#Bruce now even more sleep deprived and near tears: wHaT

[puppetmaster13u]

Meme Prompt 10

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Story

For Maribat March day 24 theme story

Master List 

“You know I remember the day I first saw him. My baby brother.” Marinette announced as all the Batkids formed a circle around her, like they were all students listening to their teacher read a story. Only this wasn’t an ordinary story she was telling, “Mom and Dad came home from the hospital holding a tiny human. I was 7 at the time, yet even after all these years I still remember.” 

“Was baby Bruce cute?” Steph asked. 

“He was the cutest little thing. His eyes were so innocent and curious, and blue, very blue. And when he grabbed my finger he didn’t let go until it was time for my mom to feed him. But baby Bruce was also boring, he did the traditional baby things like cry, poop his diaper, cry, eat baby food, and cry. But you wanna know what wasn’t boring, toddler Bruce.” All the Batkids subconsciously leaned in closer, eager to hear what embarrassing things Bruce did as a kid. “You know, my parents gave us nicknames when we were both toddlers, they called me butterfly, and him rhino.” 

“Why?” Tim blurted out, he didn’t get enough sleep to stop himself. 

“They said that when I was younger, I would float around like a butterfly, floating with the wind. But when my brother was younger he headbutted into everything, it was like his only solution to his problems. I’m surprised he didn’t get brain damage or something, hence the nickname rhino. I was their little butterfly and he was their little rhino. Those were good times.” 

“Wait, but you said that you went to school in Paris, right? So what happened there?” Babs interjected, curiosity written all over her face. 

“Don’t worry Babs, I’m getting there. Soon Bruce was no longer a toddler but a little kid. Now I know he doesn’t remember this, but when it was his first day of kindergarten, he was 5 I was 12, and I went with our mom to pick him up. He was holding hands with this girl, she was adorable, had her hair in pigtails and everything, ran up to me and said ‘Nettie Nettie! This is Josie and she’s my best friend!’ It was the cutest thing, it was only his first day of school and he had a best friend. We won’t talk about her parents or the fact that she moved the following year, but it was so cute in the moment. He had another friend, Logan, for a few years but he moved away too. I’m glad he moved away, he was such a bad influence on Bruce.” Her eyes landed on Cass who was trying to grab her attention.

“Why was this Logan a bad influence?” Cass signed. 

“Think of Logan as that one kid who always got detention, skipped class, didn’t do the work, talked back to the teacher, and always got his parents called in, but in the body and energy of a 9 to 14 boy. I mean, when they were in the 8th grade he tried to get Bruce to smoke. Pretty sure he was sent to military school or something. Good riddance.” 

Damian scoffed, “You still haven’t answered the question of how you ended up in Paris.”

“Oh I haven’t! Dang it I was rambling again. So when I was 12 our parents decided it would be a good idea to send me to an art school in Paris, since I was and am very into designing and our parents wanted to get me out of Gotham. They were going to do the same with Bruce but…” She trailed off and for the first time since they had met her she seemed to close in on herself as a few tears trickled down her cheek, “They would’ve loved you guys, if they got to meet you. I wasn’t there when it happened so I’m nowhere near as traumatized as Bruce but it still hurt.” She brought her sleeve up and wiped the tears off her face. 

Dick got up from his spot and hugged Marinette, Cass went over and did the same. 

“Thank you guys, man that was such a downer. Here I thought I would be telling you happy, silly stories about Bruce and now I’m crying.” 

Dick and Cass took a step back to give her more room and Cass signed, “You might not have been there, but they were your parents too.”

“Thank you Cass, now who wants to hear about how Bruce tried to impress a girl for the first and last time?” 

“Hell Y-” Jason was interrupted by Bruce’s voice. 

“Marinette?”

She whirled around and at the doorway stood Bruce, he probably just got home from work.

“Baby Bro! You’re finally home!” She ran over and picked him up in a hug. All the kids' jaws were on the ground, this woman who was a head shorter than Bruce was able to pick him up without any problems. 

“Marinette you can put me down, we’re getting too old for this.” Bruce tried to say with the little dignity he had left. 

“I’ll never be too old to carry you!” Marinette stated, grinning from ear to ear.

“Wait so are you gonna tell us about how Bruce tried to impress that one girl?” Duke innocently asked. 

“Oh yeah,” She ran back over to them, “Her name was Finely and-” 

“Don’t tell them about that!” Bruce yelled at her. 

“Why not?” Marinette challenged.

“Marinette-” 

“No, don’t Marinette me! I refuse to let Kate be a cooler aunt than me! I mean I helped train you for goodness sake!” 

“Wait, you helped train him?” Damian questioned. 

“Well yeah-”

“I wanna hear that story!” Tim shouted, seeming to not be as sleep deprived as he once was mere minutes ago. 

“Wait no! I wanna hear about how B embarrassed himself in front of Finley!” Jason shouted back. 

Soon all the batkids had taken sides on which stories they wanted to hear first and then it was war. Marinette and Bruce watched from the sidelines, one amused, one annoyed. 

“Now look at what you’ve done.” Bruce stated, annoyance and tiredness clear in his voice. 

“Hey I was just trying to give them a good story. They’re your kids so you get the joy of reining them in,” She checked the time on her phone, “Yikes that late already huh. Bye kiddos see you tomorrow!” 

Although none of them heard her over their screams and battle cries. It wasn’t until a full hour later when Babs finally pointed out she was gone. 

“Where’d she go?” Steph asked. 

“Miss Marinette left quite a while ago, Miss Steph,” Alfred answered, appearing out of nowhere as always, “Now I believe it is time for dinner.” 

All the batkids made their way to the dining room, frowns on their faces. When Bruce finally sighed, “She’ll be back tomorrow.” Against his better judgement. 

Marinette only brought chaos with her and left a mess behind in her wake. But in the end she was his sister, one of the only things still standing despite how much his life tried to knock her down, it’d be wrong to ask her not to come back. So with a sigh he sent the text he knew she was waiting for. ‘Your welcome back tomorrow.’

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

Look who’s back from the dead! School killed me but I am back. I think what I’m gonna do is post 2 things for Maribat March despite it no longer being March every time I come back. So day 18 was where we had Little Sis Marinette, now we have Big Sis Marinette. I have not given up on Maribat March, life simply got busy. Hope everyone enjoyed this!

@maribatmarch-2k21 

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 3

First   Previous   Next   Ao3

Bruce sat at the head of the long oak dining table and waited for his children to make their way into the room for dinner. They came in as a staggered group; Jason arguing about some novel with Dick while Tim and Damian brought up the back as they discussed their patrol routes for the night. After Alfred and Damian helped serve the food, Bruce cleared his throat pointedly and waited for everyone to pay attention. 

Once everyone had looked up from their discussions he spoke. “Alfred has a friend named Gina; and she had called this evening to see if her granddaughter could stay with us. She lives in Paris; but her classmates were bullying her and her parents thought a change of scenery would do her some good. I have agreed to let her stay with us in the Manor.” Even before he had finished speaking the table erupted with different questions from his children.

“Bruce are you sure this is wise?” Tim questioned over Dick’s ecstatic squealing (“I’ve always wanted a little sister!!!”), and Jason’s grumbling (“Shut the fuck up Dickhead. I don’t know why the fuck B is bringing someone into this house to live with this dysfunctional family.”). Ignoring his siblings; he pressed on “I mean, how are we going to hide Batman and the vigilante stuff from her?” As Bruce paused to answer Damian stood up and scowled. “Tt. This is a moronic decision. Inform me of when this girl is to arrive and inform  her to stay out of my way.” He lifted his chin and crossed his arms before marching out of the room.

After Damian’s outburst, Jason looked over from where he was arguing with Dick and added his input “Timbo’s right, B. How are we going to hide that from her?” 

“We’ll have to make sure at least two of you remain in the manor each night so that she doesn’t get too suspicious.” He answered. “Now, the only reason I agreed to letting her stay here was namely for Alfred, and also because of what her classmates did to her” 

“What do you mean, Bruce?” Dick questioned. “Did they like assault her or something?”

“Or something” He responded grimly before sending the photo to all three of them. 

As they looked at the photo, he observed their reactions to the image. Dick was not smiling for once, and his sunny blue eyes had darkened to an icy frost. His whole body was tense; and his jaw was so clenched his teeth were grinding together. Jason was standing up with two guns locked and loaded in his hands. He had also managed to procure a knife from somewhere, which appeared as he leant forward and asked “What were the names of the people who did this again?” in a completely lethal tone. Tim, already hacking away at his computer responded “Not there yet, but from what I can find out, she goes to College Francois DuPont and she’s fifteen.” He briefly looked up and made eye contact with Bruce before asking “How fast do you think we can get our lawyers onto those kids B?” At the declarations of his children, Bruce closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “We can not file any lawsuits yet, not without Marinette’s permission.” He answered, sighing tiredly. “Marinette?” Dick questioned. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Tim responded instantly. “That’s her name.” 

“She will be coming on Monday, and Alfred will be picking her up from the airport. She is also going to attend GA, so someone please tell Damian.” Bruce said as he stood from the table. “Now hurry up, we have patrol tonight, and there have been rumors about a drug ring near Crime Alley.”

---

After coming back from the hospital and having a sleepover Thursday night, Chloé and Adrien were completely sleep-deprived as they trudged into school the next morning. Settling into her usual seat beside Sabrina, Chloé silently thanked all the Kwami that she didn’t have to sit next to Lila. Halfway though class, Mrs. Bustier suddenly frowned and looked at the back row. “Does anyone know where Marinette is? She still hasn’t arrived yet!”

“Probably still sleeping at home! She’ll come in completely late as usual!” Alya cackled. At her words, Chloé felt her entire body heat up with righteous indignity. She opened her mouth to tell that wannabe tabloid reporter to get her facts straight, but then Adrien caught her eye and shook his head. He then pointed at his phone, and mimed unlocking it before pointing to her. Catching the hint, she checked her messages to see that Marinette had sent them a text.

FashionableBug: Mari said to tell Chloé and Adrien not to do anything to Lila or anyone else that starts making stuff up. (From Luka btw)

You’reUnderAgreste: Me-ouch, My Lady. I would never!

QueenofMean: shut it with the puns, Noir. Maribug, I will only listen to you because you’re injured and I’m not going to go against your wishes.

Putting her phone away, Chloé resigned herself to a miserable school day. 

---

After school, she walked into Marinette’s room and flopped dramatically onto the chaise, before letting out a long groan.

“That bad?” Mari chuckled as she scribbled sketched one-handedly in her design notebook. 

“You have no idea.” Chloé responded. 

Their conversation continued into mundane things, such as everyone’s patrol routes, and various theories on who Hawkmoth was. Totally normal topics for teenagers. As the day drew to a close, they made plans for everyone to come over to start packing the next day before Chloé left the bakery and headed home.

---

Come Saturday, Marinette, Chloé and Luka spent the morning playing board games one handed “to level the playing field” as Luka put it and eating lots of cookies and pastries-provided by Marinette’s parents of course. Adrien and Kagami were attending their various classes until afternoon, so the remaining three spent their time relaxing, and coming up with a list of things to pack for Mari’s stay in Gotham. Two o’ clock rolled around, and the bells over the bakery jingled to announce the arrival of the final members of the packing committee.  

Any plans to begin their assignment of somehow fitting all Marinette’s fabrics into the suitcase were cut short by an Akuma. 

They all transformed, even though Kagami and Luka has been  extremely reluctant to let Mari go even though the suit temporarily healed her injuries. Climbing through her roof hatch, they set out across the rooftops to defeat their latest villain.

---

Five hours later, the teen heroes dropped into her room, and detransformed in various flashes of multicolored lights. They collapsed onto the bed and chairs and silently agreed to just  sleep , and get the packing done the next day.

---

All of Sunday was spent throwing various clothes and accessories into Mari’s pink and black suitcase. There were several sweaters and hoodies (added by Chloé), as well as several leggings and many thick pajama pants (Sabine).

Adrien (with the help of Tom) had somehow managed to pack over ten different pun-covered t-shirts, and by the time they were discovered, they had been buried under piles upon piles of fluffy socks from Kagami. Luka also threw in some scarves before Marinette added some toiletries, her sewing kit, and her computer.

Picking up the backpack she had decided to use as a carry-on, Marinette rifled through it to make sure she had everything in there as well.

Spare change of clothes in case she loses her suitcase? Check. Phone, headphones, and charger? Check. Sketchbook and pencils? Check. Disguised Miracle Box? Check.

She turned to her family (Not her teammates, not her friends, but her family.) and smiled. It was small, and bittersweet, but it was a smile. “Alright guys, I guess I’m all set.” She said, before joining them all in a group hug. They offered her soft, tearful smiles before Tom carried her big suitcase down the stairs. 

That night, Marinette fell asleep surrounded by all the people she loved, and she couldn’t have been happier.

---

The next day, her Papa carried her downstairs and placed her into her wheelchair (since she had a broken foot, and couldn’t use her leg, they had given her a wheelchair) before wheeling her outside and placing her into the car waiting by the street. 

Her friends were all inside, and she gripped Adrien’s hand tightly as they drove to the airport. 

As she stood to board the plane, she turned back to catch one last glimpse of them all. Chloé was leaning into Kagami’s side who was holding her girlfriend’s hand tightly. Adrien was waving wildly, and Luka and her parents all raised one hand in farewell. Her Maman and Papa has some red rimming their eyes, but they smiled at her as she was wheeled into the plane. Next stop: Gotham, New Jersey.

Since her flight left Paris at 10 AM, she was set to arrive in Gotham at around 12 PM/noon. With that in mind, she decided to stay awake for the entire flight so that her body could adjust better. 

As they crossed the Atlantic, Marinette, sitting in first class thanks to Chloé and Adrien’s combined nagging; popped her earbuds in, and began to sketch. 

She stared out the window as she touched down, shocked by all the dog and darkness in the city. As she collected her bags, and wheeled her way outside to look for her host family, she couldn’t help but notice how everyone in this city was much more on edge than most normal people. ‘They act as though they are expecting an attack at any second of the day.’ She mused to herself. Her train of thought was cut off by the sight of an elderly man with a powerful aura standing next to a limo with a sign saying “Marinette Dupain-Cheng”. She wheeled her way over to him and smiled brightly. “Salut! My name is Marinette! What is yours, Monsieur!” She questioned, holding out her hand for a handshake.

“It’s lovely to meet you Miss Marinette, my name is Alfred Pennyworth.” Alfred responded, smiling gently down at her. “Now let’s get you and your bags in the car, shall we?” He reaches out to shake her hand, and the moment their fingers touched her vision was filled with dark blue and red. She laughed and smiled up at him. “It is an honor to meet you, noble Peacock.” She greeted him in the Guardian language, honoring his position as a True Holder. “And it is an honor to meet you as well, Ladybug.” He answered. She grinned and allowed him to help her into the back of the limo before he climbed into the driver's seat and they sped off to Wayne Manor. 

---

When he saw the young girl, Alfred was shocked to say the least. She was roughly 5’ 4” (162.5 cm), and was very petite. Her stature, combined with her wheelchair, wrist brace, and the cast on her leg, all strengthened his resolve to protect the young girl from any further harm. That was only intensified when their auras recognized each other. How could anyone place the responsibility of upholding balance on such a young child? 

As he drove to the Manor, she informed him that the Cat, Bee, Dragon and Snake were active on her team. Before he could ask her what the threat they were battling was, they had arrived at the Manor, and she had immediately tensed and gone silent.

Deciding that it was better to ask more questions later, he got out of the car to retrieve her bags and chair. Master Bruce and three of his children except for Master Damian were waiting in front of the doors to the Manor, and they all waited patiently for her as she exited the car. 

---

Marinette was nervous. Sure, taking to Monsieur Alfred was really fun, and she couldn’t wait to tell him more about Paris, but now she was meeting her actual host family! What if they didn’t like her? What if they decided to send her back?! Then what would she do?? A small cough interrupted her downward spiral, and she looked up from her lap to see Monsieur Alfred waiting in front of the open door with her wheelchair. Grabbing her backpack, she awkwardly maneuvered herself into the chair and allowed herself to be wheeled out in front so she could meet Monsieur Bruce Wayne.

---

Note: Alfred doesn’t know that Marinette is the Guardian. He just knows she’s a Ladybug holder.

[grayson1996]

You Have to Let Me Go

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34210816

No. 1 All trussed up and still nowhere to go.

"You have to let go" | Barbed Wire |Bound

Unlike what most people assumed, the cave was not usually a quiet place.

How could it be, when each one of Bruce’s children would filter in and out throughout the day and night. To ask questions, to spar, to prepare for patrol. Each inhabitant of the manor came with their own soundtrack that when put together created a familiar and comforting symphony.

Damian was the sound of quiet purposeful footfalls, followed by the scurrying steps of a small animal trailing dutifully after him. He was small huffs of breath made out of annoyance or interest (or amusement if it was a good day). The metallic sound of a sword being drawn out of it’s sheath, followed by the dull thud of it striking one of the many wooden posts in the training area. When Damian first appeared at the Manor he had been like a ghost, gliding along and hiding in the corners of rooms and the sides of hallways. The League believed that their assassins should neither be seen nor heard. The sound was a relief to Bruce, an outward sign of his youngest growth.

Cassandra, like Damian, was taught to be silent. Deadly quiet. And to this day Bruce couldn’t hear her coming and was often spooked by her sudden appearance, much to her amusement. But she too had her own trills. The sound of the skin on her hands rubbing together as they signed to whoever was nearest to her. A breathy chuckle, usually in response to something done by Stephanie or Dick. The awful sound of knuckles cracking striking through the cave. Despite Alfred's reasoning that it would cause arthritis Cass wouldn’t stop and frankly Bruce thought the twitch that appeared above his surrogate Father’s eyes when it happened was hilarious.

