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arlana-likes-to-write · 10 months

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Second Chance - Chapter 2

Masterlist

Warning: mention of chemotherapy and symptoms, mention of death

Word count: 3.3k

Tony held open the door for you to head back into the tower. Exhaustion was the best way to describe how you were feeling. Every part of your body was sore. To your surprise, a small body ran into your legs. You looked down at a young girl with shoulder-length brown hair and eyes identical to yours and Tony’s. “Hi,” you smiled. She blinked up at you. You could see the gears in her brain trying to figure out who you were. “You must be Princess Morgan I’ve heard so much about.” It was a little white lie. The CEO and billionaire kept their daughter out of the limelight as best as possible. But they did announce her birth. She took a step back, glancing behind you to look at her mom and dad.

“Who are you?” She asked. You smiled. Now that was a complicated question as it wasn’t a simple answer. How do you tell a child that you were her sister?

“I’m a friend of your dad's,” it wasn’t a total lie but not the full truth. You didn’t like lying to kids just because they were younger wasn’t a good enough reason to lie to them. “We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“Why is that?” One of the reasons you loved kids so much was their thousand and one questions. You heard hurried footsteps walking behind the younger girl. It was the Black Widow.

“Sorry, Pepper,” she said. “This little nugget is very sneaky.” She attacked Morgan’s sides which made the girl dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“Don’t worry about it Nat,” the CEO said. “We are done talking.” Morgan gasped suddenly, bringing the attention back to her.

“If you're friends with my daddy, does that make us friends?” She asked. Ah. The minds of children were so simple, you envied them.

“Do you want to be friends?” You questioned. She nodded, jumping on the balls of her feet.

“New friend, new friend. Let’s go play,” she grabbed your hand.

“Morgan,” Pepper’s voice was stern with a hint of amusement at her daughter but Morgan stopped in her tracks. “You have to ask before you drag someone off.” She sighed, dropping her hand.

“Can you play with me?” She asked. Oh, it was so hard for you to say no to little kids. You saw Pepper speak with eyes, ‘You don’t have to.’ But you nodded.

“Lead the way, Princess Morgan,” she giggled, grabbing your hand again and dragging you off.

Pepper watched with a fond smile on her face as the duo ran off. She was surprised by how well you handled everything. You had to be no more than 25 but you walked around with such grace and a positive outlook on the world. She looked at her husband, who has been oddly quiet since they learned of your condition. “Are you okay?” She asked, rubbing his arm. Her gentle touch seemed to snap him out of his trance.

“FRIDAY, please call all available Avengers to the conference room,” he ordered the AI. “Tell them it’s urgent.” He took off towards the conference room without another word. Natasha raised her eyebrow, questioning his odd behavior but Pepper shook her head. It was better to explain it once. She and Natasha walked to the conference room in comfortable silence. There weren’t many Avengers in the tower. Kate and America were on a mission, Yelena was in St. Petersburg, Bruce took a short trip to New Asgard, and Rhodey was in DC with Maria and Nick. Once the fight with Thanos was over, the Avengers went back home and tried to help those who came back. Her mind seemed to wander back to you. Were you part of the population that Thanos’ snapped away?

She remembered reading about Jessica’s passing. Their paths crossed once at a conference in DC and Pepper would have never guessed she had a daughter. A daughter who shared half the DNA with her own. It was a small world.

When Pepper entered the conference room Tony was already standing up front. She chose to stand next to him, offering any support she could give him. “I appreciate all of you coming on such short notice.”

“What’s going on Stark?” Steve questioned.

“It has to be serious. I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam mumbled.

“That’s because it is serious,” he snapped. The Avengers looked at each other, having a silent conversation with one another. They’ve done enough missions together to speak without saying anything. Tony sighed. “Sorry,” he apologized. “As many of you know, Y/n claims to be my daughter. Her mother and I were together before Pepper and I.”

“Where is her mother?” Bucky asked.

“Dead,” Pepper answered. “She died in a car accident a few years ago.”

“She has cancer,” Tony told the team. Pepper could hear the slight shake in his voice showing how much this was affecting him. It was a lot. A stranger showed up, claiming to be his daughter, and telling them she needs help. “Chemotherapy isn’t working anymore. She needs a bone marrow transplant if not she has 6 months to live.”

“Jesus,” Sam mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Natasha said. “But I’m a little confused about why you called a meeting to tell us this.” Pepper was with the Black Widow on this. It made sense to tell the team all at once but she saw Tony chew on the inside of his cheek.

“My guess is Mr. Stark is going to ask if you all can see if you are a match for Miss. Easton. Only 2% of the entire population are registered bone marrow donors,” Vision said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a 1% chance for a parent to match their child, 50% for siblings, and 29%-79% for everyone else.” Tony nodded, resting his hand on his chin.

“I’m asking a lot,” he said. “Especially to help a total stranger but I’m all she has left.”

“You're wrong, Tony,” Wanda smiled. “She has us.” Pepper looked at the Sokovian.

“I’m guessing you knew,” the CEO said. A slight blush rose on her cheeks as she nodded.

“As soon as she introduced herself. For someone so young, she’s not scared.”

You glanced over Morgan’s shoulder as you heard footsteps approaching. It was Pepper. “Come on, come on,” she tugged on your arm. “You have to continue the story!” All her toys were laid out in a makeshift battlefield, two sides facing each other. You smiled at the CEO before returning your attention to the young girl.

“So there they stood, the king's men facing the Swarm’s army. The king’s army were strong men who were called forth to protect their homes. But,” you picked up a stuffed animal. It was a dragon, a gift from Natasha and Bucky that Morgan informed you of. “The Swarm didn’t just have men but a dragon that breathed fire,” you noticed Pepper being more interested in the story. You set the plushie down. “The king’s hand steps forward, with the spellbound sword ready to fight the dragon. But a voice in the crowd told him to stop,” Morgan was bouncing where she sat. “The king’s daughter, Princess Phoebe stood forward and took the sword. She faced the army,” You choose one of her Barbie's as the princess, maneuvering her arm to mimic she was holding a sword over her head. “And she said, ‘I will kill the dragon and lead this army to victory. Who will join me?’ But no one stepped forward.” Morgan gasped. “The princess wasn’t worried. She knew she would have to earn the men’s trust. So, she faced the dragon,” You grabbed the plushie. “Alone.”

“What happened? Did she win?” She asked. You sighed.

“It was a long and hard fight,” you paused for dramatic effect. “She killed the dragon, led her father’s army to victory, and became the first Queen to sit on the throne of Krucia.” Morgan jumped up to her feet and cheered at your story's ending. She saw Pepper standing in the doorway.

“Mommy, did you hear?” She ran over to her, throwing her body at her legs. “The princess won! She won!” You smiled at the interaction, it made you miss your mom.

“I did,” the CEO smiled. “What do you say to Y/n?” She let go of her mother’s legs and ran back over to you. You were surprised when she hugged you tight.

“Thank you for playing with me,” you hugged her back. “Can you tell me another story?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I have to come up with another one. Now let’s clean up your toys,” the pout that formed on her face made you laugh. “If Princess Phoebe can beat a dragon you can clean up your toys,” you said, tapping her nose. She sighed but nodded. It didn’t take long for you both to put her toys away and the playroom was soon spotless.

“Morgan,” Pepper said, once the last toy was put away. “Your father wants to see you in his lab.”

“Am I in trouble?” She asked. You stifled your laughter at Pepper’s reaction, not expecting her daughter’s question.

“Did you do something to get in trouble?” Pepper countered. Morgan shrugged, skipping past her mother. You giggled, slowly standing, and ignored the ache in your body. “Not many people get her to clean up her toys. I may have to steal that story.”

“Go for it,” you said, placing your bag on your shoulder. “I have a ton of them.” You smiled. “I draw comic books,” you answered Pepper’s unasked question. “I learned that I can hold a child’s attention longer with pictures instead of words. I bet I’ve made up stories about all of you.” She laughed.

“You’ll have to show us them. I’ll show you to your room.” You followed the CEO to the elevator. She told you that she was taking you to the floor below her and Tony’s. You were grateful they were giving you a place to stay, especially with how tired you were. She must have seen it in your eyes as she rubbed your back and opened the door for you.

You were shocked, yet not surprised to see a small apartment. The door opened to a personal kitchen and a living space. Pepper walked into the living room which consisted of a dining room table, couch, and TV, and opened up the blinds to show the view of the city. “Tony knows how to spend his money for the best views,” you mumbled, walking over to the window.

“You aren’t wrong,” Pepper said, glancing over to you. “He rented out the top of the Empire State Building for date night.” You smiled.

“Romantic.” It was. If you had a partner and the money to spoil them like that you would do the same thing.

“Your room is over here,” she said, leading you down a hallway, past a small closet, and into a bedroom. It was simple. A queen-sized bed was pushed against the wall with a private bathroom and closet. “We’ll make a trip to your apartment to get your things and if you need anything ask FRIDAY. She’ll order it for you.” You nodded, sitting on the bed.

“Thank you,” you said. “I know I came here and turned everyone’s life upside down so I appreciate it.”

“Your family,” she said simply. “Besides with this group it’s the most normal thing,” you laughed which quickly turned into a yawn. “Get some sleep and come find me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Pepper.” She smiled and left your room. When you heard the door close, you let out a slow breath. You felt a weight lifted off your shoulders on how well today went. But you knew you had to be realistic. Even though they agreed to help doesn’t mean they will be matched. It was a small percentage that Tony would be a match. There was a Plan B. It took a very long time for your doctor to convince you to reach out to the billionaire. Doctor Lucas Carpenter. He was a family friend and he had the honor to watch you grow up, something he liked to remind you every single day. So Plan B was to increase your chemo dosage and the frequency of the treatment.

You rubbed your forehead and emptied your bag onto the bed. You plugged in your phone charger and attached your phone. The pill counter you used was put on the bathroom counter and the rest of your belongings were thrown on the floor to be dealt with later. You climbed underneath the covers, taking off your beanie and throwing it on top of your bag. It wasn’t long before the exhaustion of the day caught up with you and you fell asleep.

“Daddy!” Morgan ran into her father’s lap. Tony had just enough time to set the swabs down before catching his youngest. “Mommy said you wanted to see me.”

“And what has Mommy said about running in my lab?” He asked. She smiled.

“But she isn’t here now.” Tony sighed, shaking his head with a soft smile on his face. The billionaire sat Morgan down on his workbench.

“I need you to use your best listening skills,” he tickled right underneath her ears. Her laughter echoed in the quiet lab. It was music to Tony’s ear and a wonderful reminder of the life he had. But it made him wonder what he missed with you. “Y/n needs our help,” he continued once her laughter calmed down.

“Help?” She repeated back to him. “Is she okay? I was just playing with her.”

“She’s sick,” Tony simply said. He wasn’t sure how to explain a topic like cancer to his youngest. He and Pepper tried to shield the darker parts of the world from Morgan and they did their best. But she was smart and knew that sometimes her daddy, aunts, and uncles had to go away to keep the world safe. “And we could help her. Do you want to try?” She nodded. He grabbed two cotton swabs, he purposely didn’t do it with the others so he could show Morgan. “I’m going to do a swab of your mouth like his,” he made sure to get the inside of both of his cheeks. Once he was done, he put it in a bag. “See simple. Are you ready?” He wasn’t going to force her to do it if he didn’t want to. She stared at the cotton swap.

“Will it hurt?” She whispered. Tony shook his head.

“It’ll just tickle,” he said. He wasn’t going to go into detail about the procedure if they were a match. They couldn’t get ahead of themselves. Morgan opened her mouth and Tony quickly swapped both of her cheeks. “There,” he sealed her sample and labeled it. “All done. Thank you, sweetheart. You're my hero.” Morgan shook her head, hugging her father.

“I’m not a superhero, Daddy, you are.” At the moment, Tony didn’t feel like one. He was angry that Jessica kept you from him. Tony kissed the top of her head.

“I love you 3000,” he whispered.

“Love you too Daddy.”

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” you heard a calming voice pull you out of your dream state. “Come on. We can’t sleep anymore.” You were awake but you did not want to be. Groaning, you buried your head deeper into the pillow.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumbled. Someone giggled. You opened your eyes, peeking to the side, and saw that it was Wanda. “What time is it?” You asked, flopping onto your back.

“7 o’clock,” your eyes widened. You got to the tower around 1300 and fell asleep around 1430, you did not mean to sleep for that long. “You’ve had a busy day and we wanted you to rest. But dinner is ready and you need to eat.” That was true. You had a small breakfast due to your nerves and the crackers she got you for lunch.

“Thank you,” you said, sitting up. “Give me a second and we can head down.” You walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face.

“We are having lasagna,” she told you. You opened your pill container and pulled out an anti-nausea pill, just in case. “We weren’t sure what you liked.”

“That’s fine,” you stepped out of the bathroom and picked up the beanie on the ground, whipping it off before placing it on your head.

“I want you to know you don’t have to wear a beanie in front of us,” you shrugged.

“It’s second nature to wear it,” you told her as you walked out of your room and to the front door. “Most people stare at me and I get uncomfortable. So who lives on this floor?” You asked her as you waited for the elevator. Wanda explained each floor had 4 apartments and a common space to share. Peter, Kate, and America were on your floor.

“But America is usually in Kate’s room. They’ve been dating for a few months.” Cute. You were excited to meet them. When the metal doors opened, the smells hit you immediately. You scrunch your nose, hiding your disgust as you scratch your nose. It was the worst part of chemo. Not the hair loss or the fatigue, your taste buds and sense of smell changed. Going to grocery stores was a nightmare. It was a common side effect of chemotherapy and it would go away once the treatment was over. But now it was killing you especially since you loved cooking. Cooking was a way to communicate when you didn’t know the language or the way to learn about a different culture. It was a beautiful art form and it was impossible to cook when your senses were out of whack. It changed from day to day. Some foods made you nauseous but a week later it was your comfort food. It was annoying.

Natasha went to hand you a plate but you held up your hand, showing her the pill in your hand. She nodded, placing the plate on the counter. You quickly filled up a glass of water and took the pill. It was the tomato sauce and garlic that were causing your stomach to twist and turn. “Are you okay?” Tony asked. You nodded, filling up the glass.

“Worst part of chemo,” you smiled. “My sense of smell and taste gets all weird.” You put some salad on your plate and opted out of the garlic bread, which hurt because you loved garlic bread. Tony smiled sadly.

“We’ll figure it out, kid,” he said, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. It felt a little weird, receiving comfort from a man that was missing your entire life. You placed your hand on top of yours.

“Yeah, we will.” Morgan wanted to sit next to you. So you sat next to her and Tony and Pepper on the other side of Morgan. Natasha sat in front of you with Bucky next to her. You kept out of the conversation, trying to focus on keeping the food you were eating down.

