuggies @zoeyserpentluck @vienmiaprendere @alainabooks143 @hessogxlden

DID ANYONE MISS ME? BC I MISSED THIS PLACE

I highly doubt anyone’s still waiting for this, it was an unplanned hiatus I’M SO SORRY but I decided to post anyway :))

also I hope this wasn’t underwhelming, that’s one of the reasons why I was hesitant to do this but I hope its good heh (I’ve included the parts from my first post as well, just so it feels like a full fic)

WAIT I ALSO HIT 300 FOLLOWERS? INSANE. THANK YOU. I MEAN IT.

[pigeonp0st]

you did NOT say “hey send more wanda requests!” but here i am... sending you one jejeje :) how about cute fluffy red eyed jealous wanda? she just wants to hang with reader but EVERY! AVENGER! ALSO! DOES!

Wanda Maximoff x Reader #2

Words: 1,970

Warnings: Jealousy, Cursing

Notes:

Thank you for requesting, and by the way: I appreciate all of the Wanda requests so...hey! Send more Wanda requests. Oh, and this was written during a writers block so it’s not the best but I hope it’s good enough ;( Sorry for spelling mistakes.

————

There are moments during Wanda’s life where she is jealous, believe it or not. No, it doesn’t happen very often anymore; because really she has nothing to long for that she doesn’t already have.

But it happens… So despite her unwillingness to admit it, she’s currently experiencing one of her not so often bouts of jealousy—and it feels like such an ugly word, but it’s how she feels because everyone really just loves you, and she just wants you for herself.

and yeah, okay, someone could make the argument that she ‘has’ you already, and she feels that way, but she knows she doesn’t. Logically.

You could completely decide that you don’t want to be with her anymore, Wanda knows, and if that were something you wanted she wouldn’t even think about stopping you.

She’s not that type of jealous though. She’s not concerned you’ll leave her for someone else, despite how close you and Steve get while you’re discussing something, and despite how many times you fall asleep with Thor on the couch, despite how many times Tony seems to be looking for you, she doesn’t necessarily care about any of it.

As a matter of fact, Wanda would say that she loves the way everyone loves you. She loves how close you are with them...she just wishes it didn’t have to mean so little time for her.

So she’ll train with Clint and watch from the corner of her eye as you train with Natasha, and she’s not jealous about the way that you laugh with her, or the way that she smiles at you, or the way that Natasha pulls you until your faces are inches— okay she really didn’t need to fucking pull you so close-

“Y/N,” Wanda calls, absentmindedly throwing Clint into the cushioned wall with her powers. You don’t pay attention to her, much to Wanda’s dismay, instead you smirk at Natasha and she smirks at you— and really Wanda’s about a second away from throwing Natasha into the wall too— but then Nat headbutts you with just enough force that you’re winded by it, and completely and utterly finishes the fight.

Wanda stops her advancements towards you and starts clapping her hands, feeling utterly ridiculous but hiding it well.

From the way Natasha tilts her head at her perhaps she isn’t hiding it well enough.

You still don’t turn around to notice her though because now you’re locked into conversation with Bruce. And Okay.

She’s able to admit to herself now, that yeah, sometimes her jealousy comes from fear rather than want, but it’s only because anyone would feel threatened by Natasha.

She is also able to admit to herself that this is...harder for her than she previously thought.

————

This continues for a while longer. Wanda looks at you hanging out with the others, tries to get your intention, and gets utterly ignored.

She knows you aren’t doing it on purpose, but it hurts enough that whenever you, or the person you’re hanging out with ignore her she sighs and completely leaves the room.

She waits for you to look for her like she looks for you, she waits for you to be alone, but you never do, and you never are.

It hurts in a way it probably shouldn’t.

———-

Wanda has been pouty lately.

When you ask about it she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest like a disobedient five year old. It’s both amusing and concerning.

Concerning because she’s obviously upset about something, and amusing because she has the cutest pout, and the most dramatic flair about her.

You won’t be dropping this though. “Wan Wan-”

“Okay,” Wanda grimances immediately, “please never call me that again.” She looks horrified when she says it, and your amusement only goes up. Until you see the red glow in her eyes and remember that her powers have been showing the whole day.

This can’t go on.

“Wanda, did I do something wrong?” You ask, clearing your throat in an attempt to start the conversation over.

Wanda momentarily stops glaring at the table so she can glance at you. When she does she seems to sag into her seat at the worried look on your face. This isn’t your fault, she reminds herself, angry that she let her own stupidity affect you. “No,” Wanda sighs, her jaw clenching and unclenching. “No, draga, you haven’t.”