Tim was the slurping of coffee, and the rumblings of an empty stomach. He was the quick typing of a keyboard, and the distracting tapping of his foot against the side of the computer console. People thought that Dick was the most fidgety of his children, but it was Tim. Though true that Dick enjoyed moving, his movement was always purposeful. While Tim’s seem to flick out of him sporadically and without much thought. Tim was also the most spatially unaware of his children, though whether that was from lack of grace or just sleep deprivation was anyone’s guess. It wasn’t uncommon to be alerted of his approach by the sound of something being knocked over or of a quiet curse being uttered after stubbing his toe on the stairs.

Jason perhaps contributed to the symphony of the cave the least, though thankfully his presence had become more and more common in the years since his resurrection. The sounds he made were purposeful and designed to annoy. The sound of chips being crunched by an open mouth during a mission report. A scoff at the end of an order or request. And on bad days the sound of arguing, of things being thrown and property being destroyed. But on softer days it was more comforting. The crinkle of a packet of cigarettes in his back pocket being smushed as he leaned against the computer console. Leather rubbing against leather as he crossed his arms. A quiet ‘thank you’ to Alfred after being handed a cup of tea. Or even a softly sarcastic ‘See ya old man’ if Bruce managed to get through an interaction without pissing him off.

All these sounds, these beautiful little noises that told Bruce his children were home, were safe. All of these sounds were gone from the cave. As he sat alone, staring blankly in front of him at the black computer screen. Half dressed in a torn and ripped Batsuit, his cowl and gloves having been discarded at some point. It was a space he hadn’t left for nearing three days much to his family's chagrin and thinly veiled concern. At the end of the first day he had locked them out, pushing back the familiar feeling of guilt as he did so.

He wasn’t sure if he was punishing himself. Perhaps he deserved this, deserved to be denied the comforting presence of his children, and deserved the oppressing quiet? Or perhaps he just didn’t have the energy to get up from this spot, to do anything. Perhaps it was easier to just sit here alone in the dark and quiet, because moving seemed impossible at the moment.

Usually when he sequestered himself away from any stimuli or love, he would be hounded by his thoughts. He would allow them to fester and devour his happiness, and drain him of anything resembling hope. He would allow himself to feel as awful as possible, because he deserved to tear himself up from the inside out.

Now however his thoughts were blank, deafened by the silence as though he were wearing noise cancelling headphones and his thoughts were the outside world. It was all blank, silent, there was nothing except him and his chair and the blank screen in front of him.

Then a warm hand gently placed itself on his shoulder.

“They’re worried about you.” Bruce let out a heavy sigh.

“I know.”

“I’m worried about you too.”

“I’m fine.” A snort of disbelief followed his statement.

“Clearly.”

“Why are you here?” The silence grew again and for a moment the hand began to retreat.

“I can go if you’d like?”

“NO!” Bruce spun around in his chair and reaching out he grabbed the tan hand and held it tightly in his grip. His son raised an eyebrow but did not retreat further.

“Alright I won’t.” Sitting down on the ground next to him, Dick’s gaze did not move from Bruce. “You look like shit.” Despite himself Bruce let out a huff of amusement, and felt warmth as Dick grinned back in triumph. “Seriously, take a shower B and get out of those clothes. You know Alfred’s upstairs dying to get you a proper meal.” Bruce shook his head, his grip tightening around Dick’s hand.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can, all you have to do is stand up and put one foot in front of the other.” Bruce shook his head again.

“I can’t leave you.” Dick let out a heavy breath, and his eyes softened at the admission.

“You can’t stay down here forever B.” Bruce felt his chest tighten and his gaze quickly flickered over to the med bay where the curtain was drawn.

“I’m not ready.”

“Bruce-”

“ I’m not ready.” His tone was stern and for a moment Dick’s eyes narrowed, much like they had when the two were younger and always at each other’s throats. When it was just the two of them and neither knew how to be a Father or a Son. But just as quickly Dick’s face smoothed over, changing into something kinder then pity. Empathy perhaps.

“Okay, you’re not ready. But at least let the others down here Bruce. Isolating yourself like this, keeping them locked out and grieving on their own? It’s not kind B, you should all be together.” There was truth in his son’s words but still Bruce couldn’t let himself get up and see his other children. Because to see them, to let them in and to acknowledge what had happened meant that it was over. It meant that Dick was dead, and all that remained was his body now being kept cool in the medbay so that it didn’t begin to decompose.

And if Dick was dead then what the hell did that mean for Bruce, for the rest of them?

Dick was the one to calm Damian down after yet another fight with Bruce. Dick had been the one to soften the boy, raise him even. Damian didn’t deserve to lose the man. Didn’t deserve to lose the kindest person in his life.

Dick was the one to pull Tim away from the computer screen when he was going on his 3rd night of no sleep. To pry his phone out of his brother's hand, and tuck the boy into bed. He was the only one who could get away with treating Tim like a child. He was the only one who could get away with showing Tim love, without the boy recoiling in uncomfortableness.

Dick was the one who brought Jason back. Maybe not back to life but to the family for sure. Dragging the man in after him for a family dinner, pushing Jason to the table and breaking the tension with a quip or bad joke.

Dick was the one who brought Cass to her first dance lesson, and encouraged Stephanie to get her Masters, and got Alfred to take a break and join them for movie nights.

Dick was the one who had given Bruce hope again. Dick was love, Dick was family, Dick was goodness and righteousness and fury and passion. And all of sudden he was gone, with little fanfare or reason. He was just…. gone.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this chum.” Dick shrugged his shoulders, a small smile on his face.

“You just do it Bruce. You just get up and move forward. It sucks and I’m sorry but sitting here alone is only going to make it worse… and it’s only going to make them resent you.” Bruce knew he didn’t deal with death well. It was obvious in the black eye Dick sported after Jason’s death, in his anger after Damian’s. His whole life was built around it, and while he loved what he and his family had created as Batman, part of him hated it as well.

“I’m not a man who can change Dick…. It’s not something I ever learned how to do.” The confession was quiet and Bruce felt uncomfortable by the unusual genuineness of his words. Dick chuckled and shook his head incredulously.

“Of course it takes me dying to finally get you to open up.” The words were said without any scorn but it still caused something heavy to settle in Bruce’s gut. Dick however continued. “You have to grieve Bruce, you can’t push this away and ignore it. You have to let yourself grieve, and you have to let the others do it to. And it will suck and it will be hard and some days you won’t want to say my name because you just can’t . And some days you’ll forget for a moment that I’m not gone, and you’ll go to call me or turn to talk to me and then you’ll remember. And it will hit you like a brick.” Dick smiled sadly at him. “And it will be especially hard because you have lost a lot of people in your life but you haven’t let yourself experience that loss”

“ I can’t do this Dick . I’ll break.” Dick shook his head.

“So you let yourself break. And then you do what anyone who has lost someone does, you put yourself back together.”  Dick sat up from the ground and moved to kneel in front of Bruce. Placing both his hands on his Father’s knees. “I can be there for them Bruce you have to be, which means you have to let go. You have to let go of me and let yourself fall, and trust trust that you’ll be able to get back up again.”

Maybe it was because this was all happening in his mind. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation and lack of food and water. Maybe it was because looking at Dick all he could see was the little boy who over 20 years ago first taught him how to actively live life again. Maybe it was the knowledge that the same little boy was now lying several feet away, dead. Whatever it was Bruce knew that he needed to do things differently.

Jason’s death had felt like a punishment. Dick’s felt like a lesson.

“I’ll try Dick… I can’t promise that I’ll do it all right, but I’ll try.” Dick smiled and standing up he pulled Bruce into a deep hug. The arms seemed less real then they had before, but the warmth and love was obvious. “....I’m going to miss you Chum.” A small huff of amusement brushed the top of Bruce's head.

“I love you too B.”

[kandoesfanfics-writes]

The Mug

So this is posted on AO3 as well---> Link

This is for @kceedraws as if was inspired by a conversation over discord. I hope you enjoy!

Everything felt off.

The dark haired woman rubbed her head and sighed. Her head was pounding, but she was determined to get her shopping done. Grey eyes scanned the shelves, looking at the different kinds of coffee mugs. She needed to buy new ones after her boyfriend broke several in a sleep deprived fit of elation, having just cracked a case. The issue?

This store had the coffee mugs stocked near the candles for Kwamis knew what reason! Normally the candles didn’t bother Marinette, but for whatever reason, the smells were too intense for her. Every time someone opened a candle next to her, she’d smell it and immediately feel nauseous. It almost made her snap, but she held herself together after taking several deep breaths.

She could feel the bile rising in the back of her throat as someone opened a cinnamon candle. Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to fight the urge to vomit. She managed to swallow the bile down, but looked to see who’d opened the candle.

Marinette was greeted by a guilty looking child. A little boy, probably no older than six, was looking up at her with worried brown eyes. His lower lip was wobbling as he slowly put the jar down. He looked as if he were going to cry as he said, “I-I didn’t mean to make you sick.”

She felt her heart break a little at the remorse in his voice.

“Oh, it’s okay, honey. You didn’t make me sick,” Marinette said, kneeling down next to him. “I wasn’t feeling well before you opened the candle. Thank you for putting it back though. The smell was hurting my tummy.”

“You’re not sick?” the little boy asked. “My mommy works at a doctors office, an’ she can help you if you’re sick.”

Marinette was just about to tell the little boy it was okay when a woman came around the corner.

“Marcus, there you are! Now what have I told you about wandering off?” the blonde said. “I’m so sorry if he’s caused you any trouble, miss.”

“Mommy, the lady is sick! I opened a candle, an’ she looked like she was gonna barf!” Marcus told his mother. “You’re a nurse, can’t you help?”

His mother looked at Marinette before apologizing.

“I’m really sorry, miss. Marcus really likes to smell the different candles. It’s his favorite thing to do when we shop here. I’m assuming he picked a smell you were sensitive too—”

Marinette waved her hands quickly, insisting that Marcus was okay.

“To be perfectly honest, I’ve apparently become sensitive to all sorts of smells. Every time someone opens one, I feel nauseous,” she said. “It wasn’t his fault. It’s probably something I ate not agreeing with me. It’s been happening a lot to me lately.It’s strange though. I used to love some of the foods I can’t eat anymore”

The mother went quiet for a moment.

“So you’re having sensitivities to food, and your sense of smell has gotten slightly stronger. Do you have any cravings for particular foods? Mood swings?” she asked.

Marinette’s eyes widened as she nodded.

“Bloating? Needing to pee more frequently despite not increasing the amount you drink?” the woman continued. “And this last question might be a little personal, and you don’t need to answer it out loud. Just think about it. When was your last period?”

Marinette inhaled sharply. When was her last period? She hadn’t really been paying attention. Marinette had assumed that it was late due to the amount of stress she’d been under lately. Not to mention that Marinette had been taking birth control, and they’d been using protection. She could vaguely feel her breathing speeding up, and a hand on her shoulder.

Marcus’s mother had reached out to her, and Marinette could hear the other woman telling her to breathe.

“You might just be sick, but I work at an obstetrics and gynecology office,” she said slowly. “I’ll give you their card. If you want to set up an appointment all you have to do is call. If they asked if someone referred you, tell them it was Cynthia Hall.”

Cynthia gave Marinette the business card and told Marcus to say goodbye.

“Bye bye, Miss—” Marcus trailed off, realizing he’d never got the lady’s name.

“Marinette,” she said with a smile. “You can call me Miss Nette if that’s easier. It was nice meeting you, Marcus.”

“Bye bye, Miss Nette! I hope your tummy gets better!” he said happily, making Marinette chuckle.

“I’m sorry if we’ve both troubled you today, Marinette,” Cynthia said. “I hope you have a nice day.”

As mother and son walked away, Marinette grabbed the first mug she saw and ran to the checkout.

She had to stop at the drugstore on her way home. 

———— 

A dark haired man shuffled out of the bedroom groggily as he rubbed his eyes. The drug smugglers had really tried their damndest to encode their drop locations, but after a few weeks of hard work, Tim had finally managed to crack the code. He’d just sent Bruce everything he had. The young man figured his adopted father and probably Jason would go to deal with it. Damian had school, and Dick was the one currently responsible for keeping an eye on him.

“Ma lutine?” he called out, looking around. “Ma lutine, are you home?”

His blue eyes scanned the room until he noticed a fresh cup of coffee on the table and a note.

Mon beau, 

I’m in the bathroom. I’m going to take a shower, but thought you might want to sleep in. Here’s some coffee for you when you wake up. I love you!

-Marinette

He smiled fondly at the note and picked up the mug of coffee. He took a few gulps and sighed happily as the warm liquid filled his stomach. After a few moments he took note of the sound of the shower running. A devious smile crossed his face, and he gulped down the rest of his coffee.

Since the coffee was still nice and hot, that meant that Marinette had just made it. If she made it before she got in the shower, then that meant she hadn’t been in the shower long. If he finished his coffee fast enough, then he’d get to join her in the shower. He liked showering with Marinette. She was always so sweet, washing his hair for him.

Once Tim was certain he’d drained the entire cup, he went to put it in the sink. As he did, he realized that something was written at the bottom. Tim picked the mug back up and held it closer to his face. There was something written on the bottom. Huh, that was odd, Marinette didn’t usually buy cups like that—

The mug nearly shattered, but Tim caught it just before it hit the floor.

Without another thought, he raced to the bathroom.

———— 

Her hands were shaking as she looked down at the stick in her hand.

A pink plus sign stared back at her.

She was pregnant.

She was pregnant with Tim’s baby.

Her and Tim were going to be parents.

Marinette had no idea how she was going to tell Tim. There were so many thoughts racing through her head. What would Tim say? Would he even want the baby? Did he want to be a father? Was she ready to be a mother? What would her parents say? What would Bruce say? Would Tim still want to be with her—

Her thoughts stopped as Tim burst into the bathroom, the new mug clenched in his hands.

“Ma lutine, is it true?” he asked, his tired blue eyes wide.

Marinette looked at him in confusion for a few moments before Tim handed her the mug and told her to look in the bottom. She did, and her jaw dropped. At the very bottom of the mug said the following:

You’re going to be a dad!

She wordlessly handed him the pregnancy test she just took. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked at Tim, silently waiting for him to speak. She watched his eyes widen as he looked at the little pink plus. Tears welled up in her eyes and she felt like she was going to cry before Tim grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“We’re gonna be parents! Oh my god, we’re going to be parents!” Tim whispered into her ear. “God, we’ve got to tell Alfred and your parents. They’ll be so excited. There’s so much we need to do…”

“...you...you want to keep the baby?” Marinette asked softly. “You want...you want to keep us?”

Tim pulled back from Marinette to look at her tear-filled blue eyes. He cupped her face gently before saying, “Of course I do, ma lutine. I-I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you. I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I love you so much. Our baby will have such a good mama...and I swear to you, I’ll do my best for them.”

“What about Red Robin? What about the fact we’re vigilantes—”

“Just say the word.”

Marinette looked at her boyfriend, tears now dripping down her cheeks. She breathed slowly before asking him what he meant.

“Just say the word, Marinette. I’ll put the cowl away,” Tim said, wiping away her tears. “I’ll do it for you and the baby.”

“Tim, you love solving mysteries—”

“And I can do that from the safety of my desk,” Tim replied. “I refuse to be my father. I will do anything for our child, even if that means giving up Red Robin. I don’t want our baby to grow up barely seeing their dad. I want them to know me.”

Marinette grabbed Tim and wrapped him up in a hug. She cried a little as he rubbed her back and told her he loved her. They rocked back and forth until Tim pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“C’mon, ma lutine. Why don’t we step into the shower before it gets cold, hmm?” he said with a wolfish grin. “We’ll let everyone else know later. For now, I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

Marinette giggled, pecking him on the cheek.

“That sounds like a lovely idea.”

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 11

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit/18+ warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark 

There was a weird sense of urgency and purpose when the soldiers appeared to collect her from the kitchens. They weren’t frantic per say, but she was definitely aware of a certain energy around them. As soon as Bucky walked through the doors, he made a beeline for her and swept her up into his arms. The pair were pretty touchy feely with her as a rule, but this was different for some reason. 

Most of Penny’s irritation had dissolved with the excellent meal she’d received. Chef Cohen had prepared Shakshuka, a very traditional dish that she hadn’t eaten since her mother had died. She’d burst into tears at the first bite and thanked him profusely through the meal. He was a very kind man in his late 50’s who explained that he was at her disposal whenever she was hungry, literally at any time, and would make whatever she asked for. She didn’t even have to know what she wanted specifically, all she had to do was ask for food and he would whip something up in less than an hour. 

She wasn’t sure if he understood her circumstances. He never let on that he had any idea what the situation was and she was too afraid to tell him and potentially put him in danger. He was so nice, had told her about his family— she couldn’t do anything to jeopardize him. And if he did know, she decided she’d rather him not tell her. He felt like he could be a friend if not a confidant and she couldn’t ruin that. 

“Did you have a good breakfast precious?” Bucky’s voice was nearly a coo, burying her into his arms and nuzzling against the side of her face, “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry we didn’t realize how hungry you were. We should’ve noticed, we should’ve taken better care of you.” 

Penny didn’t get a chance to answer before Steve came up behind her, pressing against her back and wrapping around the both of them, “we’re gonna do a better job from now on, doll, I promise.”

“We’re gonna take you to see Bruce for a check up, okay?” the brunet pressed against her brushed his lips over her temple, “Peter said you haven’t been to the doctor in a while, he’s just going to make sure you’re alright. If there’s anything you want to talk to him about, we’ll step out of the room.”