“So,” Natasha said, directing the table to you. “Tell us about yourself.” You whipped your mouth with a napkin.

“Like what my favorite color is?” You questioned with a teasing smile. Natasha rolled her eyes, mumbling under her breath, ‘Great now there are two of them.’ You laughed. “I was homeschooled until I reached college. I double majored in marine biology and mechanical engineering then I got my doctorate in marine biology. I lived on a sailboat for a little bit.”

“By yourself?” Steve questioned. You nodded, taking the last bite of your salad. You wondered if they noticed your untouched lasagna.

“Aren’t you a little young to be living on a sailboat and getting your doctorate?” You shrugged. Probably.

“I graduated college when I was 15,” you simply said, cheeks burning at their impressed looks. You didn’t like to make a big deal of your accomplishments because you knew you were lucky to have the resources to accomplish everything. But you didn’t miss the proud smile on Tony’s face. And you smiled back.

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wonderlandleighleigh · 6 months

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Trick or Treat 💖

Sometimes shit just stalls. Here's some more Schneiders of Stars Hollow unfinished.

Lorelai beams at the middle aged woman who steps up to the front desk. “Hi. Welcome to the Independence Inn, how can I help you?”

“Are you Lorelai Gilmore?” the woman asks, pushing a lock of blonde hair from her face.

“Oh, uh- yes. I am.”

The woman looks relieved. “Oh, good! I’m in the right place.” She sticks out her hand. “I’m Kitty Bruce, I’m Lenny and Midge’s daughter.”

Lorelai lights up, shaking her hand. “Oh, wow, hi! I’ve heard so much about you! Lenny gushes about you nonstop.”

“He is a talkative guy,” Kitty jokes.

Lorelai giggles goodnaturedly. “He is at that. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I was wondering if your very nice inn already had an event planned in November,” Kitty says.

“Oh!” Lorelai leans over to look at the computer, clicking through to the events. “Not yet, no. Are you looking to book something? Like a family reunion, or…?”

“Not quite,” Kitty bites her lip. “So my father and Midge’s 37th anniversary is this November, and my siblings and I really want to throw them an anniversary party. Not too big, but nice, you know?”

“Wait, I thought their anniversary was in July,” Lorelai says, confused.

Kitty grins. “They had a courthouse marriage in November, but Midge’s mother Rose kind of foisted a traditional wedding on them the following July.”

“Aha,” Lorelai smirks. “Sounds about right.”

“It was very them,” Kitty nods. “Anyways, we tried to pull something together for their thirty-fifth, but then Aunt Astrid passed away, and everyone felt a little funny trying to plan a happy celebration, and last year everybody just got too busy, so we’re making a real go this year. And they love Stars Hollow, and since they’ve been talking about spending more time here, I thought your inn would be perfect.”

“We would love to host you guys,” Lorelai tells her. “Do they know?”

“Oh, please, if Daddy knew he wouldn’t show up and if Midge knew she’d try to plan the whole thing herself,” Kitty rolls her eyes. “This is a joint Maisel-Bruce-Weissman children's effort.”

“Noted,” Lorelai grins. “Your secret is safe with me.” She steps out from behind the desk and gestures for her to follow. “So…there is a little wrinkle with having the anniversary party here…”

“Oh?” Kitty asks, following her into the dining room and sitting at a table with the other woman.

“Your parents are well-loved,” Lorelai smiles at her gently. “Most of the town either doesn’t know or doesn’t care about their fame, but…everyone knows everyone and if you hold an anniversary party for them here, everyone who loves them is going to want to come.”

Kitty nods, thinking that over. “That does add a wrinkle to the plans…well…we have a big enough budget to invite more people…and if Daddy and Midge have so many people here, there’s no reason not to invite them. Especially since a lot of friends and family have started to pass on…”

Lorelai grins at her. “I promise you will only be a little sorry you said yes to this.”

Kitty laughs. “Well, I remember Babette and Mory from the old days…”

“Right. Babette and Mory, Myself and my daughter, Rory. Jess…”

“Oh, I know Jess!” Kitty grins. “He hung out at my parents’ place a little last year, he fit right in with our family.”

Lorelai nods slowly. “Right. Good. Jess’s Uncle Luke…Miss Patty…”

“Who I have to hide my husband from,” Kitty tacks on. “I’ve heard about her.”

“That’s her. Taylor, Lane, Sookie and Jackson - and you’ll meet Sookie in a little bit, she’ll be handling all the catering, and she’s an amazing chef.”

“Does she make cherry turnovers?” Kitty asks. “They’re my father’s favorite.”

“She does and they are to die for,” Lorelai assures the other woman. “I’ll do a final head count for you, and we can combine the guest lists and see how many we have in total.”

“Sounds perfect,” Kitty smiles. “Thank you so much for all your help, I think this is actually going to come together this year.”

“We will make it come together. I promise your father will hate it,” Lorelai jokes.

Kitty beams. “Perfect.”

*****

“So guess who stopped by the inn today.”

“David Bowie?” Rory tries jokingly as she studies in her dorm room in DC.

“I wish, but no. Lenny’s daughter Kitty.”

Rory smiles widely, sitting back in her chair “Lenny’s daughter?”

“Mhm. She and Midge’s kids are planning an anniversary party for Midge and Lenny and they want to have it at the Independence,” Lorelai tells her.

“Aww, that is so sweet,” Rory smiles.

“It is. But no telling The Schneiders,” Lorelai warns. “Apparently Midge will go into control freak mode and Lenny will just disappear off the face of the earth in an effort not to go.”

“Sounds right,” Rory nods. “Your secret is safe with me…wait…how do you hold an anniversary party for the Schneiders without inviting the whole town?”

“You don’t, so they’re inviting a good chunk,” Lorelai responds. “I think it’s going to be a lot of fun. Crazy, because these big events always are, but it’ll be really nice.”

“I bet they’ll love it even if they pretend to hate it,” Rory jokes.

Lorelai giggles as she looks over the guestlist. “Well, on the Stars Hollow side, there’s us, and Jess and Luke, Babette and Mory and Miss Patty, Lane, Sookie and Jackson, Taylor, Gypsy, Bootsie…and on the New York side of things, there’s all three kids and their families…Midge and Lenny’s nephew and his family…her friend Imogene and her kids and their families…her manager Susie…And…Oh my god.”

“What?” Rory asks.

“Shy Baldwin. Shy Balwin?” She waves the piece of paper frantically. "That can’t be right. They’re going to drag Shy Baldwin to Stars Hollow? Miss Patty will literally eat him!”

“I’ve seen a poster advertising Midge and Shy on the same bill at their place, I guess they’re friends,” Rory points out. “But you’re right, he must be protected.”

“If she promises not to vomit on him, it sounds like a job for Lane,” Lorelai says. “I’ll make a note to add people padding for Shy.”

“Good idea. Any other crazy famous guests?”

“Not that I’m seeing…” Lorelai tells her. “But Kitty mentioned they’ve been losing friends and family to old age a lot lately.”

“Sad. Poor Midge and Lenny,” Rory sighs. “This will be good for them. Remind them how much people love them still. And not just like- famous them but the real versions of them.”

“Officially putting you on speech duty,” Lorelai says.

“Mom!”

*****

Several months and many events later -

“We got that thing for Midge and Lenny this weekend,” Luke reminds Jess as he walks in from school. “Saturday night, dress nice.”

“Ugh. Do I have to?”

“If I have to, so do you.”

#fic #au #tmmm #GG #midge x Lenny

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starwarsnerd111 · 9 months

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Mama Bear - Avengers x Foster mother!reader

Wohoo, a fic nobody asked for!

AnYwAy, here you go! (Btw, you have like 11 kids. Also you're kinda rich)

I gave up on this because I am a shit writer :P. Now you guys get to determine whether you want me to continue or not

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It was a long day at work, having to blow up a HYDRA base. You groaned in exhaustion as you pulled your car into the driveway of your large-ish house. Flinging your mission bag over your shoulder as you closed the boot (Trunk for you americans) of the car. Walking up to the front door, you hoped that the 3 eldest kids you have were able to handle looking after the little ones. Keys jangling in your hand, you opened the door.

"Guess who's back!" You yelled into the hallway. Running could be heard throughout the house, making you smile.

A loud barrage of "Mummy!"s and "Mum!"s filled your ears as you were nearly knocked to the ground with the hugs from all 11 children.

"Were you guys good for Jaden, Alex and Tianna?" You asked the little ones.

They all nodded their heads sweetly, and you looked up at the 3 eldest children with a questioning look. Jaden, Alex and Tianna nodded with a small smile.

"That's good!" You said happily, "and guess what! All of your Uncles and Aunts are coming for dinner, so who wants to help me cook?"

The littlest ones nodded their heads enthusiastically, "Me, Me!"

You chuckled, "Okay, let's get started!"

Heading towards the kitchen, you made sure that all the children had jobs. The eldest had to clean, the middle children (Kari, Paul, Joanna and Keith) had to set the table and the youngest ones (George, Annie, Karl and Willma) had to help you cook.

As you were cooking, you heard the doorbell ring. "Jaden, can you get the door please?" You asked, stirring two pots at once.

"No problem Mum." He called back, pausing on cleaning up the toys in the hallway to open the door. Steve, Nat, Clint and Bruce were waiting in front of the door.

"Hey Jay!" Clint said with a broad smile

The teenage boy simple waved and let the four in, closing the door behind them.

"Where's your Mum?" Nat asked, looking around.

"Kitchen!" You yelled out to her, shooing the little ones out of the kitchen.

"Auntie Nat!" Annie said happily, leaping into her arms.

"Hey little Angle." Natasha said, picking the small child up.

You smiled as you watched, jumping when you heard a kitchen timer go off, "I'll be right with you guys, feel free to make yourself at home!"

Smiling, the avengers who were there sat on the couch.

Timeskip because I'm lazy and this is my story so

Setting the last dish on the table, you sighed tiredly, "Well, eat up guys!"

You went to help a few of the little ones get their food as the whole (now present) Avengers team began eating.

"Thanks for having us over (Y/N)"

#avengers x reader #the avengers #bruce banner #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #clint barton #another half finished shitty fic #woo

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channajen · 2 years

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Chapter 5 is Live!

Chapter 5 of “Batman, Meet Team Phantom” is LIVE on a03!

Chapter one is HERE; Series Link is HERE; Story One is HERE

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Summary: In which Batman and Jasmine have a long talk, and Batman discovers quite a bit of information that he did not previously know about Amity Park, ghosts, and about certain people's feelings...

Teaser: After briefly outlining the situation to Oracle, Batman decided it was time to talk to Jasmine. He needed more personalized information to add to what he was going to present to the League. He quietly entered into the Medbay, walked over to the corner of the room, and simply took time to watch the two siblings as they slept. Jasmine woke within a minute of his arrival, and almost instantly zeroed in on his location. Bruce raised an eyebrow. These kids must have a highly honed sense of danger to be so hyper-aware of their surroundings. He thought.

Jazz stared at the Bat in the corner for a long moment before acknowledging him with a nod. He mirrored her movement, while walking to her bedside. “Do you think you could spare a few minutes of your time? I am putting a presentation together for the League before we send a retrieval team for the Fenton adults. I would really appreciate your input.”

The young woman’s eyes got hard. “Oh, I have the time, Batman. Just give me a minute to grab my bag. I’ve got something in there for you.”

Curious, the Bat watched the girl move silently around the medical area. Her steps were as quiet as any one of his children’s. Whoever trained her should be proud. He couldn’t help but wonder how she had developed such skills—even in a highly infested town like Amity Park, those types of skills weren’t going to come naturally. Someone had trained her, and done it well. He secretly hoped it hadn’t been Madeline Fenton.

It only took Jazz a couple of minutes to gather the things she thought were important. Batman curiously noted that she held a Bat-communicator in her hand like it was a life-line. He realized with a shock that it was a literal life-line for the girl and her brother. Had Jason not given it to her, Danny would have died long before they made it to Gotham. That realization shook the nearly unflappable Bat. No more children were going to die on his watch if he could prevent it. He motioned for Jasmine to follow him to a consultation room just outside of the main medical bay, where there was a window that would allow her to keep an eye on her brother while they talked. He guessed correctly that it would help put the young woman more at ease and enable her to talk more freely without as much worry...

....The Bat looked at the drive in his hand. “I’m going to give this to the people I trust and see what they can do with the production of the deflectors. They have worked with alien technology, so human tech shouldn’t be that difficult to reproduce.”

Jazz’s chuckle echoed in the room, surprising Bruce. “I don’t know how well experience with ‘alien technology’ will transfer to ‘ecto-technology’, but if they fail, or need guidance, Danny can build everything on that drive.

That took Batman by surprise. “Your brother is a hunted ghost, a protector of an entire town, and an also an engineer?” He had seen the boy’s grades. He knew that they were impacted by ghost fighting, but for him to have engineering skills on-par with or better than his parents was incredible. Although, once Bruce thought about it, the only way the boy could have handled everything he did and stay in school with any kind of passing grades at all would require an extremely high intelligence. It did make sense. Although he did wonder what other secrets the teen carried. The Bat gave a mental shrug and moved on.

“I’ll get clearance for the Red Hood to come to the Watchtower. He can bring up whatever devices and supplies you need.” He didn’t quite expect the blinding smile that lit up Jasmine’s face.

“Jason’s coming?” Batman sighed. “Please keep our civilian names to yourself. Very few people here know our real identities.”

Jazz looked horrified. “Oh no! I am so sorry! Nobody’s listening, are they??”

Bruce sent Jasmine a small smile. “No one listens in on Batman.” He held up a small device on his belt. “An audio scrambler. I keep it on me at all times. You’ll need to be careful to refer to Jason as ‘Hood’ or “Red Hood’ when he is here, though.” The young woman’s face fell. Bruce felt a weird sense of guilt in his gut; it caused him to make an offer he wouldn’t usually make. “I’ll let you two catch up in my office, where you can talk privately. I’ll disable internal sensors and cameras in that section so no one can connect you two in anything other than a ‘professional’ manner.” His lips slipped into a small smirk at the blush on her face.

“That would be…really kind of you, Batman.” Jazz looked down and put her face in her hands. She looked back up after a long moment with a smile on her face. “Thank you, sir.” Her blush was less noticeable, but still there.

***Read the whole chapter on A03***

#danny phantom #batman #jason todd #dp x dc #wayne family adventures #ghost king danny #justice league #jazz fenton #anger management - relationship

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ecmlol · 2 years

Text

Part 5 Clark adventures in Gotham

It's Sunday.Bruce is terrified what has he gotten himself into??He thought to himself. He can handle being kidnapped and drugged by the league of assassins. No problem. Riddler piece of cake! But dinner with his boyfriend parents. Fuck and it was his idea.