Darling, you remember. That’s what ‘draga’ means. Despite circumstances the term of endearment fills you with butterflies. “Then what’s wrong?”

This time when you ask Wanda answers, looking sheepish and guilty. “I...Y/N I want to spend time with you. Is that…” she pauses, feeling frustrated beyond belief, “is that okay?”

You’re...confused, to say the least. You don’t understand why Wanda would think it isn’t, she’s your girlfriend, you love spending time with her. You had thought that you were already spending time with her before.

“Wanda,” you stutter, eyes wide at the sudden tears in her eyes. When she tries to look away you put a hand on her cheek and force her glowing red eyes to meet yours. “Hey, hey, Wanda—baby—of course it is.”

It’s more than okay.

Wanda nods, looking just as shocked by her tears as you are. “I have no idea why i’m crying,” she says shakily, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t know why...I” Wanda pauses, letting out an angry defeated growl, “just- god, I...i’m just so frustrated.”

And she is, she really is. Wanda hadn’t realized how much this has been affecting her. She’s just angry at herself for needing you so much, and angry at the others for taking you away from her all the time, and then angry at herself again for being angry at the others just for wanting to be with you— she’s just angry. And it’s so exhausting.

But you aren’t. You’re the only thing in this life, to Wanda, that isn’t. It means everything, that’s why she needs you. Not all the time. Just sometimes at least.

You, little does Wanda know, need her around just as much, and more than that you need her to be okay, and she isn’t right now. Wanda looks so devastated and helpless, so helpless, that you’re hugging her before you can even register it, like your body moved on it’s own accord.

“Wanda,” you ask, concerned, “do you feel like i’m not already spending a lot of time with you? I mean...we sleep in the same bed.” Wanda hugs you so tightly though, that you wonder if you’ve been imagining the moments you two have spent together.

“No, no you have been,” she says sadly, and with a resignation in her voice that you don’t understand. “I guess...with all of the loss that’s surrounded me, and with the way I still try to distance myself from the others, I'm just really alone without you.”

You freeze completely, hit with an unbearable amount of sadness for the women you love.

Wanda pulls away from you when you tense, looking frantic because she worded that wrong, she hadn’t meant it to sound like she was guilt tripping you. “Obviously it’s not your responsibility to hang out with me all the time, I want you to hang out with your friends, it’s just...I mean...they do get to do stupid mundane things with you more...and I mean I want that too, but only if—”

You put a hand over her mouth, silencing her immediately. “Baby, slow down. Breathe. You’re gonna die if you don’t.”

“Okay…” you start when you realize Wanda has done what you asked and calmed down as much as she’s going to be able to right now, “no, you’re right, now that I think about it. Lately the others have been asking for me a lot and we only ever get a chance to watch a movie at night...we hardly see each other besides that.”

As you say it you’re shocked to find out how true it is. You’ve been so busy with your project with Tony, and training with Natasha, and Thor has been so sad lately that you’ve been trying to help him— and Clint with his sudden want to start cooking, and Peter with his girl problems, and—

And you hadn’t really taken a moment to realize that you miss Wanda too, you haven’t had the time to realize it while you were shuffling around the compound, but Wanda has had time. She’s had all the time in the world.

“Hey,” Wanda says when she notices the guilt on your face, “none of that.”

So you tackle her. Naturally. You tackle her because you love her, and she’s too sad. She looks too sad, she’s always too sad, and she never deserves to feel that way.

Wanda lets out a loud; ‘oof’ and falls back against the couch with you on top of her burying your face in her neck.

She doesn’t understand at all what’s going on, but she’s willing to give you what you want...until you start making weird noises.

“Rummmmm, tssssssss, weeeeeee.”

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks, legitimately concerned.

“Shhh, babe, i’m charging us up. Weeeee-”

“Okay,” Wanda laughs, pushing you off of her. When you yelp and nearly fall off the couch she catches you with her powers and gently lowers you on the ground.

You glare at her the whole way down, a humorous gleam in your eyes. “I’m trying to help babe, what the fuck.”

Wanda simply rolls her eyes at you, releasing another breathy laugh that has your features soften immediately.

“There it is,” you whisper quietly, reaching up to cup her cheek. Wanda smiles into your palm. “I’m sorry, Wanda. I’m realizing that I've missed you desperately too, so we’ll definitely have to make up for the time we weren’t together.”

“You don’t have to,” Wanda sighs, looking down.

“I want to,” you assure, because you do want to. You hadn’t noticed the ache in your heart until it was pointed out to you, but now that it has been...you just want to spend time with Wanda. But…

“But I want you to have other people as well,” you say quietly, “Do you think you could start opening up to the others? They really love you.”