For a moment, she considered not answering. She hated that they were making her do anything, that they were telling her what was going to happen instead of asking, but she hadn’t been to a doctor in nearly 10 years. In fact, her desire to go to the doctor was outweighing her irritation. The food had helped too. 

“Yeah, okay,” she nodded in agreement, ignoring their mutual smiles as Bucky pulled back and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close before beginning to walk back towards the elevators. 

It didn’t take long to get to the doctor’s office, which was actually a lab. In the back of her head she remembered Tony saying that Bruce was a scientist that Peter liked to learn from. It would’ve endeared the man to her, if he wasn’t so fucking complicit in her kidnapping. The same thing had happened with Clint; he seemed like such a decent guy, they could’ve been friends in any other situation, and yet he wasn’t doing anything to help her. 

“Hey guys, come on in, I’m just finishing this up,” Bruce called from behind a computer, gesturing towards a table that almost resembled the chair from a doctor’s office. 

Steve lifted her up, setting her on the edge and giving her what was—fuck that was winning smile. She refused to let her heart race, remembering back to once upon a time in the coffee shop when she’d thought he was incredibly attractive and so, so nice. It was almost distracting. He leaned down and brushed his nose against hers sweetly, pressing a kiss there a moment later before backing away. 

“Alright Penny, I went ahead and pulled your medical records,” Penny didn’t want to know how he’d done that, what an invasion of privacy, “but we’re going to need to go through a lot of it now since you haven’t seen a doctor in so long and you’re a lot older now. If at any time you’re uncomfortable answering questions in front of Bucky and Steve, all you have to do is let me know and I’ll send them out, okay?” 

“Okay,” nervousness was thrumming through her a bit more now- God she hadn’t been to the doctor in so long, she wasn't sure what to expect. 

An arm came around her shoulders, a metal hand settling over the top of her arm. Bucky had saddled up as close to the table as possible, trying to offer comfort through his presence. She would absolutely never admit that she leaned into his heat a little, or that the attempt was even fractionally successful. 

The appointment wasn't as nerve wracking as she'd expected; there were a lot of questions about her past medical history and family medical history, her habits regarding smoking and drinking and exercise, he looked in her eyes and ears and listened to her breathing, did she have any allergies or take any medications? It was a lot of things she remembered from going to the doctor as a kid.

There was only one time when her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest: Bruce mentioned wanting to do a blood test. It was important in part because she hadn't ever had one, but also because she was Jewish and there were dozens of diseases passed genetically through the population. She knew of them of course, Tay-sachs and Gauchers and a slew of other things, but she'd never considered she could have them— there was no time. 

Luckily, he'd decided it wasn't a good time since she had barely been eating. Escape had been on her mind almost constantly since waking up in Stark's home but never so critically as when she thought there would be needles involved. Penny's fear of needles had started as a child and overtime had become an overwhelming, if irrational, phobia. The kidnapping via injection certainly made it worse too. 

Bruce finished up, continuing to address her rather than Steve or Bucky. It seemed peculiar for some reason, that he was being sure to treat her like her own person instead of the soldiers' property. 

"Have you ever had blood drawn Penny?" 

"Uhm, no," she did her best not to shift, not wanting to show weakness, "I'm sure it's not really necessary. I feel completely fine and—"

"There are certain genetically linked diseases I can test for with a blood panel. The fact that you probably have anemia is a little worrying because of your heritage. Now we can’t do the test today, you haven’t been eating or drinking enough, but we’ll keep an eye on your recovery over the next few days and schedule one. That being said, I want to hook up an IV for a few hours, you’re very dehydrated.”

“No, thank you,” Penny stood up from the table, composing her face carefully and putting her hands on her hips, “I’d rather just drink water.” 

“Penny I can tell you haven’t been getting enough hydration for days,” Bruce stated, ignoring the semi-panicked looks the soldiers sent each other, “Whatever your reasoning was, it’s hurting you. A drip will rehydrate you relatively quickly and you can get on with your day.” 

“I’m not in any critical danger, drinking water will be enough,” usually she wouldn’t argue with a doctor but if he came near her with a needle she would throw down. 

“Doll, it’s not an option.” 

God, how many times had she heard that. It’s not an option. It’s not an option. Nothing was ever an option. She’d been kidnapped, was being held against her will— fuck, she refused to list their sins against her again.

"I'm an adult, I get to decide what medical procedures I do and don't consent to."

"Baby, did you hit your head again? I think we're a little past consent." 

How many times would she have to physically fight these motherfuckers before they gave up. 

"I hate needles," she snapped, glaring at Steve with as much rage as she could muster, "no blood draws, no IVs, no vaccines, nothing."

Bucky stepped closer to her side, an imploring look on his face, "your health is suffering right now sweetheart, if Bruce says you need an IV, you're going to get it. We're going to take of you, Penny." 

They'd done a real stand up job of taking care of her in the last several days for sure. She'd only ended up drugged, concussed twice over, half starved, dangerously sleep deprived, and enraged. The skepticism must've shown on her face because Bucky visibly winced at the implication while Bruce had to turn and pretend to cough to cover his laughter. 

"Sweetheart, I understand that it makes you uncomfortable," Steve somehow managed to manifest in front of her in the blink of an eye and she startled backwards a step. 

The blond was freakishly fast and Penny was beginning to suspect that everyone calling him and Bucky 'super soldiers' weren't just mocking their demeanors. Steve had been strong enough to snap the lock on the bathroom door like twig, could bodily lift her with just one arm, and he moved a fraction of an inch too fast to be normal. Bucky was similar in the strength department, plus he had that arm. But instead of nearly vibrating with restrained power at all times, Bucky was almost preternaturally still. Even when she moved in the middle of the night and startled him awake, the only way she knew was because his eyes would open. He was so still sometimes she wondered if he even had to breathe, was his heart even beating? 

The brunette's arms came to wrap gently around her shoulders from behind; the way he held her was more reminiscent of a loving cuddle than a restraint but it worked all the same. If they didn't want her to go anywhere, it was going to be very hard to run off. The doors to the lab swept open abruptly, as if beckoning her to escape, but no one came through. JARVIS, always looking out. 

"I'll make your lives hell," she hissed through gritted teeth, eyes locked on the blond in front of her while Bucky backed them up and sat on the exam chair, tugging her into his lap, "if you come near me with a needle I'll shove it through your eye." 

"Penny, be sweet," Bucky's tone was firm, his arms squeezing around her in what she assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture, "it'll all be okay and you'll feel so much better after."

Penny's eyes were dragged away from Steve when she caught movement, zeroing in on Bruce. He was fiddling with something in crinkly plastic and her blood froze in her veins when she realized it was a sterilized needle. He was preparing an IV despite her protests and panic began coursing through her like poison. 

"W-wait, wait I don't need an IV, I swear I feel fine, I'll drink a ton of water, don't do this—" 

"It’s gonna be alright babydoll," Steve cooed, understanding that her anger in this case was 100% a result of sheer terror, "Buck's gonna hold you the whole time. Bruce will give you a shot to numb the pain and—" 

"No, n-no, no, no please," Penny could barely move as Bucky locked his arms in place, holding her steady while Steve moved to block her view of Bruce, who was filling a syringe with lidocaine. 

"Shhhh, just watch me, baby," the blond brought his hands up to cup her face, manipulating her head to face him dead on, "don't pay attention to Bruce, just keep your eyes on mine." 

Tears of panic and fear began falling from her eyes, overwhelming terror beginning to consume her. There was no rationalizing the phobia, no talking herself through the fear, all she could think was I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. When she could hear the doctor's footsteps shift in their direction, she opened her mouth and started to scream bloody murder. Thrashing wasn't effective in the least but she did the best she could, jerking every inch of her body as violently as possible. She couldn't hear anything any of them were saying, she couldn't even hear her own screams; all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears and the mantra, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die over and over again in her head. 

"Dr. Banner, sir is currently on his way and asks that you wait to perform any procedures until he arrives." 

Bucky tensed under her but Penny barely noticed. The edges of her vision were going dark and Steve wasn't so much holding her face in place anymore as trying to caress her cheeks and jaw. She could see the doors to the lab, still open as if waiting for her to run.

Instead, Stark came through them. There was a tightness to his usual swagger and she wondered if she was imagining the irritation in the lines of his face. 

"You know I thought I had sound proofed all of the labs, but I can hear my poor girl screaming from three floors away," he commented casually as he swept in, easily pushing past Steve and stealing Penny from Bucky's lap,  pulling her into the cage of his arms, "now this is over an IV, correct?"

"Please, please, please—" Penny's voice choked off in a sob as she tried to tug away and make a break for the door. 

"Shhhh, angel, look at me," Tony carefully manipulated her head, making her look up at him through her panic, "you're going to drink plenty of water and relax all day, understand? You're going to eat plenty and drink so much water you have to pee every thirty minutes." 

"N-no needles—" 

"That's right baby, no needles," he pulled her into his chest and hushed her, stroking her hair gently while giving the three men behind her a careful look, "with supervision you'll be fine without an IV, but you have to be good, do everything you're told. Can you be a good girl for me, Penny?"

Steve and Bucky watched as their girl nodded against the man's shoulder, still crying. This wouldn't be strike two, not quite since she'd gotten so upset as a result of them trying to take care of her, but apprehension was setting in. Tony was their friend, but he wouldn't put their feelings before Penny's and that was a dangerous position to be in. Especially considering JARVIS had all but jumped ship on them and was firmly on Penny's side. 

"Now, is there anything else Brucie Bear? Because I think Penny here is gonna come with me to the labs and watch Peter try to make a robot." 

Somehow, despite the fact that they knew Penny hated Tony just as much if not more than she hated them, he was the one who managed to get through to her. Tony Stark was her mortal enemy, the kidnapper, the pedophile, and yet he was the one holding her while she cried in distress. Bucky and Steve watched on in amazement and disbelief. 

There was something about Tony that was just a touch unnatural. The way he could manipulate people was almost beyond comprehension. It showed in his friendships, the way that people who were sent to kill him were so easily turned to his side. People who didn’t want anyone, who didn’t want friends, found themselves enfolded in his presence. It was also apparent in the way that Peter had almost accepted his new situation, how he was so quickly coming to terms with the way his life had changed. Tony Stark was, as far as anyone knew, not enhanced in any way, but some of his companions had started to wonder. 

They watched as the older man spirited her away, talking loudly and keeping her tucked under his arm as they walked. Steve and Bucky were left in the dust, feeling dejected once again. 

“Leave it to Tony to decide he has more medical authority than me,” Bruce gave a low snort, rolling his eyes, “does he have 7 PHDs? No, he doesn't.” 

“We keep fuckin’ it up, don’t we?” Bucky groaned, watching the doctor step back towards his computer system, “We’re gonna end up dead. World War II and HYDRA couldn’t kill us but Tony fuckin’ Stark sure will.” 

“Hard to compete with a Goddamn witch,” Steve muttered, running a hand through his hair before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You two need to be doing what Tony is with Peter,” Bruce interjected before the super soldiers could continue to lament their situation, “he panders to him just enough to keep him happy. He can give an inch and Peter thinks its a mile. You’re strategic geniuses, master interrogators, use your strengths.” 

The ‘dumbasses’ was implied at the end of the statement. In all fairness, he was right. 

Steve exhaled through his nose, a stabilizing breath, before turning to regard Bucky, “A garden, to start. She had a lot of things on her Pinterest account, we’re gonna look through there. JARVIS? Can you please make sure our kitchen is stocked with plenty of kosher foods?” 

“And is there anyway we can get the extra room in the apartment turned into a garden? Maybe a rooftop garden?” 

“Sir has given me full discretion to green light any construction projects that will aid in Ms. Parker’s adjustment. A section of the roof can easily be cleared for a garden and greenhouse. The east facing wall of the spare room can be replaced with floor to ceiling windows and UV lights can be installed. Might I also suggest a knitting area?”

"Yeah, that," Bucky nodded, "any other suggestions JARV?" 

"On her Pinterest Ms. Parker has shown interest in softball, soccer, crocheting, yoga and video games."

"Can you have everything she needs for those things sent for and brought to the apartment? And have everything set up as much as possible considering the renovations that'll be made for the garden room?"

"Yes sergeant, although I would suggest making room in your personal gym for Ms. Parker do to yoga."

“Good idea JARVIS,” Bucky felt a bit of relief that the AI was willing to help, even if it was only because it would help Penny in the long run, “I know we talked about keeping her secluded but I think we should show her the game room, introduce her to Thor and Sam so she can play video games with them.” 

Steve looked hesitant. The brunet knew why; they’d waited what felt like so long to find a girl who appealed to both of them. They were possessive by nature and having so little over time, growing up in the Great Depression followed by fighting in the war, only to suffer a hellish betrayal and go into the ice for so long, meant they were covetous. Sharing their girl so soon was uncomfortable and just the idea made both of them chafe. 

“Yeah, we should,” he choked after a moment, clearing his throat. 

“We’re gonna build a life, Stevie,” Bucky said quietly, stepping closer to the man and putting his hands on his shoulders, “we’re going to work this out with our girl and eventually, she’ll want to be with us as much as she can. But until we get to that point we have to make some concessions.” 

“But she’ll still sleep in our bed.”

“Yes Stevie, she’ll still sleep in our bed.” 

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

you’re not the poison; it’s me.

... um. titans 2.07 absolutely WRECKED me you guys, and i would like to tell you why in excruciating detail:

SPOILERS ahead

(and before i go ahead, i just want to say this: this episode deals with ptsd and psychosis and suicidal ideation explicitly, in ways that even i found difficult to watch. it’s very intense. please keep that in mind if you decide to watch it.)

1. usually genre tv shows like to pile on the trauma but deal with its fallout either rarely or in oblique ways--shots of the character brooding, a couple of ‘candid’ talks filled with frustrating euphemisms, then it’s on to tackling the next plot point. not titans tho--for this show, the trauma is very much the point. the plot is wafer-thin and takes a backseat as the show takes episode after episode to break down its central characters and hammer it in that there are no easy fix-its for complex trauma, and that Dealing with it is a continuous, sometimes lifelong process. it forces you to keep re-evaluating and re-contextualising the actions of these characters and challenges your assumptions.

1.5. for instance: let’s take donna troy. in s1 she was the put-together big sister to dick, content with living her life outside the superhero community while giving sound advice to dick about how he can get his own life back on track. now? she’s a stressed, paranoid wreck, plagued by horrible memories and taking her insecurities out on dick and jason and whoever else is available. deathstroke’s machinations aside, there’s something deeply dysfunctional about the way the original titans operated, the ways they brought both the best and the worst out of each other. it seems like none of them really understood the seriousness of what they were doing until they did something truly terrible that they couldn’t take back, and it was earth-shattering enough that donna completely abandoned her old life to live as a civilian. trigon’s vision for her in 2.01 reminded her that she was fooling herself; coming back to titans tower and actually having to face what made her run away in the first place has broken down the walls she’s spent five years putting up. it’s not pretty to watch, but... it tracks.

2. after having written post after post about dick cracking under relentless stress and the weight of his own guilt complex, it was startling to see him actually fall apart. halluci!bruce was absolutely brutal and really brought home the fact that Good Lord, Dick Grayson Is So Far From Okay That It’s Not Even Funny Anymore. 

because here’s the thing: dick is deeply unwell, and however the show proceeds with his character from here on out, this episode made absolutely no bones about that fact. his single-minded dash to find and kill slade is framed as both irrational and suicidal. he’s visibly on edge, bursting into bouts of uncontrollable rage. he’s shown to carry a guilt complex the size of mount everest, to the point where it actually seems delusional. he’s fucking terrified of abandonment, to the point where he’d rather cut off ties on his own rather than have others leave him. he’s constantly berating himself and this doesn’t give him a moment to sit down and think and try to form a rational plan. halluci!bruce even mentions meds and “uppers and downers” to cope, and i am genuinely concerned that that was what dick actually did to cope in the immediate aftermath of whatever the fuck went down with him and joey and deathstroke. maybe it’s ptsd with a secondary psychosis triggered by nearly losing jason the same way he lost his parents (and massive sleep deprivation, i imagine), or maybe there’s another underlying chronic mental illness. either way, he needs help. 

man but halluci!bruce was vicious. if this is what dick has running in his head at all times, no wonder he broods, and no wonder he takes others admonishing his choices with barely any protest! 

2.25. looking at this from a different perspective, tho, here’s another way in which bruce wayne functions as a symbol on this show. phantom!bruce is how dick normally externalises everything he hates about himself, and this dynamic plays out very literally in this episode. 

interestingly, and somewhat heartbreakingly, it took dick accepting and internalising his low opinion of himself and his veritable ocean of guilt for judgy!bruce wayne to turn into loving, concerned!bruce wayne, who would comfort dick and wipe his tears. (it is entirely heartbreaking that that’s what dick subconsciously craves from bruce.) dick must debase himself for love and acceptance. it’s fucking tragic. 

2.55. and what does it mean--for dick and for his friendships with the og titans--that he’s so convinced that they would leave him if he told them the truth about jericho? for one, even back then, it seemed like dick was doing a lot of the emotional labour for the team: as a leader he both funnelled and executed the team’s plans, with responsibility for the fallout falling unevenly and mostly on his shoulders; he acted as the go-between for the team and bruce, for donna and garth, probably for hank and dawn, given he was dawn’s rebound. later, hank and dawn are visibly concerned by how viciously he fights. after re-forming the titans, he continues to shoulder responsibility for the shit-show that deathstroke rains on them, although he didn’t know deathstroke was alive when he re-opened the tower. of course he thinks that the team will think that he’s beyond redemption if they find out the truth; of course he’d want to go and finish off deathstroke on his own--or die in the process--before any of them finds out. 