I'm Batman for Pete sake bruce says to himself as he figures out what to pack.

Clark insist that he flying them to his parents house. Batman hates to fly and Superman knows it. He promised that he wouldn't bridal hold him all the way there. So that mean he's wear the Bat suit but he also needs clothing to go with him. There's a knock on the door .

Come in bruce says.

Standing in his doorway is his ward dick who is 12 years old .

Big date huh.dick say

Just dinner with his parents bruce says

So am I ever going to meet him?dick ask

When ever clark comes to visit. Dick was under the weather the first time . Visiting a few friends from the circus second time . Bruce let him camp out in the batcave for three other times and the other times bruce let him play video games all night so he sleeps all day . The only reason he even knew about clark was he notices a extra toothbrush in bruce bathroom and condom wrapped in the trash cans . Dick asked Alfred about it and he told him that bruce was in a relationship.

Bruce stops packing and turns towards dick

Would you like to meet him tonight.Bruce ask

It was only days ago that Bruce told clark about dick. Clark knew about dick because he went back and read everything that was ever written about bruce Wayne . Clark wasn't mad he actually understood him wanting to protect his ward .

He really wants to meet you. Bruce says

He does? Who is he. Dick ask

It's a surprise you will find out soon enough. Go get clean up he will be here at any minutes now.Bruce says

Dick almost frown but then gets excited because Bruce never does anything small . This guy must be really cool.

He bounces down to his room.

A seconds later there is a tap at Bruce window. Bruce couldn't help but to smile briefly at Superman hovering outside his wind. Bruce disengage the alarm on his window and opens the Windows. Bruce stands back to let him in .

Right on time . Bruce says with a smile.

Superman grabs Bruce by his belt and pulls him into a quicker then normal kiss.Leaving him to want more.

So where is your little one?clark ask

Little one ? He would take offense to that after all he is my side kick. Bruces say

About that you don't think it's too dangerous he's only 12? Correct? clark says

Clark you are allow input when we decide to have children but until then please keep your comments to yourself. Bruce say as he zips up his go bag.

Ok ok I get it shut up Superman. Superman say

Bruce stops what he's doing and blankly looks at his boyfriend then rolls his eyes. There's a knock on the door.

Is it save to come in I don't want to see anyone naked. Dick yells through the door

Superman face lights up.

Your going to let me meet him? should I change ? Superman say nervously

You're fine as you are I try not to keep too many secrets from him but he has no clue who you are .Go ahead and open the door Bruce say

With a smile Superman opens the door

Dick is stunned

Holy shit Bruce your fucking Superman! Dick say

At that moment bruce wanted the bat sign to start beeping or the floor to open up and swallow him whole

Language! Dick. Bruce says as he crosses his arm .

How do you know it's not the other way around . Superman say

Bruce shots Superman a look.

Don't encourage him!

Sorry bruce dick says

Superman shrugs

What we do is our business dick . Unless you like a lesson on the birds and the bees dick Bruce says

I think I'm good I hacked the parental control on the internet I know how everything works. Dick say

For a second bruce was proud of him.

Well if you think you know it all then expect a quiz on when I get back from dinner. Bruce say

Come on !!! Dick whines

Seriously Superman says

See Superman on my side bruce dick says

Bruce can feel a headache coming on

Fine no quiz

Dick cheer and smiles at Superman

Hey Superman can I tell you a secret dick say

Superman kneel down and dick hurries over to him and whispers into Superman ear

You are my favorite hero don't tell Bruce oh and thank you for dating bruce he's a little less cranky now dick tells him.

Sometimes I think he just nears a hug once in a while . Can you do that for me ? Superman say dick shakes his head yes.

Go on Superman say

Dick smile a walks over to Bruce

Yes can I help you dick? Bruce says

Dick quickly hugs him and runs off

No running in the house dick!

Man you're seriously uptight Bruce

What's new Bruce say

Superman walks over pulls him into a hug and then a kiss.

Thank you for letting me meet him.

Your welcome now can we get this over with Bruce says

This was your idea if you didn't want to meet my parent then we shouldn't do this

Are you getting cold feet ? You know I don't like to fly with you. We can take my plane I know how to fly it. Bruce says

No I want to show you how much fun flying with me can be.

Bruce sighs and heads to the bat cave with superman in tow.

Superman picks up batman in the bridal hold.

Kent Batman say as a warning

Fine it's just easier Superman says

He sets him down and puts his arm around him like he was a giant football .

No batman says

Superman looks dumbfounded. Batman hook his arm around Superman's neck then hooks a core on to his glove and connect it to a loop on his belt .

I'm ready batman says

Trust issue much

Seatbelt batman says

Superman puts his arm around his waist and flys off

It took 10 minutes to get there. Superman lands in the barn so they could change cloths

See that wasnt that bad clark says

I perfer my jet next time bruce says

Fine have it your way . Clark says

Bruce is holding a bouquet of flower that was in his go bag it's small but he didn't want to call me empty handed

Are you ready bruce ask

As I will ever be

Bruce is able to get over his fear of flying now he just has to stay calm to meet the parents of his boyfriend.

Clark opens the door and calls out to his parents

Mom dad? We are here.

Marth kent walks out of the kitchen drying her hands.

I didn't hear the car drive up .

We flew bruce say sounding like a grumpy bat

Martha looks to Clark then to Bruce . She thinks about it for a split second.

Oh my bruce Wayne is standing in my living room . It's so good to meet you. Clark has told me all about you.

He has ?bruce looks at Clark with a question on his face.

Martha hugs him after giving her the flowers he brought her.

Come come dinner is ready

After you Clark says

No after you lead the way. Bruce hold his ground and stares clark down.

Fine clark say and leads the way. Bruce follow him into the kitchen .

Clarks dad is sitting at the head of the table in a blue flannel shirt. He smile and gets up to greet his son.

Hey my boy Jonathan say with a hug smile and a hug.

No wonder why Clark is big into hugging.

Bruce Wayne it's real nice to meet you you are all our Clark talks about.

Jonathan hugs bruce it's awkward at first but then bruce hugs him back. He sees Clark smiling at him. Everyone takes a seat. Martha says grace. Everyone settles down to eat . Clark notices that Bruce has slip into his playboy persona. It sorta makes clark frown but everyone seem to enjoy the story of being a big city business man .

Are those big fundraiser always so stuffy? Martha ask

Actually clark and I are going to a a white party gala for the Trevor projector .

That sounds nice what is the Trevor project Martha ask

And what's a white party? Jonathan ask

Clark slides a little closer to bruce and puts his hand on his shoulders .

Do you want to explain everything to your parents ? Bruce ask

Sure well Trevor project is a suicide hotline for the lgbtq community.

Oh ok that's wonderful. Martha smile and looks to Jonathan

Bruce places his hand on Clark's hand and gives it a little squeeze to encourage him to keep talking. When he does bruce says

And I asked clark to be date. Bruce say

And I said yes clark said

Finally .Martha said.

We have been waiting for this day for so long. Jonathan says.

Bruce actually laughs out loud and smiles.Bruce thinking clark must be in shock .

But how? How did you know I was gay?clark ask

A mother knows my baby Martha says as she hugs both Clark and Bruce.

Jonathan doesn't say much but he does smile and hug them both

I caught you staring at a farm hand when you where a teenage a little to hard.

Bruce couldn't help but to smile at a embarrassed clark. After that the evening when by quickly. When it was time to leave Martha packed up a large chuck of pound cake for dick and made them promise to bring him next time. They dressed in the barn then walked out in to the moonlight. Superman is facing batman and he has a devil look on his face. Her steps even so closer to him and picks batman up by his thigh and wraps his legs around his waist

What are you doing kent?

This will be much more comfortable I promise now wrap your arms around my neck so I can get us back to Gotham quicker . I want to get on my knee and do things with my mouth that you would let me do in the barn

With a sigh bath wraps his arms around him

Make this quick please . Batman say

Of course I'm faster then your plane.

Being this close made them both hard and wanting. To Superman surprise batman started to kiss and bit up his neck. It's was Superman turn to complain

No marks please.

What can't have a hickie while saving a cat from the top of a tree? Bruce bites him lightly on his ear. Superman spirals in the air .

Ok ok I'll stop

Flying at night in the middle of no where is great Superman says

It does have its perks.so what did you say to dick?

It's a secret.

I won't say anything

Let's just say when I'm not around you might get a few more hugs. I can't be with you alll the time . Superman hugs him a little tighter and thenkisses him long and slow. By the time batman pulls away Superman is flying into the bat cave and up the stairs

Stop here I need to put the suit away . Batman jogs to we're puts his suit at and strips down and then puts his other clothes on. By the time he's done superman is clark again. He steps pass him to get into the house. Bruce places the cake on the table and then head to his bedroom. They quickly strip down and get to the main event with clark on his knees in between bruces legs stare up at him while he gives him head. After that they rolled around until clark was pin to the mattress by the time they both climaxed Bruce was mentally making a note in his Head to add padding to the back of the head board. Just before drifting off to sleep . Clark hears crying.

Bruce we have a problem?

What's wrong

It's dick he's crying

Bruce shots up and gets dressed

Clark does the same. Clark follows him out .

You don't have to come he's my responsibility.

No it's ok I don't mind.

Bruce gets to the door and knocks gentle . Alfred answers it .

Master Bruce you're back

Yes we are bruce says as he pushes his way into dick room .

Hi bruce dick says

Are you all right ?

I had a nightmare?

Again Alfred said

You can go back to bed Alfred .

As you wish master bruce

Next time please inform me Alfred

You were indisposed master bruce alfred looks to Clark

Doesn't matter knock on my bed room door alfred

As you wish but I didn't know you were back master Bruce

Alfred leaves

Bruce sits next to dick on the bed .

Dick eyes clark

Clark waves

Dick smiles

My mom sent you cake maybe if you ask nicely bruce will let me get you a piece .

It's too late to eat dick but how about for breakfast.

Alfred isn't going to like that .

My house my rule

Dick laughs

Why are you way over there? Dick ask

I'm just here as moral support. Clark smile

Can I have a nother hug dick ask

Funny enough bruce hugs him thinking he was talking to him . Clark hugs them both.

I have a joke want to hear it? Dick say

Sure Clark say

Alright go on bruce says

What are we?

No clue Clark

A sandwich? Bruce say

Close we are a hero sandwich get it's ? I'm the meat in a hero bun .

Clark chuckles

Bruce smiles

I think the riddler would have laughed at that Bruce say

He pats his back and tucks him in.

I'm glad your here . Dick tells Clark

Happy to be here kiddo Bruce closes the door and heads back to his rooms

Thank you for putting a smile on his face .you would make a wonderful parent Bruce says

Don't say that around my mother. She will start asking you went the is wedding.

They both strip back down and get back to bed Clark is the big spoon and kisses Bruce's scared back

You have nightmares to Clark says

Why would you say that

I sleep with you and I have seen you have them.That's why I like to wake you up with head .

Oh I thought you could get enough of me

That too but it also earns you a little extra tlc from me .

Bruce turns in Clark's arms and just stares at him for a second before burying his face in his neck. He sighs and quickly falls asleep to Clark gentle rubbing his back.

Next morning Bruce is up before clark. He's working out in the batcave with dick. When alfred called them for breakfast . Clark is already at the table waiting for them .

Hi Clark dick goes and hugs him

He kiddo Clark says as he winks at bruce walking pass him. Bruce smirks at him

Clark watches alfred as he place a piece cake as dick chair.

Dick seems shock to see the cake sitting in front of him.

Don't get used to it master dick

Dick didn't seem to care he dig in with a huge smile on his face.

This is so good you will have to tell your mom thanks for me dick say

You can tell her your self in two weeks bruce say

My mom wants to have you to dinner does that sound good with you?

Sweet I can't wait are you flying us their dick asked

No bruce is taking the plane next time clark say

Ah man I want to fly through a cloud

How about this maybe if I ask bruce he might let me fly you around the farm when it gets dark enough

Please ..pretty please bruce

How can I say no to both of you . Bruce says

Thank you dick hops up and hugs clark.

Bruce finally understand what people say about watching the s/o with their child . It makes you imagine a future with other kids and making them. It's a warm feeling that makes you smile behind a coffee cup. Then dick hugs bruce to Bruce's surprise.

Careful bruce say looking at his spilled coffee.

Sorry dick says

Isn't it time for school bruce say as he checks his watch.

Yes

Go on shower and brush your teeth and be ready in 20 minutes so alfred can take you to school.

Dick shoves the rest of his food into his month and hurries off

Bruce stares at Clark over his juice glass.

Is there something on my face?clark says

Not at all just admiring the view bruce says unfortunately I need to deal with some business matters

I should go too I have been away from work long enough.

I look forward to the gala

Me too but I have no clue what to wear.

Don't worry about it I'll have something waiting for you when you arrive

Thanks I appreciate that.

They finish breakfast and part ways with a long kiss on Clark's part and a hugs.

#dc comics #bruce wayne #clark kent #superbat #superman #batman #dick grayson

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

I Saw It Coming When You Threw The First Punch

Batmom x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence

Author's Note: I honestly feel like I get my irritation from people out by writing stories where the characters punch people. I live vicariously through my characters. Enjoy! -Thorne

Getting the call that his wife had been taken into GCPD custody was not one that Bruce had ever expected to receive. Not in a million years. And yet, low and behold, Gordon had called sounding apologetic that she’d been detained after a physical altercation at the gala she’d hosted earlier that evening.

Which was absolutely baffling to him, because the only person more anal retentive about screwing up at a gala than Alfred, was his wife. So, something must’ve seriously set her off if she’d hauled off on somebody. And Gordon had made it quite clear that it was his wife that threw the first punch, though beyond that, he didn’t know what else had occurred because she’d invoked her rights to the company lawyer and to remain silent, simply staring at the wall while the other officers tried to get a story out of her—Bruce knew she wouldn’t crack. Other than him, his wife had a reserve that no man, alien, or god could break. He’d never say it, but he was envious of his wife’s willpower.

He arrived rather quickly with all four sons in tow, knowing that the sight of the entire family would probably help her chances of getting out and they waited patiently to be escorted to where she was being held.

When they arrived at the interrogation room, they saw her sitting there with crossed legs, hands placed palm down on the table. Her eyes were closed in what Bruce recognized as her deep meditative state; the one she used to fight off telepathic control from enemies—she was probably recounting what happened that night.

“What are the charges?” he asked Gordon and the older man sighed.

“Simple battery and public disturbance.”

Bruce hummed lowly in his throat and gazed at his wife. “How do you see this playing out for her?”