Wanda studies your eyes, thinking. “I have been open with them.”

“You treat them like comrades more than family, even though they obviously love you more than that, and even though you do too.”

It’s something you’ve noticed. Wanda will protect everyone, and be there for them, and she’ll confide in them when necessary, but she’ll also avoid them, and avoid talking with them.

“Okay, I will try.”

The relief you feel at those four words is indescribable. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with Wanda, and the fact that she’s finally ready to listen fills you with joy that has you jumping back into her arms and smothering her with kisses.

“Hey,” Wanda protests, but she’s laughing, “I'll have to take it slow. Maybe i’ll start by finally coming to their movie nights”

“Sounds perfect,” you grin. And it does. Wanda hides in her room during those nights, but now she can be your game night partner. “Oh!” You yelp, jumping off her lap, “we should start training now. No one’s been able to beat Natasha at scramble but if we start training now by Friday we’ll be able to take her down.”

“I really am going to regret this,” Wanda sighs.

“It’s only two all-nighters, don’t be dramatic.”

“WHAT? I am not staying up all night.”

“We’ll see about that.” You whisper under your breath. You don’t think Wanda hears until she throws a couch pillow at your face.

[ao3feed-superbat]

Does he love me?

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Fpgvuy2 by PSKarmel Clark spent his entire life without experiencing what it was like to be fully human, not only because he was a Kryptonian, but because he couldn't understand the dynamics of Earth like a normal human. Kryptonians didn't have a caste system, so he could only figure out how it worked by observing the people around him and living his life making excuses and using the beta caste as camouflage. But then, he starts hanging out in Gotham and everyone starts saying that he's Batman's mate. ... Bruce learned very early on to separate his lives well. Two entities so well separated and defined that his body was able to adapt to them, emanating completely different pheromones depending on who he played. Two alphas in the same body. Over the years, Batman allowed himself a few slip-ups, like having a mate, a mistake he swore he would never make again, and then Kal came into his life. Words: 4962, Chapters: 2/3, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, SuperBat, Superman/Batman - Freeform, Superman - Freeform, Batman - Freeform, ABO, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Miscommunication, Alpha Batman, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent without dynamic, Misunderstandings read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Fpgvuy2

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Does he love me?

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YQqPuFd by PSKarmel Clark spent his entire life without experiencing what it was like to be fully human, not only because he was a Kryptonian, but because he couldn't understand the dynamics of Earth like a normal human. Kryptonians didn't have a caste system, so he could only figure out how it worked by observing the people around him and living his life making excuses and using the beta caste as camouflage. But then, he starts hanging out in Gotham and everyone starts saying that he's Batman's mate. ... Bruce learned very early on to separate his lives well. Two entities so well separated and defined that his body was able to adapt to them, emanating completely different pheromones depending on who he played. Two alphas in the same body. Over the years, Batman allowed himself a few slip-ups, like having a mate, a mistake he swore he would never make again, and then Kal came into his life. Words: 4962, Chapters: 2/3, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, SuperBat, Superman/Batman - Freeform, Superman - Freeform, Batman - Freeform, ABO, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Miscommunication, Alpha Batman, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent without dynamic, Misunderstandings read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YQqPuFd

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 12

Chapter 1     Chapter 11

The dining room was only slightly less formal than the entry way.  It was decorated in deep tones and dark wood meant to evoke grandeur and pageantry. It still spoke of old money and cold families.  There was no evidence of laughter over inside jokes, gasping at stories about someone’s day, discussions of dreams, or fatherly advice doled out over a lovingly cooked dinner that everyone worked on together.

Marinette held back as everyone made their way into the dining room, letting them claim their usual seats, prepared to take whatever seat was left.  She was hoping to cause as little upset and disturbance as possible.  Her plan was foiled when Duke jumped up from his seat and moved down one spot.  “Hey, Marinette.  Take this seat.”  

Marinette opened her mouth to object but stopped when Jason put his hand on her back to guide her to the seat.  “Lost cause.  Don’t even bother,” he muttered low enough for her to hear.  Marinette looked back at him uncertainly but nodded in understanding. She breathed a small sigh of relief when Jason took the other seat next to her.

Dick pouted at the seating, but took the seat across from her instead, grabbing the seat quickly from the right as Tim was just about to drop into it from the left.  Tim grumbled something about annoying puppies and took the next seat over, causing Damian to scowl and redirect himself to a different seat. “Damian!” Dick called out to him. He patted the seat next to him.  