2.75. but guys, here’s the thing: in spite of all of this, dick grayson still went around to check on conner and jason and assure the latter that he didn’t blame him for running off on his own. he saw jason standing there on a precipice right at the end, and decided he was going to be opaque anymore, or fall back on what he learned from bruce. he sits down with jason and finally divulges the secret that he had been willing to die to protect--making himself vulnerable to save jason’s life. he’s trying so goddamn hard even though his brain is rioting against him right now and probably has been for years. it’s just--i can’t imagine a truer, more sensitive portrayal of dick grayson than this.

3. watching jason reach his breaking point was,,, Not Fun. it’s one thing to be seemingly passed on like unwanted baggage from guardian to guardian. to be viewed with contempt and impatience when he just wants to make sure his voice isn’t lost in the constant shuffle. to be looked at as an impostor by the very people he looks upto. to be assigned the role of hot-headed fuck-up despite all his attempts to be useful, to prove himself. but to have all of that fall on him all at once on top of (poorly) dealing with a near-death experience? yikes.

3.25. and the horrible, tragic, human part of it all is that donna and the others probably didn’t even know what they were doing to jason by piling on him like that? he’s a relative outsider to both rachel and the og titans. he’s an arrogant prick that’s easy to hate. without dick and gar to stand up for jason, he’s cornered by people who haven’t even gotten to the point of seeing him as a vulnerable kid that’s struggling, just like the rest of them.

3.5. and so the two robins perch on the ledge, each convinced that they are poison that will either kill or drive their friends away. it’s a fraught moment of connection that stops jason from jumping, but he doesn’t step away. both of them are on a precipice in more ways than one; i can only hope they help each other land on the right side.1

also, bruce wayne? send your sons to therapy MY GOD

4. kory and rachel using their awesome powers in concert to cure conner! kory using her cultural background to connect to and help conner! conner mumbling in kryptonian! krypto fucking shooting across the sky with eve on his back! in such a sad and intense episode, it’s important to remember that some fantastic things happened as well!

5. here’s the thing: i don’t think dick killed jericho in the way that he probably thinks he does. dick is a hugely unreliable narrator--that’s been his Thing since s1. part of me thinks jericho should be dead; whatever happened with him and the titans has been built up to be such an earth-shattering event that it would kinda be cheating if he survived anyway. the other bigger part of me says: fuck that noise. JOEY WILSON LIVES, and that’s that

6. gar was sleeping? are you kidding me??? i’m assuming deathstroke drugged him or something so that he wouldn’t be there to Talk Sense and stop these melodramatic fools from tearing into each other. i can only hope that there’s some Big Plans for him down the line. 

[nev3rfound]

bitter sweet : p.p

brief summary: being tonys daughter and feeling resentful that peter always spent more time with your dad than you did. that resent dies down after his death, as peter begins to comfort you in these difficult times

word count: 2.5k requested: yes, by the lovely @tearsforhan warnings: endgame spoilers 

* masterlistin’ 

* commissions (i’ll keep adding it as i hope someday it might get clicked lmao)

Ever since he showed up alongside your Dad, you could tell things were going to be different. The kid had a bright goofy smile, that glint in his eyes that your Dad couldn’t resist. You knew you were going to be cast into the shadows, let him take the limelight as your Dad focused his time and energy into him, not you. 

Sitting in your Dad’s lab, you worked in the corner with your back turned, headphones on. It was one time you could truly zone out from everything and focus on making something that’ll benefit someone, maybe even yourself. You could work, hum along to songs and not be interrupted. That was until Peter came bounding in behind your Dad, muttering apologies to the inanimate objects he nudged. 

You would roll your eyes, seeing the excitement lighting up in Peter’s face as your Dad would like to him like he was the son he never had. At that point, you would turn back around, not wanting to listen to all the great things your Dad had lined up for Peter, not you. 

When it came down to everything with Thanos, you were with your Mom. Pepper ran into the house, out of breath with wide eyes. She sat you down, held your hands and explained what was going to happen and that you needed to stay safe. For once, you were not allowed to fight, you had to stay hidden and out of harm's way. 

“I might lose your Dad, I can’t lose you too.” You remember your Mom telling you those specific words as tears lined her eyes. She wanted to be strong for you, but you knew she couldn’t, you were a young woman now, not a child. 

Sitting in the compound, you felt it happen. The snap occurs as your Mom gripped your hand tightly. Neither of you knew what it meant, but you could feel it, you felt part of you being pulled away. 

As the Avengers returned, half of the team that is you watched them all. You waited to see your Dad exit the Quinjet, eager to go help him. But as Steve stepped down, no one was walking behind him. He watched as tears filled your eyes as sobs began to escape your lips. Pepper shook her head, not wanting to believe it. “I’m sorry.” Is all Steve could say. 

Later, you learnt he was alive. No one knew where he was, or if he was still alive. But everyone hoped he was, everyone needed Tony to still be alive. You and Pepper needed it more than the world right now, he was your family first and foremost.

The evening you saw a bright flash of light across the sky, you were on the roof with Natasha. She was trying to figure a few things out, track who was lost when it happened. You stood up, hand resting on her shoulder as a woman glowing held a ship above her head. 

You all ran down to see her step forward, pulling the door off as an exhausted Nebula walked out. No one ran to her, but she was never one to expect a warm reception it turns out. But as your Dad took an uneasy step, you ran without thought. He held you close, breathing in the smell of home as you felt him quietly sob. 

With the help of Pepper, Tony made it down the steps of the ship where Steve stepped forward. “I lost the kid.” Is all your Dad managed to make out before he fell to the ground.

*

Five long years had passed by. You stayed in New York whilst your parents moved out of the city. Every weekend, you would go and visit, sit with Morgan and play with her. Everyone needed the time away, you could understand why they picked the place. 

When you were with your family, no one spoke of it. In the house, it was only about your family, you didn’t have to discuss the extended family Morgan had never met. You just knew this was your escape, a getaway whenever you needed it. 

Then everything began to change, and it happened too quickly for you to comprehend. The chance of bringing everyone back was no longer impossible, it became highly possible due to the man you met briefly who drooled over Steve. You watched with Morgan as your Dad began to work in the house, looking at 3D displays as he picked them apart.

And then, the plan worked. 

You were with Morgan, playing with the prototypes of the Iron Man suit. She loved the pieces that fit together like jigsaws. Even at a young age, you knew she was destined to have that inventor gene you had. You could just see it in her big eyes as you explained it with long words she couldn’t say, but she listened with her full attention. 

The sound echoed throughout the world. A quick snap that created a wave of energy to surpass. You glanced out of the garden, seeing the trees all sway in the same direction, a ripple cross over the entire lake and Morgan’s tent fall over. 

“What was that?” Morgan questioned, looking up to you at the time as you smiled, bringing her into a tight hug. 

“That was half the world returning home.” 

*

Despite everyone being brought back, not everyone made it home. 

You couldn’t comprehend it. The fact he was really gone and wasn’t coming back. There wasn’t anything to be done to save him, Strange couldn’t reverse time and stop it. All you could do was accept it, even if the truth weighed down on your heart like a pain you couldn’t fathom. 

The day of Tony’s funeral, everyone turned up at the house. You saw faces you hadn’t seen in years. To them, they remembered you as a younger girl, a teenager. But you were almost eighteen, you weren’t a frightened child who hid from the weird-looking people who wandered the compound. Instead, you embraced them. 

Standing next to Morgan, you could feel their eyes full of sorrow for you as Pepper placed Tony’s heart, still encased in the glass on top of the flowers. You look over your shoulder, seeing the pain in Peter’s eyes as he glanced over to you, his face screaming with apologies. 

Turning around, you wiped the tears in your eyes as Pepper pushed the flowers out. She turned around and held both you and Morgan close, refusing to let either of you go. 

*

You made the decision that you couldn’t stay there. Everything that surrounded the house reminded you too heavily of your Dad. You wanted to help rebuild the compound after it was destroyed by Thanos, that it was the right thing to do to help start a new chapter in your life. 

At no point in doing so were you alone. Sam helped with everything, and he found comfort in talking to you about what is next. Bruce was ideal in the heavy lifting, and Bucky often scared the construction workers with an accidental glare. 

Once the compound was rebuilt, you worked with what was left from the original building. You wandered the corridors on countless nights as sleep was no longer a friend, it became your enemy. 

Every night, you would lie in bed and scream at your body to shut down. No matter how long you had been awake, how tirelessly you worked your body nothing was enough. If by some means you managed to shut your eyes, all you could do was picture the moment you couldn’t be a part of; seeing your Dad die. 

Of late, you keep finding Peter in the compound. It didn’t bother you as such, what did bother you was his attempts at making conversation with you. It wasn’t necessarily his fault that he idolised your Dad, and that he became close with him. But that doesn’t mean the pain still lingers when you see Peter holding your Dads old glasses, or talking to Wanda about the new suit that was left for him. 

He didn’t mean any harm by talking about Tony, it helped him come to terms with it all. But that’s the thing about grief, it affects people differently. For Peter, talking about it to those who understand helps him. For you, keeping quiet and avoiding the subject until you feel as if you’re about to burst is how you cope. So, you avoided him when you heard FRIDAY greet him through the hallways.

Sometimes, you couldn’t avoid him. He would wave to you with a big smile despite the redness in his face from crying whilst you remained stoic. “Hey Y/n, how, how are you doing?” Peter stumble over his words, but you didn’t always respond. “Okay I, I’ll see you around.” He’d call to you as you walked in the opposite direction, clenching your jaw as you picture all the times you felt like you were pushed aside to make room for Peter.  

*

There wasn’t anything unusual about today. You were still sleep deprived as nightmares plagued your mind during your attempt at sleep once again, and you sat on the roof all night talking up at the sky. Part of you felt that maybe he’s out there somewhere, looking down with Natasha tutting away about the choices you’ve all made. He’s probably telling you to go travel, see the rest of the world.

But you weren’t ready to fully move on, not just yet. 

Wandering through the corridors, you grip your coffee tightly in your hand. “FRIDAY, where is Wanda?” You call out, sipping your drink.

“Miss Maxinoff is currently training with Sargent Barnes, Miss Y/l/n. Would you like me to inform her you’re looking for her?” 

A small sigh leaves your lips as you shake your head. “No thanks, FRIDAY. I’ll try her again later.” You speak up to the AI as you look around to find yourself near the only original piece of the compound that was left standing. 

Ever since the work had been done, this was the only area you avoided. Mostly because everything was so raw when it was being mended, but now you knew if you went in, you’d be flooded with emotions.  

Letting out a heavy breath, you step forward and walk toward the lab. As you push the door open, memories return instantly. You look around, your fingertips trailing along the surfaces of the spots your Dad frequently worked at, creating all sorts of new things and figuring out how to better the old. 

Tears began to prick your eyes as you look over at the desk you once worked at. All the papers that covered it are gone, much like anything your Dad left in here. 

“I miss you so much Dad.” You call out into the room as you lean against the main console, pressing a button accidentally and watch as it flashes up.

“This better be on.” You hear your Dad sigh heavily as he looks tired, his face lacking fullness as his eyes bore into the lense. 

You stand still, listening to your Dad. It was recorded when he was trapped in space with Nebula, what he thought would be his last words. “And to Y/n who I hope never has to see this footage.” He pauses as he wipes his eyes heavily, an action you’re copying as you sniff loudly. “You’ll always make me proud, and to have you as my daughter, someone who is smart, witty and has the effortless charm every Stark has is something else.” A small laugh escapes your lips as you lean closer, lifting your hand up only to have it pass through the projection. “You’re going to do good Y/n. Whatever you do in life, you’ll be doing the right thing. I love you, honey, take care of your Mom for me.” 

As the tape comes to an end, you fall to the ground. Sobs wrack your body after all this time of holding them back. You wanted to be strong for your Mom and Morgan, show everyone you could hold it together. But you can’t always be the strongest person in the room, not now anyway.

Bringing your legs close to your chest, you bury your face in your knees. You remain oblivious to the door opening, the sound of a sad sigh sounding from Peter as he spots you curled up in the middle of the room.

Peter remains silent. Instead of speaking up, he walks over and kneels down beside you, hesitantly reaching out and places his hand on top of yours.

The unexpected action causes you to jump and kick whoever is in front of you. With a haltered sob, you look to see Peter lying on the ground. “P,Peter?” You stutter, watching as he easily sits back up in front of you, half a smile on his face.

“Hey, I, are you alright?” He questions, brows furrowed together in concern.

Ever since Tony died and once the compound had been rebuilt, Peter came into the lab frequently. He felt he could talk to Tony in there, as crazy as it seemed. In this space, he felt inspired to better his suit, better himself to become the man he wants to be. What he hadn’t anticipated was finding you in here.

You shake your head. “Does it look like I’m okay?” You scoff lightly, but immediately feel pain burn through you. “Sorry, I, I found a video of my Dad when he was stuck in space.” You speak slowly, feeling your body shaking as Peter reaches out, taking your hand in his and listens to every word. “I, I never got to say goodbye, and that was the closest I’ll ever get.” 

As you finish, the sobs return and you shuffle closer into Peter, letting him hold you close. He hushes you gently, not wanting to let go of you in this fragile state. All this time, he’s admired you. You were Y/n Stark, the girl everyone in his school knew. Most of the guys dreamt of meeting you more than Tony because you were their age. But Peter always saw past your beauty, he could see how alike you were to Tony. You were deeply intelligent, an innovator at heart. 

“He told me to tell you,” Peter slowly speaks up, knowing now is the time to tell you.

Lifting your head up, you look at him closely. “He said something to you?”You whisper, afraid to raise your voice any higher as it might crack.

Peter nods, watching the tears pool in your eyes once again. “He said you’ll be fine, no matter what. He loved you so much, Y/n.” Peter can feel the tears falling from his eyes as he pictures himself in front of Tony, half his body burnt as Pepper held back her sobs. 

You shuffle closer, resting in Peters's arms as you both remain seated in the middle of the lab. “Thank you Peter.” You tell him, not wanting to let go of the boy you once resented for how much time he spent with your Dad. Yet, you thanked him now, as he was able to share your Dad’s last words. 

[lostandlonelybirds]

dick + hunger? idk i just feel like that’s not done too often. i love your writing!!

Ahhhh! Thank you darlin for the prompt!!! I love you!!!!!! Here ya go! It’s set Post-Leviathan Arc aka Robin Requiem, and Pre-Forever Evil!! And I didn’t super stick with hunger, but I love how it turned out!!! Hope you enjoy!!!

                                                     *

              In the aftermath, Dick spirals.

 It’s a thing anyone who truly knows him notices. He doesn’t grieve in stages, as most do, he grieves in behaviors. It’s a pattern engrained in misery, marinated in tears, and sautéed in his pain.

It didn’t start with his parents, it started with Jason.

And now, Damian…Damian… 

                                   “We were the best, Richard…” 

A lone corpse on a field of his mother’s making, a single weapon impaled in a                              child’s chest as his clone stares on and on.

 “I’ll always love you in my own way,” Talia al Ghul had claimed, “And I will permit        you to leave with your circus boy in tow. But from now on, you may consider                        yourself an enemy of the House of al Ghul.” 

And Dick had watched as Damian didn’t cry, didn’t frown, or look the least bit concerned.

          “Very well,” Dick’s Robin had replied, “I hope I can be a worthy one, Mother.” 

What kind of Mother can order the death of her own child? 

Damian is…

Damian… 

Stage One, for him, is carelessness. 

He jumps a bit faster than he should, a moment of calculation and precision that has saved his life countless times, ignored for the mere thrill of falling. He isn’t as thorough in his stakeouts, preferring to find out when his fists meet flesh instead of finding out through observation alone. He’s cruel, sometimes. Angry, always.

He takes on more criminals than he should, running to the point beyond exhaustion, beyond near misses and barely dodged bullets, until something strikes.

Sometimes it’s a bullet, sometimes it’s Slade Wilson pissed off for ruining another contract. This time it had been Joker, and his mad ramblings and deep incisions only left Dick hollow, falling to the next stage. 

Stage Two is sleep deprivation. 

The death, or his conjuration of it, haunts his dreams and his nightmares. He sees Damian them in every memory, every corner of his cramped apartment and every rooftop along the night skyline. He drinks at first, drinks until he forgets, but even then he dreams, wakes screaming until his throat is hoarse and his eyes run out of tears.

When the alcohol stops working, stops giving him brief reprieve from the sad shithole that is his head, he stops sleeping. It’s a slow process, all-nighters scattered here, three-hour naps with about an hour of restful-ish sleep there, until the hours turn into days, and the days turn into weeks.

By the time he’s constantly swaying on his feet, drinking enough coffee that Tim would be concerned, the hallucinations start.

Sometimes he sees random, unrelated things, not scary, just confusing.

Most of the time he sees his parents falling, Jason being beaten by a crowbar, Donna’s eyes filling with tears as the clone cuts through her heart with heat vision, Bruce fading into time, Lian blowing up alone and afraid, Damian…

 When the hallucinations start, he moves onto the next stage, just as careless, just as tired, and still feeling the knives stab through his chest each time he draws breath.

 Stage Three is rage. 

Blinding, mind altering, all-encompassing rage.

 He rages against anyone and anything, from his friends, to his family, to the smallest criminal to hit the wrong button.

He’s a livewire humming, waiting for a spark.

He’s a ticking time bomb counting down, clenching and glaring and so furious he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

He feels it deep in his soul, corroding and poisoning, strengthening…. He kills the Heretic without hesitation when he finds the monster at Talia’s side, nearly kills Talia too. Would have, if not for Ra’s and Jason. 

They pull him off, tell him he’s even with her now, for her slight, her betrayal... but nothing could possibly equal Damian’s life, not even her own. Dick isn’t afraid of Ra’s, isn’t weary of Batman. He won’t rest until that bitch is dead and forgotten.