“If the woman she keelhauled doesn’t press charges, there’s possibility of probation with community service.”

He had to play naïve. “And if she does?”

Gordon met his gaze. “Then you’re looking at your wife going into lockup for a year.”

Bruce let out a sigh. “I’ll call our lawyer then.”

“I’ll give you and your wife some privacy,” he replied, hitting a button on the keypad beside the door, and the glass went dark while the glowing red button recording the room turned off.

“Thank you, Gordon,” he said, and the detective waved as he walked off, closing the door to the interrogation room behind him. Bruce looked at his sons. “Let’s go see what set your mom off tonight.”

***

The door to the room opened but she didn’t open her eyes, still under the cold water in her retreat.

“(Y/N),” someone murmured and though the voice was familiar, she didn’t come to yet.

“(Y/N),” they repeated a bit firmer. “Come back up.”

Ever so slowly, she allowed her mind to come back from the deep waters and she opened her eyes, smiling at her husband and sons.

“Good evening family.” Damian immediately sprinted to her and buried his face in her neck, and she laughed, running a hand through his short dark hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“You are in trouble,” he murmured and pulled away to look into her eyes. “We will do whatever you need, Umi.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Don’t worry about me baby. Knowing Little Miss Martha May, she’s not going to press charges over our spat.”

“I think simple battery is bit more than a spat, mom,” Dick worried, brows furrowing in concern. “What did you two even start fighting about?”

Her eyes darted to the glass then to Bruce and he said, “Gordon turned off the cameras.”

“Mom,” Tim started, and she looked at him; he held up his phone screen. “I just assured that you’re protected here.”

She nodded and let out a sigh. “I knew I should’ve just walked away but I couldn’t help it. She just set me off like a match to gunpowder.”

“What’d you guys even duke it out over,” Jason questioned, and she sighed again, recounting the night.

***

“You’ve thrown another wonderful party, Miss Wayne,” Lucius murmured, handing her a champagne glass.

She grinned widely, thanking him. “Thank you, Lucius, I try.”

“Clan couldn’t come tonight?”

“You’ve always been perceptive about us, haven’t you?”

“To use your words, I try,” he laughed, and she nodded.

“Patrol started early tonight,” she said inconspicuously, eyes shifting around to glance at who was walking near them. “Besides, most of them only come to these to appease the crowd.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you’re the only one who actually enjoys these.”

“Only when Bruce and the kids are here,” she corrected. “It’s easier to bullshit when they’re here to pick up the slack.”

He barked a laugh and she chuckled in return when someone walked up to them. She turned and immediately grimaced at the old classmate of hers.

“(Y/N), such a beautiful party you’ve thrown tonight,” the woman greeted, though it was laced with cheerful fakeness.

She plastered a smile on her face. “Good evening, Marianne. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Oh, you know me, I’m always up for a party.” Her eyes drifted around. “Where is your husband? I wanted to thank him for the gift basket he sent after my operation.” Marianne gave her a sarcastic smile. “Isn’t it rather off for a host to avoid his own party?”

Note to self, yell at Bruce for sending her a gift.

“He had to work late tonight. So did the boys.” (Y/N) matched her smile. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to know that you thought of them though.”

Something shifted in Marianne’s eyes. “Oh yes, the children you have.” She leaned in close and murmured, “You know I’ve been hearing some rather negative rumors about yours and Bruce’s decision to adopt orphans rather than have some of your own.”

(Y/N) blinked, not sure if she should be shocked or unimpressed. “Really? Care to enlighten me?”

Marianne waved a hand. “The major one is that you simply took pity on the strays because you were barren.” She felt like she’d been slapped across the face and her jaw dropped as she gaped at the woman.

Apparently, that was all the ammunition that Marianne needed because she offered a sympathetic smile an placed a hand on (Y/N)’s arm. “Oh, you poor dear.” She patted her arm again. “You should’ve come to me instead of adopting orphans. I would’ve been happy to be a surrogate for you.”

(Y/N) shrugged the hand off her arm and reached up, pulling the silver teardrop earrings from her ears. “Yeah, those orphans aren’t mine, not biologically.”

She pulled off her diamond wedding rings and handed them and the earrings over to Lucius who took them and stepped back.

“But you know what they are?” she glowered at Marianne and seethed, “They’re my sons.”

The next thing anyone knew, the two women were rolling on the floor, their hostess throwing punches that seemed to make everyone wince when they connected to the woman’s face.

***

“And all I remember was being escorted down here,” she finalized, eyes drifting to Bruce’s.

He simply stared at her for a moment before he let out a heavy sigh and put his face in his hands. “I’m proud that you defended our family, but at the same time, I’m disappointed that you let Marianne set you off.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, so you’re taking her side?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Bruce shot back. “If she decides to press charges, you’re going to be in lockup for a year.”

“She’s not.”

“You don’t know that, (Y/N).”

“No, I do,” she blinked and leaned forward. “If Marianne doesn’t want me to ruin her image with shit she did when she was a teenager, she’ll keep her mouth shut and take the blame for this.”

“What’d she do, Ma?” Jason questioned curiously and she turned her attention to him.

“Enough that’ll disgrace her image amongst every elite this side of the globe if she tries me anymore.”

Before anyone could say anything, the door opened and they turned, seeing Gordon walking in. “Good evening, Miss Wayne,” he greeted, and she smiled.

“Good evening, Jim. How’s your night so far?”

He chuckled. “Not too bad. I got to detain my favorite socialite and listen to all my officers speculate what she did.”

(Y/N) lifted her hands palm up beside her shoulders. “I live to please, Jim, you know that.”

“I do.” He walked over and handed her a few papers. “When asked if she wanted to press charges, Marianne Walters declined. She instead gave a rather detailed statement that she instigated the fight and threw the first punch.” He stared at the busted lip she had. “Does that match what happened?”

She quickly looked over the papers and nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”

Gordon sighed. “Do you wish to press charges?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No,” she smiled. “There’s no reason to make a fuss about this.”

“…Miss Wayne, you and Miss Walters are all over the news.”

She shrugged. “And people have very short memories. They’ll forget about this.” She handed back the papers. “Send this to my lawyer and she’ll handle it with the prosecutors.”

“You think they won’t press charges despite Walters?” Gordon asked and she nodded.

“Oh, they won’t,” she said then looked at the clock. “Am I free to leave? It’s been a long night.”

Gordon let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “Yes Miss Wayne, you’re free to leave now.”

(Y/N) rose. “Wonderful.” She looked at her sons. “Boys, let’s go.”

They followed her and Bruce stood from the table, standing beside Gordon. “Thank you, Jim.”

Gordon grunted. “I know (Y/N) threw the first punch.”

“You do?”

“Of course, I do.” He huffed. “And I don’t blame her either.” He watched (Y/N) laugh at something Dick said while the others groaned around him. “You’ve got a good woman, Bruce. Good wife. Even better mother.”

Bruce looked at his wife and let an easy smile cross his lips as she pulled them all into hugs. “Yeah…yeah, I do, don’t I.”

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Note

Cute little idea I had (which you definitely don't have to write, I just needed to share it with someone)

Imagine Ra's al Ghul with another daughter, this time younger than Talia at around Tim's age. Tim has already impressed Ra's (much to his chagrin) and the next time he has to confront the demon's head about one of his schemes. Ra's is just like "Ah yes Timothy Drake. Have you met my youngest?" because he's hoping for some real prime heirs. Tim's trying to decipher just what kind of situation he's found himself in where Ra's set him up on a goddamn blind date while she just buries her face in her hands (defying his expectations) and whines out a "Really, Father? You're so embarrassing."

Bruce shows up to handle the demon's head and while they're figuring that out, Tim's just like "Yikes, wanna get out of here?" "My gods, please."

(and because I'm a meme loving fuck. "I've connected our children." "You haven't connected shit" "I've connected them, detective")

“You see Detective,” Ra’s said triumphantly. “You did not take into account of my secret weapon, my daughter.”

Tim looks up from the chair he was tied to. It was placed in front of a table with a white table cloth, lit candle, and a bottle of wine. It looked like a scene from Lady and the Tramp. Tim sighed.

“Please. Stop. No,” he said dryly. “Do you ever get tired of this?”

A young woman was pushed from behind the curtain to in front of Tim by a ninja. She glared at him.

“Father, if you think you can make me join your grand plan, you’ve got another thing coming,” she threatened Ra’s. Tim couldn’t help the little huff of laughter that left him. Then he thought, oh god Ra’s had another kid.

“Just sit. I had them make your favorite,” Ra’s said and Tim almost lost his mind and how the man was kindly speaking to you.

<And the white boy tied up? He’s just to look pretty?> you said in Arabic. Tim tried to act like he couldn’t understand you.

“He’s a disciple of the Bat,” Ra’s said dramatically and Tim rolled his eyes.

“Partner. It’s not a cult,” Tim corrected Ra’s.

<I’ll let you go to Stanford in America like you want. Just meet him. He would make a good sire for your heirs> Ra’s said in Arabic. Tim stared at him. What is this guy’s obsession with bloodlines and why must Tim be involved in it?

<I will go anyways> you answered. <Talia will pay for it if you won’t.>

<Talia?> he sighed heavily. <children nowadays don’t listen. You should be honored that I give you a choice.>

A baterang flew through the air between you and Ra’s. You jumped behind the table and Ra’s moved to action. Both he and Batman furiously threw punches and kicks. Flurry of movement was all you could see.

Tim shifted in his chair and you looked at him.

“Can you untie me?” He asked and you stared at him. <Can you untie me?>

“I can speak English perfectly,” you said annoyed at his rough Arabic. “If you try to hit me, I’ll stab you.”

“Sounds good. I just want to go,” he said.

“Not interested in the date?” You joked and he stopped to look at you before realizing you were joking.

“I mean, not like this,” Tim said. “Not that you-“

“You’re cute when you’re all flustered,” you said grabbing a tray of food from the table. Tim shrugged with a little smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Sure, so Stanford hu?” He said as you both left

Ra’s stopped fighting. “See what I did? You can beat me in battle but I have still won,” he said excitedly. “Look at them!”

“You’re an idiot,” Bruce answered.

“I connected them,” he replied.

“You didn’t connect shit.”

#tim drake x reader #Red Robin x reader #Ra’s al Ghul #batman #dc fanfic #fns #Tim drake imagines #Tim drake fluff

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novaviis · 3 years

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sick!dick au. Bruce's POV. read in order here.

For most everyone else, it starts at the Gala.

For Bruce, it starts in a grey little office, with a stack of papers and a glitter pen.

Dick will confess after the fact to the fainting spell in the apartment he shares with Wally, and the months of progressively worse migraines, including an incident on patrol with Jason – and Bruce is none-too-pleased with that information being kept silent, but he picks his battles and this isn’t one of them. Still, looking back nearly everyone will unanimously agree that the night it really “began” was the Gala.

For Bruce, it begins when the social worker hands him a creased manila envelope. Inside is a birth certificate, a social security number, and an immunization record. Bruce looks through the contents of the envelope. Is this really it? Yes, he’s never exactly done this before, but he feels like there should be more. Guardianship of a child shouldn’t be reduced to three pieces of flimsy paper in an envelope. There’s a coffee stain on the corner. The social worker doesn’t really know what to say to that; this is just the way it is. She slides the rest of the paperwork across the table. Everything’s already been looked over by his lawyers, all he needs to do is sign. She pats her pockets, muttering to herself before bringing out a red glitter pen and sheepishly offering it to him.

Bruce is in his twenties. He’s impulsive with his compassion and he just witnessed another little boy watching his parents die. He knows he can give this boy what he needs. Or he’s going to try. But between the drive to bring this boy’s family justice and the need to heal a part of himself in the process, he’s somehow skipped over just how huge this is. He’s thought about it, of course, but always with the under current of doing whatever it takes to make it work. He was going to give the boy a home, give him the closure that Bruce never got, and maybe he’d save him from turning out like… well, like Bruce. Only now he’s staring down at Guardianship written in big block letters across the top of the stack, and it’s sinking in now that he’s not just taking the boy in. He’s going to be his family. And it doesn’t change a thing, his resolve doesn’t waver, because he knows he can give him a good life, but it’s that one word. Family. His family is starting out with a coffee stain, a stack of papers, and a glitter pen.

He signs the papers. Dick is already waiting outside with Alfred, who’s taken him to the small cafeteria down the hall. The boy hasn’t spoken much, in the days Bruce has taken to get to know him. Bruce had asked Alfred if he was like that – after. And Alfred had looked at him sympathetically, answered carefully. Yes, he was, in a sense. Bruce had been quiet. Shellshocked. Traumatized. But Bruce needs to remember that he had him, at least one steady presence in his life. Dick has no one. It’s going to take time.

It shouldn’t be so easy, Bruce find himself thinking over and over as they finish up. He tucks everything away into his briefcase, bears with the social worker smiling and shaking his hand and thanking him for doing such a good deed as if this is a charity stunt for publicity and she doesn’t seem to care either way. He asks again, just before he closes his briefcase, if she’s sure that there’s nothing else he needs. Report cards, keepsakes, family medical history, he doesn’t know. She shakes her head, all pleasant smiles. No, that’s all he came with – as if he’s a shelter dog. Bruce latches his suitcase shut.

Back then, it was just a passing thought. He doesn’t spare it another over the years, because he doesn’t need to. Time went on, Dick becomes an inseparable part of his life. Bruce will always silently maintain that Dick was the one to save him in the end. He’s not a perfect guardian, not a perfect father, and he makes more mistakes than he can count. They argue, they have fallings out, and still they always work through it – because they’re family.

And the issue of the family medical history does not resurface until that champagne gold night. Until he catches Selena watching him from across the ballroom, smiling behind the rim of her wine glass and cocking her head to tease him. Until, he’s distracted between secretively searching the crowds for her and forcing himself to smile and laugh with Gotham’s elite, so he doesn’t notice the commotion rising up on the other side of the room. Until his youngest son comes racing toward him through the crowd looking more scared and shaken than Bruce has ever seen him. Until he breaks through the ring of bystanders and sees Dick passed out on the floor, Wally kneeling over him beside himself with panic. Until the ambulance and the fury of the waiting room (making a mental not to raise absolute hell with the Hospital’s board of directors) and the doctor pulling him to a side room, a little grey office, to ask the dreaded question. All at once, it comes back to that moment, and Bruce sighs, scrubs his palm over his tired eyes. No, he doesn’t have Dick’s family medical history. It doesn’t exist. Realistically, it isn’t Bruce’s fault, but that has never stopped him from shouldering blame.