Damian huffed and sent Marinette a glare as he took his not normal seat beside Dick.  He squirmed in the seat.  It wasn’t his usual seat and he could feel the difference.  It felt off.  It felt wrong.  He didn’t like it at all.  This was not his routine.  This was not what he was comfortable with and it was all her fault.  They were playing a charade for her.  They were making themselves uncomfortable for her.

Marinette watched politely as M. Pennyworth set the plates down in front of everyone.  When he was done, he exited quietly.  Marinette watched him leave the room as the rest of the family took bites of their food.  M. Wayne had called M. Pennyworth a father and Jason had called him a grandfather, but he didn’t eat with them?  And addressed them all as Master or Miss?  Did none of them know what family was supposed to be?  What it was supposed to mean?  Because that, wasn’t it.  And honestly, if that’s what they thought it was, she had serious concerns about joining their ‘family’.

She looked back to Jason and tried to send him a message with her eyes to ask him about it without having to say it out loud and draw attention to herself.  She cleared her throat quietly, hoping it was quiet enough that just Jason would hear but everyone looked at her.  She looked at their eyes before returning hers to her plate.  “Sorry,” she said quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bruce said kindly.  His eyes were filled with concern and a touch of worry.  He wanted her to eventually feel like this was her home too and if he wanted that to happen, she needed to feel comfortable here.  “Did you need anything?”

“No, no, no,” Marinette insisted, shaking her head and sending him a weak smile.  “It’s nothing.  The dinner looks amazing.”

“If there’s anything you don’t like…” Bruce started.

“No!  Of course not,” Marinette exclaimed.  “This looks really delicious.”  She was waving her hands frantically.  It was all going wrong already.  She was causing a commotion.  From the moment she’d walked into his life, she’d caused nothing but commotion.  She was really hoping to break the cycle tonight and get closer to the kids in the family.

Bruce watched her uncertainly, but nodded.  “Because if you want anything else, we have a huge kitchen and pantry,” Bruce tried to assure her.

Marinette’s eyes grew even bigger and her movements more frantic.  “Jesus, B. Lay off her.  She already said she was fine,” Jason grumbled.  “You’re going to give her a complex.”

Somehow, Marinette’s eyes got wider and her face went slack.  “No, no. It’s fine.”  She turned to Bruce with a desperate look.  “I’m fine.  Thank you for your concern.”

“Marinette,” Bruce stated with a touch of exasperation. He didn’t know what he had to do to get her relax, to get her to believe she wasn’t going to make him not want her. “Just let me know.”

Marinette nodded rapidly.  “Of course.”  She looked around the room taking note of the pasted on, polite smiles while they took silent bites.  She could feel her shoulders curling in on her as the quiet continued.

“How was your day today?” Bruce prompted Marinette after the first few bites in uncomfortable silence.

She nearly dropped her fork in surprise.  “Oh, it was pretty good,” she answered with a polite smile.  And oh God, this was the most awkward thing she had ever done.  She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a breath.  It wasn’t going to change unless she did something to change it.  “I’m glad you had a meeting this morning so we missed out on the Penguin.  I mean sorry about the meeting, but I think it worked out for the best.”

She fought the urge to openly examine the people around the table.  They had all frozen at her mention of the Penguin, but all seemed to be trying to pretend like they hadn’t.  Their smiles became forced.  She wasn’t sure if it brought back bad memories or scared them how close M. Wayne had been to getting taken by the Penguin.  If they had stuck to their original plan, he could have been able to take him.

Bruce chuckled politely, tightly.  “Definitely a better result.  I would still like to go to the art museum with you though.”

“Do you have room for someone else?” Dick asked perking up.  “I’d like to get in on that.  Cass?” He looked over to Cass to see how she felt.  When she nodded excitedly he looked over to Damian.  “Damian would love to go to, right Damian?”  Damian leaned back in his chair and focused on the food, refusing to look at Dick.  “Damian’s in,” Dick enthused.

Tim snorted but realized his mistake as soon as the sound came out.  He looked warily over at Dick who was giving him an overly wide smile.  Tim turned to Marinette with an artificial smile.  “I’d love to.”  Duke shaking his head caught his eyes and he grinned maliciously. “Duke loves the art museum.  We can’t go without him too.”

Duke froze and narrowed his eyes at Tim for a fraction of a second before smiling at Marinette.  “If you don’t mind the company.”

Marinette looked between them.  The only one who seemed to actually be happy about it was Dick. Everyone else seemed like this was the last possible thing they’d ever want to do.  She plastered on a smile, unwilling to be the cause of discord in the family.  “No. Yeah.  That sounds… fun.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at her.  “You’re being insincere,” he accused harshly.