 Everyone watches him spiral at this point, he makes it well known with his anger and his pain and his inability to bottle anything up anymore. He lashes out, and they watch, and they listen, but they never stop him.

 Everyone lets him self-destruct, because deep down, they know just like he knows, that he deserves it. 

Stage Four is bodily deprivation, or self-punishment.

 Before, his injuries and mistakes and inability to take care of himself came from a place of inattentiveness, recklessness, but now…

Now when he sees Damian’s face, bludgeoned and bloodied by a clone created by his bastard of a mother, he stops eating. If he eats, his body rejects it. He doesn’t get hungry, even if he feels the pain and rumbles of it.

Now when he hears the name Robin, and sees the cape cover its owner’s corpse, he jumps off buildings until he collapses, until he doesn’t stick a landing, and sometimes he still continues.

Now when he hears Talia al Ghul’s voice in his dreams or his nightmares, he seeks out fights. Sometimes in bars, sometimes on the streets… He doesn’t stop when his fists are bloody, and his face is bruised. He never really stops.

 When he is hungry with no appetite, bloody with no pain, and broken without trying, he doesn’t move on to the next stage. 

There is no Stage Five, no equivalence to the stage where acceptance was supposed to occur. He doesn’t accept it.

He doesn’t move on. He holds onto that pain until all he feels is pain. He lets it consume him, lets it destroy him. If he’s still breathing by Stage Five, he’s numb enough to live with it, and fake a smile so no one worries. 

Damian’s dead, and Dick’s half-way there himself. By the time the family comes together, Dick’s corpse is buried next to Damian’s. There is no acceptance, there is no relief. There is only pain. It’s a good thing Dick’s numb to his own by now.                                            

                                                              *

[nightofnyx8]

Robstar week Day 2: Stardust

I actually enjoyed writing about today’s prompt, even if it was a little different. Hope you enjoy! 

Finally.

Kory floated carefully down the stairs; her gaze fixed upon the nursery door. She had finally gotten six-month-old Jake to sleep, and Mar’i was safely tucked in tight in the room next door. Everything seemed perfectly set up for a good night’s sleep, but Kory swore her children could sense when their parents relaxed.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps tonight Jake would allow her sleep for a little more than two hours. She entered the living room and found her husband focused on his laptop, piles of paper crowding the little coffee table where he worked.

She came up behind him and draped her arms around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder.

Kory kissed his cheek. “What are you working on, my love?”

Dick absentmindedly stroked one of her hands, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Stuff.” He replied tonelessly.

“Stuff.” She repeated. “Care to elaborate?”

“Uh-huh. Love you too, Star.”

She sighed. He was in one of those moods again, fully concentrated on his work. And when he got started, it usually took him a good couple of hours to snap him out of it again.

Kory leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Well, I suppose I could not kiss you for a week. Perhaps then we could talk about “stuff.”

“Yeah I’ll be up a sec.”

She groaned, finally resulting to drastic measures. “Then I expect to see you at my wedding next weekend. I am leaving for Tamaran in the morning.”

She started to walk away, but Dick caught her hand and pulled her onto the couch, catching her so her face was inches from his.

“And who is this suitor who dares to steal you away from me?”

“I believed you were not listening.”

“I am now.”

She laughed and kissed him. “Perhaps I shall reconsider.”

She rose herself up to a sitting position and rested against Dick’s shoulder.

“What is this?” she questioned. “This does not look like a case.”

It’s my will.” He replied.

Kory’s eyebrows creased with confusion. “Richard, ‘will’ is a grammatical function used for the future-tense.”

He laughed. “Yeah, but a will, the physical thing, are like instructions on when you die.”

“When you die?” she questioned.

“Yeah, it tells the lawyer or your family what to do with your money and possessions. Like here in this section, this delegates who will take custody of Mar’i and Jake if something happens to us.”

“You are implying that something will?”

“No, it’s just a precaution. It’s good to be prepared.”

“Ah.” Satisfied with his answer, she squinted to see the screen. “So who did you put to care for our children?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Dick mused. “I don’t know who would be best suited. Bruce is the closest living relative, but it doesn’t create the most ideal living situation, especially if the kids are still young.”

“Why not Rachel and Garfield? They live close enough to Gotham so they can visit Bruce daily, and it would create a steady home environment. Besides, I am certain wherever they live, they will have many people caring for them.”

Dick looked at her with surprise. “You’ve got a point there. Maybe you should write the will.”

“Or just let me into that fortress you call your mind occasionally. What does this section address?” She pointed to a small paragraph near the top of the screen.

“Oh, that just instructs on how we’re going to be buried.”

“That is easy.” Kory stated. “We shall have a traditional Tamaranean funeral for warriors.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that entail?”

“Simple. Our bodies will be burned in the Furnaces of Glorthrog the All-Seeing, and after a glorious play will be depicted of our deaths by the royal theatre in front of the entire planet. Then we shall be carried to the top of the highest mountain and a Zobgar will be sacrificed in our honor. And finally, our dust shall be released into the universe. And then—” she stopped at Dick’s expression. “What is it?”

“It’s uh, definitely unique. You sure we can’t just have a quiet, normal Earth funeral?”

Kory scrunched her nose with distaste. “You mean placing the dead in wooden boxes and leaving them underground to rot and disintegrate?”

“Well when you put it that way—”

“You do not prefer the traditions of my beloved planet?” she accused, Dick quickly releasing he was about to lose a fight with his sleep-deprived wife.

“I didn’t mean it that way!” He defended himself. “I just meant, that uh, maybe it’s not the best thing for Mar’i and Jake to watch.”

Kory’s expression softened. “You are correct. It would not be wise to have them rewatch our deaths.”

“How about we compromise?” He proposed. “We can have a funeral here on Earth, with tombstones so they can visit us, and then our ashes can be sent to Tamaran so we can be nuked into space and whatnot.”

“Alright, I concur.” Kory smiled, but her eyes told Dick a different story.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his full attention now focused on her.

“It is…sad. To think about what will happen if we someday pass unexpectedly. To think what will happen to the children.”

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed. “But it’s just a precaution. It’s not like we’re planning on it. It’s very unlikely to happen.”

“It was unlikely for our parents as well.” She stated dejectedly while avoiding his gaze.  

“Hey,” He took her face his hands. “Look. I can’t promise that it won’t happen. But we’re going to do everything we can to make sure it doesn’t. And on the very off chance that it does, we’ve already set up a plan for Mar’i and Jake. We’re not leaving them to fend for themselves, okay?”

“I do not wish to lose them, Richard. I could not bear it.”

He pulled her into a tight embrace as she rested her head against his chest. He stoked her crimson curls, watching her shake ever so slightly. Dick was well aware that in their line of work, they could be killed at any moment. He didn’t like the thought of leaving their children anymore than she did, but worrying themselves to pieces on the worst possible outcome wouldn’t do them any good. No one ever won at that game.

“Enough of this will nonsense.” He said, closing the laptop. He scooped up Kory off the couch and threw her over his shoulders.  

“Richard, wha—?”

“No more tears for tonight. And you can’t go to bed until I get a smile out of you.” He spun her around in circles across their living room, her laughter driving out whatever gloom had been there before.

“Richard, s-stop!” she shrieked before they finally both collapsed on the couch, breathless with laughter. Dick slid an arm under Kory’s waist, appreciating the amusement that had crept back into her eyes.

“You okay in there, Princess?”

“I am now.”

“Good, because I’m looking forward to an evening alone with you.” He pulled her into a kiss, both lost in the moment until Jake’s faint cries reached their ears. Kory groaned.

“Well, you, me and Jake.” He decided. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him.”

He rose from the couch and was about to make his way to the stairs when their six-year-old daughter appeared around the corner.

“Mommy, Jake is crying.” Mar’i stated, clutching a stuffed elephant.

Dick gave a stern look. “Young lady, you’re supposed to be in bed.”

“But Jake is awake.” She pouted. “Can I stay up too? It no fair!” She stuck out her bottom lip and pleaded with the largest puppy dog eyes she could muster.

Dick sighed and looked helplessly at Kory, who was trying not to laugh.

“Come on my little bumgorf.” She said. “One last story for you and Jake before bed.”

Dick picked Mar’i up and swung her onto his shoulders. “Come on, Starshine. It’s daddy’s turn to tell the story.”

“Oh yes, tell her the one about Larry.” Kory chimed as they ascended the stairs to Jake’s room.

“I’m not telling her about Larry.”

The laptop lay forgotten on the table below.

 _____________________________________________________________

It was unusually cold on Tamaran that night. Despite her supposed increased tolerance to cold weather, Mar’i shivered. She struggled to climb over the craggy rocks and jumbled vegetation to reach the top. She didn’t feel like flying tonight.

She slipped and would have fallen flat on her face if her brother hadn’t of caught her.

“Careful.” Jake said, breaking the silence between them. “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry that?”

Mar’i sighed. “Sure.” She relented the urn she carried to her brother. “We’re almost there anyway.”

Jake took her hand and smiled softly at her, guiding her along the way. Even if he was her annoying younger brother, she always found comfort in his strong and steady presence.

It was a breathtaking view as they reached the top. The cloudless sky opened up to reveal multicolored planets and comets, with billions upon billions of stars.

“You ready, Sis?”

Mar’i looked over to see Jake cradling the urn, his eyes staring straight into hers like he could see into her soul. There was no hiding anything from this guy.  

She felt tears prick her eyes, and Jack enveloped her in his arms.

“I know,” he sighed. “I miss them too.”

They stayed that way for a while until Mar’i released his hold, wiping her eyes.

“I’m ready.”

She helped Jake lift the urn above them before turning it on its side, releasing the contents into the air. The ashes poured out like mist, like shimmering dust.

“Goodbye.” Mar’i whispered, feeling Jake put his arm around her shoulders. “I miss you.”

The ashes seemed to dance, chasing itself higher and higher in the galaxies above. The stars seemed to shine brighter. Despite herself, Mar’i smiled, seeing them both released into the universe.

And into the stars.

[im-tops-bottom]

An idea my sleep deprived mind came up with

After the stupid civil war, Tony spends more time making better suits and weapons for everyone.

Thor and Bruce had returned a year later saying Loki tricked them and had been working alongside their sister Hela who destroyed Asgard. Now they are heading for earth with Thanos. They're bringing the war to them.

So yeah Tony Stark became real busy. Especially since he had to not only organize Pepper and Natasha's wedding, but also bring the rogues back, attend SI meetings and make new products for the company to sell. Sleep left his dictionary and was replaced with more energy drinks and more coffee.

At least he had Shuri and Peter to help take some of the load. Those alphas are going to grow up to be the best the world has ever seen. Tony is proud of them.

A week later the rogues return, Tony manages to organize several different products and a few updates on previous ones to keep the board happy for the remainder of the year, get at least one new suit for each hero and all new tech courtesy of the kids (especially when Harley came over for a visit and got several new types of arrows organized), and also managed to get a 3 hour sleep on there.

After everything was done, a day later was the wedding. Tony had ignored the rogues, the paps and anyone else who he didn't deem family. It was pretty much easy as he mainly kept to himself in his isolated corner. It was better when it was nearing close to midnight and everyone was tipsy amd chatting away, he had left to return back to the compound.

A couple of days later everyone decided to do some training, well mostly everyone.

"Thor have you seen Tony? He should be here training"

"he has barely left his lab. Always looking for better ways to upgrade everything for when Thanos finally reaches us. None of us know exactly what Thanos is bringing so it'll be best to be better prepared"

Steve frowns before rolling his eyes and giving up. Ever since everyone found out about Steve's secret and wjat happened im sibera, Steve had been working non stop to seek forgiveness from his team. Ever since finding out from Thor and Bruce that Tony had been right all along he had been seeking Tony's forgiveness for everything. It had been a difficult process since Tony hates Steve and is terrified of Bucky. He Huff's as he starts training.

The next day is when everything turns to shit. Tony finally decides to join everyone for lunch when Loki Grace's them with his presence. All his attention had mainly been on Tony which made everyone nervous.

"what do you want green bean?"

"only to make the battlefield even"

"what do you mean by that?"

"we need to take Earth's greatest defender down a notch or two"

"good luck taking down Captain America"

"who says it was him?"

Tony gets sent across the room via green magic hitting him. He growls as he stands up. He drops a few seconds later as he has an urge to vomit.

"that should do the trick"

"what did you do to Tony?"

"a person can't fight if they're pregnant. Now hmmm who should I make the father?? Oooh I know"

That night Tony had locked himself away in his room not letting anyone aside from vision who can go through walls in. After a panic attack followed with a massive rant, vision had calmed him down saying it wasn't good for the baby.

"you'll work something out tony Stark. You always do."

The problem with all of this was that Tony was a firm believer in bonding with someone first before having a baby. He always had beta's to get him through his heats just in case. Now not only is he having a baby whose father is the winter soldier but said alpha is buddied up with boyfriend Captain alpha tight pants. How is an unmated omega sub (he was really into BDSM) meant to cope having a baby. All sorts of emotions and hormones are going to be kicking in soon. He was not prepared.

"those two alphas can go get fucked if they think I'll let them anywhere near me. I'll let them see the baby once it pops out but until then they can stay away from me"

"Tony maybe you should sit down and half a civilized talk with them. anyone you want can be there with you while you guys clear the air. After that maybe you could think about everything with a clear head"

Tony sighs as he lays down with his head om Jarvis lap.

"your right. I'm sorry about being closed off. I never meant to but I'm just scared and angry."

"it's understandable now go shower and we'll go and get the both of you something to eat."

3 months later tony is sick of everyone. They are too careful around Tony. Do everything around the house. Does the heavy lifting for everything. Makes sure Tony eats and sleeps properly. Banned him from alcohol and coffee. Amd have tried to push him to talk with the super soldiers. Everyone except Pepper and Nat who is always present whenever tony is alome with the soldiers.

Tony relaxes on the couch one night while watching a movie. He tenses as he feels Wanda's presence. She sits at the far end of the couch to start off with and then Tony feels a headache come on as she slowly slides down the cpuch towards him. In frustration he turns his head amd growls as he watches her eye his stomach.

"would you just hurry up and get over here dammit"

Wanda smiles as she slides all the way down. She slowly raises her hand and it annoys Tony so he quickly grabs it and places it softly on his tummy. They both jolt in surprise.

"did the baby just?"

"yeah I think they did"

"wow"

"I know right"

They sit there and watch a new movie while smiling everytime there was movement. They snuggled up laughing amd chatting away before they got into the serious conversation Tony had been holding off since the two met. Afrer crying and hugging they returned back to their original position and carried on watching the movie.

After the 4th movie played, Wanda in all her beta goodness tried to keep a tense Tony calm. It didn't take long to find out why he was tense when she looked up and saw a growling Bucky amd a worried Steve.

"get away from him witch"

"Steve take your guard dog and get out of here. She's allowed tobe here"

"tony I don't thi-"

"you don't ever think and that's your problem not mine"

Everyone tensed as Bucky's growling got louder as he got closer to Wanda. Wanda sighed amd looked at Tony. They have a silent conversation before nodding. Wanda gets up after kissing Tony's stomach and head.

"have a good night Tony"

"yeah you two Wanda".

Tony watched Wanda leave before glaring at Bucky who completely ignored him and sat on the couch and dragged Tony onto his lap. He was trying to figure out what Bucky was doing until it was too late.

"WHAT THE FUCK JAMES? DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST DO THAT? STEVE I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DONT GET HIM OUT OF HERE I WILL KILL HIM"

Steve rolled his eyes as he sat on the couch and nuzzled Tony as well. His had held Bucky's while they laid it on Tony's tummy.

"I'm gonna murder the both of you in your sleep"

"we need to talk Tony"

"you come in here, scare a kid-"

"she's not a kid"

"away, amd then mark your god damn territory! Seriously! Now I'm gonna be smelling like the both of you animals"

Bucky growled as he nipped Tony's shoulder letting out a "good" before carrying Tony back to his and Steve's bed where they lay claim and Mark Tony over and over again until their scents become one.

The next day while the soldiers sleep Tony heads over to Wanda's room. She smells him and says "oh no" before calling the girls. Food, drinks, chick flicks, games, blankets and a few other things come along as the girls have a girl's day in with Tony. Tony tells them what had happened and the girl pamper him which calms him down. He smiles as he gets a massage from Nat while Pepper is painting his toe nails amd Maria is doing his finger nails.

Tony tenses as there's a frantic knock at the door. May opens it up as Thor rushes in saying that Tony needs to head down to the medical bay quick. Tony and the girls follow Thor quickly and 10 minutes later tony is a mess again.

"Loki did this? I'm gonna kill someone real soon."

Turns out tony is gonna have two babies. Both girls. One belongs to Bucky and the other belongs to Steve. Speaking of the two, they rush into the room along with everyone else. Tony yells at them and then explains to everyone who didn't know, what had happened. Clint points out that Loki must have known what happened.

With much reluctance Tony allows Steve to carry him back to the super soldier room so they can cuddle some more. The cuddling turned out to be more scenting, more claiming, more marking. Tony says fuck it and bites Steve and Bucky's bond marks right back. Hard enough that they bleed for a minute before healing which shocks the soldiers.

"you want me? Okay sure. But I'm going to make it a living hell for the both of you. You wanna talk? Fine lets talk. Talking starts now."

Alot of yelling amd talkimg comes into play and everyone says what they need to say. Tears and pain come in but no one gives a shit as they finally clear the air. Tony makes an effort to let them know that babies and bonding doesn't change anything and they need to work real hard for his forgiveness and trust. They promise they will.

"do you also promise to not tear Wanda's head off Everytime she is near me?"