Selena reaches out in the following days it ask in on how Dick’s doing. Bruce is cordial, tells her that her concern is appreciated but Dick seems to be doing fine. And on the other side of the phone, he can hear her moving around her penthouse, maybe standing at the window – she’s glad to hear it. Let her know if he needs anything, if she can do anything to help. It’s early days then, and none of them know just how bad it’s going to get.

It’s a slow progression at first, and then it’s not. It’s months between seizures, a steady increase in migraines – but life goes on. It’s not as if Bruce is hovering every Dick at every second. He’s a grown man now, with a career and a home and a partner. Bruce supports him in any way he can, until it gets to the point that he has to make the hard call. The argument he has with Dick that night, in the study of Wayne Manor, is something he’ll never wash from his memory. He’s used to making the tough decisions. He’ll be the asshole if he has to, he can handle Dick’s anger, but he’s not going to allow him to take this much risk into the field. Benching Nightwing until they have a handle on this is a necessary call, but Dick is stubborn (who on earth did he learn that from), and unwilling to step down so easily. And as the argument reaches its fever pitch, Bruce pacing and ranting, listing off his rational, he hears Dick call his name in a wavering voice and it cuts through the background noise. Dick, the colour drained from his face, eyes unfocused, conceding that he’s about to lose this argument, will haunt him in the same way as the worst things he’s seen in the life he’s chosen. That’s the moment he knows that this isn’t just going to pass, the moment he bolts to catch Dick before he can topple forward and hit his head. This isn’t something they can wait out. He’ll never regret making the call, but he will always regret the way he put the pressure on Dick, as if he’d just made things worse.

The thing is, this lasts years. It becomes a part of all their lives – because it’s Dick. It isn’t all consuming, it doesn’t eat away at their thoughts every minute of the day, but it’s a resurfacing concern that’s rarely spoken about aloud. And Bruce sees how this changes his family. No one can say that the Wayne clan is the most well adjusted and healthy family, but Bruce does his best. He realises and appreciates now more than ever just how much work Dick put into keeping them all functioning. Keeping them together. He never thought he’d taken it for granted until then. It shouldn’t have taken this to bring the family closer together, but it does, and as much as Bruce hates that, he’s not going to fight it.

Time goes on. Still. It’s a slow progression at first, and then it’s not. Bruce is in a meeting with his chief executive officers when his secretary buzzes in over the speaker saying there’s a call for him on the line. He thanks her for letting him know and tells her to take a message. She says the young man is telling her it’s an emergency. One of the CEOs is about to launch into a presentation and Bruce doesn’t spare him a second thought. Picks up the phone, pushes away from the board table, and paces to the window. Wally’s voice comes through saying his name, shaken and urgent, rambling out sentences too fast for Bruce to hear.

Wally. Slow down. What happened?

He stopped breathing. Fuck, Bruce, he called me at work – sounded like a seizure so I ran home, but he – it didn’t stop, he wasn’t breathing.

That first night, after Bruce has sent his reluctant children home with Alfred, it’s just him and Wally left with Dick. The end of visiting hours is fast approaching. Bruce steps out to let Wally have his time with Dick, allows him some privacy. He eventually makes his way up to the terrace balcony on the upper floors, a green space with massive glass walls and an open ceiling. Fresh air for the first time in hours does wonders.

Selena is there. She approaches him from the other side of a low hedge, bundled up in a cashmere sweater and scarf – ones he bought her ages ago. When he asks how she knew, she smiles. She has her ways. Tim called her, didn’t he. Yeah, he did. They stand in silence for a while, staring out at the mosaic of lights against the persistent dark of Gotham, before she puts a hand on his arm. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, Bruce, she says, and the coy smile fades into sincerity. Come to me when you need to.

Three days after Dick is admitted to the ICU, Bruce calls Damian into the study. It’s late, they just got home from visiting an hour ago. They’ve been arguing a lot lately, before Dick went downhill. Mostly regular thirteen-year-old boy versus father arguing, but a few too many frustrated shouting matches in the Cave. Bruce can’t help but wonder if it’s in part because Dick hasn’t been there to act as a mediator. Still, the past few days have been quiet, if not tense. Damian complies when Bruce calls him down. He’s wearing a sweater he stole from Dick months ago, the bulk of it swallowing his smaller frame like a blanket. He has the sleeves rolled up, his hands in the front pocket, when he pauses in the doorway. Bruce gestures for him to sit across from him at the desk. He can see the way Damian is bracing himself for a lecture, wondering whatever it is he did wrong this time, as he takes his seat. Bruce, in his chair on the other side, watches him for a moment before deciding this won’t do. He stands, and pulls his chair next to Damian’s and pulls a file over from the other side of the desk.

Wayne Men are at a higher risk of Prostate Cancer as they get older. I get tested every few years. He tells him. My Mother’s side of the family, the Kanes, have a history of Crohn’s Disease. It’s prevalent in people of Ashkenazi Jewish decent. I’ve never had it, or had symptoms, so it’s unlikely that I passed it on to you, but not impossible. And when Damian stares back at him, he leans forward, presses his hand to his son’s shoulder. I want you to know these things, Damian. It’s important that you know your history.

And with any other child, it may have not been a good idea to have this conversation right then. Any other child may have been scared. But this is his son, and Damian is as frank and pragmatic about these things as he is, and Bruce knows that he will appreciate the honesty, knows that those questions have likely been rattling around in Damian’s head for a while now. They spend another hour that night talking about their family, beyond just medical history, and Bruce answers any questions Damian has.

Dick gets worse. Wally leaves to find answers. Bruce is doing everything he can; medical bills are nothing to him, he checks in on his children, calls in favours from the league to keep watch of Gotham when he’s needed at the hospital. It’s the most he’s ever relied on others in his entire life.

It’s just him in Dick’s room one night. He’s at the window when he hears Dick rasping his name. It’s been rare lately that he’s been coherent enough to really speak without being prompted, so he has Bruce’s full attention immediately. He crosses over to the bed, braces a hand over Dick’s. And Dick doesn’t say anything for a long while. His eyes are half closed. Bruce is close to assuming he’s fallen asleep, when Dick’s unsteady hand slides out from under his, and rests on top with a barely there squeeze. Dick is staring up at him. His voice his so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the monitors, but Bruce hears it.

Take care of Wally.

Bruce doesn’t waste time on don’t talk like that sentiments. He doesn’t tell Dick that he won’t need to, that he’ll be fine, because Bruce does not make promises he knows he cannot keep. He nods. He will. Dick doesn’t need to ask him to take care of the family, that much is an unspoken understanding, but if this is a piece of mind he can give Dick, it’s without hesitation.

He ends up at Selena’s door after visiting hours. She buzzes him in, and when she opens the penthouse door neither of them say a word. She guides him over to the couch, pours two glasses of good wine, and when she returns, he’s already got his face in his hand – not sobbing, not breaking down, just… exhausted. She isn’t sure Bruce knows how to break down anymore. In the end, she just sits with him. Rubs his back, tentatively at first, not sure if he’ll let her. Bruce not only does, but he shudders under her hand, allows himself to breathe with her, and it’s enough to let the pressure ease and the ache to come in. He allows himself feel to it.

Because that’s his son. That’s his first son. And he’s failed him.

Years from then, when this is all in the past, he’ll let it slip. It’s over a late night coffee with Dick in the Cave as they wrap up a case, near to the anniversary of the Dick’s surgery. Maybe it’s the string of late nights and no sleep wrecking his inhibition, maybe it’s something he needs to get off his chest. But Dick stares at him, goes quiet, sets down his coffee mug.

You did everything for me, Bruce. He says. You never failed me.

And, someday, Bruce will believe it.

#dickwally #batfam #sick!dick #I've wanted to do Bruce's POV for years and it just hit me in one sitting

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queensoybean0724 · 3 years

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Succession Chapter 1 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fic

Here is chapter one of my new fanfic!

Title: Succession

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OCs

Rating: PG-13 for language and intense scenes (for now, this is a slow burn, but it will get very hot and spicy in later chapters)

Summary: You discover a long lost relative from Moldova that you didn’t know existed has died and you are his sole beneficiary. You are on board a plane to collect your inheritance when your plane crashes in a village in Romania.

Author’s Notes: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

The music blasted from the car speakers as you drove down the main road towards the highway. You had your phone plugged into your car stereo, your favorite Spotify playlist on shuffle. Despite the A/C being on full blast, beads of sweat formed at your brow and rolled down your temple. You adjusted the vents on either side of you, making sure the cold air directly hit your body. The song that was playing had you tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, your head bopping to the beat.

The fridge at home was close to empty and it was beyond time for you to go grocery shopping. The grocery list was secure in your purse and you were determined to stick to the items on the list and not make any frivolous purchases. Money was tight and you only had so much money left before payday next week.

The song shut off suddenly followed by your ringtone. Looking at the screen of your phone, UNKNOWN stared back at you. Probably a spam call, you thought to yourself, reaching to press the red Ignore button. Unfortunately, your finger slid at the last minute and mistakenly tapped the Accept button. You watched as the call came through and the seconds ticked off. FUCK!

“Hello?” you greeted with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

“Hello, am I speaking with Miss Y/N?” a heavily accented male voice responded.

“Yeah, this is she,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You tried your best to avoid these calls, ignoring them and letting them go straight to voicemail. Very rarely was it followed with an actual message, which was more than fine with you.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Ron M. Dathermi. I am a lawyer residing in Chisinau, Moldova in Eastern Europe…”

You raised your eyebrows at that. Moldova? Who the hell was calling you from Moldova? Chalking it up to a scam, you were about to interrupt the man when he continued.

“...I wish I was calling under better circumstances, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your great uncle, Serghei Popa, has passed away from a short illness and has named you his sole beneficiary…”

You couldn’t help the amused huff that came out of your mouth. This must be some very elaborate scam.

“Umm...sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. I don’t have family from Moldova and I have never heard of this man in my whole life.” You were about to hit the End button when Mr. Dathermi continued.

“Am I speaking with Y/N, born on (your birthday) to (your father and mother’s full names) and the granddaughter of (your grandfather and grandmother on both sides of your family)?”

Your eyes widened at that. “Yeah, that’s me…” you answered.

“I know this may sound unusual, but Mr. Popa was the brother of your grandmother on your mother’s side. He was given up for adoption at birth and taken in by a Moldovan family. He did not have a spouse and had no children, and according to the genealogy report I have before me, your grandmother and your mother are both deceased. Your mother was an only child, yes? It appears to me that you are the last of his living relatives.”

You pulled off the road and into an empty parking lot. The information you were being given was a lot to handle. You didn’t have that large of a family. You were an only child and raised by your parents and both sets of grandparents. Both of your grandfathers had died before you turned 10. Both grandmothers died within 5 years of each other and your father and mother died of illnesses, cancer and pneumonia respectively, in the last year. Grief was a feeling that you knew better than anyone. You kept to yourself mostly and you didn’t have any close friends or a significant other.

“Listen,” you began, “you are correct about all of your information, but how do I know this is not some kind of scam?”

The man on the other end of the phone cleared his throat and the sound of shuffling papers met your ears. “I can imagine that this information is sudden and unusual. What I will do is send a copy of his will and a copy of the genealogy papers to your address. I encourage you to take this to your lawyer and have them look over the information. The reason I am calling is because I need you to fly to Moldova, sign these papers, and accept the monetary inheritance that he has left you.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked down at your phone. Fly to Moldova? Is this true? The only thing you knew about the country was that a foreign exchange student from high school was born and raised in Moldova. That about sums up your knowledge of the country. This seemed incredibly asinine and ridiculous. But the word that settled in your train of thought was “inheritance.” What inheritance?

“Mr...what was your name again?” you asked.

“Mr. Dathermi, but you can call me Ron,” the lawyer responded.

“Ron...umm, how much monetary inheritance are we talking about?”

More shuffling of papers was on the other side of the phone, Ron clicking his tongue as he looked through the information. “He has left you 53,806,746 Moldovan Leu...which translates to $3,000,000 in American currency.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!?!” you exclaimed before clamping your lips shut. You heard Ron chuckle. “I’m sorry, pardon my language. It’s just...wow...this sounds insane…”

“I can imagine it does,” Ron replied, “which is why I want to mail this information to you and have your attorney take a look at it so you know this is a legitimate will and testament. If you would like, I can mail the information straight to your attorney if you are still leery.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” you said, shaking your head. Your mind was whirling. None of this sounded remotely true. You felt as if you were dreaming. This felt like something that only happened in books and fairy tales...a girl who had nothing and nobody suddenly inheriting millions of dollars from an unknown distant relative. What are the odds of something like this happening in real life? You gave Ron Dathermi your home address.

“Thank you very much, Miss Y/N. I will send this as soon as possible. I’ll also include my business card so your attorney can contact me and we can iron out the details. Thank you very much, Y/N...I’ll be in touch.”

You thanked him as well and ended the call. All alone in your car in the empty parking lot, you let out an excited squeal and started hopping up and down.

You adjusted the messenger bag that was slung across your shoulder as you heard the overhead speaker call for the boarding of your flight. Taking a deep breath, you got in line, extended your ticket to the airport employee, and walked down the tarmac and into the plane.

Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach. Your hands gripped your bag tightly as the flight attendant looked at your boarding pass and pointed down the aisle to where you were to be seated. You had never flown before and your nerves were on alert. Scenes from Final Destination flashed in your head as you walked down the aisle towards your seat. Taking a deep breath and willing your body to relax, you located your seat next to the window and sat down, plopping your bag onto your lap.

The small window was close to the wing of the plane and looking beyond that was a long expanse of grass that met a vast forest. You were thankful that you had the window seat and your headphones so you could tune everything out and relax in your own little world.

Once the papers from Mr. Dathermi arrived a week prior, you immediately called the attorney that helped you with the probate and will from your parents’ deaths several months back. He was more than happy to help, knowing that you were all alone in the world after your parents had passed. Two days later, he called to inform you that all of the paperwork was, in fact, legitimate and that Mr. Serghei Popa was the brother of your grandmother. He showed you the adoption papers, confirming that your great uncle had been put up for adoption and the family that took him in had relocated to Moldova when he was two years old. He had remained in the country until his death. Your attorney contacted Mr. Dathermi, who in turn secured a round trip plane ticket in order for you to come to Moldova to finalize the paperwork and collect the inheritance.

At the thought of the money you were about to acquire, another surge of excitement flowed through you. Your parents hadn’t left you much after their death and you worked at a dead-end job that had no room for advancement and no possibility for raises. All of these recent events sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

“This is your captain speaking,” the voice sounded from the speaker above your head, “we will be departing in the next ten minutes. Please make sure your seatbelts are secured, your tray tables are up, and all electronics are off until we are at the appropriate cruising altitude. I will inform everyone as soon as the coast is clear. Thank you for flying with us and enjoy the ride.”