“Damian!” Bruce scolded loudly.  “That was uncalled for.”

Dick looked at him with disappointment. “Damian.  It is not okay to treat a guest… your sister like that,” he added after Bruce finished.

Jason was tense, preparing to step in if Damian said even one more word to Marinette.  He knew she already didn’t feel welcome in Bruce’s life, let alone his home.  He sure as Hell wasn’t going to let Damian solidify that belief.

Marinette stared at Damian wide eyed.  He wasn’t wrong, but she thought everyone kind of understood the reasoning behind it.  It wasn’t ideal, but it was expected.  Not to mention she wasn’t the only one.  She looked around the room and finding varying levels of disappointment, concern for her, and annoyance with Damian.  She looked over at Damian trying to gauge his goal.  

Roy and Jason had warned her that he would try to intimidate her, likely attack her.  And she guessed she should have expected to defend herself.  But again, he wasn’t wrong.  What he was accusing her of; not being entirely honest, she wasn’t.  None of them were.  But when she looked in his eyes, it wasn’t hostility she saw, not completely.  It was confusion, uncertainty, unease, and yes, a fair amount of hostility.  And wasn’t that the issue she was having with them too?  That they didn’t seem to be sincere with her?  But while she curled in, he lashed out.

“You’re not wrong,” she admitted quietly.  The room fell silent again and Damian looked up at her with a confused scowl.  She met Damian’s gaze and gave him a small smile.  “We’re all being varying levels of insincere.  This is an awkward, uncomfortable, scary situation.  For all of us, I imagine.  Again varying levels of that.  Maybe for you and me more than the rest.  You’re the baby and I’m…”  She let it trail off leaving ‘unwanted’ unsaid, hoping they would fill in the sentence with a more palatable adjective.  One she wouldn’t have to discuss with concerned looks and sympathetic smiles.

“You guys don’t want to offend me and I’m trying desperately not to offend you, but we don’t know each other well enough to know how to do that or what we need to do to ease the tension.  We’re trying to figure each other out, so nobody gets hurt. You or me.”  She knew she was rambling but it was honest, coherent rambling at least.  Maybe not completely, but it was the truth.  And Damian was right.  They weren’t being themselves and they weren’t going to get to know each other until they were.  

“I don’t want to expose too much and scare you away or give you the ammunition to really hurt me, if that’s what you’re going to do.  And I imagine you guys are afraid of driving me away by saying the wrong thing.  And how do you know what the wrong thing is until you know someone?  So we’re all on edge.  Not ourselves.  We don’t feel safe to be ourselves yet.  And how can you be sincere when you’re not yourself?”

Cass smiled warmly at her and nodded in agreement. Jason wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.  “Except me. She’s herself around me, so suck it.” He stuck his tongue out at the rest of the family, like the mature, tough, dangerous, vigilante he was.

“Oh my God, Jason.”  Marinette shook her head and dropped it in her hands.  “That’s because I was drunk off my ass and didn’t have the ability to pretend when we met.”

“That’s French for ‘because you’re the best’,” Jason assured them with a completely straight face.

“It definitely isn’t,” Dick rolled his eyes, but his lips were turned up in a smile.  “If you want to talk about him behind his back in front of his face in French, let me know,” Dick winked at her.  “I haven’t gotten to practice my French in a while.”

“It sounds like Jason took advantage of you in a weakened state.  Terrible brother behavior,” Tim insisted.  He shook his head in mock disappointment.  “You deserve better.”

“Who?  You?” Jason squawked, affronted at the suggestion.

“I was going to say Duke, but if I’m the first one that comes to mind when you think of best brother, I mean, I’m not going to argue,” Tim shrugged with a smirk.

“You say Jason is always wrong and you’re always right, so…” Duke added with a grin.  He turned to Marinette.  “Sounds like you and me are going to form an alliance.  New Kids Club.”  He turned his head slightly when Cass made a noise.  “And Cass.”  He smiled when Marinette giggled.

“Let’s not form alliances and cliques or hog Marinette, please?” Bruce asked, the resignation clear in his voice but affection clear in his eyes.

Marinette nodded and turned serious. “Absolutely.  I will not form any kind of pact with Duke and Cass over lunch next week?”  She looked between the two of them for confirmation. Duke and Cass nodded back at her and Marinette grinned.  “Monday?”

“Hey!” Dick objected.

Jason gasped at her and dropped his arm from around her shoulder.  “This feels like a betrayal.  I’m betrayed.”  He shook his head and took a bite of food.  “You’ll fit right in.”