"that witch messed with you. She is still an untrained Hydra agent who has powers. No"

"fine I'll get her a tutor who can train her. I'll ask Xavier or Stephen to help out. Once she is trained then can we sit down for cuddles and watch movies eith the girls in peace?"

"fine but Friday will keep an eye on you guys"

"ugh fine"

Months later finds Tony go into labour while everyone fights thanos and his army. Captain Marvel comes in and saves the day and breaks Loki and hela from thanos'hold much to Thor's relief.

Steve and Bucky race into the hospital room and stand guard as they watch Tony give birth to two adorable pups. One with blond hair and another with brown. After Tony scents them, he passes them to Steve snf Bucky so they can scent them as well. They take the babies while Tony gets some rest amd introduce them to their new family.

As Tony falls asleep hr smiles at his mates knowing nothing will be the same ever again. It also didn't help that Bucky said they plan on properly getting Tony pregnant.

5 years later finds a hectic mummy Tony running making breakfast while everyone takes a baby each to bathe, change amd feed. Tony is pissed off because of his stupid mates.

"20! I HAVE 20 FUCKEN CHILDREN! 10 EACH! AMD YOU TWO STILL WANT MORE! AM I RUNNING A SCHOOL HERE! IM SURE THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL! I HATE YOU TWO"

"language honey. There are children around"

"and besides. We did say that our families were known for giving birth to more than 2 children at a time. We can't help that it probably double due to the serum"

"Steve was fine. I had 2 to 4 children. YOU ON THE OTHER HAND! I GAVE BIRTH TO 9 OF THOSE LITTLE RUNTS! 9 BUCKY! WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Bucky laughs as he walks over to Tony and hugs him. He places his hand over Tony's tummy and lets out a happy sigh.

"and I have 8 more on the way"

"and then it'll be my turn"

"it sure will Stevie. It sure will"

"I really really hate the both of you"

"hey! It comes with benefits. You aren't doing much work now as everyone else is having fun doing it for your and loving their Jobs, you are also hurt free, and have a proper eatinf and sleeping schedule."

"we also get to spend more time with you with lots of cuddling."

"I feel like if I wasn't an Omega then you guys would have just tied me down to the bed amd kept an eye on me 24/7 so I couldn't leave"

"if we didn't love the feeling of seeing you with our pups then that would have been a guarantee. Our kink? Pregnant Tony"

"even better kink, our Tony pregnant with our pups,,"

"now since breakfast is ready, eat up sweetie because we are horny"

"I'm five seconds away from fucking Tony on the kitchen table. Do we have to wait.?"

"well no"

"great"

Bucky picks up Tony who yelps and carries him away. Steve stands there and stares at everyone.

"right. I'll grab our breakfast and everyone can dish themselves out some."

Steve races to their room with food and drinks in hand....well on a tray

[bluerene]

Vogue [robstar]

I know, I know, I’m working on posting River, part five tonight, but @dar-draws mentioned a modeling headcanon the other day that I could not stop thinking about soooooo here’s an unexpected fic to start off your day!

Warning: It’s not totally NSFW, but we have a near-naked Dick Grayson and a very flirty Starfire. Also, excessive cheesiness. It was late when I finished it and early when I edited it, so I have no idea whether or not this product is any good. 

As always, feel free to share your thoughts with me! 

The offers for modeling came pouring in not long after Kori Anders had made her first appearance at a Wayne Charity Gala. Dick supposed it was inevitable. After all, they’d designed an alter ego so she could play a role in his second life. And with the entrance she had made that evening, he was surprised people hadn’t been shoving contracts in her face the moment she’d stepped off the stairs.

“Oooh, Richard, I do not feel well,” Kori said nervously, playing with her evening gloves, “perhaps it would be best if we do this at a later date.” He touched her chin gently and kissed her forehead, “you have nothing to worry about, Star. You look beautiful. Just keep your head up and your feet on the ground. Dad and I can take care of the vultures.” “I do not wish to embarrass you,” she replied unhappily. “You never could,” Dick said, “and he doesn’t think so either. He’s glad you’re here.” “I am glad he has done the coming around.” “We both knew he would have to eventually,” he said with a grin, sliding his hand into hers, “be it now or ten years in the future when you’re pregnant with my kid.” Kori giggled, raising an eyebrow, “ten years, Mr. Grayson? We are waiting that long for children? Is it not a crime to deprive the world of our beautiful offspring?” “Ten years, eight years, two years, it’s all the same to me. As long as I have you.” “And I, you.”

She had pushed open the door and linked her arm with his, raising her head as they descended the polished marble staircase. Her grip tightened when the hall fell quiet, the silence broken only by hushed voices and clicking cameras.

But she did well. She always did well, as Starfire with the people of Jump, and as Kori with the press of Gotham. Courteous, diplomatic, and charming. She carried a sort of regality in her posture, something the other partygoers couldn’t help but notice. Dick and Kori were splashed in color on the front page of the paper the next day. And the rest was history. She was happy to enter an agreement with a designer based in Gotham. It was a two-hour commute from their apartment in Blüdhaven, but Bruce had already promised her a room at Wayne Manor, and full access to their teleporter. He was making a great effort, she noticed, to connect with her. That was nice to see.

The first few weeks were difficult. Photoshoots were fun but draining, and Kori quickly realized they were typically hostile environments. Photographers poked and prodded her, raising her arms and straightening her back, posing her as if she were an object. They spoke hurriedly, in exasperated tones, pulling faces whenever she failed to hide her inexperience. It was frustrating for her, and worse, she felt more out of place than ever.

The first rehearsal for the Spring Collection Fashion Show was the most difficult one she’d been through. She came home far later than she’d planned (though earlier than the director had liked), worked to the brink of exhaustion. She tossed her keys on the counter and headed straight for the bedroom, shrugging her coat off and hanging it on the back of the door.

She removed her holo-rings first, collapsing on the bed immediately after. She groaned loudly, blinking away the tears that had pooled in her eyes.

Her boyfriend poked his head out of their bathroom, toothbrush in hand.

“Hey, you’re home early. I thought you’d come to cuddle after midnight.”

Starfire kicked off her heels.

“They requested I stay longer but I did not wish to,” she said, sniffling.

Dick’s eyes narrowed in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze.

“Richard, would you think little of me if I were to leave the industry of modeling?”

“No, but I’d be worried. What’s wrong, Star? I thought you were enjoying the shoots.”

Starfire sighed.

“It has not come as easily to me as I expected it would. It is most...invasive. And challenging. And I do not think the other models like me very much.”

He set down his toothbrush and joined her on the bed, gesturing for her to curl up beside him.

“That’s probably because you’re a thousand times prettier than any of them.”

“The photographers do not think so,” she mumbled.

“Then they’re blind and stupid,” Dick said cheerfully, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “you’re still learning. You’ll figure it out. And when you do, you’ll look back on this conversation and realize how silly it is.”

“I am tired,” she said feebly, “help me get ready to sleep.”

“Lazy. But fine, I’m always good with naked Starfire.”

“Pajamas, please.”

“My choice?”

“I do not wish to rise from this spot, so I will trust you with that.”

“Sweet.”

Dick scooted off the bed and crossed the room to her dresser, pulling open the top drawer to find his favorite items.

“Thong and nightie? Please?”

Starfire raised her arm, wiggling her fingers, “you may give them to me.”

He grinned and tossed them into her hand, “did I mention how much I love you?”

“It does not hurt to hear it more often. Unzip my dress, please.”

She sat up on her knees and pulled her hair over her shoulder, turning her back to him.

“I do not know what to do anymore,” she said miserably.

“Y’know, Star,” Dick said slowly, dragging the zipper down her spine, “I could give you a couple of pointers. I’ve done a few photoshoots in my time.”

Starfire shrugged off the dress and reached for the clasp of her bra, unhooking it and slipping it off.

“Truly?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at him.

He passed her the lavender nightie he had chosen, not bothering to hide his smirk, “if you want.”

“Will you teach me right now?”

“What? I mean, sure, I can, but - “

“You may remove your shirt”

“Uh, come again?”

“Well,” Starfire began, a devious smile crossing her face, “you have said you will give me the tips for modeling. And I feel as though attire similar to what I wear will help me understand the posing much better. So if you would be so kind as to remove your clothing, we could commence with the practice.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Dick protested.

“But it is what you said,” she replied gleefully, rolling onto her stomach. She propped herself up on her elbows, kicking her legs in the air, “and it would improve my mood greatly if you would follow through with what you said.”

He muttered something inaudible under his breath, but relented, raising his shirt over his head and tossing it on the bed.

“You’re a pervert, princess.”

“And you are beautiful to admire, my prince,” she cooed, tracing the contours of his stomach with her eyes.

“As long as you’re the one doing the admiring.”

“Always,” Starfire purred.

Dick, now clad only in boxers, placed his hands on his hips and pouted, “is this naked enough for you?”

“For the moment. You may proceed with the modeling.”

“Ha! I already am,” he puffed out his chest and straightened his back, turning his cheek in a way that defined the line of his jaw, “this is a pretty standard pose. Hands near your waist, lips pursed, chin jutting out so your neck looks longer.”

Starfire tilted her head.

“But you look so unnatural. Humans do not stand this way.”

“The whole point of modeling is to express a concept in a way that enhances the idea rather than the person,” he explained, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and leaning against her dresser, “like this. Underwear ads for men like to emphasize the attractiveness of their brand. So guys clench their abs and arms, thrust their hips out like this - Star, are you even listening to me?”

“Hmmm? Oh yes!”

“No you aren’t,” Dick rolled his eyes, “you’re all flustered.”

“Do the thrust again.”

“Babe, how am I supposed to help you model if you keep eyeing me like this - “

“Thrust. Once more, please. I promise I will pay very close attention to your technique.”

“Sure you will,” he said disbelievingly, “anyways, whatever piece you’re modeling needs to be emphasized by your body. So for underwear, your stomach, thighs, and arms are the points of focus. Clothing depends on the style, but you can almost always guarantee longer limbs by arching your back or craning your neck.”

Starfire pushed herself onto her knees and turned her neck, pulling her hands up into her hair. She leaned back, exposing the flat of her belly at the hem of her nightie, and bending her arms so the soft lines of muscle became more apparent.

“Like this?”

Dick grinned, running his gaze over her body, “lookin’ pretty good.”

Starfire giggled, letting her hands drop to her knees, “I thank you. Do you have more of the tricks for me?”

“Of course, but we couldn’t get through them all in one night. Guess we’ll have to do this again sometime.”

“Richard Grayson,” she said, crossing her arms, “if I did not know better, I would think you are enjoying being my model.”

“I just like the attention. And helping you. Besides, we have way too much to cover. There are all sorts of modeling, and I think it’ll be easier for me to demonstrate if I have an assistant.”

“I shall fetch Silkie right away.”

Dick frowned, “aw, come on, now I’m thinking of modeling naked with Silkie as an accessory, why’d you have to do that?”

“You were acting far too cheeky for your own good,” Starfire said airily, flopping back on onto the bed. She scooched backward until she was pressed against the headboard and retrieved her phone from the nightstand.

“What are you doing?”

“I am taking pictures so that I can practice these poses on my own.”

Dick eyed her suspiciously.

“Is this going to be one of those things where half the girls in the network see it and I end up getting teased for a month by the guys?”

“Oh, these are for my eyes only, my love. Please, do the working of it.”

“You’re awfully cheery for someone who had a bad day,” he noted, smiling as he flexed his biceps.

Starfire took a photo and smiled at the screen, “And you are truly the greatest boyfriend in the world to work as hard as you do to make me happy. Oooh, I do admire that pose.”

Dick smoldered at her from over his shoulder, curving his back inwards and pulling his arms back, revealing tense lines of muscles along his body.

“I know you do, it’s the ass,” he said smugly.

He continued to shift between different positions, explaining each one and its intention as he did. Starfire, for all her teasing, did feel as though her understanding of them had improved, mimicking some of the easier ones to get his input. She learned that the more contorted your body was, the more unique it would make certain styles appear to be. Cameras sought mystery and so she needed to stare with half-lidded eyes, lips pursed as if there was something she disapproved of but the viewer would never know for sure.

When she started to tire, he asked her if they could try one more thing before they slept.

“Runways are harder. The walk is definitely something you’ll need, and I can’t really teach you the exact technique without heels, but you need to stand straight, arch your back, and take long strides. Try not to look too interested, but if the designer wants something specific, go with their vision.”

“You mean I must make the royal face?”

“The one you wear at my Dad’s parties? Definitely.”

“If I were to find heels for you to walk in - “

“Nope.”

“But - “

“I can teach you in other ways, babe. Besides, you’re the one on the runway, not me.”

Dick climbed onto the bed, placing his arms on either side of her.

“I am not tired.”

“You are, and you should be. You have another rehearsal tomorrow,” he whispered, kissing her nose.

She pouted, “and if I do not go?”

“It’s your choice,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “but we did spend an hour and a half practicing, and you made me do allllll of those poses.”

“You did not mind it,” Starfire muttered.

“Give it a try, Star. Things’ll get better. Just remember what I said.”

“Mmmmm.”

He kissed her gently, moving off of her and sliding under the covers of their bed.

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you up so we can shower before you head out.”

She wrapped her arms around his chest, snuggling into his back, “I love you, Richard.”

“Love you too, Starfire.”

The lessons continued for weeks, growing more serious as they neared the presentation of the Spring Collection. Dick moved furniture around in their living room, setting out outfits for her to ‘model’ (though most of it was just lingerie he happened to like, paired with sexy stilettos). He threw together a playlist and blasted it from the kitchen, walking their makeshift runway and instructing her to follow suit.

She was a fast learner. There was an obvious improvement at work, particularly in the way she was treated by the photographers, who were backing off and giving her space to try to the concept on her own. The other models had softened slightly, occasionally extending invitations to lunch or drinks after work.

When the Spring Collection launch show finally came around, it was no surprise to Dick that she blew the audience away.

She looked beautiful.

She had always been beautiful, of course, but there, under the bright lights, he was really at a loss for words.

Long legs. Looooooong golden legs, shiny, smooth, soft, miles of silky skin. He wanted to touch and taste, claim and reclaim.

She smoldered at him. Her eyes made contact with his and she pouted her lips. She was fiery, sparkly, fierce.  Her hair twisted and burned and defied gravity, flowing out behind her.

“Fucking hot,” Dick mumbled, letting out a loud whoop as she executed a flawless turn.

That dress. He hoped she would keep it forever. It was...glorious. She was wearing a dark purple wrap-around bra and a matching pair of high-waisted panties under a long, sheer, lavender dress that tied at the waist and fluttered open to reveal those long, gorgeous legs.

It was barely clothing. Barely there, barely acceptable for public wear, but God, he hoped she would keep it and wear it for him.

She glided down the runway like she was born to model.

The crowd adored her, cheering during her walks, screaming madly when she graced the stage for the final time.

Bruce threw together a small party to celebrate her success, though Dick knew it was really because he was impressed with how hard she had worked to give Kori Anders a name. It meant she cared enough to see a relationship in the harsher public eye all the way through. That was something his father could respect.

“You were amazing tonight,” he told her while she changed for bed, “Dad thought so too. Everybody did.”

“If I was, it is all thanks to you.”

“I know,” he replied, grinning wide, “you owe me a private modeling session right?”

“Several, though I am certain you know every night seems to be a ‘private modeling session’, correct?”

He shook his head, “no, that’s for work. I was helping you and we’d get carried away, I mean a real, music-and-lights, private, modeling session.”

Starfire smacked his arm lightly, “you are incorrigible.”

“You love me. Will you do it?”

“Right now?”

“I don’t see anyone else in this bedroom.”

She sighed and ran her fingers along the straps of her silk chemise, “I am tired.”

“Come oooooon, baby, please. Here - you love this song.”

He cupped his hands over his mouth and hummed - rather off-key, she noted through her laughter - “Vogue” by Madonna.

“This is terrible!” she cried out, posing anyways.

“Keep going.”

And she did, bending her legs and raising her arms and arching her back while Dick sang her favorite songs until she finally dissolved into giggles and climbed onto his lap.

“Thank you for everything,” Starfire said, pressing her lips to his, “you did not need to do all this.”

“Hey, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my girlfriend navigate her new job blindly?”

“The normal kind. You always seem to do more than you need to, Richard.”

“I love you, Star. It’s important to me that you know it.”

She kissed him again, “I do. I love you too. Would you model for me again if I asked?”

“I don’t think you need the help anymore, but sure?”

“Oh, it is not to help me with my own modeling,” Starfire said wickedly, burying her hand in his hair, “it is for something else.”

Dick grinned, settling his hands on her waist, “oh, that? Yeah, definitely. Always. Anytime.”

“Stop talking and do the making out now please.”

“My pleasure.” 

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

What Remains

A commissions written for the lovely @hobbitofrohan221

WARNING: INFINITY WAR SPOILERS! Do not read if you have not seen Infinity War or do not want spoilers.

As a courtesy the story is below the cut.

You had thought Thor was dead but this was worse. Seeing him alive but defeated. Your own loss was heavy in your heart but his sorrow cut deeper. He might as well have died at the hands of Thanos for how absent he was. He always seemed to be somewhere else; the past, reliving all that had led to this endless despair.

When you had met Thor in Sakaar, you had felt as he did now. Lost, abandon, hopeless. You were forced to fight for your life and every night was promised as your last. You had come to a grim acceptance, that each second could be terminal. Even now, you could not believe that you had left that cursed stadium behind, no longer forced to be a spectacle for ruthless crowds.

And it was all due to that bright-eyed Asgardian, though his gaze had lost some luster. Even the artificial eye given him by the grifting raccoon lacked purpose and when he looked at you, he did not seem to see you. Not as he had for those months spent together during the evacuation.