You fastened your seatbelt and laid your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be nervous…” a voice sounded next to you. You opened your eyes and looked over to see an older gentleman with wide rimmed glasses and a nice smile.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked, returning his smile.

“It’s pretty obvious,” he chuckled, “my name is Bruce Williams. I’m the air marshal on board this flight.” You told him your name and shook his hand. “Just relax,” he assured, “we’ll be flying for the next 10 hours. There are lots of movies and tv shows to watch on the screen in front of you, or you can listen to your music and read a book if you brought one.”

You patted your messenger bag. “Yeah, I have a few books to choose from. Thanks,” you smiled.

Within minutes, the plane had backed away from the tarmac, turned towards the long expanse of runway, and increased speed before leaving the ground and soaring up into the clouds.

The steady hum of the plane’s engines provided a relaxed soundtrack as you slept. It was close to early morning, according to the clock on the tv screen, but your watch was still on your regular time zone. It read early afternoon and that threw you through a loop. You had heard that jet lag could be a bitch and you wondered how bad yours would be once you landed. Bruce had passed you a pillow and blanket once you were ready to sleep and he assured you that your bag and belongings would be safe while you slept.

You were so thankful to be seated next to him. Not only was he the air marshal, but he was a really cool person as well. You two talked about movies and actually watched a couple of them on the tv screen in front of you. Bruce was kind and nice to talk to. The crinkle of crow’s feet around his eyes, his laugh, and his hair color mixed with hints of gray reminded you of your father...maybe that’s why you liked him so much.

You shifted in your seat and let out a soft yawn. Stretching your arms above your head and arching your back, you wondered how much longer it would be until you touched down in Moldova.

“You weren’t asleep that long,” Bruce murmured. You looked over to see a book in his hand and his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then go back to sleep,” you replied, standing from your seat. Bruce stood up and allowed you out into the aisle. You made your way to the bathroom towards the back of the plane. The cabin was dark with little lights dotting either side of the aisle on the floor. Soft lights were shining here and there from people reading, watching the tv screen, or messing with their phones while most of the passengers were asleep.

Once in the bathroom, you did your business, flushed the toilet, and began washing your hands. The mirror in front of you showed a tired and weary version of yourself. Some of your eye makeup was smudged. You told yourself once you returned back to your seat, you’d retrieve the makeup remover wipes in your bag and do away with the dirt and oil.

Just then the plane hit an air pocket and dropped several feet, throwing you forward towards the sink and mirror. You let out a shriek as the plane quieted and went still. “God dammit,” you muttered, putting your hand over your heart, “that scared the shit out of me!”

Once out of the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and walked back to your seat. You tapped Bruce on the shoulder and he moved aside.

You lifted the window shade and looked outside. Natural light from the start of the day began to show. The plane was amongst the clouds so it was fairly cloudy and hard to see.

“How much farther do we have?” you asked Bruce. He shifted the book to his left hand and looked down at his wristwatch. “We should be there in three hours. I think we are flying over Romania right now…”

You nodded your head and thanked him, turning back to the window. The clouds gave way momentarily and provided the opportunity to see the ground below. Tall, snowy mountains came into view. You smiled and marveled at their beauty, wondering what mountain range this was. You cursed yourself for forgetting the basics from your World Geography class in high school. Hell, all you knew about Romania was that it was the setting for Dracula and the real life territory that was once owned by Elizabeth Bathory, who allegedly killed upwards of 650 maidens and bathed in their blood. You shook your head and smiled to yourself. You really did enjoy some morbid and fucked up stories.

Your train of thought stopped short when a large and spacious castle came into view. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. It looked like something out of a Disney movie or from ancient castles that still sat throughout Europe. The place looked like it stood on several acres of land and who knows how many square feet. What a gorgeous and breathtaking place it was. You wondered just what was inside a monstrosity like that and who was lucky enough to inhabit such a place. Maybe there were castles in Moldova that you could explore and visit while you’re conducting your business.

The castle fell out of view and not far from it stood what looked like a village. You were too high up to see any people or any traces of lights or torches. You took everything in with total awe and appreciation. It looked like a small and sleepy storybook town.

A sudden movement close to the village caught your attention. You squinted your eyes and tried to look closer, pressing your forehead to the window. What the fuck is that, you wondered. It looked like a black tree, naked of leaves or any type of growth...and it was moving. It looked to be swaying in the breeze, but the size of it looked way too sturdy for any kind of gust to move it with such fluidity. As you focused on the tree, it appeared to be growing...getting closer to the plane. Was the plane descending? Were you getting closer to Moldova?

One of the branches of the tree slowly drifted to the ground before extending long and rigid, slinging itself up into the air like a bullwhip, hitting the wing of the plane. The plane suddenly tilted as the slithering limb wrapped around the wing and broke it off. You let out a loud scream as the plane turned on its side, Bruce falling against you, squishing you to the wall. “WHAT THE FUCK??” Bruce screamed as yelps, shrieks, and screams echoed in the cabin of the plane. Dozens of people were knocked from their seats, flight attendants falling into the aisle and rolling towards the cockpit. The plane shook and quaked as it dropped several feet in a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” you screamed, grabbing hold of Bruce’s arm. The air masks dropped from overhead and Bruce grabbed yours, making quick work of putting it over your face. “HOLD ON TO IT! HOLD IT OVER YOUR MOUTH, Y/N!!” he commanded, reaching for his own mask.

“THE WING OF THE PLANE HAS BEEN DAMAGED!” the pilot yelled from over the speakers, “WE ARE LOSING ALTITUDE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!” People screamed and panicked, holding on to whatever it was they could. Panic surged through your body as your fingers dug into Bruce’s arm. The plane shook as it fell. Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were seconds from impact. You looked out the window one last time before the ground came into view and everything went black.

He leaned over the body on the metal table in the lab of his factory. He fastened the bolts with a wrench and tested the strength of the metal against the rotting flesh. A soft horn sounded in the distance along with the various turns of chains and clangs of steel against steel. He wiped the sweat off his brow and walked to his desk, looking over the blueprints and sketches he had devised the previous day.

Despite the different array of sounds, nothing could mask the loud crash that sounded off in the distance. He lifted his head, silently trying to figure out what the fuck made that noise. Leaving the body laying on the table, he exited his lab and made his way down the stairs and to the factory doors.

With a grunt, he slid the doors aside and looked off into the distance. Black smoke billowed from an area that looked to be close to the village. Other than the crows squawking and flapping their wings in retreat, everything was dead quiet. He looked off to the right just in time to see the long, spindly limbs of mold retreating back towards the earth. Karl Heisenberg’s face tightened in a disgusted grimace.

“Mother Miranda...what have you done?”

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg x reader #daddy heisenberg #house heisenberg #heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic

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intercoursefluids · 3 years

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You Lied to Me?

The Wayne Enterprises building was the most beautiful building Marinette had ever seen. The tour guide was a very sweet man and he loved telling jokes to try to get the class to laugh.

Unfortunately, Lila was on a roll today, lying about knowing the Waynes and growing up with the youngest son, and finding out that they were true mates.

Even if she was claiming that her true mate was Prince Ali a week before the trip was announced, god forbid Marinette points that out and makes Lila shed her crocodile tears.

Even Adrien, her own mate, took Lilas's side and yelled at her for pointing out her lies when she should just stay quiet.

It ended up leading into a huge argument between them that Marinette had to apologize for to get him to talk to her after 3 long weeks of him ignoring her existence.

“Bruce Wayne funds multiple charities around the world in honor of his late parents, he has several adoptive children and a single blood son. Bruce typically keeps his children out of the spotlight and most Gothamites are very good about keeping pictures with them off of the internet.”

As the tour guide talks, Marinette reaches out her hand for Adrien's just for him to brush her off and step away from her.

Wrapping her arms around herself she leaves his side to stand next to the tour guide. At least he tells jokes and tries to make this interesting.

Damian's POV:

“Master Damian, you should start heading to the office if you want to catch Master Dick before his lunch break is over.”

Running his hands over his face he thanks Alfred before grabbing his jacket and starting his car up.

He needed Dick to sign off on his trip to Paris, France since he was his temporary guardian until Father got back from his honeymoon with Selina.

Pulling up to the building he stops. Not because of the bright yellow bus sitting in the parking lot, no, it's because of the intoxicating scent of baked goods, plants, and rain wafting through the air.

Following the smell leads him to the tour group Grayson is leading into the cafeteria.

Walking to Grayson's side he passes him the permission slip, trying to understand why he wants to be near the Blue haired angel getting a lunch tray.

“Grayson, how can you tell if you’ve found your true mate?”

Grayson startles looking up from signing the papers.

“Well, their scent is one way, they will smell like absolute heaven to you and you can’t help but follow it. Another way is that when you see them you want to touch them so you can get your scent on them as well, and when you do touch them, it's electrifying. Literally and figuratively. Do you think you found them?”

Damian nods, his eyes following his mate as she looks for a table to sit at.

“She’s right there. The one with the blue hair.”

Grayson smiles, clapping Damian on the shoulder.

“She’s pretty.”

Damian snorts responding without even thinking.

“She’s beautiful, Grayson. ‘Pretty’ doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

Grayson coos at Damian, being thoroughly ignored.

Damian starts walking towards her, intent on introducing himself when he catches another scent just beneath hers.

Another male’s scent.

He freezes in place making Grayson stop his cooing to instead question him.

“What's wrong? Is it not her?”

Damian watches as she walks to a seat at an empty table away from the rest of her group.

“She-”

Damian cuts off as he watches someone stick out their foot and trip her. Her lunch spills everywhere as she falls to the floor.

Not thinking twice he rushes over to her, holding out his hand and helping her up.

Just like Grayson said little shocks travel up and down his arm and he finds himself never wanting to let go.

She has the most beautiful blue eyes he's ever seen and the most angelic voice he's eve- Oh wait she's talking.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped, I’m so sorry!”

Damian just shakes his head, motioning for one of the janitors to come over and clean up the mess.

When he arrives she automatically drops down beside him to help pick up the mess muttering apologize the entire time.

Damian shifts his hand to her shoulder, subconsciously marking her with his scent and trying to overpower the other males.

“It’s fine honey, this stuff happens all the time. Why don’t you go hop back in line and get another tray? We wouldn’t want you to go hungry now.”

With the janitor's gentle prodding she finally stands up and gets another tray.

On her way back, Damian makes sure to keep an eye out for anyone else who wants to trip her.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly as she takes a seat at the table she was heading to and Damian watches her from his spot next to his brother.

Everything goes fine until they are about to finish the tour. A guy with blonde hair roughly grabs the girl with blue hair pulling her off to the side.

“Ow! Adrien, what’s wrong?”

Damian watches from Grayson's side, wanting to go help but certain she can handle herself.

“You know exactly what you did, Marinette. Don’t play stupid.”

A low growl leaves his chest as his mate is insulted.

“Adrien, you’re not making any sense. What did I do?”

He grabs both her wrists, shaking her violently.

“You belong to me! You are mine Marinette! Trying to get me jealous by flirting with that other guy? Really?! How low can you sink?! It's pathetic!”

She pushes away from him, rubbing at her wrists with the start of a bruise forming.

Damian starts to make his way over, a low, vicious rumbling in the back of his throat.

Grayson, seeing how mad Damian follows him.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I fell because Lila stuck her foot out and tripped me! It wasn’t my fault!”

Their argument starts to attract the attention of the other workers, a few running to find security.

Damian starts running as he watches the guy's hand clench before raising it.

He strikes her. Hard.

‘Marinette’ being caught off guard, loses her balance and falls to the ground, turning to look at him before he roughly grabs her by one of her pigtails and pulls her up to his face, and screams at her.

“Don’t talk back to me! I own you and you will do as I say! Do you understand?!”

She pushes him away.

“Whoever decided that you were my true mate was wrong. Dead wrong!”

He snarls, pulling his fist back to strike her.

Damian gets there first.

The next thing everyone knows is Damian Wayne is standing protectively in front of the girl and the guy is several feet away clutching his cheek and groaning.

Grayson kneels next to Marinette, helping her to her feet and taking Damian’s coat from his outstretched hand to wrap around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

She nods as he pulls her closer to him away from the fight that is likely to break out before a loud screeching voice cuts through the air.

“True mates? With him? Please Marinette, I knew you were ignorant but I didn’t think you were stupid. I am Adriens true mate. Not you.”

Damian stands up making his way to Marinette, taking her in his arms as she starts to shake.

“What are you talking about Lila? Adrien was there on my birthday, he said we were mates!”

‘Lila’ cackles as other people gasp, some with their phones out recording the entire thing.

“Oh please, did you just take his word for it? Why didn’t you just check his scent? That’s always been the easiest way to tell. Go ahead, I won’t even mess with you.”

She stays frozen looking straight at the boy claiming to be her mate.

“I can’t. I lost my sense of smell when I was a kid. I couldn’t check even if I wanted to.”

Lila looks surprised now, before looking on sadly.

“You really had no idea he was lying, did you?”

She starts shaking, taking a hesitant step towards Adrien.

“Adrien? W-what's she talking about? It’s not true. Is it?”

Her voice ends in a broken whisper, eyes tearing up as he slowly stands up and walks to her.

“You are mine, Marinette. You were mine the moment you put on those earrings. I mean seriously if I don’t take you who will?”

She flinches as he steps closer, his voice getting louder with hysteria.

“Nobody likes you, Mari! I am all you have left now! You want to leave me? HA! I’d like to see you try it.”

At the end of his ‘speech’ he roughly grabs her arm pulling a whimper from her and a very, VERY dangerous sounding snarl from Damian.

Ripping Adrien's hand from her arm while being as gentle as possible to not hurt her he pulls her behind him handing her off to his brothers entrusting them to take care of her.

“Who do you think you are grabbing her like that?”

The words are accentuated with the deep growl rumbling from his chest.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business, what I do with MY personal belongings.”

Damian picks Adrien up by his neck slamming him against the nearest wall.

“Don’t talk about her like she's an object.”

Adrien, being the Buffon with no sense of self-preservation he is, laughs.

“Oh yeah? What's it to you how I treat her? Not like you would want her for anything other than her body anyway.”

Adrien sneers down at Damian, even as he slowly starts to turn purple in the face from his grip on his neck.

Slowly tightening his grip even more he watches as the blonde idiot starts to flail from the lack of breathing. Fighting to get a single breath of air.

“Do not act as if I would ever treat my mate in such a way.”

His voice is deadly, sending shivers down even the security guards spines.

Everyone watches on, some with their phones recording, certain that they are about to see Damian Wayne, their bosses son, about to commit a murder in the lobby.

And no one is even going to try and stop him.