Duke shook his head.  “Can’t Monday.  I have a poetry thing.”

Marinette’s eyes brightened.  “Are you presenting or watching?”

Duke looked down shyly and rubbed the back of his neck.  He hadn’t even told the rest of the family about it.  It didn’t occur to him that they would be interested.  “Presenting actually.”

“Would you mind if I came too?  Or do you not like people you know being there?”

Duke shrugged.  “No, I don’t mind, but…” he cringed slightly, “it isn’t in the best part of town.  It’s kind of dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, I can protect you,” Marinette winked at him.  She ignored Damian’s scoff and Bruce’s choke.

Jason rolled his eyes.  “Don’t worry, I’ll go too.  I’ve never heard the kid read.”

“I’d like to come too,” Dick looked at them hopefully, “if you don’t mind.”

Duke made a noise that sounded like some combination of happy and resigned and nodded.  “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

“You okay with Adrien and Max coming too?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah, bring them.  It’ll be nice to meet them.”  He waved off her concern.  “Okay, that’s fun and all but we still need to decide when to not meet for the New Kids Club.  And I’m not putting that in my nonexistent calendar for,” Duke looked up questioningly, “Thursday lunch?”

Marinette looked over to Cass who nodded excitedly at her.  Marinette smiled back at her and Duke.  “Sounds good.”  She pulled out her phone and handed it to him.  “Want to put your number in so we can coordinate?”

“Absolutely!”  He took her unlocked phone and put his number in.

“Can I put my number in too?” Tim asked

“And me!” Dick exclaimed.  

“Yeah, of course,” Marinette smiled at both of them. A real smile.  Thank God Adrien was right.  She kind of liked the kids… even though most weren’t kids and most of them were actually older than her.  

“Why don’t you put all our numbers in there, Tim,” Dick suggested.

“Tt,” Damian scoffed.  “There’s no reason she would need my number.”

Bruce gave him a disappointed look, but Marinette shrugged.  “Please, don’t put it in if he isn’t comfortable with it.”

Tim pursed his lips.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  What if she finds a cute animal?  How’s she supposed to send you the picture?”  Damian scowled but didn’t say more.  Tim finished and handed the phone back to Marinette.

Marinette took it back with a thank you and scrolled through her contacts.  “Huh… he didn’t put you in,” she assured Damian.

“What?”  Tim looked at her confused then looked at her phone again.  “Oh, it’s under Demon Spawn.”

Marinette gaped at him.  “It’s under what?”

“Dem…”

“Yeah, no,” she cut him off.  She pushed a few buttons and looked back at Damian.  “Not anymore.  It’s gone.  You can give me your number when and if you’re ready.”  Damian didn’t acknowledge her, but he did nod curtly at his plate and Marinette was taking that as a win.  

She tucked her phone away and looked around the room.  “Okay, so, Duke does poetry, I heard Damian does art, and I heard Dick likes to swing, what does everyone else like to do?” Marinette asked with a bright smile.

Jason and Tim burst out laughing.  “Your reputation proceeds you, Lover Boy,” Jason managed to get out between gasps.

Marinette frowned and looked between them in confusion. “Did I say something wrong?”

Dick smiled warmly at her.  He kept his eye contact with her as he threw a roll at Jason’s head.  “Ignore them. Their minds are in the gutter.  For clarification, I like gymnastics.  I was a trapeze artist in a Haley’s Circus when I was a kid.”

“Oh that sounds fun!” Marinette almost squealed in excitement.  “You must have loved flying through the air.  That was always the best feeling.”

“It was.  I loved it.  The freedom of soaring before gravity took over was amazing,” Dick nodded in agreement. His eyes took on a distant look as he talked about it and a smile curled on his lips.  “Did you do trapeze work in Paris?”  Marinette froze momentarily.  “You mentioned you liked the feeling.  Is that how you know it?” he prompted gently.

“Oh… um… no.”  She looked down at the napkin on her lap for a second, pretending to readjust it.  “I was friends with a few of our local heroes.  One of them, Ladybug swung around the city on a yoyo that worked kind of like a magic rope.  That feeling of swinging up and breaking gravity was always heart racing.  And the feeling of falling until the string caught.” She looked away with a smile. “Yeah, I understand what you’re talking about.”

“We have a trapeze in the manor.  Did you want to try it out sometime?” Dick asked excitedly.  

Marinette grinned.  “That sounds like fun.  I’d love to.”

“How about tomorrow?”