Isolated in the hull of the ship, you had been forced together, the lighthearted god chasing away your well-honed cynicism. Every smile fueled your own until finally, blushing and reluctant, you let your lips curled and shared the joy which shone from him so naturally. That first smile, that first laugh, that was the moment you knew.

One who could bring down Sakaar and withstand the loss of his homeland as Thor had and not falter, was special. He was special. He was the one you had been waiting for. The man you had thought a farce, a wives tale, a fanciful girlhood dream. He was everything you had lost faith in during your years in Sakaar but now you were back where you had begun, watching all hope slip away.

You sighed. You had finally managed to fall asleep but not an hour later, you awoke to find yourself alone. Thor’s pillow was cold and the blanket folded back. You pulled on your robe and tied it at the waist. Thor had not touched you in days, so enraptured in his grief, though you did not resent him for it. Even so, you wore little to bed in the warm Wakanda nights.

As you crept through the dark, you nearly tripped over a small vase. You sidestepped it only to have it do the same, holding in your scream as your vision cleared and you realized the raccoon had been leaning against the wall. Rocket, or ‘Rabbit’ as Thor called him, grumbled at you to watch it and you kept your retort to yourself. He had lost as much as any, if not more.

“Have you seen Thor?” You asked instead, trying not to stoop as you spoke. The last time you had done so, he had taken offense and nearly bitten you.

“Down there,” He pointed over his shoulder, “Sulking majestically in the moonlight, as he does.”

“Have you talked to him?” You ventured only to receive a scoff in return, “I didn’t figure. He’s not said much since--Nevermind. I know you don’t care.”

“About him, yes,” The raccoon countered, “For all I know, he’s all I have left to care about. Even if I don’t know him that well. The big man...he’s lost a lot.”

“Sorry,” You kept your voice low, “Thanks.”

“Not at all, lady,” He said in his blunt way, “I’m an ass but I’m still a captain. Gotta do my captain-ly duties.”

Thor had not told you what had happened in the time between your separation and reunion. You had found yourself streamed to Earth on Heimdall’s last call with Bruce, deprived your chance to say goodbye. Thus it had been a bittersweet surprise to have the god you had accepted to be dead appear before you, lighting and vengeance raining down in bolts around him.

But Loki was not with him and you could guess at his fate. And that of the rest of the Asgardians. His odd companions, a tree and the raccoon, were unexpected and Thor seemed to stand alone. The loss had made him weary of attachment.

You carried on, nodding your farewell to the rodent who seemed intent on spending his misery alone. You followed the moonlight streaming across the floor and onto the open balcony , overlooking the tundra’s of the African Atlantis. Thor’s broad shoulders were limned in silver, his head hung as he sat silent and unmoving, staring into the night.

You neared and sat beside him, hanging your legs over the edge as he did. You reached over and took his hand in yours, pulling it onto your lap without resistance. He surrendered to your affection and even squeezed your hand in his. He raised his head slowly and looked over at you, a smile flickering but quickly dying on his lips.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant,” He leaned in, putting his forehead against yours in a moment of comfort before pulling away once more, “I can’t sleep. I try but I can’t.”

“And you don’t eat. You barely talk. You can barely breathe without trembling or turning to stone. You cannot see me when I stand in front of you or hear me when I speak,” Your frustration flowed from you in a bitter stream, “I know you are mourning, we all are, but don’t push away the only person left to you...for you’re all I have, Thor.”

“I wasn’t--I never meant to,” He sniffed and you saw the tear form in the corner of his eye, illuminated in the moonlight, “I could have saved them; Heimdall, Loki, everyone. I watched my brother die and could do nothing. I fought to avenge him and could not do even that.” He released your hand and wiped away his tears, “And now I sit here and weep. Much good that will do, less good than I’ve done.”

You touched his arm gently, cooing to him as he fought back tears. You thought of the look in his eyes, the sheer defeat back on the battlefield. When faced with Thanos, he had not retreated and he nearly killed him. Nearly. Though none had taken the loss so heavily as him. “You should have gone for the head,” The Titan had taunted and Thor had floundered. The unbreakable god was broken.

“He was right,” Thor said as if reading your thoughts, “I should have aimed higher. I was cocky and careless. My own lust for vengeance cost half the universe. I’ve forsaken millions for my own self-indulgence.”

“You fought as hard as we all did. You did as much as any, if not more,” You took his hand back again, this time he tried to resist but your forced him to twine his fingers with yours. You looked at him and he raised his eyes, startled by the strength in your touch and face, “Thanos killed Loki. He killed Heimdall. He killed everyone else. You did not do that, do you understand?”

He nodded meekly and you lowered your brow, steadying your voice, “It wasn’t your fault. Say it.”

Thor stared at you, he gulped as more tears rose and inhaled deeply. “It--” He began but his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, “It was not my fault…” He reached over to touch your cheek, the warmth of his fingers softening you, “But it still hurts. It still feels like I could have done more.”

“We cannot change what is already done,” You assured him, lifting his hand to kiss it softly, “We can only keep fighting. And we always were good at that, you more than me I’d say.”

“I don’t know if I can,” At last the tears spilled down his cheeks, “I’m so tired of fighting. I fear it’s not the answer I need...if Loki had not kept fighting, he’d still be here.”

“Or Thanos would’ve killed him anyway. He never did need an excuse to do so,” You untangled your fingers from his and wiped his cheeks with the sleeves of your robe, “But you are tired, I can see it. And you need sleep. I do too. But I can’t sleep alone. Not anymore.”

The tension drained from him and he nestled closer, hugging you to him as he buried his face in your neck. He inhaled your scent and sighed, sitting back as he kept one arm around you. “You’re right,” He surrendered, “I guess I haven’t lost everything.”

He rescinded his arm and pulled his legs back from the edge, standing and offering his hand to help you to your feet. You held onto him as you guided him back through the corridors, making certain not to step on any unseen raccoons. You found your chamber and detached yourself, hanging your robe as Thor sat on the bed, running his hands over the sheets as if uncertain.

“Come,” You climbed onto the other side of the bed, tugging on his arm, “Lay.”

You laid back and waited for Thor to join you. He slowly brought his legs up, angling himself towards you and resting his head on your chest. You could smell the dried sweat in his hair as he stretched his arm across your torso, clinging to you like a child. You ran your fingers through his short blond hair, your breathing in sync with his.

It wasn’t long before he began to snore; at first softly and then furiously. The rumble was comforting, a sound you had come to know and love. Thor was as lively asleep as he was awake. The passion never stopped burning in him but seeing him so close to extinguished unsettled you. He had been the unyielding stone to your storm of madness.

You hoped a night’s sleep would restore him; revive him. You hoped it would help you. Your eyelids began to thicken and you yawned, shifting as Thor hugged you closer. His warmth spread through you and drew you nearer to sleep.

There would be the morning, and as long as you had breath in you and a god at your side, there was hope. Of anything, Thor had taught you to never give up.

[heyhowdyhellohi]

Delirious

Tony Stark x Reader

Summary: emotional conversations at dawn

It was 3 am. More specifically, it was 3am the day after your last final. The day had been a blur of coffee and quick snacks, sore hands from early onset arthritis and two on the spot essays with insane time limits, and make up and more coffee and sweaty dancing until here you were, sitting on the steps of some frat house porch in the cold night, finally realizing that it was over and you’d be home with your family soon. Hell week felt like a bad joke you’d missed the chance to tell, and now it’s time to talk about something else. You sat on the steps and waited for your roommate to tire out so you could drive back to your flat.

“Excuse me. Would you mind sharing a step?” a handsome guy asked, having just stepped out of the frat house himself.

“Yes, I do mind.” you held your head in your hands. Damn. Time just keeps dragging you along, and when you finally get a moment to just think, some douchey frat rat comes out to bother you.

“That’s fine, I’ll just sit on the next one.” He took a seat leaning against the wall of the house, facing you from two steps down. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of you as he smirked.

“Fine, but you have to put up with my existential babbling.”

“Oh, are you one of those depressed drunks?” You thought maybe he was judging you, but the smirk on his face suggested he was playing a game.

“No, I’m a sleep deprived philosophy major who moonlights as a designated driver.”

“Ah, so no fun for old Camus?”

“Referencing a French existentialist author? I’m impressed.”

“What? You had me pegged as a meat-head frat boy?”

“Nah, meat-head implies sportiness. You’re too delicate.”

“Truth is me and my buddy Bruce fixed their router a few weeks ago. They made us ‘honorary beta cappa betas’. But you can just call me Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“So, I’ve got a life question we could ponder. It’s the perfect time for it too, isn’t it? 3am, a little tired, a little wasted, watching the universe turn over our heads.”

“You seem more than a little wasted.”

“What’s left after we’ve gone? I mean, do we leave anything behind? Does it matter?”

“Ah, legacy obsessed. Well, we certainly don’t leave our egos behind, that fades with us.” He made a point to look deeply offended. but he broke the facade with a smile. You continued seriously this time, “Well, personally I believe there’s order in the chaos. Everything you do has a chain reaction. So, for me I guess we leave behind our impact on others people’s lives. It’s neither good nor bad, because an impact that’s immediately positive could end up negative in the long term.”

“We’re all just footprints among footprints that will be stepped on some day, but maybe they’re leading up to something. Wouldn’t that be great?” You weren’t sure his words meant anything to him, he seemed pretty out of it, draped against the wall with his eyes closed and his beer in his lap. “Here’s an idea! Write me a letter!” His eyes popped open and he leaned towards you.

“What?”

“Yeah, yeah! Like this: Dear... uh... Dear Y/N, It’s good to see that you’ve continued your studies. I myself have dropped out and become increasingly successful as a professional billionaire. I have a mansion and three buildings in New York City with my name on them.” He stopped when you started laughing. He smiled along like he wanted to join in, but hadn’t heard the joke. “Your turn. You do it. Dear Tony:...”

“My Dearest Tony: I’m doing very well in College. They’re going to let me graduate early on account of I’m smarter than everyone here. The only condition is that I become a full-time professor of philosophy. I think I’ll take them up on the offer. On the other hand, I’m curious to hear more about how one becomes a professional billionaire. If you could explain it to me, maybe I could join you in your endeavor.” 

This time you both laughed. It was ridiculous, but you were tired and he was drunk and it was nearing dawn. The birds were waking up, another year had flashed by and you were scared that daylight was in sight. So, instead of wallowing in how it felt like an end, and like you’d missed out on something, you kept making up letters. Tony wrote to you about his growing business, although it was still unclear how he had amassed his fortune. He spoke of his imaginary wife Pepper, his parrot Jarvis and his dog Friday. And he wrote in a part for Bruce, his friend, and how he worked under Tony and they squabbled but they were best friends.

You ‘wrote’ him about your becoming a professor, accepting a Nobel peace price, and feeling lonely at times because men were so intimidated by your mind. Then, of course, the story got a twist when Tony, in his letter, thanked you for the wedding invitation. Then, you invented a man named Jude who was brilliant and difficult at times but mostly wonderful. You spoke of a house in the country with plenty of room for your two kids to play around in.

Things got sad when Tony invented a son named Peter. He said he was so proud of him and how kind and brilliant he was. He talked about how scared he was that something would happen to him and how worried he was that he was a bad father. He’d even teared up. So, you responded saying that you were sure he was an amazing father and that they were both lucky to have each other, and you cried too, because it was late and early and you hadn’t spoken to your parents in a month and you hadn’t slept in a week, and you were a sympathetic crier. So, for a few minutes the both of you sat on the front porch of a frat house, party music thumping in the background, crying over being bad imaginary parents.

You wrote your dream lives to each other. You laughed and you cried, but nothing compared to the silence after this letter:

“Dear Uncle Tony, Y/N has passed away. We’re grieving, but we are comforted by the knowledge that she lived a full life. She left you a box in her will. It’s filled with old letters spanning back 50-no no no, no way, sorry- 60 years. They’re from you. She cherished them very deeply. Thank you for being a friend to my mother and for always being family to us. With love, John.”

“The letters stopped, I guess.” Tony murmured after a long time. You were both cuddled up on one step now, his arm around your shoulders, yours around his waist. Now, both of you were sober as rocks, looking out at the downtrodden grass at the bottom of the steps.

“I don’t know. It just sort of happened.”

“S’okay. You were 80 something years old. It happens.”

“Yeah.”

“Uncle Tony, huh?” He poked you a bit under the ribs. You laughed and rested against him, trying not to fall asleep.

“That’s what I leave behind: a box of letters and family. Take care of them for me.”

“Hey, calm down there. It’s just a game. It’s just a stupid game.”

“What time is it?”

“4.”

“4am and a lifetime away.”

“It’s just a stupid game, Y/N. Don’t worry yourself about it.”

[buckitybarnes]

It’s His Nature [2]: Armadillo - Bucky x Reader

Summary: You learned through moments after meeting Bucky what his “animal” side was like. [Aka. Using metaphorical animal stereotypes to describe pieces of Bucky ]

in this chapter: when you first meet him he’s shy, almost cold. You take initiative in opening him up and seeing the good in him that Steve insists is there.

Series Warnings/Themes: I’ll always be cussin’ please close ur ears, kids. Slowburn. Angst. Fluff.

Author’s Note: I switched to present tense because it’s so much easier to write :’D Barely noticeable, but a change nonetheless. A cute gif to remedy any potential sadness you feel during this chapter.

Y/N = Your Name

Armadillo: Distant, Skittish

You remember the first time meeting him so vividly:

Without breaking eye contact, Bucky staggered forward, his legs suddenly forgot what it was like to walk. Steve was quick, rushing up to act as a crutch. He then noticed the stares between you and Bucky. He nearly jumps at his friend’s voice. 

“Who’s that?” 

This was weird. It usually took a week for Bucky to start talking after being pulled out. His voice was rough and sleep-deprived even though he had been unconscious for months. 

Steve glanced up at you, watching you move towards the two. His smile was unsure, but he gently patted Bucky on the shoulder in fake confidence. “Good company, I swear.”

You watched as doctors and scientists surround Bucky to run quick tests. You didn’t fail to notice his stiff posture and hazy eyes, as if he were remembering something horrible. Here he was, the cold-blooded murderer cowering before small needles and heart-rate monitors. In front of you, he was like a completely different person. His focus practically darted around the room although it was definitely familiar to him. Your gaze softened before it averted away from the scene. You suddenly felt bad for thinking so harshly of him. Unbeknownst to you, he kept sneaking glances over, unsure of why he was so entranced. He certainly did not remember you. Then again, he was still trying to piece those fragmented memories together from long ago.

“[Y/n!]” Steve calls for you and you quickly come over, pushing away the remaining guilt and nauseating feeling in your gut. You tell yourself to focus and have courage as you near them. There’s an awkward silence until you muster the strength to speak. “[Y/N] [Y/L/N]. It’s nice to finally meet you, Sargent Barnes.” There’s a pause as you gather your thoughts. “I’m here to help make you comfortable in any way I can.” You smile crookedly and held out a hand for him to shake. “I’m sure we’ll be real close by the end of this” you tease, trying to ease the apparent tension. 

Shockingly, Bucky doesn’t respond, his gaze isn’t murderous like the soldier, but it was cold and full of resentment. You’re left dumbfounded as he moves past you, weakly stumbling out of the room. In complete contrast from his earlier posture, his shoulders are held high and movements are quick, albeit clumsy. Steve shoots you an apologetic look and follows suit, probably trying to see what the problem was. He was just as surprised. 

You stood there reevaluating the situation incredulously as the lab assistants pack up their things. The chamber was empty now and you couldn’t help but mumble to yourself. 

“Did I say something wrong…?” 

You were unaware of the arguing going on between the two outside. Steve held his ground after explaining the situation while Bucky refuted in pure anger. “How could you pull her into this? Another innocent person caught in the cross-fire. Really Steve? This is your fuckin’ dumbest idea yet!” He’s almost crying in frustration now. “You can’t put her through this.” It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you at all. 

In the end, you’d only end up hurt like the rest.

It’s been 2 weeks since that encounter and you have yet to even hear his voice. You were frustrated to say the least. How were you supposed to do your job if the asshole couldn’t even look at you? Your predicament was the complete opposite of what you had predicted before. You weren’t afraid of him, he was afraid of you, or at least it seemed that way.

While the rest of the team left to gather intel, you were alone at the compound with Bucky for the next 4 weeks. Steve insisted that he stayed with you in case, but you brushed him off, determined to do this independently. 

Days were spent with you trying to casually interact with him while he either nodded curtly, shook his head, or left the room. It was evident that he hated your company. In fact, he probably just hated you with a burning passion for some odd reason.

You sit at the common room table, drinking a cup of coffee while browsing the internet. “Okay Google, how do I take care of a former assassin who won’t talk to me?” Hitting enter, you were faced with 0 matches. “Figures” you grumble, running a hand down your face in exhaustion. It was nearly 4:30 in the morning. You had lost sleep even before meeting Bucky. Insomnia wasn’t quite the word for it, but waking up in the middle of the night sweating or crying from anxiety sure brought you closer to the night owls of the team. 

It wasn’t uncommon to find you working beside a disheveled-looking Bruce Banner or testing out one of Tony’s new toys. Your night would start with you bolting out of bed in fear of a nightmare. You would then hurry down to find either of previously mentioned lab rats. No words were needed to be exchanged. One distraught look would earn a silent understanding and an inviting gesture to the empty seat across the table. How your friends dealt with stresses after missions and grueling thoughts, you’ll never know. 

Ironically, you’re jolted to an alert state by the sound of a scream. 

You rush, the stool underneath you screeching until it tipped over and fell completely. Running as fast as you can, you find yourself struggling to catch a breath. ‘I really need to start running more.’ As soon as the thought crossed your mind, you mentally yelled at yourself to focus. There was one other person with as shitty dreams as yours. 