That is until a small pale hand lands on his arm, shooting sparks all the way to his heart.

“Is it true? Are you really my true mate?”

Damian nods ever so slowly, never taking his eyes off the blonde who is slowly losing consciousness.

Two thin, lethal arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“Please stop. I just want to leave right now. Will you take me?”

Without another word Damian drops the barely conscious man, taking his coat off and wrapping it around Marinette's shoulders, tucking her into his side as he swiftly walks her out of the building.

Adrien slowly gets up, trying to chase after them only to be cut short by the three eldest Wayne brothers.

All armed with glares that could kill.

Behind them stands all of the Wayne enterprises employees, making a human barrier between the newly found mates and Adrien.

The brother with the white piece of hair steps forward pushing Adrien back down to the ground.

“I think we need to have a little talk.”

#werewolf au #Not sure I like it #Not my idea #If you can find the original tag so I can give credit #maribat #daminette #maridami #protective batfam #toxic!adrien

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kaunis-sielu · 3 years

Text

A Favor

“Auntie!” Anya says the second you answer your phone, “I need your help!”

“What’s wrong?” You’d learned quickly that her version of an emergency and yours were very different.

“My principal wants to talk to my parents!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sick of Ted Cramer being a bully so I punched him.”

“Okay, so why are you calling me?”

“My parents are out on a mission!”

“Oh.” Keeping who Anya’s parents are a secret is the only thing keeping her in normal school, which was something both agents had wanted for their daughter. “I’ll grab one of your uncles and come in.”

“Not uncle Bucky okay?”

“Why not?”

“Um, last time he was here the principal called him a terror or something and uncle Bucky got really sad.”

“Okay, not Bucky. Are you in the office now honey?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell the principal we’ll be there soon.”

“Um, could you just say you’re my parents? They haven’t met them and you don’t travel as much as my parents do, and you look a lot like me. Since you work behind the scenes people won’t know.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please!” She begs, “otherwise they’re just gonna demand my parents come in and then they’re gonna be recognized and I’ll have to leave all my friends!” She sounds so upset that you cave,

“Okay fine.”

“Thank you! Okay I gotta go, I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon honey.” You hang up then and grab your purse to head out and find one of the boys. You know that Bucky, Steve, Scott and Bruce are all home. Bucky is already out and you don’t think Scott is around enough to be a good Clint substitute. You round one of the corners and nearly crash into Steve, “ah!” You cry startled at the sudden appearance of the Captain.

“Sorry, you okay?” He asks and you nod.

“Hey, I need a favor. Well, actually Anya needs a favor.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yea, just in trouble and needs two people to come to the school.”

“Let me get changed.” You haven’t told him all the information yet but he’s already ready to jump in and help Anya. It’s one of the reasons you adore the man, always ready to help his family.

“Oh, okay I’ll meet you downstairs?” He nods then disappears into his room, you make your way down to one of the cars and as you’re walking up he appears out of the stairwell. He’s in a black shirt, jeans and a grey jacket that either belongs to him, Sam or Bucky, you’ve seen all three men wear it so you’re not sure who it belongs to.

“You want me to drive or do you wanna?” He asks and you pull open the passenger side door in response. “Alright.” He chuckles then gets into the car and heads for Anya’s school.

“So just a heads up she’s asked me to pretend to be Natasha, well actually Natalie Rushman.”

“Why?”

“Nat and Clint are gone so often and since I don’t go out on missions to fight I’m home more than anyone. If Anya needs someone to come in again I’m the best option, I’m not a familiar Avenger. You might be more of a problem, having to explain how I know Captain America.”

“I wear a mask and I’ve got my undercover hat in the back.” He tells you with a grin and you laugh softly.

“Alright, if asked I’ll just say I work for Stark.” You say as he pulls into the parking lot. You climb out of the car and make your way into the school, Steve’s hat is low and somehow it does make him look less like Captain America and more like suburban dad.

“Hi, how can I help you?” The woman sitting at the front desk asks, it was too easy to get into the school, you glance up at Steve and see a small frown on his face. He must be thinking the same thing.

“Hi-“

“Mom! Dad!” Anya cries rushing you and Steve who you share a surprised look with Steve as Anya wraps her arms around your waist and buried her face in your stomach.

“You must be Anya’s parents, I’ll let Principal Decker know you’re here.”

“Thank you.” You tell her and the second she turns away you conjure rings for your and Steve’s fingers.

“Good thinkin’ Sweetheart.” He mutters into your hair.

“Anya, can you tell us a little more about why we were called in here?”

“Ted Cramer wouldn’t leave me alone, he keeps pulling my hair and poking my side and taking my stuff. When I told Mr. Sanders he just told me to ignore it so when Ted grabbed me at recess I punched him.” She looks up at you and that’s when you see the forming bruise around her eye.

“Anya who hit you?” Steve asks, his voice low.

“Nick Sanders. He’s best friends with Ted.”

“So why are you the only one in the office?” You ask, irritation building.

“Because the boys are in with the nurse.” A male voice says and you look up to see a man in a suit standing in front of you. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Rushman. Principal Decker.” He reaches a hand out for Steve’s and he shakes it coldly.

“Bradley actually, Clark Bradley. My wife kept her last name and since she did all the work we decided to give Anya her last name.”

“My apologies, let’s move this to my office?” He offers and when he goes to touch you to guide you into his office you shy away, Steve wraps a protective arm around your shoulder and when Principal Decker gestures for you to sit Steve stands behind your chair arms folded tightly.

“So you’ve called the other children’s parents?” You ask hoping that he isn’t going to disappoint you but considering he’s already pretty much ignored you you don’t have a whole lot of hope.

“Considering Anya is the one who started the fight we’re a little more concerned with dealing with her behavior first.”

“That’s not the story we heard.” You tell him, glancing over at Anya who looks furious.

“Well, you can’t always believe everything children say.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says through gritted teeth, “did you just call our daughter a liar?”

“No, no, I just think it’s unwise to just assume you’re getting the whole story.”

“I told them the whole story!”

“Anya if you can’t be respectful then I’m going to ask you to sit in the office.” Principal Decker warns and she folds her arms tightly over her chest, that’s when you notice the rip in her shirt.

“Anya, turn around please.” You tell her and there’s a large tear in the back of her shirt. “Did this happen when you were defending yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Fighting Mrs. Rushman.” Principal Decker interrupts.

“Maybe Anya should go out into the hallway.” Steve growls and you reach behind you to take his hand.

“No,” you counter, “Anya needs to be here to hear this just as much as Principal Decker does.” Your voice is steady, calm, “we have taught Anya to defend herself if someone has touched her when she has asked them not to. Ted Cramer has been an issues all school year, I know because I’ve already emailed Mr. Sanders about it.” Not a lie, as her godmother Natasha has you in their parent email so that you can step in if needed. He opens his mouth to speak but you hold up a hand, “I am not finished.” His mouth closes again, “We won’t be pressing charges against the school for allowing sexual harassment to continue,”

“Sexual harassment? Hold on a minute, they’re 10!”

“He has been pulling her hair, touching her and taking her things all year.”

“Little boys do that when they like little girls! He just has a crush.”

“I see you’re married Principal Decker,” You say gesturing at his ring, “do you poke your wife? Do you pick on her? Take her things? Touch her when she asks you to stop? Because if you do you’re an abuser.” His mouth drops open. “Am I pleased that Anya felt her only course of action was to hit someone to get them to leave her alone? No, I’m furious that her teacher and principal did not listen to her and made her feel like she had to defend herself. Now, how long will she be out of school? My husband and I have jobs to do and frankly you’re an ass.”

“Mrs. Rushman!” He sputters but you stand and hold out a hand for Anya’s.

“How long Principal Decker?”

“Three days.”

“Very well. Anya go get your things.” You turn then and make your way out of the principal’s office Steve behind you.

“Damn Sweetheart.” He mutters and you give his hand a little squeeze. Then he disappears with Anya to gather her things. You head out for the car, leaning against the sleek black thing in the sunshine. Hopefully Clint and Nat won’t be too upset with how you and Steve handled this.

“You! Are you that little Rushman bitch’s mom?”

“Excuse me?” You ask standing up straight as a woman comes storming toward you.

“You heard me. I’m gonna kick your ass.” She takes a swing at you that you see coming a mile away. You duck under her arm, step behind her and throw and elbow into her shoulder blade throwing her off balance. She stumbles forward and you turn to face her again as she whips around.

“My daughter took on three boys and only had a black eye and a ripped shirt. Where do you think she learned to fight?” You ask calmly as the woman rushes you again, you wait and shove her away as you sidestep her again she goes stumbling. Technically it was Natasha but the woman doesn’t need to know that. This time when she rushes you you don’t move, instead you catch her arm and spin her into the car pinning her against the hood.

“Mom?”

“Hi Anya. Clark.”

“Everything alright here Sweetheart?”

“Yea, this is one of the boys mom. She doesn’t seem pleased with how we decided to raise our daughter to not be a passive little thing who lets boys do whatever they want.”

“Fuck you!” The woman screams and you twist her arm painfully.

“Language. You’re at an elementary school.” You say coolly, “Anya honey get in the car please.”

“Anything you need from me Sweetheart?”

“Mm, her husband doesn’t seem too pleased.”

“Let go of my wife you fucking bitch!” He roars his truck squealing to a stop behind your car. He comes bolting out of the car and Steve sighs.

“Honestly. Who do they think taught our kid to kick ass?” Steve grumbles placing himself between you and the large tatted man.

“He’s gonna kill you!” His wife says from where you still have her pinned to your car.

“Friday, are police on their way?” You ask your watch.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” You say before a loud crash happens behind you.

“I told you to calm down.” Steve says and when you glance behind you you see the other man groaning against his car, a body shaped dent in the hood.

“Mick! Mick! Do something!” The woman yells struggling against you as the police roll up.

“I don’t think Mick is gonna be getting up anytime soon.” Steve says with a sigh. The two police officers come up and she starts screaming about how you’d attacked her. The police take her from you and when they attempt to cuff you too Steve speaks up.

“You probably shouldn’t do that.”

“Are you threatening us sir?”

“No, but she does work for Stark and the whole thing was caught on that camera so maybe check the security camera before you go slapping cuffs on people.”

The two officers call for an ambulance to check on Mick then one goes inside to see what was caught on the camera. When he comes out with a flash drive you’re free to go.

“Thanks Auntie. Thanks uncle Steve.” Anya says from the backseat as Steve pulls out of the school parking lot.

“Don’t thank us quite yet. You still have to tell your parents that you were suspended.” Anya groans loudly before pulling her phone from her pocket. “On speaker please.” You instruct, she’s a tricky thing.

“What? Don’t you trust me?”

“Considering I just played your mom and Steve your dad, no I do not.” She groans but does as you ask and calls her mom on speakerphone.

It’s not the worst conversation and you’re glad that Nat and Clint found that you and Steve played them entertaining. You make sure to tell them that you’ll make sure she gets her schoolwork done before she goes back next week.

“So, I was thinking we deserve ice cream.” Steve says once Anya hangs up with her parents.

“I think that sounds like a great idea. What do you think Anya?”

“I love ice cream. Uncle Steve you should ask Auntie out.”

“Oh, um.” Steve stutters and you glance over your shoulder at Anya.

“Anya you don’t just get to decide things like that for people.”

“But he likes you, and you like him Auntie.” Before you can say anything else Steve chuckles,

“Well she’s not wrong.” Steve says and your gaze whips over to him.

“What?”

“I do like you. So, what do you say? First date at an ice cream parlor with our niece?”

“That sounds perfect.”

#steve rogers #captain america #oneshot #imagine steve rogers #captain america x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers one shots #steve rogers oneshot #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

Text

Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed.

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.”

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is.

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing.

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him.

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters.

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second. If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive, but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms.

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion.

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind.

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him? It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof.

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets.

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death.

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now.

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard.

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

#My writing #Tim drake #batman fanfic #red robin #trigger warning:#depression #suicide attempts #discussion of suicide #overdose #mental illness #hurt comfort #Tim doing the comfort and being the hurt #until he gets the comfort #happy ending #wholesome #I swear the tags are scary but it IS wholesome #Tim drake centric #my writting

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angstysebfan · 3 years

Note

Okay I think I'm gonna hurt my own heart with this but hey, it's angst. Could you please write something where reader and Bucky are married, have a child or children and still work as Avengers. Maybe one day reader is sent to go on a mission and Bucky stays home on dad duty. Reader's mission goes badly and she doesn't make it home, leaving him all alone 😭.

(I may request an alternative ending to this because I'm a soft bean).

Oookay can I change up my second request that I sent, please (I've decided my heart can't handle the horrible ending I suggested 😂. Yes I'm a wuss). So mission still goes awry and they think reader is dead because they don't find her body. So Bucky is still told horrible news that she is dead. Maybe a month later he gets a call from a hospital that says they have her and have finally identified who she is and she's okay. (2/2)

Lol!! I understand not wanting the angsty ending. I might write angst, but I hate writing angsty endings... lmao! Hope you like this. WARNING: MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND INJURIES.

Be Careful

Bucky kissed you passionately, not wanting to let you go. You pull back and give him a smile, “I’ll be home before you know it. Take care of our little bean while his mommy kicks some ass,” you say as you walk backwards away.

“I will. Be careful. I love you, Doll,” Buck says with a smile.

You blow him a kiss before you climb the ramp to the quinjet before going on a solo mission. You turn back and look at your husband, “I love you more!” you shout before entering the quinjet.

Bucky watches as the quinjet lifts off and flies you away, until you are finally out of sight. He turns and goes back into the compound and into your shared apartment, where your 8 month old son is blissfully asleep in his crib. Bucky quickly checks on him before going back out into the common room, knowing FRIDAY will let him know if the baby wakes up.

It’s been several hours and there has been no word from you, and Bucky was starting to get nervous. You were supposed to check in an hour ago, but Steve told him to not panic. Bucky tried to distract himself with caring for your son. He fed him, played with him a little bit, gave him a bath and put him to bed. He hoped you would have been home before he went to bed, but there was still no word.

Bucky sat in bed, thinking about what could have happened. He tried to think about how something had gone wrong, and you had to find a safehouse, and it was taking a little longer. He knew something was wrong, but when Steve knocked on the door, and Bucky saw his face, he knew it was worse than he could imagine.

Wanda came to watch the baby, while Bucky went with Steve, Sam, and Nat to the location where they lost signal from you. When they landed outside of the abandoned HYDRA base, they search and eventually find your empty quinjet about a half mile away.