Marinette blinked.  The Waynes definitely moved fast.  There was no time to breathe.  Just moving from one thing directly into the next.  She needed time to think, time to process that they apparently didn’t require.  “I can’t. Sorry.”  Dick’s face fell immediately.  If she didn’t have a legitimate excuse, she’d feel guilty.  “I’ll be in New York tomorrow for business and I’m meeting with Lucius Friday.”

“Saturday then,” Dick offered.  Marinette smiled and nodded causing Dick to almost vibrate in his seat.  None of the other siblings ever wanted to go on the trapeze with him and he was beyond excited to connect with Marinette.

“Did they take you around often?” Bruce asked with forced calmness.  “The heroes,” he explained when she scrunched her face in confusion.  “You said they took you around often enough for you to know what it felt like… where Hawkmoth could see.”  Spending time with civilians in suit was dangerous, incredibly so, even more so doing it in full view of the public.  Something like that could have resulted in Marinette getting targeted.  It was irresponsible and negligent.  He should have never trusted the Parisian heroes or Diana that the heroes could handle Paris without him.

“No,” Marinette said as nonchalantly as she could manage, trying to pretend like she didn’t notice the tightness in his voice. “They rescued me a few times and once things were resolved they would sometimes take people who had gotten caught up in the attacks for short rides like that to bring up morality.  To make them feel better.  It wasn’t unusual or noteworthy, just a public service.”

Bruce relaxed minutely, but the tension in his frame was still clear.  Marinette watched him carefully, trying to gauge if she’d used the right words to calm him.  She could feel her body tensing at exponential rates the longer he was silent, the longer it took him to relax or smile.  Marinette looked down at her plate and pushed her food around with tight lips.

“I like unsolved mysteries,” Tim threw in.  Eyes around the table turned to him, most of them incredulous and tense that he would take the conversation there.  She heard a whispered “Dude,” from somewhere around the table.

Marinette let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding and started laughing.  The eyes that had been on Tim turned to her, making her laugh even harder at the awkwardness of it until another voice joined hers in laughter, followed by another, until most of the table was at least chuckling.  

“My best friend gets into that too,” Marinette nodded with a grateful smile.  She narrowed her eyes playfully at him.  “Do you end up in all night benders following the trail of a mystery down incalculable rabbit holes until you get crazed and someone has to come and force you to sleep too?”

Tim looked shocked and slowly looked around the room before returning his gaze to Marinette.  “No,” he said tentatively.

“Yes,” Cass, Dick, Jason, Duke, and Bruce all chorused at the same time.

“Oooohhh, remind me some time to talk about the Impossible Murder,” Marinette offered.  Her eyes lit up with excitement.  Unsolved mysteries and conspiracy theories she could do.  This was her comfort zone.  Not that she got into it, but years with Alya had taught her the rhythm of inquiry and questions.  She took comfort in that rhythm.  It was something familiar she could lean into.

“Yes!” Tim exclaimed, an inquisitive glint in his eyes.

“No,” Cass, Dick, Jason, Duke, and Bruce all chorused at the same time.

Marinette giggled and winked at Tim.  “We’ll talk later,” she stage whispered to him.  She grinned at the groans she heard around the table.  

Tim turned to Duke and stuck his tongue out at him. “Sounds like we get our own club, just for Marinette and me.  The Investigator’s Club.”

Jason scoffed and took a bite.  “Like I’d want to be part of a club with that name.”

Cass cleared her throat lightly, drawing some attention to her.  “And Cass,” Tim amended.  Cass nodded happily.

“How about you, Cass?”

“Ballet,” Cass answered with a smile.

“Oh, I wish I could do ballet.  Are you in a class or do you do it on your own?  Or are you a professional?”  Marinette asked trying to keep her voice from getting too excited or invested.  Bruce had mentioned she didn’t talk a lot and Marinette didn’t want to pressure her to talk if she didn’t want to, but she also didn’t want to make her feel like she was ignoring her.

“Fun.”

Marinette nodded.  “I bet it’s a nice way to relax.”

“Not as good as shooting guns though,” Jason grinned. “Or blowing things up.”

Bruce sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Jason…” he started, not even bothering to try to finish the sentence.

Marinette blinked a few times then nodded.  “Uh huh.  I like sewing,” she responded dryly.  Jason laughed and shook his head at her.  He took a bite of his food and looked back at her appraisingly, a happy glint in his eye.

“Right, B mentioned you’re a designer.  Just graduated right?” Dick prompted.

“Yes.  My final project was a few weeks ago.  Now I’m figuring out my next steps.”

“Is that related to your trip to New York?” Duke asked.