You nearly slam the door open, causing a loud bang and a glass-framed picture to fall and break. To your surprise, he was still flailing in his sleep despite the noise. “Bucky” you call out calmly, turning on the lamp. He continues gripping his comforter like a lifeline as he growls. The bed-frame was splintered at the ends due to his destructive tossing and turning. “Bucky” you say assertively this time, sweeping his messy hair away from his sweating forehead. You certainly weren’t ready when he violently swings his metal arm, hitting you across your stomach. Back hitting the nightstand, your mouth opens in shock. You choke out, gasping for air. “Fucking s-shit. You really know how to pack a punch.” You’re shaking, but you stumble back towards him in determination. He seems all but calm now, which prompts you to try once more. 

“Buck-”

You pause, seeing what was coming but too petrified to move. His hand flies up to wrap around your neck. He squeezes tightly which causes you to sputter and whimper until it was no longer possible. You’re almost lifted off the ground from his grip but as soon as his eyes shoot open, you’re dropped to your knees. The bed in front of you seems to shift vertically and you realize that you were starting to see double. 

It remains all but quiet in the room except for the sounds from the both of you breathing heavily. Your gaze is tiredly set to the ground when you hear panicked shuffling from his movements. He’s kneeling next to you now, shakily touching your shoulder. 

“[Y/n]?” he chokes out. If you weren’t so uneasy, you would’ve playfully complimented him on his ability to finally speak. Although you’ve almost calmed down from the whole ordeal, Bucky is still trembling and holding onto your arm. He was like a child clinging to his mother desperately. You can tell that he wants to help, but is clueless on what to do. 

You turn to him, trying to smile reassuringly but it falters when you need to cough. That sets even more stress into him. His eyebrows knit together before he looks around the room. “Can I get you something? How can I help?” Again, if you were feeling like yourself, you would have been shocked by how talkative he was becoming. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine” you mumble, gripping onto his knee to both calm him down and stabilize yourself from fainting. “You had a nightmare I think” you state, looking up now. “A really bad one apparently” you joke, but it only seems to make him feel worse. His jaw clenches and his lips fail to smile at your comment. 

As soon as your eyes meet, his gaze drops again, focusing on your hand touching him. “Shit. I’m so sorry- I knew this would happen eventually” he whispers, holding back tears. He sniffs loudly as he gives a firm shake of his head. “You’re not safe with me.”

It suddenly dawned on you. His behavior coming clear like pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly into place. From the very start, Bucky had no intention of hurting you. You can’t help but wonder if this was the reason he had left the chamber after you mentioned being close to him. He wasn’t afraid of you.

He was afraid of himself. 

He seems to take your silence as anger and slowly rises to move away. Something within, however, urges you to quickly pull him back down by his hand. As he follows your lead, he’s completely sitting in front of you, utterly confused by your actions. You notice he was bracing himself, as if he were back with Hydra and ready for punishment against something he wasn’t in control of. You have no clue what you wanted to say, but you desperately needed to keep him here and reach out to him once more. “Bucky.” Your voice cracks in exhaustion.

His distant gaze snaps back at full attention, blue eyes watching you keenly. 

You’re recovering from the catastrophic event moments ago, a warm smile easily replacing your frown. All this time he wanted the help- no, he needed help, but was afraid of harming you and you were too caught up to see it. “It���s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He tries to protest and tell you how wrong you are, but you’re quick to pull him into a loose embrace. You were afraid that if you hugged him too tight he would panic. To your immediate surprise, his arms wrap around your waist and he hugs you back with full force. With your head on his shoulder, you can feel tears start to hit your back. His head hung low, holding onto you to ground himself and recollect his frazzled mind. How could you still be here? After his attempt to kill you, how could you be so forgiving?

They say that human contact and interaction was essential in a person’s life. It wasn’t just a comfort thing, it was a way to show trust and admiration. You now understand that the only kind of human “touch” he had were the ones tied to Hydra. For a long time, his only experience had been crushing holds for needle injections and memory wipes. Seeing him here, holding you so vulnerably as if you’ll drift away the moment he lets go shattered your heart into a million pieces. Fuck, you were so wrong about him.

A fire ignites within you and you’re more than avid on helping him become his old self again. He was no longer the Winter Soldier. He was James Buchanan Barnes.

“Please don’t shut me out anymore” you whisper quietly, voice wavering slightly. 

He doesn’t respond verbally this time, but instead squeezes you tighter for a moment in confirmation. Your smile widens and you can’t help but let your own tears roll down your face at the acceptance. 

You vowed that he would never have to feel alone again.

[batboys-batboys-whachu-gonna-do]

"Let's finish this, brat! I want to go home," Jason yelled under his helmet while kicking one of the men that surrounded him.

"Todd, I'm not freaking magical so shut the hell up and do your damn job!" Damian yelled back from the other side of the room, where Jason couldn't directly see him. The only confirmation of Damian's work was his cursing and the bodies of the enemies hitting the floor loudly.

He chuckled under he's breath as he saw two of them trying to get up and then immediately sitting back down because of the current Robin's threats.

"Dare to come back here, and.." he said whilst flipping a man and making him hit the floor with a thud "...and you'll definitely NOT like it," he finished kicking another one's kneecap.

A strong punch in the stomach woke Red Hood from his trance, the poor guy wasn't even in a defensive stance so instead of using any weapon he just threw an uppercut knocking him out.

Jason had to admit that he tried to call the attention to him, but the kid was and easy target, or that's what the bad guys thought...and that affected greatly to the point where Damian had almost 15 more people around him than the legendary Red Hood.

Even if Jason knew that the brat could handle it, it was still unfair. For them, not for Damian, who seemed to enjoy it.

The Hood headed rapidly to the other room because of the sound of a threatening blade.

"What did I tell you about being too mean, Dames, huh?" He said, eyeing the many unconscious men in the room. Did he just talk like Dick? Dear god.

"T-T," Damian answered him using the handle of the sword to break some guy's nose.

Jason joined him amused by his little brother's way to obey his orders, they worked rarely in silence and more effectively than normal, just a few comments between them. Even if they weren't the best friends, there was always a promise of protection between them.

Almost half an hour later, they were done. Mostly because it was very easy: clear the place, no killing.

The master mind of the organization had already been taken out of the equation and the people in the building weren't even near the high ranks...they were just thieves and the trash that desperately craved something in the streets.

"Guys, we have a problem," Tim spoke in their ears as they waited in the rooftop of that place in the middle of nowhere and added, "you'll have to wait, we're having trouble in here."

Jason groaned,"How much, Timbers?"

"Five hours, more or less," Red Robin answered trying to sound at ease but failing epicly.

"Drake," Damian said softly but with a clear hint of anger, "What the hell happened?"

"Madness. No one is hurt, but this new whatever that is got us in a trap and with some kind of device blocked the Batwing and almost everything else. We're working on it," Tim explained quickly as if he was in a rush.

"I want a call at any change of situation, Drake." sighed Damian. Tim huffed at that, but answered affirmatively.

Jason started wandering around the rooftop, touching everything and looking more bored with each step. Damian analyzed the night, noticing in a weird gleam by the door, maybe the moonlight reflecting, but suddenly realized what it really was.

He moved faster than he thought he could and pushed Jason and himself off the roof.

"What the fuck, kid?" was the only thing that escaped Jason's mouth. He desperately tried to catch Damian in the air but something up there exploded, they felt the heat and the strength of the bomb making everything blow away,pushing them apart.

From that height, it was granted a certain death and in the commotion he couldn't even find Robin.

Out of nowhere a hand found its way to his and took a tight grasp. Damian had improvised, his eyes looked determined but he knew pain was going to come as soon as the rope tensed.

"Damian, I need you to push me up,"Jason shouted. They were in a horrible position, if they stayed like that both of Robin's arms would end up broken.

Damian tried his best, but there was no way he could just lift a man twice his size just using his body and there was no time. The rope tensed, and the sound of a loud crack and a feral whine flooded the air.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, Dames," Jason said pulling himself up when they reached the wall. "Don't move, I'll take it from here," he added in a whisper watching the pain in Damian's eyes. The poor kid couldn't even talk.

Jason grabbed something out of Robin's utility belt and secured him to his chest.

The harsh surface of the building made climbing easier, he broke the nearest window and carefully entered the room trying to not cause Damian any more pain.

The kid soon started to drift into sleep, almost passing out.

"Damian, I'm gonna have to put them in place," warned Jason without hesitation, "or it'll be worse."

Robin just nodded and prepared himself by biting some cloth that Jason handed him. He closed his eyes and screamed as he felt the waves of pain hit him, big tears formed and disappeared into the cloth.

A soon as all Jason could do at the moment was done, Damian fell asleep.

"Timmy, we had a problem," Jason informed him, emotions mixed with his voice.

Tim made an annoyed sound and was interrupted by Jason,"Damian got both of his arms broken and I seriously don't want him to stay injured in a place like this. He's asleep because of the meds that I found in here, but I wouldn't trust them. Plus, we didn't kill anyone so they'll be probably waking up soon and if the police arrives..."

"Damn," his brother huffed on the other side of the line, preoccupation very present in his tone, "We'll get there as soon as we can or I'll send you someone"

"Okay," Jason simply responded, almost irritated, looking back at Damian, who was spreaded on the floor. He took his helmet off and putting the boy wonder in his arms he sat down, resting Damian's head in his shoulder and covering him with his cape.

An hour later Damian woke up with a grunt, "shit," he whispered waking Jason up too with the sound.

"Don't move too much," Jason warned him, so the little Wayne just rubbed his head on Jason's shoulder trying to find comfort.

"I'm sorry, I should have noticed before,"he said to the kid in his arms.

"Don't be," he answered and chuckled, "but it actually was your fault."

"I know," Jason stated bluntly, taking all the blame on himself. There was a change in Damian's eyes.

"Hey," he whispered, "don't worry about it. We're a team, like hell I was going to let something like that happen."

"And here I thought you hated me," he answered, surprised and filled with guilt.

"Tt, I'm just bugging you. If I truly hated you, I'd just ignore the hell out of you." Damian added, fully awake but still weak.

"Wait, but you do that with Tim all the time, does it mean...?" Jason stopped talking because of the bat-shut-up-now-stare the kid was giving him.

"Obviously not, if I really hated him I'd just start to question his job. You see, while you are in need of someone who acknowledges your presence, he is in need someone who trusts his decisions," Damian slowly explained with a stern look, like it was obvious

Jason was startled by how much the kid was talking in such pain, but let him continue, Damian never talked much to him anyway.

"The only moments I truly intervene physically is when he's stuck or about to do something stupid." The kid added thoughtfully.

"Dames, you two fight like every day"

"First of all, Drake is 24/7 in a state of sleep deprivation, and he needs to get out of the damn cave from time to time. Plus I get to bother him, it's a win-win situation," Damian told him glaring annoyedly to the ceiling and continued, "but I'm almost always aware of what he's investigating. Being in that state can compromise the missions."

"And what about me, pup? Do you have an eye on me too?" Jason laughed as he saw Damian nodding in an odd manner, with unfazed but surprisingly warm eyes.

"I know where all your safe houses are. Remember whe you got pizza delivered every time you were in one? Yeah...and no sleeping unless I know everyone is home. Pennyworth doesn't like it, but I use the time wisely." Damian was slipping many of his secrets in that conversation, maybe it was because of the situation or the medicine, Jason thought.

"What about the girls?" Jason asked.

"I respect them too much to do anything to them, and Cass will still eat my food even if I lick it so it's pointless. I've gotten to appreciate our current Fatgirl" Damian smiled at the thought, "..and everyone gets enough annoyed with my fights with Tim so there's no actual need. The only one that never seems to be bothered is Dick, I'd have to really kill someone to for him to be mad at me and I think he would still forgive me."

"He would, but you don't want to see him truly mad. He's worse than Bruce"

"Really? He never seemed to be like Father," Damian wondered and perked his eyebrows up, encouraging Jason to speak.

"He's different in many ways, but Bruce raised him up and some things always stay with us." Jason explained, hoping Damian would understand him.

"Father is.." Damian started but Jason asked right away, "why do you call him like that?"

"What else should I call him, idiot? He's my father," said Damian harshly, making his question sound way more stupid than it was.

"It's just that it doesn't sound affectionate, I don't know," Jay said.

"Maybe it's because of the way I learned English." The kid said as if it explained everything.

"Wait, English isn't your first language?

"Nope, it's Arabic" Damian responded. Suddenly his eyes lighted up remembering something.

"The first Christmas I spent here was very weird, mostly because reading about something is pretty different from experiencing it.

Anyways, for some Dick of a reason," the boy said gaining a a hard laugh from Jason, "Father didn't let me go on patrol because Dick said that I had to stay home and enjoy the real Christmas. How the heck would I enjoy being alone? on Christmas? But at the moment I really didn't get what it all was about so I followed what Pennyworth said. And I'm not gonna lie, I actually had fun, but it was just the two of us, and surely Pennyworth wanted to have everyone already home as much I wanted." He made a pause, making sure Jason was listening and kept going, " All of you arrived later than expected and I was so tired because of the patrols of the nights before that somehow I just switched languages. I called Father Baba , he almost choked." A grin spreader on Damian face, but the pain could still be clearly seen.

"What does it mean?" Jason inquired mostly because he wanted to hear Damian's voice, because in fact he knew what it meant.

"It's something like daddy, more or less" the kid confessed, and switched his position to face Jason. He didn't look bothered nor embarrassed, just tired.

"Maybe he wasn't ready to hear it," Jason suggested shrugging slowly to not hurt Damian, but he managed to hurt him with his words.

That's when it hits him, the hopeless look on Damian's eyes, the pout on his mouth and the way he tried to hold back his tears: Damian was just a kid. Jason would call him that to annoy him, not because he thought that the Robin was one. It didn't matter how hard his eyes looked in the field, he had seen worse stuff in his short life than Bruce in his own, and the boy was still a little kid.

He had been programmed since he was a baby to be perfect and he had betrayed his mother by joining Batman, a man he didn't know, and Jason bet it was way harder that it sounded.

Jason remembered his time with the League and wanted to shout, he wanted to kill Talia with his own hands. He wanted to slap Bruce in the face and tell him that Damian needed him, that he himself needed him. He wanted to erase the bad memories out of his brother's head, but the sad truth was that maybe he'd have to erase everything.

Instead of saying anything, he just pressed his foreheads together as he had seen many mothers do to their children . Jason didn't expect the sound he heard, it was a genuine giggle. Damian Wayne was giggling, that broken kid. A kid that got dragged into a cruel world, that had no chance,no choice, that didn't think he could choose.

Jason giggled too, the boy's laugh was contagious enough to make him feel something tingling in his chest. He really needed to stay away from Dick and his gross brotherly behavior.

"What is so funny?" He asked Damian while opening his eyes only to see a pair of green ones staring him back.

"I can't explain why, but it makes me feel better."

"Yeah?" Jason asked incredulous, still the smile in his face

"Affirmative," the boy answered resting his head against the Hood's shoulder.

"Hey, pup," Jason called after a while, "do you like being a Robin?"

"Honestly? I don't know, but I have to do it. Father needs a Robin," he answered simply.

"No, Bruce needs a son. Batman needs a Robin," the man closed his eyes, "you've been fighting for too long and you didn't even choose to do so. Is there something you wanna do, kiddo? I know you're super intelligent and probably in the League they already thought you all any school could teach you, but...?" He inquired, feeling Damian moving nervously in his lap.

"I enjoy painting," the kid said, kind of embarrassed and proud at the same time, "Pennyworth says I'm as skilled in that matter as I am in sword fighting," he added.

Jason let an approving sound escape his lips," and that's much to say since you'd kick all of our butts if we were challenged to a duel, including Bruce"

"Probably," he answered, but didn't sound proud or anything else. It was a plain voice, he probably had bad memories about it. Maybe even nightmares in which he had to fight his family.

"Let's do something," he told his younger brother, "while you recover I'll do all of your patrols and when you're back on the game I'll ask you again if you want to go on field. If you want, maybe you and I can put our patrols together and if you don't want to I'll talk to Dick and Bruce. Maybe I can make them understand, you know, that way you avoid getting in fights."

"If I decide to quit, I want to be with you when we tell them" Damian stated, still unsure but determined to stand for himself.

"Okay, buddy" Jason answered, caressing the boys hair.

Damian fell asleep again in that position, curled in Jason's legs. Jason talked to the device in his ear.

"Timmy, how are we doing?" He asked, but instead of hearing his brothers voice there was a deep rage filled voice: Bruce.

"What the hell happened there? It was a simple mission, almost impossible to get hurt and you still managed blow more things up." The man said in the other line, not that Jason wasn't used to it, but one thing was getting himself hurt and other thing was being the cause of someone getting hurt. So for once in his life, he didn't talk back, he just listened to Bruce ranting and telling him all the stupid things he had done that night, and in all his life. He could hear the preoccupation hid behind the rage, but it was unreachable for everyone.

"Father," they heard Damian in the communicator, his voice muffled and sleepy, "no blame must be held, the trap was placed to be undetectable."

Bruce released a grunt of disapproval, but he sounded also relieved.

"I want the details of what happened when you come back, and you two are grounded" Bruce stated firmly.

Jason just couldn't contain himself and said, "Bruce I don't even live with you and Damian has both of his arms broken" he could feel how Bruce was about to snap again, but Damian snorted just before Batman could even start. Bruce stopped himself immediately and asked with an alarmed voice, "what's wrong? Something happened?"

"What? No, Bruce, he's just laughing. Have you ever heard of that?" Jason answered, looking at Damian in his lap, who chuckled and said, "You're an idiot, Todd."