Bucky ran over to it, calling for you in desperation. It was dark, but with the lights on the quinjet, the team was horrified to not only not find you, but see a lot of blood around the inside quinjet. Bucky thought he was either going to throw up or pass out. Nat seeing his reaction, pulled Bucky out of the quinjet so he can breath some fresh air.

Sam looked at Steve sadly, “This is a lot of blood, Steve. If this is hers, there is no way Y/N is...” Sam couldn’t bare to finish his sentence. Steve took a sample with a piece equipment Tony and Bruce created, which showed that the blood did indeed belong to you. He sighs defeatedly and looks out of the quinjet where Nat was holding a sobbing Bucky.

He walks out and looks at Nat, “Take him back to the compound and have Tony and yourself come back when the sun is up. Sam and I are going to continue to search the area,” he says.

Bucky pulls away from Nat, “I’m not leaving. I am finding my wife,” he says.

“Buck, you have to go back to the compound and take care of your son. You aren’t emotionally able to handle this mission. If the roles were reversed you would say the same to me,” Steve said, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky choked on a sob, but nodded, knowing Steve was right. Nat pulled Bucky to the other quinjet and set off toward the compound. Bucky was silent the whole ride, praying to whatever god there was that you were still alive. He knew he was going to make whoever hurt you pay no matter what, but he needed you to be alive.

The next day Wanda stayed with Bucky to help with his son, as she knew Bucky was distracted waiting to hear back from the team. When he saw the quinjet land he ran out, hoping that they found you. Steve walked out and looked devastated and like he was crying. Bucky took a deep breath as Steve walked up to him, “Buck...”

Bucky nodded, knowing you were dead. “I’m sorry. We couldn’t even recover her body,” Steve said, fighting back tears.

Bucky took a deep breath, wiping the tears that threatened to fall. He looked behind Steve and saw the rest of the team crying, all feeling the devastation of losing their friend. Bucky took a deep breath as Wanda brought his son out to him, knowing Bucky needed him.

Bucky looked at his hansom son, who looks just like you, with Bucky’s eyes. How was ever going to be able to explain to him how he failed to keep his mother safe? How would he explain how amazing his mother was and how much she loved him, and Bucky let her go out alone and get herself killed?

He forced himself to swallow the sob that threatened to come out when looking at his son and grabbed him from Wanda and held him close. After a few moments and walked away from team, not able to handle seeing them distraught. He went to his apartment and sat on the couch with his son in his arms. He looked at the big smile on his sons face and let the sob out.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried.

After a funeral a few days later, Bucky was benched from missions, though he was pretty sure he was going to retire now anyway. He didn’t want to make his son an orphan, plus he was in no mood to go out and save the world. He tried to act normal for his son, but every night he cried himself to sleep while he held your pillow, which still smelled like you.

He constantly apologized to you for letting you get hurt and killed. He had made a vow to protect you and he failed. He would never forgive himself for that. He knew his son would never forgive him either once he was old enough to understand. The team tried to be there, especially Steve, but Bucky was pushing everyone away. They all understood, but was worried about him.

It’s been a month and Bucky was not doing well. Nat stepped in and started taking care of the baby. Bucky fell into a deeper depression then he thought possible, and finally asked for help to take care of his son. He felt he didn’t deserve to have his son. Steve had never been so worried for his friend and didn’t know what to do.

Tony and Sam took lead in looking for the people who did this, and went on a mission to another HYDRA base. Once they entered the facility they went to find files to see if they could get information, but what they found surprised them even more.

Bucky was lying in bed, looking at the ceiling. This was life for him recently, and he was ok with it, since he obviously deserved it. Your death, he concluded, was punishment for his transgressions as the Winter Soldier. He did start to take better care of his son, but still required a lot of help.

While lying there, Steve came in, not bothering to knock. He rushed over to Bucky. “Buck, there is news,” Steve said urgently.

Bucky let out a sigh, “I thought revenge was what I wanted, but I don’t have the energy to find them and kill them. It won’t bring her back,” Bucky said sadly.

“No, Buck... Tony and Sam... they... they found her,” Steve said.

Bucky sat up and looked at his friend, “You mean they found her body?” he asked, hoping that’s not what he meant.

Steve shook his head, “She is alive, Pal. She is down in med bay, and she is alive, awake, and asking for you.”

Bucky was never up and out of bed faster, running out of the room and toward the elevator to get down there. He had to see it for himself. Once he got down to med bay he ran down the hall to where Tony was standing.

“Woah Barnes, you have to stop and take a deep breath before you go in. She needs to remain calm, you got it?” Tony said quietly.

Bucky nodded and slowly walked in and saw you lying in the bed, bruised, bloody, but alive. He thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. “Y/N?” he asked, still not believing his eyes.

You looked at him and immediately relaxed, “Bucky,” you said in a raspy voice.

Bucky walked over to your bed and grabbed your outstretched hand. “Baby? Is... is it really you?” he asked.

You let a watery laugh escape, “It’s me baby. I’m sorry I’m late,” you said.

You pull Bucky into a hug and you both cried into each others shoulder. Wanda brought your son into the room, and you both held him and each other tightly. Bucky swore nothing and no one would ever take you away from him again. You were home, safe, and alive. He was going to make sure you always were.

Oh i loved this one! Thank you for requesting it! Hope you liked it!

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @aleaisntcreative @lookiamtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness @connie326 @arundhati1609 @amandamdiehl @harrysthiccthighss @its-izzys @roserose26 @rebekahdawkins @elegantobservationstudentsblog @broco8 @bestofbucky @white-wolf1940 @loser-alert @jassy2101

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #Bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 5: Overprotection

Disclaimer: Dick was adopted when he was 12 in this fic. Just for math’s sake.

—*—*—*—*—*

“What.”

Damian stared at his father, face carefully blank. Bruce grimaced, shifting.

“I said, you have a half sister. Biological.”

Four sets of eyes bored into him, from all of his sons. They were gathered not in the Batcave for once, but just one of the sitting rooms in the Manor.

“... and what, Father, does that have to do with the French class visiting Gotham?” Damian asked again, posture steadily growing stiffer and more and more stone like. He was trying hard to suppress emotions, but not even he was quite sure what those emotions were yet. Anger? Fear? Resentment? Probably. He might have detected some excitement there too, deep, deep down. Bruce took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for this.

“Well. I’ve kept up with her life, but last time I checked she had no idea that she was adopted. When her birth mother died, it was right around the time I adopted Dick. She was still an infant, and I knew I was not equipped to handle taking care of a baby—“

“Father,” Damian interrupted again. “You sent her off. Have her up for adoption,” he said slowly, as if realizing that that would have been his fate had his father known about his existence earlier, as well. It was almost ironic, considering how Bruce seemed to have a problem with adopting other children nowadays. Bruce nodded.

“She was adopted by a couple in France. Paris, to be exact. I’ve kept up to date, asking them to just send me a letter or email once or twice a year about the general stuff she’s been up to. Nothing too invasive. A few pictures. And last time I asked them, they said that she had no idea about being adopted or that I was her father,” Bruce sighed again, running a hand over his face. “But I think she does.”

“Why?” Jason asked, confused as everyone else to the change in subject. Except Tim and Damian, who seemed to be quickly connecting the dots.

“Oh boy,” Tim breathed. Bruce just nodded.

“Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is the one who organized the trip for her class to come here, to Gotham. She is the one who entered and won our international internship competition, and turned that into an excuse to get her entire class to come here for two weeks. To get to know the place she will be living for her internship next year, after she graduates Lycee, France’s version of highschool essentially.”

Tim winced. He had been in charge of the internship competition, and Bruce had given him free reign. He had chosen the winner without even thinking to run it by his adoptive father.

“Bruce—“ Tim tried, but the man just held up a hand.

“I don’t blame you. I haven’t been paying too much attention to her life, and I didn’t expect her to do something like this. But we know now that, if she does know and this isn’t a giant coincidence,”

“Unlikely,” Dick agreed, wincing. “Possible, but unlikely.”

Bruce huffed in agreement. “Then, we know she is very resourceful, determined, and has skills that impressed Tim enough to choose her out of tens of thousands of contest participants worldwide.”

“The minimum requirement for a Wayne,” Damian finally managed to bite out, still coping with this proverbial slap in the face but doing his best to handle it. He was seventeen damn it, and had come a long way from who he used to be. He could handle this. He could. He would.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the table. “Okay. So now we need to make plans.”

“Plans?” Jason asked, frowning. “For how you’re gonna tell her without getting your faces plastered over every tabloid in the city right?”

“No,” the older man shook his head. “Plans to keep her alive, unharmed, and unaffiliated with us until she leaves. I will not be making any public appearances unless absolutely necessary, so trips to the Tower are out of the question—“

“Are you…” Jason’s eyes were wide. “Trying to keep her out of our Shitshow? Because yeah, kudos to you even if it took you way too long to learn, but if she went through all this trouble to come here then it's probably too late.”

Dick nodded. “If she’s anything like you and Damian, there’s no way she’ll back off easy. Avoiding her will only make it worse on you, and probably the rest of us too.”

Damian stared straight into his father's eyes, glare sharp and searching. “What is this about, Father? You have not worried this much about any of us—“

“Because none of you were as naive!” He barked, quickly catching himself and taking a breath. “You all had a way you could benefit from this life. A way I could help you. But Marinette has both of the parents she has known her whole life, they treat her wonderfully. They care. She’s never had to worry about constantly moving, or fighting, or going hungry. The only deaths she has ever experienced have been from afar and due to natural causes. She designs as a hobby and has no problem with socializing or handling emotions in a healthy way— introducing her to our life holds no benefit for her. The only thing it can give her is unnecessary danger and risk and secrets.”

“Yeah, well. I guess Batman doesn’t know everything, does he?” A new voice startled them all from the doorway, making everyone's head whip over to see who had managed the near-impossible and snuck up on all of them.

Standing there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, was a short part-Asian woman in her late teens. Her midnight black hair was cascading down her back in one thick braid, tied off at the end with an indigo ribbon. Her eyes were a piercing cobalt blue, matching those of Bruce perfectly. Her jaw was clenched, and the infamous Bat-glare coming from her was directed right at the person who made the expression infamous in the first place.

“Marinette,” Bruce breathed, shoulders squaring. “Your plane isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”

“It won’t,” she agreed. “I took a portal here. You see, my extensive research into Batman’s known habits and tactics, which I started after I figured out about your alter ego last year, informed me that you tend to go to the extremes to protect people you deem incapable of protecting themselves, and are also prone to idiotic self-sacrificing behavior in the form of purposely making yourself look like an ass.”

Jason chuckled. “She’s got you down to a T, B,” he quipped with a grin despite the caution still in his eyes. “But let’s back up a bit, little Spitfire. What’s this about a portal?”

Marinette pushed off the doorframe, walking closer to the scattered group. Tim and Jason were spread across one sofa, Damian on the other with Dick, and Bruce was occupying an armchair. Marinette just walked until she stood where she could easily be seen by everyone, but also had nobody at her back.

“The portal is part of a bigger story. Like, the fact that father dearest wanted to protect me so badly that he placed the JLE in Paris, but didn’t realize that relations with that branch were so bad that the JLE never informed him or the JLA about getting kicked out of France and reassigning themselves to Italy. Bruce never kept a close enough eye on the city, because he wanted to keep emotional distance, and therefore was completely blind to when a supervillain showed up and terrorized Paris for almost five years,” she continued, her glare never leaving Bruce’s face.

“I found out about being adopted when I was eight. I found out who my biological father was when I was thirteen. Last year, I finally put in the work to connect Bruce Wayne to Batman. And yeah, I never told Maman and Papan, because they have never completely understood me. They wouldn’t have understood that I was fine with having no contact with you, back then. That my snooping had nothing to do with being unhappy with them as my parents. They would have immediately assumed they were inadequate when I am merely curious by nature. But then I ended up being chosen to be one of the child heroes that fought said domestic terrorist that showed up five years ago. And I sure as hell couldn't tell them that a magical artifact showed up on my desk one day and that the god inhabiting it told me to fight the monsters the villain made and just, just go with it. I couldn’t tell them when I went from being one of two Parisian heroes to being the leader of a team. I couldn’t tell them when my elderly mentor, unable to fight by our side but who had at least provided emotional support and knowledge, passed away and gave me his title and responsibilities. I’m sick and tired of being protected, Monsieur Wayne,” Marinette didn’t seem to notice the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m sick of it. I know you were trying to keep me safe, but I fought a war I wasn’t prepared for. I died, thousands of times. But my own powers and the powers I have my partners brought me back to life. Over and over. I don’t need protection, damn it. I don’t need you to distance yourself, because you're the only fucking person I can call a parent who might understand,” she held out a hand, her scowl turning into a gentle smile. “I have so much I need to talk about. Before I drown under all these secrets. Please. I’ll go back through another portal before my parents notice I’m gone, but I’ll be back in town tomorrow when my plane lands. Just. Please, don’t push me away. That’s all I ask. I want to get to know you, all of you. I… I need family who understands.”

“Thousands.” Bruce repeated, all of them still recovering from Marinette’s very sudden, info-dumping speech. “You died… thousands of times?”

Marinette laughed, but it was a sad sound. No mirth there. “I gave my friend a magical artifact that reverses time, and the artifact that gives me my own powers can reverse any damage from a fight I use it in. Even death. Sending untrained teenagers to fight a villain three times their age makes some kind of failsafe like that kind of necessary.”

“Fuck,” Jason cursed under his breath. “Well. You’re welcome to join the living Zombie club,” he offered. The girl snorted, giving him a watery grin in thanks.

“I’m sure you know about my stance on powers and metas,” Bruce decided to say, wincing immediately after. That wasn’t what he meant to say. At all. He earned another brief glare for it.

“I’m not a meta, and I only have powers when I use the artifact to transform, thereby borrowing powers from the miniature god that the artifact houses. Think of it like doctor fate, but my gods are actually not parasites and my powers are much more… specialized. I had to learn combat on my own, and I was able to train in my sleep with the past users of this artifact. That includes people like Fa Mulan, Joan of Arc, and someone you actually know— Hippolyta. I’ve mastered more fighting styles by now than I care to remember, and I’ve done gymnastics since I was three. I don’t know if my parents told you that in their letters. I even won the gold in the nationwide France gymnastics competition two years ago. I assure you, I don’t rely on my powers nearly as much as you might think.”

Bruce swallowed. “I can… greet you when your class arrives.”

Marinette grinned. “Well, that’s a start.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Idk what happened, I don’t know if I like this at all but oh well. I’m posting it anyway. Maybe one of you will like it. I… couldn’t really find any other way to do this so oh well. Also, I think Mulan was a past Dragon..? But I put her as a Ladybug because I Can.

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl @iamablinkmarvelarmy @meme991001

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic brucinette #day 5 #not my fave at all

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