Marinette nodded and swallowed the bite she’d just taken. “I’m meeting a few friends and someone at Style Queen to talk about styling a shoot.  And Adrien has a job interview.”  She took a quick bite of her dinner before continuing.  “We’re also trying to get a feel for New York, see if that’s somewhere we would want to move.”

“Wow, Style Queen is really big!” Duke nodded. “That’s awesome!”

Marinette smiled at him.  “Getting on her good side is definitely good for your career. Luckily, I’ve been able to impress her over the years.”

“Along those lines,” Bruce cut in, “I’ve commissioned her to create clothes for us.  We were planning on her coming over to start on Tuesday, so I expect everyone to be here for it.”

Dick beamed at her but Damian grunted loud enough for everyone to hear.  He had absolutely no interest in wearing something purely because ‘his sister’ designed it.  He had a style and level of craft he required in the clothes he wore and he was not about to sit or stand around uncomfortably all day long purely out of some misplaced obligation.

He narrowed his eyes at Marinette.  It still didn’t make sense.  Why would she have come to Gotham if she was looking to break into fashion?  She had to have had an ulterior motive.  “So you just happened to consider Gotham as a place to reconsider?”

Marinette cocked her head to the side.  “No…” she scrunched her face in a bit of confusion. “I never even considered it. Gotham was a side trip.  I had no intention of staying past earlier this week. But things… changed,” she looked around sheepishly before looking back at him.  “I was considering New York or Metropolis in America.  Also Shanghai, I have family there; London, Adrien has family there; Milan, my… grandmother grew up there.”

“Is Adrien your boyfriend?” Tim asked.

“No.  My... brother,” her voice petered out as she called the word and she looked down guiltily.

“Will he be part of your business?” Bruce asked, pretending like he hadn’t registered her discomfort, hoping that if they moved past it, she would too.

“Yes. No. Maybe.” Marinette grimaced as she went through all the options.    She shrugged.  “Whatever he wants.  He wasn’t allowed to make choices growing up so now that his father,” she spit the word out with disgust, “is gone, I’m going to let him decide his next move. He wants to help, but he’s looking for a teaching job.  He’s thinking of doing both for a while.  I’m hoping I can convince him it’ll be okay for him to focus on him.  It isn’t ‘abandoning’ me if he does.

“But, that's what's taking so long.  I can work from almost anywhere.  I’d prefer to be near a big city, but really, it isn’t necessary. It’s harder to find a place he'd like to teach and we want to live.”

“If he isn't part of your business...” Dick started, trying to figure out her motivation.

“We come as a set,” she said definitively and took a bite, staring him down as if daring him to challenge her.  “He’s my emotional support grimalkin.”

“Will your future romantic partner, if you want one, be okay with that?” Damian demanded.

Marinette shrugged.  She could feel Jason tensing next to her at Damian’s tone, but she wasn’t too bothered by it.  “They will be or they won't be.”

“Those are the options, yes,” Damian deadpanned.

“Demon Spawn…” Jason hissed.

“I meant,” Marinette cut in before Jason could continue the fight he wanted to start, “they will be okay with it or they won't be my romantic partner.  Adrien and I have been through a lot.  We feel safest when the other is near, at least close enough to come running if there’s a problem.  If someone can’t understand that about me, then I don’t need them in my life.”

Bruce nodded and gave her an understanding smile. “We should invite him next time.”

Marinette nodded in agreement.  “He’d love that.  He’s dying to meet you all.”

Bruce took another bite before coming up with an idea.  “If he’s thinking of being part of your business anyway, why don’t you bring him with you when you do the commission?  We can have a family dinner afterword.”

“That’s a great idea.  I’ll check with him,” Marinette nodded.  “And apparently, as long as he doesn’t talk about pineapples with you guys,” she gave Jason a pointed look, “it should be fine.”

Tim groaned.  “No.  No! I’m not having this conversation again.” He glared at Dick.  “Pineapple is the most disgusting topping to put on a pizza.”

Dick gasped dramatically.  “You take that back!”

“It’s worse than sardines,” Tim hissed.  “It’s an abomination.  It’s an insult to pizzas.”

“How dare you!  Pineapple is amazing.  It adds a sweetness that perfectly contrasts the saltiness you get from other ingredients!” Dick defended.

Marinette blinked a few times as Dick continued to sing the praises of pineapple on pizza before she leaned over and whispered to Jason.  “You weren’t joking.”

“Nope,” he said popping the p.  “Told you it always finds a way to come up.”

“It came up because you mentioned it,” Marinette deadpanned.  “Literally you’re the reason it came up.”

He shook his head as if he didn’t hear her.  “It always finds a way.  It’s like sorcery.”

Chapter 13

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8  @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark