#Bruce seeking him out first and being able to explain his side of the story first without misunderstandings. this is the Happy Version

[starry-bi-sky]

"Stillborn? No, no, still born." -- DPXDC AU

Based off a comment I saw where Bruce knew about Talia's pregnancy in the earlier comivs, and was ecstatic to be a father. So much so that Talia feared he'd give up being Batman for it, so when she gave birth she put the baby (Damian) on a doorstep and (seemingly) told Bruce that the baby was stillborn.

Instead of Damian, that baby was Danny! Meet Daniel Brown, the 14 year old foster kid whose been living with the Fenton family for the last two years. He's about two years older than Damian.

His last name, "Brown", was a generic surname given to him because the note he came with didn't have one on it. It just had the name "Danyal" on it, but albeit 'Daniel' was the one that had been put into the system for, I'll be totally frank here, racism reasons.

(I looked it up to make sure, and it's generally not permissible for foster parents to change the names of their foster kids even if it's a permanent residency, and for that reason Danny doesn't have the last name "Fenton".)

Danny's got ✨~issues!~✨ He's been through a handful of homes growing up, most of them terrible for a variety of reasons. Which has, as a result, left lasting scars. He's generally a very sweet kid, just very distrustful and jumpy. He's got the signs of a kid suffering from PTSD, and a handful of other issues including attachment and insomnia. His inferiority complex could rival Damian's, and that's going to make for an interesting mutual hatred for when they finally meet.

(something I'll get into later)

He still has the blanket he was found in. It's made of a very high quality material and is a beautiful emerald green with little golden thread accents, it's high quality as a result has Danny clinging onto a desperate hope that his bio family might be out there, and the only reason they gave him up was because of some outside factor. It's been taken a few times in old foster homes, and he's flipped out each time.

While he still calls Jack and Maddie by their names, he likes them well enough. The bar isn't that high though, and while they're some of the better foster parents he's had, "better" doesn't equal "safest". Their laboratory malpractice. Basically, C- Fenton Parents. They're negligent by virtue of being engrossed in their work, but they do care equally about Jazz and Danny. So he doesn't hold it against them that much.

He kinda prefers it that way, their loud affection is overwhelming and Danny doesn't know what to do with their attention, even if he craves it. It's a bit of a complicated situation.

They took in Danny because they genuinely wanted another child, but didn't want a big age gap between them and Jazz. It was actually Jack's idea to foster, and they discussed it with Jazz beforehand. She was all for the idea. Thus, a handful of weeks later, a ton of paperwork, and inspection later, and Daniel Brown entered their household with a trash bag in one hand and eyes like shards of stained glass.

His relationship with Jazz is kinda strained, but that's by virtue of her constant psychoanalyzing and helicoptering. Like with the parents, Danny's overwhelmed by the attention and also just, straight up doesn't like the fact that she's telling him that there's something wrong with him. He knows that, thank you. He pushes her away when she does this.

Other than that though? When Jazz isn't smothering him and is acting like an actual sibling and not a third parent, they're pretty close, and Danny really likes her. They've hung out a few times on their own volition, and Jazz showed him how to take better care of his long hair.

His school situation,, pretty similar to canon with the bullying, albeit with a few more instances of him blowing a fuse and lashing out against his attackers. He's a rather angry kid, but it's quiet. It builds up, piles on top of itself, until eventually, like a volcano, it erupts and burns everyone within radius.

Danny's got a fire core, not an ice core. Phantom's hair is made of white magma; thick and heavy, setting itself on fire when his anger runs hot. When he gets angry, his skin begins to char and split open to reveal pulsating lava underneath, and he crackles and pops like a raging forest fire.

I haven't decided yet on how he meets the batfam -- i've got two ideas but they're both in opposition to each other, and drastically alter how the rest of the plot goes. But I do know that him and Damian hate each other in the beginning. And it has nothing to do with inheritance or "being the blood son" -- although their blood relation absolutely plays the major role in their disdain for each other.

Simply put, they're jealous of each other for the same thing: thinking that the other was wanted.

Damian hates Danny because, unlike Damian, Bruce knew about Danny since conception and wanted him from the moment he heard about him. He had a whole nursery set up, and still does. He never took it down -- just locked the door. Damian was thrust upon Bruce without warning, and he feels like he forced himself into the family. And while on some level Damian knows and understands that Bruce wants him and loves him as much as his other children, that doubt and feeling of inferiority still remains. He looks at Danny and sees him with what Damian always feels he needs reaffirmed.

Meanwhile, Danny hates Damian because he looks at him and sees him with everything Danny's ever wanted. He hates him because Damian grew up knowing both of their parents, with one of them for most of his life, and then moved over to the other. There was never a moment where Damian was (seemingly) left to doubt his place within the family. Damian was raised with the very same woman who left Danny on a doorstep, with no clue to his identity beyond a little green blanket and a note with only a first name. Damian was wanted everywhere, and Danny was wanted nowhere. Damian is Danny's replacement in his eyes.

(It's the little revelation that Damian grew up with their mother that elevates Danny from being quietly envious of Damian to downright despising him. What did Damian do, that Danny didn't? He could live with Damian living with Bruce -- Bruce didn't know Danny was even alive. But him living with their mom? Are you fucking kidding him?)

Damian never outright attacks Danny physically, but it's not like he hides that he didn't like Danny. Meanwhile, Danny, in all his repressive anger, quietly despised him from a distance until finally one wrong snide side-comment has him blowing up and it becomes a screaming match. They're both just enough similar to each other that when they look at each other they really just see a mirror.

They'll work it out together, eventually. But it'll be ugly and cruel and explosive, and they'll start mending the bridge to become brothers in more than just blood relation in the end.

But yeah, stillborn Danny has... a lot going for him.

[howdoyousleep3]

where’s that hc about bucky learning to touch 🤲

I was hoping someone would notice that tag and hit me up. Thank you, sweet pea. This one is special to me, one of many. ❤

Bucky doesn’t say much about what happened to him after the fall and before Steve was miraculously given a second chance at a life with him. Steve is thankful for that. The details he does know come from Bucky’s therapist and from files that have been scrounged up over time, ones Steve can’t stomach through, ones he hands to Natasha and asks only for the information she finds pertinent.

Steve is sure he’d die of a goddamn broken heart if he knew every detail of Bucky’s 70+ years of brainwashed torture.

What he needs to know about Bucky is constant and will never change: this is James Barnes, the one in the same Steve spent his entire life falling in love with, Steve loves him now more than ever, and he is going to live every day he’s gifted with in this life for Bucky.

There are things Steve expects after Bucky joins him and the others back at the Tower, things Bruce has helped him comprehend in such a volatile predicament.

“It could take months, years even, for him to come back to you in full. And honestly, Steve...I would be ready for the possibility of him not returning to you in full. This may not end up being the Bucky you knew and grew up with. He needs therapy, needs patience, needs reminders of his life before, of who he was and is. This won’t be easy, Steve.”

Anything for Bucky.

There are things Bucky took to right away and other things that took much longer for him to enjoy or remember. Steve is with him every step of the way.

Sleep was one thing that Steve thought would be a struggle. After only one month of sleeping on the floor in the corner of his bedroom, Steve able to hear him tossing and turning and breathing heavily through his own bedroom wall, it took one afternoon nap on the couch to make him want to move to his new bed. While nightmares continued, Bucky slept albeit in small increments and sometimes through the day, but he slept.

Steve thought that would take years.

Crowds were another story. Crowds came with trust and Bucky rightfully didn’t trust others easily. He barely trusted Steve at first. It took time to get him out of the apartment, baby steps, one step forward and two steps back. They started with walks at dawn, fewer people, gave a shot at stopping for coffee on the way home a few times.

“It’s a Venti here, Buck,” Steve had tried to explain and Bucky huffed. “Why are things so goddamn complicated now? Just want a coffee, a—”

“I know— a black coffee with too much sugar. I got it.”

They’re working on interactions with others and the anxiety that comes with crowds. That one will take time.

What hadn’t taken time, and what startled everyone in the tower beyond belief, was Bucky and affection.

Steve may not know much of what Bucky has spent most of his life enduring but he at least had the assumption that what Bucky went through shouldn’t make him want any kind of touch from another person. Steve wrongfully assumed that any sort of gentle or soft touch wasn't something Bucky would like.

Bucky had spent the past 70+ years walking this earth as a killer, a robot, a machine, an assassin. He surely spent decades thinking he wasn’t worthy of anything, let alone love. He had been touch-starved, void of the tenderness and closeness Steve knows Bucky deserved and craved underneath the brainwashed parts of him.

It took time for Bucky to remember who Steve was to him. While he had recognized him immediately, remembering him but not how, it took months for Bucky to remembered the capacity in which he did so.

And Steve waited.

And waited.

Steve was gifted with small moments along the way, on this journey of Bucky remembering both himself and who Steve was to him:

“You...you were real small once,” Bucky said, factual with no trace of a question, hands in soapy water as he handed Steve a plate to dry. Steve had merely hummed. “Yeah, was...was maybe half the size I am now. Real small.”

“Could fit both’a my hands right around your middle…”

It had been a long while since Steve blushed like that.

Bucky standing over Steve’s sleeping form, heaving chest visible by only the filtered moonlight, Steve mumbling out a, “Buck, wha—?” before Bucky whispered, “You...you’ve been inside of me.” Steve sat up.

“I have,” Steve breathed, on cautious ground, shakier when Bucky then whispered, “But you like it better when I’m inside’a you.”

When Steve had swallowed audibly, nodded his head wordlessly, Bucky had turned and left the room.

It took months of moments like those to compile together, to form the picture of what Steve once was, what he yearned to continue to be, to Bucky. All of these moments, these memories, came to a head so unpredictably during yet another movie night. Knees knocking, fingers brushing, small touches that Steve absolutely soaked in, had gotten used to, had relearned.

When a glance towards Bucky had the wind knocking its way out of Steve’s chest, the familiarity of that look a bone-deep ache—

Bucky was going to kiss him.

A look full of determination and want, lips parted, eyes a bit glassy. Steve didn't dare move, had let Bucky come to him for fear of scaring him away. The moment their lips touched was the moment Bucky started crying. It had only been a short brush of their lips but Steve barely breathed, barely moved. Bucky had pulled back with wide, wet eyes, shaky breaths. “Buck, it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s alright, sweetheart,” are the words that easily slipped from his mouth, unable to stop them in a moment of progress that satiated his entire being.

That was the moment that changed everything. It was a startle to everyone involved. Steve had been ready to wait years, this entire life, for the moment he could touch Bucky again, could show him that physicality he knew his Buck craved. After that night on the couch it was as if the floodgates had opened—

Bucky remembered and wanted.

Regardless of where they were or what was happening, he wanted to be touching Steve: soft kisses on the cheek and lips, laying his head in Steve’s lap as he read, lacing his fingers between Steve’s during meetings, an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist between bouts of sparring. He’d trace patterns onto Steve’s thigh as he watched Steve draw, press against the line of his back while he cooked dinner.

Steve was floating on a cloud, was in heaven, never happier. It was perfection.

But what Bucky wanted, Steve couldn’t provide, couldn’t meet. Steve was only one man, couldn’t provide Bucky, whom touch had been stolen away from for decades, with everything he wanted. And that was okay, something Steve accepted, because there were other people Bucky could turn to that Steve trusted.

“I’m sure you all know why I asked you to meet with me,” Steve started, choosing a time Bucky was napping to meet with the rest of the group that either lived in or frequented the Tower. “Bucky has shown us a new side of him, has made some progress I think it’s worth discussing with everyone, since we’re all...we’ve all been affected...”

“Uhh, yeah— your Barnes-y boy has been all over me lately. I’m almost offended that everyone else is here to talk to Cap though. Thought he was just comin' onto me.”

“I have to tell you, I didn’t...I know we talked, Steve. But I’m honestly shocked at Bucky’s progress. It’s baffling.”

“I haven’t minded it. He lets me braid his hair.”

“Wait— y’all are getting touches?”

It was a group effort, supporting Bucky in this way. It was an adjustment, Bucky never prompting and questioning before touching or requesting touches— he just went for it. He was quiet still, not shy, merely observant. And just like he nudged at and leaned against Steve until his hands were on him, he did the same to others.

“I just ask that you show Bucky grace during this time. It’s a delicate situation. I need to know if you don’t want his touch or don’t wish to give him any kind of touch. I think it would be best if it came from me instead of from you in the moment.”

Natasha was who Bucky went to for scratches. Steve thinks it’s the nails. Steve also thinks Nat is Bucky’s favorite to go to for touches, even over him, but Bucky refuses to admit it.

When Bucky wants mindless touches, when he wants tickles and scratches, he goes to her. She naturally took to Bucky’s need for touches, the first occurrence one that came without hesitation. She’ll braid his hair, let him turn his head right where he wants her head scratches, naturally reaches for his back or shoulders to run her nails across when he saddles in close to her.

Thor is one of Bucky’s favorites too. Steve isn’t sure if it’s because of his strength or because of his warm and accepting demeanor but Bucky gravitates towards Thor often, mainly for neck and shoulder rubs. One, “James, my friend. You musn’t be afraid of asking for touch with me. I will always be willing to assist,” and that was all Bucky needed to feel comfortable walking over to Thor and nudging at his hands.

He puts his head on Bruce’s shoulder as soon as he can, likes sparring and playing hide and seek with Clint, enjoys putting his feet in Sam’s lap. Tony took some warming up to, but even then Bucky spent many hours in Tony’s lab, Tony guiding his hands, showing him what to do and how to work different machines, the two of them tinkering on his own arm.

Bucky kinda turns into the Tower kitty cat, wandering around quietly, napping in the sun, snacking, demanding affection from anyone he crosses paths with and trusts.

Everyone had their form of touch they shared with Bucky and Bucky absolutely blossomed under this form of support. Steve is forever grateful to be surrounded by a group of understanding individuals.

And every night when he lifts the comforter and feels the solid line of Bucky’s warm form against his side, the arm that now easily and inevitably slips around his waist, the familiar lips that always press against his temple, shoulder, and cheek, Steve is reminded this day was for Bucky and that the one they’ll wake up to will also be for him.

"I love you, Buck."

"Mhmm love you too, pal."

Steve doesn't even mind that Bucky spends his nights snoring in the crook of his neck, hot breath wafting over Steve's skin, hands grabby even as he dreams—

This is heaven.

[stxleslyds]

What do you think about the theories that Jason was sexually abused as a child? Or even possibly while he was comatose after his resurrection?

Implications of this theory include his conversation with Mia (Speedy) and Bruce's message (Battle for the Cowl). In addition, when he was Robin he expressed what was then considered uncharacteristic rage towards the perpetrators of sex crimes.

Garzonas - unrepentant rapist who got no consequences

When a woman killed her sister's rapist and murderer (because Batman's evidence was not admissible in court), Batman said that she went too far with murder. Jason's disagreed with "Good riddance". Good for you, Jason.

His recklessness when dealing with a child sex trafficking ring.

I highly doubt that DC would ever confirm this theory. I would rather they leave it ambiguous because I don't trust them to not botch Jason... much less respectfully address the subject matter.

I have read so many thoughts on Jason that they're starting to blend together. So I apologize if you've already answered this before.

Hello friend! Aside from the fact that I took way too much time to answer your ask, this was also a hard question to come up with an answer to, I wanted to remain respectful of the subjects at hand even though I don’t second this headcanon. But before we keep going, let me put some trigger warnings in this post.

trigger warning: mentions of sexual abuse, child abuse, rape.

First, I would like to bring up these two concepts because I oftentimes mix them up when talking about these “ideas”.

Theory: a supposition or a system of ideas intended to explain something; an idea used to account for a situation or justify a course of action.

Headcanon: Headcanon generally refers to ideas held by fans of series that are not explicitly supported by sanctioned text or other media. Fans maintain the ideas in their heads, outside of the accepted canon.

I think the idea of Jason having been sexually abused at any point in his lifetime is a mix between a theory and a headcanon. Why I am saying this? Because as you have put in the ask, there has been instances where fandom has found pieces of information that they have considered the base of this idea.

So, if we say that there is a piece of text that might support that idea and they build from that to justify a course of action we would be looking at a theory. In this case Jason having been abused would the reason as to why he acts in that strong and violent way towards cases of sexual abuse/harassment.

In the other hand those pieces of text might not support that idea so fandom headcanons that idea in order to build another layer to a character, in this case Jason having been abused would also justify his actions towards certain criminals.

The “text” (panels, issues, mentions) are most of the time ambiguous, which makes readers have different perspectives in what is being written and what then is made into a theory or headcanon.

Personally, I don’t like this theory or headcanon for various reasons (which I will explain later in the post), and I have read and understood those moments mentioned as Jason just having survived Crime Alley as something general, I don’t think he suffered that kind of abuse but I think he was made aware of that type of behaviour every day that he spent alone in the streets and that why we saw Jason in Batman #408 saying that he had “graduated a long time ago from the streets of crime alley”.

Having said that, I do understand that some of the moments mentioned can be seen as ambiguous and that’s what leads people to theorize/headcanon that idea, because of that I would like to show the panels mentioned in your ask so everyone can read them and make up their own conclusions and then I will talk about the reasons why I don’t like this particular theory/headcanon.

As Robin:

Batman (1940) #422

In these panels we can see Jason as Robin jumping in to defend a woman that was being attacked by a man. There I only see Jason acting like a vigilante would, maybe he was hitting too hard or whatever but Batman has hit people as much as Jason was doing it this time around, plus I, personally, don’t see any kind of problem with Jason beating a man that was harassing and threatening a woman with death.

Right beside we have Jason being on the side of the woman that killed her sister’s attacker. He didn’t see any problem with that woman seeking justice for her sister on her own when the police, Batman and himself couldn’t get the job done.

Here I see Jason having a big problem with authorities and justice system, which is not something new, in Batman #408, Jason says very clearly that he doesn’t trust the system in Gotham (the police, social workers and such), and he was also shown in that comic talking very fondly about his mother and about how much he cared for her when she was at her worst. Let’s remember that Jason loved his mother, he took care of her and resented his father for being abusive towards her and even introducing her to drugs.

Instead understanding these panels as Jason having been abused himself, I see it more as Jason having a humongous understanding of how much women and others suffer in Gotham due to the justice system’s lack of action. I also see Jason as the kind of boy that respected all women and could not sit and do nothing when people were hitting and abusing women just like his father did to his mother.

Batman (1940) #424

This issue starts by saying that Jason jumps into action as soon as he hears someone scream but that he wasn’t going to be prepared to see what was happening. This is the issue where all of us meet Felipe Garzonas, the abuser and rapist of many women. At first Jason doesn’t know what Felipe was doing but after he and Batman “defeat” Felipe, he goes to the room where he finds Gloria in a bed badly hurt and scared. Jason is shocked when he first finds her and after hearing her story in the police station, he becomes more and more happy about the fact that by having caught Felipe, he and Batman would be able to offer some peace and justice to Gloria after he goes to jail, but that doesn’t happen.

They had all the evidence to put Felipe in jail and the police could easily see that Gloria was the victim but because Felipe had someone to back his made-up story up, he was able to not be arrested and jailed.

Jason once again is baffled at the lack of action by the police or simply justice not being able to be made in favour of the true victim. Batman even says that he has noticed that Jason “had become to emotionally invested with the case” which could favour either idea (Jason having suffered sexual abuse or not), in my case I see this once again as Jason not being able to remain calm after doing everything to keep that woman safe and the justice system not being able to do it themselves in a more permanent way (jail time, or whatever).

But that’s not all because Jason being too emotional with that case was brought up as a way to show that Jason couldn’t see that Felipe had been under the influence of drugs, which is something that Jason can see in people very well (do to experience with his mother and his training with Batman). So, Felipe is now a rapist, an abuser, he does drugs and he also has a market for it.

Because Felipe was allowed to go back to his “normal” life he had Gloria be killed, and he kept abusing drugs and women, when Jason finds Gloria’s dead body and that Batman still seems to abide the justice system he snaps. He goes alone to see Felipe and that’s were this iconic panel comes from. The moments before Jason made his first kill and felt no remorse about it. I know this is kinda soft topic because Jason was a teenager, but good for him, kill that bitch. Gotham doesn’t need more people like him.

Batman (1940) #226

This is the issue where Jason attacks the men that were involved with some very nasty stuff involving children. Batman narrates and says that him and Jason had been working on this case for three weeks. Jason jumps into action suddenly and “recklessly” even though Batman considered their investigation wasn’t over, he also says that he thinks that Jason had been “acting oddly” and that he was very “moody, resentful and reckless” and that that attitude could “get him killed”.

This could be used as to add more proof of the abuse idea but I actually see it as build up to Jason’s death, that happened two issues later. Let’s remember that Jason found out of his birth mother and was desperate to find and save her from Joker, because he was a good son but also because he didn’t feel like Bruce loved, cared or appreciated him anymore. Ever since Jason made it clear that he didn’t see the world and justice in the same way that Batman did back in issue #422, Jason and Bruce’s relationship suffered, they just couldn’t see eye to eye on some subjects and Bruce’s neglect or lack of care for what Jason believed in drove Jason to act the way he did in the case involving his mother and the Joker.

Jason obviously has major issues with kids being abused and put in dangerous situations, he as the Red Hood (Winick’s Red Hood) is the same, he really wants kids to be taken far away from drugs so they cannot be manipulated, used and abused by Gotham’s Drug Lords. Here I can see some of the same thing, Jason being protective of those kids and getting fed up with how much time he and Batman had to wait to do anything about the subject, along side it I bet Jason wasn’t seeing the police or the justice system doing anything about the whole thing so that could have probably fuelled his desperate attack of those horrible people.

As Batman/Red Hood:

Batman: Battle for the Cowl #3

Battle for the Cowl… yeah I am going to be brutally honest about this, if anyone thinks that this is someway or somehow proof that Jason had been abused in the past then I think we have very different ways of thinking how survivors must be treated or written in comics and other media.

This to me is pure bad writing, this is some of the worst things I have seen being written in comics. Whether or not this implies Jason being abused or not, Bruce’s message is absolutely disgusting and not at all helpful, it is even worse when you realise that Dick, a canon sexual assault survivor, is the one playing the message to Jason even though Jason explicitly said that he didn’t want to hear it again. That Book, issue, page and panel are extremely badly written and is one of the most terrible Jason and Dick characterizations ever.

So, I don’t really care if this panel is supposed to offer support to that theory or headcanon, I really dislike that speech and if it is actually referencing Jason as being a survivor of child abuse, then Tony S. Daniel needs to make an apology from today to the day he dies.

“Of all my failures, you have been my biggest” “You were broken and I thought I could put the pieces back together. I thought I could do for you what could never be done for me. Make you whole” “What happened to you as a child… the terror, the pain, the horrors” “You needed repair and instead I gave you an outlet to act out on”

Absolute garbage writing. Me, as Bruce is number one hater, know that that speech is even out of character for Bruce. Listen, if Jason had been a victim of sexual assault or just being a kid living alone in Crime Alley, no one should leave a message like that, telling a victim that they were broken and needed fixing, what the hell? No, thank you, this issue proves nothing except that Battle for the Cowl was a mistake as a whole.

Green Arrow (2001) #72

Judd Winick is clever I will always say that, and while I do see why people think that Jason is making the “child abuse idea” canon I still think that the way that he talks is still fairly ambiguous if not just him playing mind games with Mia.

I know it sounds wrong, but hear me out, Winick, in this arc makes Batman say that Jason distracted him and Oliver just to take Mia as a “hostage” because that was Jason’s way to mess with him. This arc happens right after UtRH and Jason is a bit more unhinged than ever. But he doesn’t harm Mia, he just talks to her, he tries to make her see why he acts the way he does and to do that he talks about how much he sees of himself in her. Do I believe that Jason suffered the same things Mia did? No. Do I think that their past is similar? Yes.

But Jason doesn’t only use the fact that they have similar pasts to make Mia rebel against her “no killing ways” and Oliver like he did with Bruce, but he also brings up the fact that their past is incredibly different to the lives of Bruce and Oliver, and that those differences are of importance.

Maybe it’s just me, but I didn’t see Jason bringing Mia’s past for anything other than manipulating her and kinda make her see Oliver in a negative light the way that he does Batman and Bruce. Jason was at a point in his life where all he wanted to do was deliver the same pain that he had gone through but he didn’t do it by physically harming anyone (Mia was left unscratched), he was just out there trying to play mind games so he could break more havoc in Batman’s name.

Mia’s past is just way too different to whatever we have seen in canon from Jason’s past. Maybe I am wrong, after all, I only read about Mia in that arc.

-

With all that having been said I think it’s pretty obvious that I just don’t think that Jason’ having been sexually abused as a child actually happened, and I also don’t like to think about his past in that way. His canon suffering could have made him act that violently against criminals involved with sexual attacks and drug-related crimes, but I also think that’s just how Jason was, he really disliked the justice system in Gotham and saw how much it failed to protect victims, so now that he had the training to help those who couldn’t do it for themselves, he tried his best to bring criminals to justice.

And when that didn’t work, he grew more and more frustrated with Batman’s methods which led him to be more unforgiving and violent.

I also don’t like the theory/headcanon as a whole because I think its one of those things that Fandom comes up with just for that extra angst factor in their favourite character’s story so they can make him suffer more and because of that no other Robin or character as a whole can ever understand his pain or whatever. In this fandom there is a lot of “competitive trauma” going on and I honestly dislike it a lot.

About Jason having been assaulted while he was in a coma, I don't really know, he was at a hospital for what I believe were six moths, maybe that idea comes from real life happenings but I have never thought of that happening in Jason's life and I would rather not give it much more thought.

Also, I believe that DC just like fandom would have never been able to handle the subject of Jason having been a sexual assault survivor with the respect and care that it actually needs. We have seen DC treat sexual harassment and abuse as nothing but a side plot or bringing it up in an extremely disturbing way. In Fandom some (very few) people end up glamorising or romanticising these subjects so, I don’t believe the comic world was or is ready to treat a backstory like this with the respect it needs.

Maybe I haven’t even treated the subject with the respect and care that it needs and if that’s the case then I am truly sorry.

I had never answered a question regarding this subject before and I really appreciate all the questions you send my way; they do make my brain happy. I am really sorry it took me this long to write an answer to you but I hope the post is good enough for all the time I made you wait!

I hope you have an amazing week!

[fearfulkittenwrites]

Peaceful Afternoon - Family Bonding

Summary: What's the best way to calm down a bunch of crazed little bats? Apparently, a Lord of the Rings marathon.

Word Count: 2088

Notes: Hello! I'm slowly working my way to completing @3ambird​‘s batfam bingo. This is just fluff and Bruce being a good dad, because we're all in need of some comfort. Enjoy!

Bruce stepped into his home with an already loosened tie and his blazer in hands, handing it to Alfred as soon as he saw the man.

“Rough day in the office, sir?” The butler asks as he gently flattens and hangs the clothing piece on the coat rack at the entrance lounge.

“Yes.” He sighed, rubbing his temples “Is there any chance you could bring me some of your tea? I feel a headache coming.”

“A warm cup of tea will be coming right up, master Wayne.”

“Thank you Alfred.” He smiles at the man “I’ll be in the TV lounge.”

“Sir, I must warn you that the kids are watching TV at the moment.” Alfred says.

“Oh?” Bruce raises an eyebrow “Are they being too loud?”

Alfred thinks for a moment.

“They are unusually quiet sir.” He answers “I’d be careful around them.”

“Well,” The man tilts his head to the side “I’ll check on them. If I’m no longer there, then I’ll be in my room.”

“Very well master Wayne.” Alfred smiles “It should only take a moment.”

Bruce walks slowly to the TV lounge, examining all of his home’s details on the way ; the complicated patterns on the wallpaper, the ripples of the carpets, the harshness of the fabrics the curtains were made of. Removing his tie completely, he rolls it around his fingers carefully and sticks it in his pockets, right before walking into the room he’d been looking for. He wasn’t sure on what he was expecting to see, but the scene in front of him had him pleasantly surprised.

Dick sat at the left corner of the couch, being the one closest to the door, with Duke sitting on the ground directly in front of him, eyes closed as Dick massaged his scalp and neck. Damian sat quietly next to his oldest brother, sketching a new art piece. Cass sat by the youngest’s side, sharing a blanket and cuddling up with Tim. Jason, who was also sitting on the floor, had Tim’s legs thrown over his shoulders as he squeezed his brother’s calves lightly, eyes glued on the TV.

“Hey B.” Dick smiled at him softly and Duke opened his eyes to look at the man “Rough day?”

“A little.” He breathes deeply as he rubs the back of his neck “What are you kids doing?”

“Nothin’ much.” Dick spoke again “There was a Lord of The Rings marathon on TV, so we just... left it there. I think today’s been rough on everybody.”

“I see.” Bruce nods “Do you mind if I join you?” A bunch of ‘no’s and ‘go ahead’s were slightly murmured as Bruce sat down on the armchair close to Tim’s end of the couch. The man took a quick glance at the TV “Have they already-”

“Shhh.” Tim interrupts “Don’t spoil it for Cass.”

“Ah, Alright. I’m sorry.” He sets his eyes on his (unfortunately) not-so-little girl, noticing how Cass seemed a little pale “Is everything alright Cass? You seem a bit... off.”

She nods.

“Cramps.” Dick explains from across the couch, rubbing his own belly, right above his pubic bone, just to drive the point home.

“Oh.” Bruce blushes a little.

“C’mon, old man,” Jason teases, tapping his leg “Don’t get all flustered over your daughter’s period.”

“I’m not flustered, I just... didn’t mean to be invasive.” He straightens his posture.

“I don’t mind talking about it.” Cass says, with a small smile “It’s okay.”

“That’s good.” The man replies, leaning back on the armchair.

It only takes Alfred a few seconds to come in with the tea after that. All of them quickly recognize the scent of his medicinal blend, having needed it many times before.

“Headache?” Dick asks “I can give you a massage if you want to.”

“Yeah, just take my spot.” Duke offers.

“Don’t worry boys.” Bruce smiles “The tea helps enough by itself.”

“Alright. But if you change your mind...” Duke says, allowing his sentence to trail off as he relaxes into Dick’s touch once again.

Bruce can’t help but gawk at the film’s beautiful scenery. The only members of the family that didn’t care much for the movie were Damian and Duke, for different reasons. The younger boy wasn’t particularly fond of fantastic stories with surreal elements, finding them silly more often than not. Although he could stand Lord of The Rings, he never really made it through the whole thing, getting bored, distracted, or falling asleep halfway through it.

Duke had much milder feelings. He had watched it once and that was enough. He didn’t see any reason to rewatch such a long movie. However, Duke didn’t seem to hate the idea of having it on while he received head scratches and massages from his cuddly brothers. Bruce smiled to himself at that, looking at how Dick and him got along well, at least in moments like this.

His eyes wandered back to Cass. She seemed endlessly entertained by the movie, sometimes whispering questions about the plot to one of her brothers. She was hugging one of Tim’s arms, head resting on his shoulder. He occasionally turned around to nuzzle his face into her hair. The teen had a habit of doing that to just about anyone he felt comfortable enough to touch when given the chance.

Jason seemed equally entertained. He loved a good story, whether it came in the form of a book, a movie or a TV show. Bruce noticed that whenever he was having a hard time he revisited his favorites, seeking the comfort of predictability, so it made sense that he was watching this today, after Dick’s statement. Jason counted Tim’s toes mindlessly, giving each of them a light squeeze before moving on to the next, starting it all over again once he reached both of his pinkies.

Bruce’s eyes set on his oldest son again. His little circus boy, Dick. Noticing how he had grown into a good man made his heart swell with joy, even if the emotion came with a prick of pain. His little boy, all grown up, caring for his younger siblings. Bruce couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have found them. How lucky he was for having such an amazing family, how lucky he was that they had accepted him as their father.

Bruce was sure he was the happiest man alive. His heart was filled with love, to the point where it spilled out through his eyes, getting Dick’s attention.

“You big sap.” He mouthed at the man, no sound coming out through his lips. Bruce wiped a lonely tear away from his face with a smile, bringing his attention back to the movie. Dick knew him too well by now.

Bruce pressed his hands together under his chin, trying to hide the love that insisted on falling down his cheeks.

Eventually, the man dozed off in the middle of the first movie. He woke up when they were halfway through the second, looking at his watch and being taken aback by the time. He looked around, noticing that Damian was now asleep on Dick’s lap and Duke had brought out his computer, sitting at the armchair opposed to Bruce’s, brow furrowed in concentration. Jason was still on the floor, eyes fixed on the TV, but had moved on from Tim’s feet, using his limited knowledge on pressure points to help with Cass’ cramps, carefully pressing her feet while both of them paid attention to the movie. Tim had also fallen asleep, head hanging back on the couch and one arm around his sister’s shoulders.

Bruce checked the watch again, biting the inside of his lips. They should be getting ready for patrol by now and yet... he didn’t feel like it was fair to pull his kids away from this moment of tranquility. Dick’s eyes met his.

“It’s okay.” His son reassured him in a whisper.

“No.” Bruce says in a soft tone “You guys take the night off. I’ll call up Batwoman and Spoiler, we should be able to cover enough ground if Oracle is able to put in a little extra work.”

“B, it’s okay, I’ll go with you.” Dick replies, voice still quiet so as not to disturb the kid sleeping with his head on his lap “I’ll just tuck Dami in and we can go.”

“No, please.” Bruce stands up “This is clearly a rare moment. You need to enjoy it Dick. We’ll be fine.”

“B,” Dick insists “I need this just as much as you do.”

“Are you talking about patrol or...”

“Both.” Dick looks up at him “I’m tagging along, whether you want me there or not.”

“Alright then.” Bruce nods.

“Great.” Dick smiles “Now let’s take this sleepy boy to his bed.”

Slowly, he slips out from under Damian, carefully picking him up.

“Hmn don’t... I can walk...” Damian murmurs, face already buried in Dick’s neck.

“I’m sure you can.” Dick chuckled, adjusting the boy’s weight, one hand around his brother's waist and the other under his thighs, supporting him. The kid wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck lazily, with a weak and loose grip, almost falling asleep again in his oldest brother’s hands.

That wasn’t lost on Bruce’s eyes, who walked behind them, hands in his pockets. The man opens the door for his kids, waiting patiently next to the bed as Dick removes Damian’s shoes and pulls the blankets over his body. Both of them pressed a quick kiss to the boy’s forehead before walking out of the bedroom.

“Damian has really warmed up to you, hasn’t he?” Bruce starts.

“I guess so.” Dick shrugs, smiling at the ground “He’s a good kid, he’s just been through a lot. I try to remind him he doesn’t have to do things by himself all the time anymore. That he can lean on us.”

“That seems to be working.” Bruce smiles at his son, who retributed the look with some uncertainty “Hey, I mean it.”

“I know you do, it’s just...” Dick sighs “Sometimes all of this can feel... a little hopeless.”

“I can understand that.” He looks at his son. Bruce can understand that so well “But it’s in the little things, you know? Like right now,” He keeps going, lookin at his own shoes as they make a turn on the manor’s endless hallways “The way Damian allowed you to carry him, that was...” Bruce takes a deep breath, shaking his head slightly “He is being vulnerable around you.”

“You think so?” Dick asked, biting the inside of his lips.

“I know so. His arms,” Bruce says “When he threw them around your neck, he didn’t do so to hold on or to balance himself. Damian trusted you to hold him, and simply relaxed into your grip.”

Dick raised his eyebrows as he walked through the office’s door.

“You notice a lot of details.” Dick smiled.

“What can I say? I can’t turn the detective skills off.” He chuckles, joined by Dick’s snort “I really wish I could be more like you to him.” He stops walking.

“What are you talking about, B?” Dick frowns a little.

“I wish I knew how to be... caring.” Bruce sighs “I have no clue on how you ended up as good at it as you are today, considering… well, everything. But I’m glad you did. At least they have someone who knows how to... hold them. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do the same for you.”

Dick swallows.

“Hey, um, don’t beat yourself up over this kind of thing, okay?” He lightly touches his father’s arm “You are caring Bruce. You did hold me.” He pursed his lips. Both of them had teary eyes now.

“Not like I should have.”

“No one’s perfect. But you were there when I needed you, and that’s what counts.”

“Stop.” Bruce says, biting the insides of his mouth so hard he could taste blood “Stop... making excuses for me, Dick. I’m... I’m apologizing.” He takes in a deep breath “I know that all the damage I may have caused you won’t magically go away because I recognize that it’s there, but for what’s worth, I’ll try to do better. To be better for you.”

Suddenly, Dick surges forward, wrapping his arms around Bruce. As they hugged, Bruce could feel his son crying.

“Thank you.” Dick whispers “Thank you. I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, son.” Bruce whispers back, turning his head to plant a kiss on his cheek “So much.”

Hey! If you got here, please consider reblogging. It would mean the world to me. Also, if you’d like to be tagged in future works, just shoot me a message.

Take care friend!

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (23)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary:  Bucky returns from a mission hurt and tense... and very obviously harboring a secret.

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

It’s nearly noon by the time she manages to get herself out of bed. Bruce is gone, leaving only a neatly folded blanket in his stead on the couch, the wastebasket she set beside him and the water bottles she’d left on the coffee table nowhere to be seen. Ever the gentleman.

She spends about twenty minutes dry heaving in the shower between sudsing up, downs a bottle of water, and eats a banana before heading for the door, eager to get to her office and look over the paperwork Pepper had promised to send first thing this morning. But just before leaving the apartment, she notices something odd sitting by the closet… Bucky’s boots, the ones he’d worn when he left the day before, are in the corner caked with fresh mud.

He’s never come home from a mission and… not come home before. Even if he had to hightail it to a debrief – or that time a few months back when he badly needed to get stitched up – he always found her first to tell her he’s back. To show her he’s back, and in one piece. Even before they lived together, he’d seek her out the moment they returned. So what the hell was this about?

“Hey,” she says lightly, coming up behind him in the gym. It’s the private gym on the lower level that only the real Avengers have access to. It’s also one of the last places she’s checked. “I was looking for you everywhere,” she tells him when he turns to face her. “The lounge, Steve’s, the track… I even went to medical, just in case.”

“I wouldn’t go there,” he says with a strained smile. He’s sitting on a bench, drenched in sweat, shoulders slumped forward. The look on his face is one of absolute exhaustion, and… defeat. The smile on his lips is obviously just some sort of appeasement for her sake.

She sits down next to him and frowns, reaches out to tuck some sweaty strands of hair behind his ear. “I saw your boots,” she says softly. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

He lets out a small laugh and turns his gaze from her to the floor. “You were out,” he tells her, lifting his brows for emphasis. “Bruce was snoring on our couch. I figured you had the kind of night that you’d need to sleep off.”

“Yeah… but I wouldn’t have minded you letting me know you were back.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t.” He pushes up off the bench, putting a little too much effort into the movement.

“Are you hurt?” she asks simply, no inflection to her voice.

He stands with his back to her and gingerly rotates his right arm in an arc. “I’m fine,” he tells her as the ligaments pop around his shoulder.

“You’ll heal faster if you get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” he mutters before meandering to the other side of the gym and disappearing into the locker room.

“Cool. Yeah,” she drones to herself, leaning back onto the wall behind her. She lets out a dramatic moan and momentarily shuts her eyes. She’s just about to drag herself upstairs to hunt down Steve or Natasha – neither of whom she was able to find earlier – and ask them what the hell happened on this mission, when Bucky reappears from the locker room, pulling a clean shirt on over his head.

She wrinkles her brow in confusion – did I just fall asleep? – and asks as he approaches, “Can you shower as fast as you can run?”

He smiles at her, a calmer, more genuine expression than before. “I just rinsed off,” he tells her, explaining his speedy cleanup.

He extends his left hand to her and she takes it hesitantly. Of course he touches her with the metal hand – embraces her, strokes her temple – but he never offers her that one first. Once he hoists her up off the bench, he tries to pull his hand away, but she firmly entwines her fingers with his. “How bad is that shoulder? Really.”

“It’s not bad,” he tells her with a sigh. “Just dislocated it a little.”

He guides her out of the gym and into the elevator, and she gives his metal hand a small squeeze. “Just a little? I was always under the impression it could either be dislocated or… not. Didn’t know there was another option.”

“How was dinner?” he asks, swallowing hard, obviously wanting to change the subject.

“Did you go through medical on your way back in? Have someone take a look at it?”

They reach their floor and he drops her hand as they step off the elevator. “I take it you two really tied one on?” He swiftly unlocks the door and swings it open, tossing the words over his shoulder without bothering to look back at her.

“You do know that it could heal wrong if it isn’t put back into place properly, right?” she intones as she follows him into the apartment.

He’s already in the kitchen, standing in front of the open refrigerator, leaning in to search for something to drink. He comes back out with a small bottle of pineapple juice that she didn’t even know they had. He takes a large swig and finally turns to face her. “Are you going to answer all of my questions with questions of your own?”

“Are you?”

He glances down and sees that she’s grasping her hands together, wringing them tightly. “Stop that,” he tells her, indicating her hands with a tilt of his chin. She looks down, seemingly surprised to find her fingers twisted in her own grasp, and she drops her hands, roughly sweeping them over the sides of her jeans as if wiping them off. He lets out a long sigh. “Romanov popped it back in place. She knows what she’s doing. But if you want to take a look, be my guest.”

He moves past her and drops down onto the couch, waits for her to come over to his side. “Raise it up for me,” she tells him, laying her palm on his shoulder blade while grasping his tricep with her other hand. Her touch is gentle, but firm as she presses along his back and shoulder, slowly manipulating his arm around in the socket. He feels it catch a bit an lets out a small wince. She digs her thumb in high along his shoulder and says, “Take a deep breath in.” He does as requested, and growls out on the exhale as she pops something in place. “Better?” she asks, dropping her hands and letting him articulate his sore arm in small circles to test the movement.

He furrows his brow. “Yeah, actually,” he admits reluctantly.

She moves to his left and settles onto the couch next to him, folding her legs up underneath herself. “Just recon, huh?” she says lightly. But there’s an obvious anxiousness to her voice despite the forced casualness.

“We saw a little bit of action,” he ekes out through gritted teeth.

“Aren’t snipers usually pretty far out of the action?”

He stares straight ahead, purposely avoiding her gaze, and says simply, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The hand she had been delicately dragging up and down his back stills and she leans back onto her heels. “Okay,” she utters, doing her best to hide the hurt.

He drops his face to his hands and furiously scrubs for a brief moment before taking in a long, deep breath. He turns to face her. “How was your birthday dinner?”

She follows his lead, works to push thoughts of the mission back to a far off corner of her mind, opening herself up to focus on something – anything – else. “It was… weird,” she breathes out.

He draws his brows together and cocks his head as he looks at her with tired gray eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Well… for starters, Tony and Pepper came along.” She turns around so that she can lean back into Bucky. He too shifts, instinctively, letting her settle into his chest. “Actually, they didn’t really come along so much as hijack the whole thing.”

“Seriously?” he asks, irritation lacing the word.

She reaches up to the back of the couch where his left arm sits, draped over the cushions, and she takes hold of his metal fingers. “In a good way,” she mumbles, pulling his hand into her lap to absently trace along the edges of the plates. “They took me to Overture.” She throws a sly smile over her shoulder at him.

“That the place owned by that guy?” he tries with a frown. The name sounds familiar, and he’s sure it’s swanky. He just can’t quite keep track of all of the fancy places the city has to offer.

She lets out a small giggle and his arm tightens a bit around her, pulling her closer so that he can feel the laugh move through her and into his chest. “Yes, it’s the place owned by that guy.” She releases a dreamy sort of sigh. “It might’ve been the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“What did you have?”

“Filet mignon. That cow was sent from the heavens. And asparagus… I didn’t I know I liked asparagus.” She continues to work along his fingers as she talks. “Actually, I probably don’t. Or wouldn’t. Not normally. But whatever they did to it… oh man, it was so good.” She drops her head so that it settles back into the crook of his arm. “And Pepper got us this really expensive chardonnay. I mean really expensive. And it was amazing.”

“And I take it you and Bruce had a lot of this amazing wine together?”

“We had a lot of expensive bourbon together, actually. When Tony treats, you don’t refuse.”

“Do me a favor?” he asks, bringing his right hand up to sweep her hair off of her neck. “Not that I don’t trust you, or Bruce… but maybe don’t let men stay the night when I’m not around?”

He feels her back vibrate once more with laughter. “You should’ve seen him. He ran face first into the entrance of our building and broke his glasses… busted them right in two. But he still insisted on walking me home. Full disclosure… I was pretty surprised he even made it to our couch. I thought I was going to have to have Friday call someone to peel him off the hallway floor.”

“Well, that sounds like a great story. But I’m not exactly comforted by the fact that the man who slept on my couch last night – the one who pretty easily turns into a giant green rage monster – was out of his mind drunk.”

She scoffs loudly. “Drunk Bruce is like a sleepy toddler. He just drags his feet, walks into things, and has trouble with words. He’s no threat to me. Or to anyone else.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Can we have just this one rule? For my peace of mind?”

She lets out a long, deep breath. “Fine. No drunk men staying the night when you’re not around.”

“Maybe no sober ones either?”

“You’re making a lot of demands here, babe.”

“Sorry to cramp your style,” he says, wrapping his right arm around her middle and giving a firm squeeze.

They sit curled in silence for several moments, Tessa resting her head on Bucky’s shoulder and gently playing with his metal fingers as he begins to drift off behind her. She can hear his breathing deepen and debates whether to send him to bed or just let him fall into the sleep that she’s sure he needs right here on the couch. She makes a slow, deliberate move to carefully sit upright and disentangle herself from his arms, but he’s awake enough to protest by pulling her back down into him.

“I’m glad I didn’t completely ruin your birthday,” he says to her, voice deep with fatigue.

“You didn’t ruin it at all,” she tells him. “Actually,” she starts, butterflies beating away inside her stomach, as she prepares to share her news. “Tony kind of gave me a really, really great gift.” She twists around in his grip, almost bouncing with excitement. “Well, not a birthday gift. Just… he told me on my birthday, and that kind of made the day that much better.”

Bucky gives her a curious look. “Told you what?”

She smiles wide, but tries to hide it, tries to remain passive and professional and, well, calm. But her words betray her, coming out in a single, fast-paced utterance. “Stark Industries is breaking their R&D sector into multiple departments and he wants me to run their new medical research division. Me. Head of the new Genetic Medical Research Division of Stark Industries.” She finishes with an excited sort of squeal and looks to Bucky, waiting for a reaction. He says nothing and her face falls a bit as she studies his expression, trying to discern any emotions peeking through the guarded countenance.

Finally, his eyebrows rise, an all-too forced smile spreading across his features. “That’s… wow,” he says nodding intently.

“It’s a pretty big deal,” she says, almost timidly.

“Yeah,” he intones. “Sounds like.”

“We’ll be teaming up with U-Gin on some new, really exciting projects,” she tells him, trying to force some enthusiasm into the conversation. “We’ll be setting up a huge – and I mean huge – lab in Seattle. It’ll be outfitted for R&D as well as clinical studies, and hopefully – one day – production.”

“Seattle?” He whips around to level her with an intense stare. “You’re… going to Seattle?”

“Not permanently,” she says with a small laugh. “I’m not relocating or anything. Pepper said my office will be in the city. And they’re reopening the lab there too so that I can head up smaller, proprietary projects.”

“So they want you to move back to the city?” he asks, his brow furrowed with confusion and… is that fear?

She shakes her head emphatically. “No, no. Pepper said that I can keep the lab here too. And I should be able to remote in from anywhere. Oh, and when I do travel, I get to use the Stark jet,” she adds eagerly.

“How much travel are we talking about?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, really. Probably a lot at first.” Her hands slowly move into her lap, fingers twisting around one another as the nervous energy in the room wraps around her. “I’ll have to go to Seoul for a while.”

“When?” he spits out, face looking more grave by the second.

“I don’t know. Soon.”

He stands up quickly and begins to pace. “I don’t like it,” he mutters almost under his breath. “I don’t want you going that far… alone.”

She watches him for a brief moment, confusion taking over her features. “What do you mean?” she asks hesitantly. “You don’t want me to go to Korea? Or you don’t want me to travel at all… or even take the job?”

He turns to her swiftly, face hard as he says, “Both. Either.” Her jaw drops, a dumfounded look taking over her face, and he instantly regrets his harsh reaction. “I just don’t…” he says, stumbling over his words as he looks down at her. “You work so much already…”

“I thought…” she closes her eyes and shakes her head. More often than not, the thrumming of negative energy – or positive, for that matter – just feels like background noise to her. She can usually ignore it until it goes away. But what he’s putting out right now has her feeling dizzy and lightheaded. “You said you like how… dedicated I am.”

“I do.” He bends down in front of her and peels her hands apart. “But…” He gazes down at her bright red fingertips, slowly strokes the mottled flesh to work the blood back in where she’d been strangling the flow. “You’re never really here as is,” he mutters, brow furrowed. “I hardly get to see you…”

“Well… someone else will be taking over the tier one med team. And my staff will expand. I’m not saying I won’t be busy, but I’m not going to have a choice but to delegate more.”

He nods absently, still stroking her fingers. She feels his energy shift just a bit, but it’s still laced with anxiety.

“Are you worried?” she asks softly. He looks up and locks onto her eyes. “I’ll do what I can… to make more time.” She twists her fingers in his grip and takes hold of his hands, giving each a firm squeeze. “I never want you to feel… neglected.”

His gaze falls again and he lets out a long-held breath through his nose. Shaking his head slowly, he says, “It’s not that. I just…” He stands upright and begins to pace again. “Now’s not a good time.”

“What does that mean?” she asks, anger slipping into her words. She too rises, standing stark still in front of the couch, working her hands into and out of tightly clenched fists as they hang by her sides.

“It means that’s now’s not a good time,” he counters, turning on a heel to face her.

“What are you talking about?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Again, he tries, mouth gaping open and closed, ending in a tightly clenched jaw. The unease rolls off of him in waves.

“James?” she questions, concern seeping into her core.

“Just… not now.”

“Why are you freaking out about this?” she asks insistently.

“I’m not freaking out,” he says, a small tremor to his voice.

“You are absolutely freaking out.”

“Tessa,” he warns through gritted teeth.

“Take a look in a mirror, man. Because this…” She waves her hands around, motioning toward him. “Is what freaking out looks like.”

He stills his pacing and drops his head into his hands. He scrubs at his face almost violently before moving his hands up to run his fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends. His pale eyes meet hers and he takes in a long, deep breath. “I don’t want you traveling right now. I can’t have you going out… anywhere… where I can’t protect you.”

“Protect me?” Part of her wants to laugh. Since when do you think I need protection? But she can see the absolute fear in his eyes, and she can feel the restless energy weighting the air in the room. “Why do you think you need to protect me?”

He’s in front of her in one long stride, nearly nose to nose. He reaches up and places his hands on either side of her face and, gazing into her eyes, he asks her simply, “Do you trust me?”

[until-theend-oftheline]

Out of the Shadows - Part 2: In her Shadow

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: Minor character death(s), domestic abuse (mentioned), underage rape (hinted, not glorified what so ever and not graphic), incest (hinted, not glorified what so ever and not graphic).

Square Filled: Domestic Abuse (marvel fandom) for @badthingshappenbingo and Crying for @clintbartonbingo

Word Count: 2700ish

A/N: This is written for @thorne93 writing challenge. I am so sorry I am late! The entire series is for her challenge and it’s inspired by Greek Tragedy by the Wombats and Drive you mad by Amy Shark. 

Clint is a mix between comic book version and MCU. He is deaf and has no wife and kids. The world is a bit closer to MCU and it takes place somewhere between CAWS and CACW mostly.

Betaed by: @jewels2876 thanks darling

Out of the Shadows Masterlist

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

The Black Hood, or Aurora as she had named herself to Clint, had learned from a young age to trust no one. Everyone close to her had hurt her or let her down in some way or another. You can’t get hurt if you don’t ever let anyone close to you. 

Clint had challenged Aurora in her ways of thinking over the years. Sometimes directly, telling her that everyone needed somebody sometimes. He told her of his best friend and how she once hadn’t been all that different from Aurora. He told her how she hadn’t trusted anyone but herself and even still to this day kept her walls up to most people. She had seen the value in friendships though. She believed in loyalty and love even if she might not be willing to let most people know that just yet. 

Aurora smiled when Clint spoke of Natasha. Not just because she agreed they were anything alike, but because Clint always spoke of her with such warmth. The smile on his face was contagious and he had a way of making her a part of his life through his words. Soon she didn’t only feel as if she knew Natasha, but also the rest of the team Clint became part of. Bruce was as broken as she felt at times. Tony struggled with demons just like her. Thor had pride and belief in his own skills that she saw in herself as well and Steve Rogers sounded like he was just about as stubborn as Clint kept reminding her that she was herself. 

Clint made her feel like she was a part of something the one time a year he visited her. He offered her a way that she really could be, but even if it became increasingly alluring she couldn’t make herself take that leap. Not even for the man that she trusted with her face, her heists, and her heart. 

Aurora hadn’t loved anyone or anything for a long, long time. Even if she wouldn’t admit her feelings to his face, or even to herself, they became increasingly harder to deny. His kisses made her toes curl, his arms tightly wrapped around her made her feel safe and laughing with him gave her a sense of home. All sensations she hadn’t felt for years, if even ever. Which was the reason she hadn’t let the relationship go beyond the kisses and cuddles they somehow always ended up sharing, talking about the year that had past. 

When Aurora needed something she would go out and get it. No matter if it was a drink, food, dance, sex or something else. She attached no emotions to the action or whoever she did it with but with Clint… she couldn’t do that. She wanted to be with him. She thought about how he would feel. How he would make her feel. She even thought about what the moments would be like after. Which scared her most of all. So she wouldn’t let their relationship go that far. Just being in his company, made her want to trust him and it became harder and harder for her to turn him down, whenever he asked her to come back with him. She couldn’t. She had done things no one could forgive, not even Clint. She would end up hurt and alone again. Living alone was easier and safer. Life was better on her own. 

It didn’t stop her from thinking about him in the year that passed between him dropping from a vent in whatever hotel room she was staying in at the time. Even if she had grown to expect him every year on the anniversary date of when he first appeared, he always managed to scare the crap out of her dumping from the ceiling. Clint had almost gotten himself shot over the years on that account and he most definitely had gotten several punches on that account. Still hadn’t prevented him from appearing that way until the day he showed two months before their anniversary knocking on her hotel door. 

Aurora looked through the peephole on the door, before lowering her gun with a frown. She quickly holstered it before pushing open the door looking past Clint up and down the hallways before stepping to the side, letting him in. 

“Did you lose your calendar? And who taught you how doors work?” she teased as she closed the door, but stopped when she turned around. Unshed tears welled in his eyes as he stood a few feet from her taking her in. 

“I needed to see you,” he confessed and Aurora instinctively opened her arms to him, inviting him closer. 

“I’m here,” she promised as Clint took a few quick steps forward into her embrace. He leaned forward, resting his head against her shoulder, letting his tears fall as he wrapped her arms around her waist and she put hers around him. 

“It’s okay. I got you. I’m here,” she repeated as she hold him, letting him cry against her as long as he needed to. Not until his body stopped shaking and his tears subsided did she lead him towards the couch in the middle of her suite.  

“Do you wanna tell me about it?” she asked gently as she sat down next to him, keeping her hand in his. She gave it a small squeeze as Clint took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he began telling her his side of the story she had already been following on the News. 

He told her about how Tony had created Ultron fearing the battle of New York that the Avengers had won a few years ago wouldn’t be the last attack the world would have to face from space. He didn’t trust the Avengers would be enough to hold back another attack and that they would be able to keep the world safe so he had created what he thought would be mankind's best defense.  

He told her of the twins from Sokovia, that Clint had quickly grown to feel responsible for even if he had no reason too. He didn’t explain it like that but Aurora thought it to herself. Clint had a huge heart. Bigger than anyone she had ever met before in her life, and he seemed to just naturally collect broken people. Natasha, Aurora, Wanda, and Pietro. When he hadn’t been able to protect the latter when the young man, in fact, had died saving Clint’s life it had shattered him. He had held it together for the other’ and for Wanda, the twin sister. Normally he would have gone to Natasha with something like this, but from what Aurora could gather she was suffering too, only for different reasons. This battle had taken a toll on her and Clint hadn’t wanted to burden her too. 

More than that Natasha hadn’t been the one he needed. Aurora ignored him telling her that. Being needed was almost as bad as needing someone else. It only got you hurt. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him again, gently rocking him in her arms in silence for a while. 

“I love you,” Clint muttered tightening his hold on her when Aurora froze. He had expected her to react like that but he could no longer hold back what he had been feeling for years. She was more than just a mission to him. In fact, she hadn’t been since SHIELD had fallen and yet here he was seeking her out year after year because he wanted too. Because he needed her to know that he cared, that someone else could too. She could have a family if only she chose to come back home with him. 

“No you don’t” Aurora released her hold on him, pushing him away from her with a hard look. So hard it made Clint flinch and Aurora almost regretted her action. If only he hadn’t said that. He was already hurting and she didn’t want to hurt him further. He was wrong though. He didn’t love her. He loved the idea of her. Just like men before he had. Men she had let stay in their belief until she had stolen their money and disappeared in the night. Clint wasn’t those men. She didn’t want to lie to him any more than she was willing to let him lie to himself. 

“I do,” Clint looked down, to avoid the fire shooting from the woman’s eyes. 

“You think you do. But you don’t know me. You don’t know the things I’ve done,” she hissed and Clint looked back up at her shaking his head. 

“I don’t judge people by their worst mistakes. So even if I knew, which I don’t because you refuse to let me in ...” Clint yelled, but when he saw the shook on her face he stopped. He took a deep breath, before calmly finishing his sentence. “It wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

Aurora looked at him in disbelief as she let his words sink in. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she made a decision she never thought she made. She told him the truth. The truth she had never in her life shared with another person. A truth she had been carrying on her own for over half of her life. 

“I killed my parents,” she blurted out, hoping to shook Clint to take back his words but he didn’t even as much as flinch, so she continued. “I killed my parents and I took their money. I have lived off my inheritance for all of my life. That’s why I never keep any of the money for myself.”

Her words were true, even if they weren’t the entire truth. She hoped that they would make Clint back off. Maybe even stop seeking her out every year. Her attachment to him was becoming dangerous. A clean break now would be better and she knew she couldn’t be the one to make it. Clint wouldn’t ever give up on her, even if she broke his heart. It was better this way she thought. But Clint saw right through her half-truth. 

“They hurt you…” Clint concluded, never taking his eyes off her when she took a step back as if Clint’s words had slapped her across the face. He wanted to move towards her and pull her into his arms as her eyes began to water. He didn’t. He knew she wouldn’t let him. Not right now. She was opening up to him, just like he had wanted her to for years. Clint knew that one wrong step would make her shut down.

Aurora didn’t say anything. Instead, she spun around heading the bedroom. Clint closed her eyes, breathing in. He feared he had lost her, but before he could even begin to decide between leaving or staying she reappeared back in front of him. She dropped a folder in his lap, before turning around, starting to pace the floor.  

Clint opened the folder to see a huge mansion in flames; presumably her childhood home. He frowned as he began flipping through the pages. 

Billionaire couple dies in a house fire. Leaves behind 16-year-old daughter.

Uncle takes in Y/L/N heiress. 

Y/L/N orphan put into foster care.

Y/N Y/L/N turns 18. What will she do with her inheritance? 

21-year old Y/L/N heiress disappears after clearing out bank accounts.

“Y/N…” Clint looked up from the papers and Aurora froze. “That’s your name?”

“It was,” she answered without facing him. “A lifetime ago. Not anymore.”

Clint nodded, looking back down to the papers. Recognizing a pattern. Clint was a spy but he was also an heir himself as well as a survivor of abuse. 

“The foster home saw you as a paycheck. Your uncle didn’t believe you when you told him what they did,” Clint concluded before looking up in her eyes. She looked so much like a hurt animal and Clint wasn’t sure if she was gonna lash out or run. Either way, he wasn’t letting her go. Not know. Not when she had come this far. 

“And my parents what did they do to me?” she stared Clint down, almost challenging him to guess her suffering. 

“They hurt you,” Clint answered simply. 

“He told me he loved me,” Aurora’s voice broke and tears started to build in Clint’s eyes along with hers as he realized the nightmare she had lived. “It started when I was eight. She knew. I told her and she hit me. She hit me every day since. She blamed me. And he kept… She told me I stole her husband. I was their daughter and they…”

Aurora stopped her hysterical rant and she just stood there staring at Clint. All light had gone from her eyes as the night she had put an end to her nightmare no doubt flashed through her mind. “I blocked their bedroom door and I set fire to the house. I killed them.”

“You were a child and you saw no other way out. You’re not a murderer. You’re a survivor,” Clint stood up, taking a tentative step towards her and Aurora fell into his arms, sobbing as she let him hold her. 

He held her for days. Listening as she opened up sharing her story. Listening to the men and women that hurt her after she received her inheritance. He told her about his past as they stayed hidden in the hotel room together for weeks. He told her about his dad and how he had lost most of his hearing. He told her how his brother had taken a different path in life from him, but that he still loved him despite all his flaws. Clint meant it when he said he didn’t judge people by their worst actions. He judged them by their heart and will to carry on.

Aurora told Clint how someone all her life had wanted something from her. Money, recognition, sex. Everyone she had let close to her had let her down in one way or another. So she disappeared. She became a vigilante in her own way. She stole from the type of people that had always hurt her and she gave to kids like the kid she had been once. 

She hadn’t trusted anyone since she was 21, not until she had met Clint. She let all her walls down with him. She let him see her, all of her as she was. Wounds and all. She let him love her in spite of it. She shared her bed and let herself feel what life could be like. For a brief moment, she let him and herself believe he had convinced her to come back with him. She let herself hope that he was right when he told her his friends would help her. They wouldn’t judge her for her worst actions any more than he did. She let herself dream of a life where she could trust again. 

She let herself feel his touch and his love, clinging to him as they moved together, holding back her tears when he whispered how much he loved her. She wanted to say the words back but she couldn’t. She knew that she would be gone before the night was through. 

As the moon shun clearly through the windows, illumination Clint’s naked sleeping form Aurora pulled herself from the bed. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, softly whispering the words she couldn’t bring herself to say when he was awake. 

“I love you.”

She pulled on her clothes and grabbed her bags, giving his naked form just barely covered by the sheets one last look, before placing a note next to his pillow on her empty side of the bed. 

“I’m so sorry. I can’t be the person you want me to be. Thank you for everything

- Aurora”

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Out of the Shadows

@dark-night-sky-99

[breckstonevailskier]

How to improve Jancy and Jopper in Stranger Things Season 3

 I know that this is gonna sound strange, but after reading some posts  around Reddit and Tumblr about how Jonathan's and Nancy's storylines  really deserved better in season 3, I had an interesting thought: what if the Jonathan/Nancy and Joyce/Hopper storylines were combined into one single storyline?This  not only would've tightened the narrative, but it also would've fixed  several problems a few people have complained about in season 3. One, it  would've fixed Hopper's characterization as Jonathan and Nancy would be  quicker to call him on his behavior a lot more willingly than Joyce,  with Jonathan likening the parallels between Hopper's new attitude and  what he, Will and Joyce went through with Lonnie. This would've made  Hopper realize in introspection how out of line he was getting mad at  Joyce for blowing off their date to go see Mr. Clarke, and that he  should be a better role model towards Eleven and Mike. Two, it would've  given Jonathan more screentime with his mother, something that was also  lacking in season 3. And three, it would've given Nancy a much more  compelling thread for her character arc.Here's how I'd combine the two arcs: Episode 3: “The Case of the Missing Lifeguard” After  Nancy and Jonathan find Mrs. Driscoll eating her fertilizer in her  basement, they call the ambulance. Once the ambulance arrives and Mrs.  Driscoll is taken to the hospital, accompanied by Callahan, Nancy and  Jonathan decide that if they're going to run something by Tom about this  story, they're gonna need some help from an expert: Hopper. Hopper just  makes perfect sense to be a mentor to Nancy, because he's a former big  city cop, and he's a dogged investigator who knows how to connect the  dots as repeatedly shown throughout seasons 1 and 2. And he'd know a  thing or two about how you don't run a story without credible sources to  back up your claims, because police detectives and journalists have a  lot in common, the only difference being one has a badge and the other  doesn't. So Jonathan and Nancy seek out Hopper, and drive up  to the old Hawkins lab at the same time that Hopper and Joyce show up.   After pooling all of their information together, they split up to  search the place. Nancy goes with Hopper, and Jonathan goes with Joyce.   I'd do it this way because Nancy has shown proficient use with firearms  against the Demodogs of seasons 1 and 2 and even volunteered to be  Hopper's backup during the showdown here last October. This also gives  Jonathan and Joyce the opportunity to have a mother-son character  moment.  There's a lot of emotional weight coming back here for them,  since this was the place where Bob died, Bob was practically the dad  that Jonathan and Will wished they had instead of Lonnie, and Joyce is  considering moving out of Hawkins (this fixes the fact that we never saw  Joyce talk onscreen with her sons about moving). The character  moment is cut short when Hopper and Nancy are ambushed by Grigori.  Grigori puts up a good fight with them both, but it's not as one sided  since he has to take on two people at once. Hopper is less beaten, as  Nancy manages to get hold of a gun and scares Grigori off before he can  land the last blow on Hopper. Grigori gets away, despite Jonathan and  Joyce attempting to give chase in the Byers' car. Episode 4: “The Sauna Test” For  Jonathan and Nancy, it's a big deal as they realize now that the  Russians are present in Hawkins, maybe trying to get into the Upside  Down or worse, finding Eleven. Before they can do anything about their  new leads, they're fired by the flayed Tom. But Jonathan and Nancy are  convinced that Tom is in on it too, but for the wrong reasons. They  think that he's firing them because he's in league with the Russians,  unaware of what Billy and Heather had done to Tom the night before. Nonetheless, they aren't giving up on finding the truth. They  go to City Hall to convene with Joyce and Hopper again, who are there  to talk to Larry Kline since Hopper remembers seeing Grigori coming out  of Larry's office. Once again, I'd place Nancy alongside Hopper as he  interrogates Larry. When Larry threatens to put in a call to Tom at the Post,  Nancy laughs, “You really think that’s gonna do anything? Seeing as  I’ve been fired already.” But Larry turns his ire on Nancy, and decides to insult her obsessive pursuit of justice for Barb. Nancy snaps and breaks Larry's nose. They both pin Larry to his office  table, and interrogate him to get him to reveal what the Russians are  doing at Starcourt. Joyce and Hopper take Larry back to his house to get the  property records of the lots the Russians are buying up. While this  happens, Nancy and Jonathan go to Starcourt Mall to talk to Steve, as  while Jonathan hasn't quite 100% forgiven Steve for breaking his camera,  they know about his friendship with Dustin, that he works at Scoops  Ahoy and he may have noticed something unusual. To their surprise, Steve  believes every word of what they say, and tells them about the activity  he witnessed last night with Robin and Dustin.  Jonathan and Nancy  reconvene with Joyce and Hopper, and they pool their information. Jonathan is the one who goes to  the hospital to check on Mrs. Driscoll, and witnesses her being  activated by the Mind Flayer. Episode 5: “The Flayed” Meanwhile,  Nancy and Joyce go with Hopper to check out the properties from Larry's  list, and discover Alexei. Since Robin is out of contact, the four  decide that they need to have someone to take Alexei to Murray Bauman so  he can translate. Nancy and Jonathan are the most acquainted with  Murray, since he helped them get the truth out about Barb last year, and  it was in his house that they made love for the first time, so they  insist on going together. Hopper offers to go with them, since he's  concerned for the possibility that Grigori will be after them, after  some back and forth between the three of them. Joyce elects to remain in  Hawkins to look after Will. So Nancy, Jonathan and Hopper  make their way out to Murray's, while Joyce remains behind in Hawkins  and talks with Will, Mike, Lucas, Eleven and Max. Through them, she  learns about what's happened to Billy, and remembering what happened  with Will last year, suspects that the Mind Flayer is back and is  creating an army. With Hopper unavailable, Joyce gets in touch with  Callahan and they go back to the hospital to check on Mrs. Driscoll.  Unfortunately, she's not there when the two enter her room. Joyce and  Callahan are then attacked by the flayed Tom and Bruce, and Joyce  succeeds at killing both of them, though Callahan is badly wounded and has to be hospitalized. Episode 6: “E Pluribus Unum” Nancy,  Jonathan and Hopper get Alexei to Murray's place. Along the way,  there's some character growth for the three as Jonathan talks with Nancy  about Joyce wanting to move, while Hopper tries to give Nancy some  words of advice on how being a journalist is no different from being a  cop. The scene at Murray's is slightly different. Murray can't help but  tease Nancy and Jonathan about last year, much to their embarrassment  and to a bemused face from Hopper. Nonetheless, they  interrogate Alexei  and get him to reveal that the  Russians are attempting to access the  Upside Down and that they are  opening a portal beneath Starcourt.  Jonathan and Nancy remember what Steve told them, and worrying for their  respective brothers' safety, Jonathan insists that they return to  Hawkins immediately. Episode 7: “The Bite”

Meanwhile,  back in Hawkins, to find the Mind Flayer, Eleven uses her powers in an attempt to psychically communicate with Billy, learning of his troubled childhood and finding the Flayer at the mill. Billy senses Eleven's presence, giving the Mind Flayer access to her location, and reveals that the Mind Flayer's plan is to kill her in revenge for her closing the gate. The Flayed converge on the mill, dissolving into an organic mass and merging with the Mind Flayer. Joyce determines that the Mind Flayer is coming for  Eleven and for Will.  Will senses the Mind Flayer approaching and it  attacks them before they  flee, wounding Eleven. They rush Eleven to a  safe place where they can hide her and treat her wounds. Dustin contacts them over walkie-talkie to try and explain the situation with  Steve before he loses battery power. Through some process of  elimination, they figure out where Dustin is and make their way to the  mall. (Basically, Joyce switches places with Jonathan and Nancy)

Hopper's group, made of himself, Jonathan, Nancy,  Murray and Alexei, make their way to the fairgrounds in Hawkins in an  effort to search for Nancy’s and Jonathan’s brothers as well as Joyce,  but they are spotted by Kline, who alerts the Russians. Grigori almost  manages to get the drop on Alexei, but Nancy shoots and wounds him in  his shoulder just before he can fire. The bullet is not enough to kill  Grigori, but enough that his shot misfires and Alexei survives. The  group catch up to Larry, where they learn that the agents are looking   for the children at the mall, and Nancy and Jonathan get the joint  satisfaction of beating the shit out of Larry. At the mall, Eleven's  group arrives in  time to stop the Russians from shooting Dustin's  group.

Episode 8: “The Battle of Starcourt”

The  final battle then goes down mostly the same. Nancy and Jonathan's car  fu with Billy still happens. But there are a few areas where I'd make  some more changes. Namely,  while the others distract the Mind Flayer by  attacking it with  fireworks, Nancy and Jonathan get to beat the shit  out of Heather, to get back at her for flaying her dad (their former  boss), while Steve, Robin, Eleven and Max fight with Billy.   Eleven is  able to awaken Billy's mind from his memories, weakening the Flayer's  control enough that Steve is able to bash Billy's skull in with his nail  bat, allowing Max to deliver the finishing blow and giving them both  the satisfaction of payback for the season 2 finale where Billy almost  beat Steve to death. (And while I'm at it, have Max feel no sadness over  Billy's death, but instead relief that he's dead)As for closing  the gate to defeat the Mind Flayer, I change this part of the battle  just a bit. Namely, Alexei is by Joyce's side while Hopper is fighting  Grigori in the gate room. Nancy and Jonathan come to their aid after  defeating Heather. Hopper fights with Grigori in the gate room as the  others prepare to shut down the gate. Hopper throws Grigori into the  machine, causing it to go haywire and block his  exit. There  are a couple possible endings: 1) Nancy, Jonathan and Alexei somehow manage to  rescue him, and Alexei has to switch  places with Hopper. Joyce shuts down the gate, Alexei choosing to  sacrifice his own life in the process of taking down the project that  he'd worked on. Or 2) Hopper still sacrifices himself, and Alexei defects to Dr. Owens when he arrives with the cavalry.   In either ending, Murray buys out the Hawkins Post and rehires Nancy. In  ending 1, he also rehires Jonathan as the paper's photographer, while  Nancy divides her time between writing stories and being Hopper's  reserve deputy. In ending 2, the Byers still move away.      

[butcanijustnot]

Marvel Movie Synopsis’s run through google translate about sixty times

@idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

PHASE ONE:

(2008) Iron Man

The film was a story of Tony McCarrick, the biographer of Bill and Grab, who was murdered to build a malicious weapon. Instead, he uses his knowledge and skills, strong textiles, and freedom from captivity. It comes with world-class translations with international auspices, serves the artillery, and protects the world as iron.

(2008)   The Incredible Hulk

In this new start, scientist Bruce Ben has worked hard to protect against the toxic and unusual lunar energy of his cells. James Swift, General Tuan-Booth and a soldier, was cut off by Bittie Bunny, who he knew and wanted to catch him in. Power. After the three great lights are gone, they will meet the greatest new opponent, known as the destroyer. A scientist must make a final choice, like Bruno Bonnin, receive a life of peace or seek victory in his creation-unimaginable anxiety.

(2008)   Iron Man 2

Now the world understands that it is a metal piece, and Tony Sturkai's military force is spread throughout the army. He did not want to reveal the secret of his shield, fearing that the information would come in his wrong hands. A new debris is broken next to Pepper Pies and Roddy Rods and a new enemy must come.

(2010)   Thor

Paramount Pictures and Mavel Fun offer this amazing adventure "Tor", which makes Earth Day a better place in Asgard. In the heart of the story, he was a dragon, powerful, and majestic warrior, and his action unprecedented restored the ancient war. Dr. Odin was forced to live with his father and live among the people. Jennifer Wallace, a young young scientist, has a high impact on Tor. Ashes is the most demanding world to be overcome, and He will do it in the world to find out what He wants it to be.

(2011)   Captain America: The First Avenger

Steve Rogers, born in the Great Depression, was a young man in a poor family. In shocking news in the news of the Nazis in Europe, the corpse left to take part in the military. However, it was not revealed due to illness or disease. With the boy's heartfelt effort, General Chester Phillips offered the Romans a chance to attend a special test. ... Operation: Born again. A few weeks later, Rogers started shooting on the older sister Victor and Vita Ryos. Steve Rogers can be an organ and physically present as a body. Roger then gained great physical and systemic training. Three months later, Captain America made his first job. Captain America Captain America Warriors Warriors and Warrens War Fought US Captain America waged by enemy battles and battles.

(2011)   The Avengers

Mayvel Studios has collaborated with Paramount Pictures "Mavel Asvandar", a famous heroine, mathematician, incredible halo, Tor, Captain America, Hawke, and Black Widow. Nichireri, the international peace-keeping organization NUF (N. S.L.E.), expects an unexpected enemy to bring about the world's undernutrition when an unexpected enemy threatens international security and security. A challenging recruitment of infants begins.

PHASE TWO:      

(2012) Iron Man 3

Marvel's "Iron Man 3" / Tony Stark / Iron Man An enemy is an enemy that has no limit. When Stark saw the huge man die in the enemy's arms, he made a powerful search to find those responsible. This trip tests his bed at any angle. The sling is on the back of the wall and on the rear of the wall to protect the people very close to him. The answer to the question that he had smuggled him back in the way was: Does the person bring charges, or does the accusation make that person?

(2013)   Thor: The Dark World

Surprisingly, Tor has been banned in the wake of the "Thor" and the "catastrophic death". But the ancient competition led by the Sultan returned to the world. Odin and Susan were unable to stand up, hurting the dangerous and personal journey of the trip, and rejoining Kean, and saving everything.

(2013)   Captain America: The Winter Soldier

In an awkward incident with the Weinsteins in New York, the Captain American Armageddon-Winter Warrior, Steve Rogers, Captain America, Strongest Taste, DC, and the modern world is experimenting with the Awkwardness. But one Indian worker is being attacked by an American Indian, and he is in a dangerous web site that threatens Steve Jobs. Captain America was trying to attack the sentiment of professionalism in cooperation with the widow's widow. When the torture debate is fully described, Captain America and the Black Widow support a new party, the new Anglican support. However, they will arrive at the Winter Warriors - an unexpected, horrible enemy.

(2014)   Guardians of the Galaxy

The cautious "Dragon of the Zodiacs", the Marvel "Space Helps", and the Magnificent Worldwide Marilyn Monument into the Universe. After this massive mystery of the giant Ronan, the Brazilian jubilant of the huge jungle of Brazil, the magnitude of the blockbuster is a powerful vampire threatening the enormous universe. Niel ran into four unnamed winnings to escape the richer Ronnie. Gout, type of tree; Killer and Killer Gamonah And the Drax the Destroyer - the inspiration. But when Quill finds the true power of the green and the global threat, he must do his best to capture the final and frustrating set of hurricane competitors - on the fate of the galaxy.

(2014)   Avengers: Age of Ultron

Magic Studios The Westgills: Age of Ultron, the ultimate Ultimate Super Hero Film Watch. Tony Wagland does not see anything when he tries to skip a weak peacekeeping program, including Earth Hour, including the Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Hulk, Black Widow and Hawkeye, with the help of Nigrum and Maria Haarle on the scale of the planet's scale. Check if this is possible. When Krishnar came out, Uhurr came up to warn the threatening agents to stop his horrible plans, and soon unmerged and unpopular actions were blowing up for the rightful and exceptional international adventure.

(2015)   Ant-Man

The next Marvel Cinematic Universe evolution of Avengers / Avengers / "Marvel Studios's" Ant-Man "comes first to the big screen. Despite his incredible ability to strengthen, the strength of his master Scarlett Johansson, Dr. Hans Peam, should be expected to protect his heroic heroes from the heroic brave heroes. Pimé and Lung should be able to take out a firm plan to save the world in the face of barriers.

PHASE THREE:    

(2015) Captain America: Civil War

Marvel's Captain America: Civil War, Steve Rogers leads the newly formed Evista Group by following their efforts to promote humanity. But if Aeneen is damaging the property of another event, then the political pressure will be placed on the governing body to oversee the accountability of the governing body. The new African leaders gathered at the Avengers, together with Steven Rogers and the Avengers Treaty members, to keep free from government intervention for humanity, and to another way to support Tony Scott's continued government oversight and accountability.

(2016)   Doctor Strange

From Marvel to Dr. Swift, the world's most famous neurologist, Dr. Stefan Wade, hides his hands with a shocking car accident. When the medicinal product is successful, it is necessary to seek healing and hope in a place where there is no cure - the secret place known as Mama-Bagu. This is not just a healing center, but a battlefront that will fight against the forces of dark forces that vanquish our truths. Long-term novel novel forces - which are taken to return to the wealthy and the stature-have been taken to prevent them from being the largest virgins in the world.

(2016)   Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

The "Wonderful Mixtape # 2" background story, the marvel guardians of the galaxy Volume 2. The band's brawling universe of play travels outdoors. The guardian parents of Pinichy Kiel must fight to protect their new family as they reveal the true secrets of their parents. The former enemies will become new parties, and as the Magna Carta expands, the famous characters of chic-shaped images come to our heroes.

(2017)   Spider-Man: Homecoming

Younger Peter Pearson / Spade-Man, who has spent his inspiration in civil war in Winston, USA, has begun a German-Managed Tour in the homepage. When he returned home rejoicing, he traveled with his new teacher, Tony Slakek, to his new assignment. Peter strives to go back to his usual routine every day - to the neighborhood nearest to himself, not just the man of Sweden - but when the crown comes out as a new character, Peter makes the most important thing.

(2017)   Thor: Ragnarok

The Tor world is going to explode in Marsan: Rope burn. His mischievous brother Luk, Hezbollah, Huge Helena tries to rob her throne, and Tor is imprisoned in another universe. To escape the captivity and rescue the house from recuperation, Tor needs to defeat the killers by defeating his former friend and defeating the killer. ... Depression!

(2017)   Black Panther

Following the incident of Captain America, King Chika worked as the new leader of the country as he was working in the new African country of Wisconsin. However, soon afterwards he defended a crown that accompanied the Assyrian monarch. When two soldiers attempted to extinguish the Vandals, the Black Panther, from the ESL agent Raven and the Dra of Malaya, was sent to a World War II Wiki.

(2018) Avengers: Infinity War

The Invenness War is a 10-year trip to the Sinclair for creating and capturing the Marvel Cinematic Universe at the entire Mavel Maritime Cinematic Universe.

(2018)   Ant-Man and the Wasp

A new milestone will be presented by the pioneering heroes of the Creative Commons Attribution (NAS-SS and WP). After the Captor America, the civil war, Scott Frying, was affected by his mercy and his father. As Anthony tried to carry out his responsibility, Anthony and Dr. Han Hem were faced with a new mission after another. After fighting again in battles with Squawk and working together to explain mysterious myths, fighting begins with fighting the brave side of the cave.

(2018)   Captain Marvel

In the early 1990's, Marvel Studios' "cascade format" was the most unexpected adventures in the Marvel Cinematic Universe scene at the Dallil Mountains. The galaxy between two different types of warfare is on earth, and Diana and herself are also found in Meles Metalles.

(2019)   Avengers: Endgame

It was on the 22 filmmakers' list that the drama of the process, which took place in the Hitler regime, halted half of the university and destroyed the burglar.

(2019)   Spider-Man: Far From Home

Peter Parker to Spider-Man: From Home, In the Next Chapter Spider-Man: Home the Continued! Our friendly neighbor hero hero and his best friends decide to spend the day in the yard, MA and other European vacations. However, Nick Ferry has hidden secrets of many complex pictures and has created devastating impact on the continent.

[ironstrange-is-the-endgame]

who will wipe this blood off us? what water is there for us to clean ourselves?

tw blood, tw panic attack

I don’t know how this happened but it did. Title thanks to Friedrich Nietzsche. 

sidepair: brucestine 

rating: t/m (I don’t know, I never understand this shit)

Stephen looked at his awful, destroyed, dirty hands. It was the only thing he could do, looking at them and desire they could disappear, turn into something else, just not being any longer.

He wished for that long time ago, too. But he wanted them to be pretty and steady, he wanted for his hands to go back at what they used to be: hands made for the operation theatre. That was what brought him to Kamar-Taj. That was a life before.

Now he wanted for those hands just not to be his. He wanted to get rid of them and the sin they had just committed. No, it wasn’t his hands fault; it was his, Stephen’s. He killed that man; he looked at the man in the eyes and hit him with a shining red sword. He did it. And while he did it, he liked that. And that was the reason why he wished to be able to rip his hands off, to erase that memory from his mind. A memory he knew it won’t ever abandon him.

It was that man’s life, the man who learnt magic in the very same halls of Kamar-Taj, but tried to use it to bring the Sorcerers down and to rule over the Sanctums, or Stephen’s. He did it to protect his order. He did it to protect the world and the gates to other dimensions closed, but he killed him. He voluntarily ended a life without even thinking if there was a second option.

He bolted away the moment he realized what he did, deaf to Wong’s voice. In Stephen’s mind, it was clear that the librarian was calling him a monster. It was what he was, at the end of the day. He killed a man. He decided his own life was worthier. Did this make him better than that man? The fact that his victim killed more than he could even imagine, didn’t make Stephen less guilty. He was a murderer; he killed a man in cold blood just because it was the easier thing to do.

He was sweating, and every bone in his body was shaking when he walked out of the portal he opened. He didn’t even think about where he wanted to go, letting adrenaline and instinct to drive him. He knew the place which opened in front of his eyes, but he couldn’t stay there. He couldn’t be at the Compound: Tony was probably there, around that time, and if he wasn’t, Steve most certainly was. And he couldn’t let them see him like that. They would have understood. His hands were still dirty in blood, and he knew that he couldn’t simply wash it off. The point was that he didn’t have any place where to go. He couldn’t go back to the Sanctum because that was the place where Wong would have looked for him, and he couldn’t risk for someone to see him there. Especially not Tony.

He loved the man too much and while he knew sooner or later the genius would have dumped him for somebody who was a better deal than Stephen, he didn't want Stark to know the monster he was. But the moment he rose his right hand to opened another portal — still without knowing for where — he saw dried blood on his fingers again and this time, felt hot tears down his cheeks. He did it, that wasn’t his blood, it was another person’s.

Trying to breathe become harder and harder while his vision turned blurred. Maybe he could just close his eyes for a while and hoping for the man’s face to disappear from in front of his eyes. But no, the moment he did it, everything became too much and that face turned its dark and empty eyes at Stephen and its mouth opened in a silent scream.

Strange was only half sure that the yell didn’t belong to him when he heard steps coming closer. That was what convinced him to open his eyes just to see Tony looking at him, whiskey brown surprised and worried eyes. Stephen didn’t let the man’s inspection go further than his pale face and pictured in his mind the first safe place he could think of. He didn’t want to involve her in this mess, but Christine’s was the last place everyone would have looked for him.

Stephen stumbled out of the portal, his panic attack still running through his system, his breath short, images of the fight and from the now and then flashing back and forward in front of his steel-blue eyes. He knew he shouldn’t show up uninvited to Christine’s, even if she told him he can seek for her if he needed help. He shouldn’t be there: he was a murderer who can use magic and she was just human, just Christine, his Christine, his best friend, the only person who stayed by his side while his life was trembling down.

And he had been already such a shit with her. She didn’t deserve this; she deserved so much better than Stephen. And she found better. She found Bruce, and their relationship was actually healthier than hers and Stephen’s had ever been, they worked better as friends. And now he was walking into her house, uninvited, unannounced, asking her to - Stephen didn’t even know what he wanted from Christine. She just looked like the safest option. Maybe he just knew nobody would have searched for him there. Nobody would have judged him, there, nobody would have kicked him out or call him a murderer, or call the police. Because it didn’t matter what, Christine seemed to be the only person crazy enough to stick around with him.

“Steph…” Her voice was worried. Great! She should be worried because of him, not for him. Rushed steps on the floor, a soft hand against his arm, warm, comforting. It shifted on his face. “Hey, look at me. You are at my place. You are safe,” She whispered, and everything was even worse. He was a threat, for her, and she shouldn’t try to calm him, she should run away. She would if she knew at whom the blood on his hands belonged. “Bruce, can you bring me a glass of water, please?”

Bruce? Stephen’s brain short-circuited. Of course, Bruce was there if that was Christine’s day off. He needed to go away before Banner saw him like that. But it was too late. A glass of water was gently pressed against his lips and Christine waited for him to take a sip. It helped, the coldness of it broke a way into his thoughts long enough for Stephen to accept it as a rope throw at someone who was drowning.

Stephen’s sight went back on focus, even if his body was still shaking. “Don’t… Don’t tell the others…” He said, to Bruce, returning his eyes on Christine’s a moment later. “I had to kill him… I was his life of the safety of the Sanctums,” His best friend nodded, even if she probably couldn’t understand a thing of what was going on. “But there must have been another way. I just valued my life more than his and…”

“Steph,” Christine’s voice was soft, while she tentatively moved her hand on Stephen’s neck, dragging him closer into a hug. “Sometimes, people do things they don’t want to do because is what they have to.”

“It’s not your fault,” That came from Bruce, and Stephen could feel Christine relaxing into the hug, despite everything. It was clear that she wasn’t prepared for that kind of conversation. She was great, but those heroes’ matters weren’t her thing, after all. “I don’t want to know what happened until you’ll be ready to speak about that, but I know how you are feeling right now,” A soft smile crossed his lips, and Stephen could say that a memory followed that words as well. “But it was that man or the Earth and while, theoretically, you could have found another way which didn’t imply to kill him, at the moment was the only way. I felt the same, after Ultron. Because it was my fault because we could have reviewed the code once more, because we could have done things differently, because I killed people. Not the other guy, me, Bruce Banner, the Doctor, creating Ultron. Because even if people blamed Tony for that, it was my fault as well,” Stephen knew Bruce was right, and he also knew that trying to tell him it wasn’t was pointless. “And you know the rest of the story, I guess.”

Stephen nodded. “Those victims were on Ultron, not on you,” He said those words over and over again to Tony, every time he woke up after a Sokovia nightmare. “It’s different, you never…”

“I did, Stephen. But, at the end of the day, was the right thing to do. Contain casualties, destroy Ultron,” His voice was sad, and it was clear that he didn’t approve that choice. None of the Avengers did, but it was the best way to put an end on Ultron. “You acted before. You ended a life so that billions could be spared. It doesn't make you a killer.”

“I swore an oath,” He said. He broke it once, in the London Sanctum, and then again. He killed again, and this time blood was on his hands.

“So did I,” Bruce answered. “It won’t be easier, with time, but if you think one of us will think less than you because you had to make a call that ended in killing a man who was trying to take over the Sanctums, well you’re wrong.”

Stephen had no idea why, but he believed Bruce. “And if you think Tony will look at you differently, well, he’ll probably be worried as hell that you could have get hurt in the fight,” Christine intervened again. “Believe me, I’d prefer a fast death that the one Tony Stark reserve to whoever tries to hurt his beloved ones.”

Stephen tried to crack a smile but he felt it still off from his face. Though he nodded and thanked Christine and Bruce, leaving them alone a moment later.

He portalled himself back at the Compound. Christine had given him a washcloth before he left to wipe the blood off of his hands and he tried not to stare at the red on the pristine white before throwing it away while looking for Tony.

The man was in his workshop.

“Hey,” Stephen said, walking him. Tony’s eyes were still worried, and Stephen was frightened of what Tony’s reaction could have been. “Can we speak?”

Tony nodded, rushing over to encircle Stephen in his arms. And Stephen told him all. Crying and panicking all over again, explaining to his boyfriend why he felt so ashamed, he told him everything. Between Tony’s kisses and gentle strokes at his hair and encouragements. Because Tony was the love of his life, and he deserved to know.

[lady-hammerlock]

Trust Fall (Telltale Batjokes)

Note: Contains vague spoilers for ‘What Ails You.’ The full story is available under the cut. It’s also just a little nsfw in spots.

TRUST FALL

Bruce tugged at the fabric binding his wrists together. John had left it pretty loose; loose enough that Bruce was sure he could easily escape if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to escape though. That would defeat the purpose of the whole thing.

He and John had been through a lot over the past few days. There were still issues on both sides that hadn’t been fully resolved; past hurts and frustrations and trust issues that needed to be sorted out if the two of them were ever going to work together with any amount of harmony.

And so John had suggested this little ‘trust exercise’.

“We take turns,” John had said. “One of us gets tied up and blindfolded, and for the next ten minutes the other person can do whatever they want to them. You know, take their frustrations out in whatever way they want.”

Bruce wasn’t so sure that it was a good idea, but John seemed determined, and if he thought this might help to strengthen their relationship then Bruce was willing to give it a shot.

“Oh, and whatever happens,” John had added only once Bruce had already agreed to the idea. “We can’t hold a grudge or get angry at each other for whatever happens while we’re blindfolded, all right?”

John looked up at him then, eyes pleading and full of hope, and Bruce really didn’t have it in him to disagree, not when John was looking at him like that.

“All right,” he said. “I promise. No grudges.”

He was reasonably sure that John wouldn’t hurt him too badly anyway, and well, if John did hit him a couple of times then Bruce really wouldn’t be able to blame him for it; not after everything they had been through; not after all the hurt that Bruce had unwittingly caused.

John had insisted that Bruce be blindfolded first. Bruce wasn’t sure why, but he had agreed to it nevertheless; partially because this whole exercise was making him nervous, and getting the worst part of it out of the way as soon as possible seemed like a good idea, and partially because the one thing that he planned to do to John while John was blindfolded was the sort of thing that might make his partner not want to be around him ever again. Bruce was sure that John had meant his promise not to hold a grudge, but that didn’t mean he would still want to be Bruce’s friend, not after this.

“You all right there buddy?” John asked.

Bruce looked up at him. The other man was holding one of Bruce’s ties in his hands; a dark purple thing that Bruce never really wore and which the two of them had agreed to use as a blindfold, and Bruce felt his throat going dry as he thought of John tying it around his head and temporarily blinding him.

“I’m fine,” Bruce said.

“You sure?” John asked. “You don’t look fine. You know what? We don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to. Heck, we don’t have to do this at all.”

John let out a low chuckle then. The sort of chuckle Bruce knew was a sure sign his partner was nervous.

“It’s fine,” he said. It would have to be fine. He had already made up his mind that he was going to go through with the exercise. “I trust you John.”

Those three words had come to mean so very much to both of them, and John froze for a moment, staring down in wonder at Bruce, before nodding.

“Okay,” he said, before smiling at Bruce and leaning forward.

Bruce took a deep breath as John’s hands moved around to the back of Bruce’s head. Everything went dark as John tied the makeshift blindfold tightly in place.

“All right,” John said as he pulled back. “You all good there buddy? Not too uncomfortable?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said again.

He trusted John. He did, but that didn’t stop the dark and the relative helplessness of the situation being absolutely terrifying.

Bruce listened closely to the other man as John fiddled around with his phone for a moment.

“There we go,” John said, and Bruce listened to what he thought must have been the sound of John putting his phone back down on the floor. “Ten minutes.”

Everything went silent then.

Bruce’s heart pounded in his chest as he waited for the first blow to come. He waited for John to punish him for everything that he had done; to punish him for lying, and for using John, and for not being there for John when he should have been.

But the blow never came. Instead he felt a weight settle on top of his legs, and he realized after a moment that John had actually climbed on top of him and was sitting in his lap. John was even lighter than he looked, and far from being uncomfortable, having John’s weight in his lap seemed right, and for a moment Bruce wanted nothing more than to slip the bindings around his wrists and wrap his arms around the other man and hold him close.

Bruce stayed perfectly still though, still and silent as he waited for John to take out his vengeance. John could still do anything to him, and the knowledge was simultaneously exciting and terrifying.

Long, soft fingers reached out; John’s hands brushing over Bruce’s clothed stomach with a feather-light touch. They moved around, always teasingly light, almost as though searching for something, mapping out the lines of Bruce’s torso as though memorizing each and every one of them.

They danced up and down Bruce’s side, searching for something, until they reached a sensitive point on Bruce’s back that caused a brief giggle to emerge from Bruce’s throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he gasped, having failed to keep the laughter back. “But that tickles.”

He had barely finished speaking when John’s fingers danced over that particular spot on Bruce’s back again. Another burst of laughter emerged from Bruce’s throat, and it was in that moment he realized exactly what John was doing.

Tickle torture? It wasn’t nearly as horrible as anything that Bruce had been imagining.

Bruce had never been particularly ticklish, but John’s fingertips searched every inch of Bruce’s chest and arms, questing in the crook of his elbows and the curve of his neck, seeking out every single sensitive spot he could find and attacking them with merciless precision.

Before long Bruce was a giggling wreck, and he couldn’t help but squirm a little as John’s hands travelled down towards his lower back and then up to his shoulder blades. Occasionally he would hear John let out a cackle in reply to his own bursts of laughter as well.

He was tempted to cry out and beg for John to stop, but he forced himself not to. This was the kindest punishment Bruce could imagine, and he would gladly let John tickle him without complaint for hours if John thought that was what was needed to fix their friendship.

After a few minutes the tickling stopped, and John’s hands came to rest on the flat of Bruce’s stomach once more. His fingertips fluttered around for a moment, and Bruce braced himself for the next round of tickling.

John was clearly doing something, but Bruce had no idea what. He could feel John’s fingers occasionally brushing gently against him; could feel the fabric of his shirt moving a little. It wasn’t until John undid the second button that Bruce realized John was slowly unbuttoning his shirt, starting at the bottom and working his way up.

Too many of his more guilty fantasies of late had included John undressing him, and Bruce’s breath hitched in his throat as all sorts of erotic suggestions as to what John intended to do to him came to mind. Bruce told himself not to get too excited, and tried to focus on keeping his now pounding and erratic heartbeat under control. If he wasn’t careful then his body was going to betray him and give away the less than innocent aspects of his affection for John.

He wanted those hands on him; wanted to feel John touching him without the fabric of his shirt getting in the way, but he had not allowed himself to admit that to anyone but himself, and he was sure that whatever John was about to do to him, sex would have no place in it.

John finished unbuttoning Bruce’s shirt, and Bruce tensed as he waited to find out what John was going to do next. He expecting more tickling. He craved, but didn’t dare to even hope for something more intimate.

John’s hands opened Bruce’s shirt, exposing his chest. Bruce heard the other man’s breath catch, and then John’s hands were on him again, their touch still almost painfully feather-light.

One of John’s hands settled on the intricate pattern of pale lines that snaked across Bruce’s chest, originating at his left shoulder and stretching down over his arm and chest; a painful gift from Lady Arkham the year before. The other found a crescent shaped scar that Bane had left on him only a week earlier.

John’s fingers moved all over Bruce’s chest, mapping out every single one of his scars, always so gentle, almost reverential in the way they traced their shapes.

John’s phone let out a single, quiet ‘beep’.

“Only one minute left, huh?” John murmured, sounding rather sad.

Bruce wondered whether John realized that so far he hadn’t done anything that Bruce wouldn’t have allowed him to do under perfectly normal circumstances, if only John had asked. He wondered whether he should have given explanations for each of the scars that John lingered on; whether John would have appreciated that.

He readied himself to explain whichever scar John’s hands found next, but John surprised him again by leaning forwards and wrapping his arms tightly around Bruce. John held him as close as he could, their chests pressed flush against one another, and nuzzled into Bruce’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for the remaining minute, John’s breath warm against Bruce’s neck, and Bruce wished with all of his might that he could move his arms, wrap them around John and hold him close. He didn’t want this moment to ever end, even if that meant keeping the blindfold and the restraints. His whole world had narrowed down to the smell and feel and sound of John against him; his warmth, the feeling of John’s soft hair as it brushed against Bruce’s cheek, and the soft, comforting sound of John’s steady breathing.

When the alarm on John’s phone went off, it felt like someone was slowly trying to tear Bruce’s heart out through his chest. John groaned, as though he was just as sorry that the ten minutes were up as Bruce was, and Bruce felt the other man’s weight leaving his lap, and then, after a couple of seconds, the alarm fell silent.

“You didn’t have to stop,” Bruce said as John reached out to untie the blindfold. “You know that, right?”

“No, I did,” John replied. “I have to give you your turn as well, otherwise this isn’t fair.”

Within moments John had untied Bruce’s hands as well.

Bruce got to his feet, wondering whether he should wrap his arms around John and continue the hug. John had sat down in the chair before Bruce could make up his mind however, and Bruce once again felt that sinking feeling in his chest, as though he was trying to hold onto something that kept slipping out of his grasp.

“Okay buddy,” John said, his hands already clasped together at the back of the chair. “Tie me up.”

John was putting up a brave front, but Bruce could tell that he was scared. Apparently he was just as nervous and eager to get this part over and done with as Bruce had been.

Bruce tied the other man’s hands behind his back, leaving even more give than John had given him and making sure that John wouldn’t be any more uncomfortable than was absolutely necessary.

When Bruce came back round to John’s front, tie in hand, John let out a brief, nervous cackle. Bruce leaned in and placed a hand on John’s shoulder.

“You know that I’m not going to hurt you, right?” he asked John.

John’s laughter stopped, and he stared up at Bruce with one raised eyebrow, his mouth open in confusion. Bruce had seen that look before. Somehow it always managed to make him feel like an idiot.

“You’re not supposed to spoil the surprise of it like that Bruce,” John said. “But well… I mean…”

He took a deep breath and then smiled up at Bruce.

“I trust you,” he said, before winking at Bruce.

Bruce smiled back and then leaned in close to tie the makeshift blindfold around John’s eyes. He leaned down and reset the timer on John’s phone before standing back up and observing his partner closely.

“So I can do anything to you? Anything at all?” Bruce asked. “And no matter what it is, you have to forgive me for it, right?”

Part of Bruce hoped that John would object, or at least have the sense to put some limiters on what was allowed, because what Bruce had promised himself he would do still seemed like it might be enough to completely ruin what had turned into one of the most important relationships in his life.

“Anything,” John replied with a smile

He already seemed far more relaxed than Bruce had been at this point in the proceedings.

Bruce didn’t even know what he was going to do with most of his ten minutes. He should have been angry with John, for the lives that he had taken, and for the chaos he had caused, but he couldn’t be. They’d both already been through so much, and John had been so kind and gentle with his own ten minutes.

For a moment Bruce had the insidious thought that perhaps John had insisted on going first so that he could use his turn to be ridiculously nice to Bruce and ensure that Bruce wouldn’t hurt him when their positions were reversed.

Bruce immediately scoffed at that idea. It wasn’t that John was above such subtle manipulation, but Bruce never would have been able to bring himself to hurt John anyway, especially not while he was blind and helpless like this. He hoped that John knew that.

Bruce found himself staring down at the other man. John didn’t look the same with his eyes covered. Looking at John’s emerald eyes never failed to take Bruce’s breath away. They were just so bright and so captivating, just like John himself.

He was tempted to just curl up in John’s lap and resume the hug that John had begun, but he wasn’t sure that John would be as comfortable taking Bruce’s weight as Bruce had been taking John’s.

“Bruce?” John asked, tilting his blindfolded head. “Come on. The clock’s ticking.”

“I know, I know,” Bruce said. “Just give me a moment.”

“You can do anything that you want to me,” John said, wriggling a little in the chair, his voice low and mischievous. “Anything at all.”

That really wasn’t helping things. Now Bruce was imagining several incredibly inappropriate things that he could do. John’s legs were already spread fairly wide. It would be so easy to kneel between them, to remove John’s cock from his pants and begin to suck.

But no. He couldn’t do that.

Perhaps kneeling wasn’t such a bad idea though.

Bruce dropped to his knees beside John’s feet, wrapped his arms around John’s waist and rested his head on the other man’s leg. John moved his legs together, giving Bruce a larger, more comfortable pillow to rest his head on, and making it easier for Bruce to hold John’s waist.

Bruce stayed there for a few minutes, listening to the soft sound of John’s breathing and savoring the other man’s smell and the feeling of him in Bruce’s arms. He wanted more than this. He wanted to stare into John’s eyes and feel the other man’s body pressed against his own; wanted to kiss him until they were both breathless and the only thing that he could think of was John.

For now though, this would have to be enough.

After a few minutes Bruce stood up. He watched John closely, noticing how the other man grew just a little more tense as he waited for Bruce’s next move.

Bruce wasn’t even sure what he was going to do until his hands reached out to run over John’s cheeks, fingers tracing over almost impossibly beautiful cheekbones and then down to John’s jaw. Bruce ran a thumb over John’s lower lip, and John gasped.

They stayed frozen like that for what seemed an age. Bruce was so tempted to slip his thumb inside John’s slightly open mouth, if only to see how John would react. John’s lips were already twitching, as though they were just aching to plant a kiss on Bruce’s thumb, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking on Bruce’s part.

He pulled his hands back from John’s face, and moved them further up to run them through John’s hair. It was so soft, and as soon as Bruce started caressing it he found that he couldn’t stop. John meanwhile was acting like a cat being petted, pressing into the touch and letting out pleased little hums as Bruce worked.

It was nice; just as nice as John hugging him had been, and Bruce kept it up until he heard John’s phone once again let out a single beep, letting Bruce know that he only had a minute left.

His hand stilled its movements. Bruce froze completely. It was now or never.

He knew that he was being a coward, but he also knew that he probably wasn’t ever going to get another chance like this.

“You have to forgive me for this,” he said, more to psych himself up than to actually speak to John, but John responded nevertheless.

“Of course,” John said. “Seriously Bruce, whatever you want to do, do it. You’re running out of time.”

John was right.

Bruce’s whole body suddenly felt too heavy. He was so nervous, but he forced himself to put his fears aside, wiped his hands, which suddenly felt too clammy, on the side of his pants, and steeled himself for what was about to happen.

John had gone still again.

Bruce reached out, placing one hand on each of John’s cheeks, and then, before he could second guess himself any more than he already had, he surged forward and pressed his lips to John’s own.

Bruce poured every ounce of love and passion that he had kept bottled up inside of him for so long into that kiss; every wayward urge to reach out and hold and touch and devour coming together in that one moment of desperate, risky indulgence.

At first John didn’t move at all, and Bruce started to worry that he really had messed up everything, but then John let out a loud, low, desperate-sounding moan that made Bruce’s heart twist, and then John was kissing back, opening his mouth to Bruce, and pressing back with a hunger just as tangible as Bruce’s own.

It was incredible, and Bruce practically melted against John. He wrapped his arms around John’s body, pulling him closer and groaning loudly as John’s tongue slipped inside of his mouth.

He was so swept up in the kiss that he barely noticed when the phone’s alarm rang, letting them know that Bruce’s ten minutes were up. Bruce pulled back from the kiss and made to get up, but he suddenly found John’s arms wrapping around him and keeping him in place.

“Ignore it. Please,” John begged, before pulling Bruce close and resuming the kiss.

Bruce could only guess that John had slipped his bonds when the alarm had gone off. It wasn’t a bad idea all things considered. He certainly didn’t want to stop kissing John any time soon.

The next time their mouths parted Bruce took a moment to reach up and remove the blindfold from around John’s eyes. He needed to look at them; wanted to see John’s beautiful emerald eyes staring up at him.

When John’s eyes met with his own Bruce felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe. God, they were so beautiful, but he couldn’t stare into John’s eyes and kiss him at the same time, and soon John had resumed the kiss, practically devouring Bruce’s mouth while all the while John’s phone continued to let out its harsh trill from its place beside them on the floor.

Bruce was sure that the phone was getting louder, and eventually he pulled back from John, although it was with more than a little reluctance. John’s mouth chased after his own, but Bruce reached out, holding John back, at least for the time being.

“One of us needs to turn that alarm off,” Bruce said, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to John’s forehead.

John let out a loud, displeased groan, but it didn’t stop Bruce from getting to his feet and stumbling over to the phone to turn it off.

He got back to his feet, legs shaking despite the fact that he and John hadn’t done anything more than kiss.

He had been intending to immediately return to the chair and to John, wanting nothing more than to start kissing him again, but when Bruce turned around he discovered that John had gotten to his feet and was standing right behind Bruce.

“You know,” he said, reaching out to place a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, slipping his fingers beneath the still-open shirt. The warmth of John’s hand against Bruce’s skin was enough to send a pleased shiver down Bruce’s spine. “You could have done that any time that you wanted.”

He winked at Bruce again, and sent him a grin that was so devious it was almost predatory. It sent another shiver down Bruce’s back, and oh god, he wanted to be devoured by that grin so badly; wanted John to kiss him and touch him and consume him completely.

“Really?” Bruce asked, raising one cocky eyebrow at John despite the fact that he was feeling anything but cocky.

“Really,” John practically purred, stepping closer to Bruce and throwing his other arm around Bruce’s shoulders.

“Well, you could have seen my scars any time too,” Bruce said. “Or hugged me. All that you had to do was ask.”

John seemed to consider that for a moment, and Bruce did not miss the way he glanced down at Bruce’s still bare chest, or the way his eyes seemed to linger on it for longer than would have been appropriate if their relationship had still been purely platonic.

“What about the tickling?” John finally asked, tearing his eyes away from Bruce’s chest to smile up at him once more.

Bruce cringed.

“Eh, I think I’d prefer to repeat all of the other things that we got up to,” John said, echoing Bruce’s own thoughts on the matter.

John pulled back from Bruce. He hand wrapped around one of Bruce’s wrists and he began to guide him back towards the chair.

He gestured for Bruce to sit back down. Bruce did and before long he found himself with a lap full of John Doe and this time they were both smiling and eager. This time he could wrap his arms around John and pull him close and oh god… Just holding him like this was absolute heaven.

“I’m still glad that we did those trust exercises,” John whispered into the crook of Bruce’s neck.

“Yeah,” Bruce whispered back as he ran a hand through John’s hair. “Me too.”

John lifted his head up. They looked into each other’s eyes for a couple of seconds, and then they were both closing the few inches that lay between them, their lips pressing hungrily against one another’s.

This time it was a very long time before they parted.

[aion-rsa]

Batman: What Miracle Molly and the Unsanity Collective Mean for the Future of Gotham

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The Dark Knight is on the verge of losing Gotham, according to writer James Tynion IV, who is kicking off his second year on Batman with his most ambitious story yet, one that is as much the epic tale of an entire city as it is an intimate look at its heroes.

Gotham is changing rapidly, rebuilding itself in the wake of the Joker War, and several factions, including the mysterious transhumanist gang known as the Unsanity Collective, are vying for control of the city. Lurking in the shadows of this new war for the soul of Gotham are the Scarecrow and a shady tech mogul named Simon Saint, who has a plan to replace vigilantes with a “peacekeeping” force he is calling the Magistrate. To top it all off, the people of Gotham are losing faith in Batman. Can the Dark Knight get the city back on his side?

In May’s Batman #108, Bruce goes undercover as Matches Malone to infiltrate the Unsanity Collective, and learns just how quickly Gotham is slipping from his grasp. Central to the issue is new character Miracle Molly, the genius engineer behind the gang’s mind- and body-altering tech designed to create the perfect soldiers for the Collective’s mission. Molly isn’t your typical cackling villain anxious to trade blows with the Bat, though. Instead, she wants to pitch him the Collective’s vision for Gotham City.

“The reason [Batman] puts on the costume is because criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot. And one of the big things that Miracle Molly says to him in this issue is that it’s not just the criminals. Everyone in Gotham is a superstitious and cowardly lot. Society kind of pushes us into that position,” Tynion tells Den of Geek over Zoom. “The idea of the Unsanity Collective is that they erase part of their memories so they can let go of the traumas of their past, let go of who society wanted them to be, and they’re able to rebuild themselves from scratch as these new people.”

It’s this “heart-to-heart” between Batman and Miracle Molly that forms the crux of the issue, and lays the foundation for this year’s story arc as a whole. In Batman #108, readers get a much better look at the storytelling tapestry Tynion and artist Jorge Jimenez are weaving in “The Cowardly Lot,” which tackles some very hefty subject matter, including what Batman’s mission means to a younger generation of Gothamites who are understandably cynical about authority figures.

In fact, at the core of “The Cowardly Lot” is Tynion’s desire to write to younger generations of comic book readers who are looking for Batman stories that reflect them and the world they live in.

“I didn’t want to write a comic book that’s necessarily for me right now,” explains Tynion, who is 33. “I’m trying to write the [types of] comics that got me really excited when I was 15. That was something that I wanted to tap into. And the truth is that the teenagers are growing up. Generation Z, they don’t believe that society works because society hasn’t proved to them that it actually works.”

Is Batman really the hero Gotham needs right now? Things have hardly gotten any better for the citizens of Gotham since the Dark Knight began his war on crime. When it’s not the Joker terrorizing the city, it’s Bane, it’s Deathstroke, it’s Poison Ivy, it’s the Riddler. You could hardly blame someone growing up in all of that chaos for seeking out alternative solutions beyond the Bat.

“Batman doesn’t necessarily mean something good to the young people who are coming of age in the city,” Tynion says. “How does Batman actually inspire this generation that isn’t so sure what it believes in?”

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Further complicating matters is the newly-elected mayor, Christopher Nakano, who wants to rid the city of masks, starting with the Bat Family. Earlier this year, in DC’s flash-forward event Future State, we got a glimpse at the mayor’s potential legacy: the Gotham of the future becomes a dystopian surveillance state where Batman is “dead” and his remaining associates are being hunted down by the Magistrate. While DC billed these stories as “possible futures” for our heroes, Batman #108 certainly begins to set the wheels in motion toward this dark reality.

And then there’s Scarecrow, who has “his ideas about how fear can help the city evolve,” according to Tynion. Silently stalking all of the major players in the story, the classic villain has yet to unveil his master plan but he sure looks creepier than ever thanks to a new design by Jimenez. Teased as the arc’s big bad, Scarecrow is the wild card in the tug of war for Gotham, and he’s planning something very big.

The odds are stacked against him, but Tynion says all of these challenges are reinvigorating for a Batman who’s a bit older and now further along in his crime-fighting career than we’re used to. He no longer has Alfred by his side, he’s lost the fortune that allowed him to build his high-tech gadgets and vehicles, and he doesn’t fully understand all of the new threats knocking at Gotham’s door. But he’s more excited about being Batman than ever before.

“He’s questioning how to actually make people believe in the mission of Batman and believe that the city can be fixed. That was what he faced when he first came to Gotham,” Tynion says. “Gotham was so corrupt that no one believed that it could ever become uncorrupt. And it took a tremendous amount of work to make it uncorrupt. And now that system’s collapsing again, because all systems collapse. Now he has to teach this new generation that you have to hold desperately on to all of these things. Society doesn’t just fix itself and then stay fixed forever. It’s a constant battle.”

The Dark Knight will continue that battle in Batman #108, which is out on May 4. While you wait, check out a few preview pages from the issue:

The post Batman: What Miracle Molly and the Unsanity Collective Mean for the Future of Gotham appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3rwFmse

[tonystarktogo]

@digdipper09 I saw your Tony as a villain comment and raise you Tony as an accidental-clueless-unknowing villain. Not quite what I expected when I started but *shrug*

The Villainous Career of Tony Stark--A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events

A different take on the Tony as the Villains’ Favourite™ concept. Where the consequences of hate and gossip are unpredictable, and nothing ever goes the way you intend it to... Also this is mostly crack. I tried treating it seriously, but not sure I succeeded.

Warning: Contains small amounts of various superhero hate, because villains and terrible people. In this chapter mainly Tony and Bruce.

A rumour doesn’t have to be true. It has to be shared.

There is this kid, barely old enough to drink, yet already well on his way to become a super villain. It’s name--though of no importance--is Ian, and he knows two things, and two things only: 1) Being able to corrode even the thickest of stones with just your spit is unnatural and despicable. 2) Tony Stark is the most revolting, hypocritical, pathetic waste of space there is.

Both lessons the kid learned early on, like many other things, from his parents. A spiteful, bitter pair too occupied spewing poisonous words into every direction to find something worth loving in their lives.

And so it is perhaps inevitable that this kid, Ian, eventually finds his way into the New Yorker underground, where, thanks to his ability, he quickly finds a sponsor. An older, more experienced villain willing to show the kid the ropes and keep him out of trouble with the big leagues until he might be able to handle it.

They talk about super heroes eventually because of course they do. Know your enemy and all. And it’s then, when the mentor goes over Iron Man’s known abilities, that the kid frowns in confusion.

“But Iron Man isn’t a villain?” he says like it’s obvious, a truth that has been drilled into his mind for so long that questioning it is unthinkable--after all, following Iron Man’s path is a large part of the reason why Ian is here in the first place, trying to become a super villain.

The mentor meanwhile is struck dumb by this, this utterly ridiculous statement. He doesn’t even know where to begin refuting this claim, everyone knows Iron Man is a hero, where did this kid even come from?

But when he tries to explain as much to the kid, Ian proves himself surprisingly stubborn for the first time. It’s all “He went out of the arms’ business” “Yes, because he didn’t want to share them anymore, he kept them to himself” and “He saved the world” “Yeah, to save himself”, until eventually, the poor, exhausted mentor has to admit defeat. There is no convincing this kid that Tony Stark isn’t a villain, even though he’s obviously a hero.

...isn’t he?

There’s this lower-class villain mentor who’s a little thrown-off by his protégés insistence that Tony Stark is a villain. He knows it couldn’t be true of course, but there doesn’t seem to be a way to convince the kid of that--and that, that bothers him.

He seeks counsel with a higher-up villain the next day, a man feared enough to have earned his own villain name. Dagger he is called and rumour has it he has even once encountered an Avenger himself.

Dagger has nothing but scoffs and scorn for the mentor, served with a bunch of sharp barbs about how the drinks must’ve softened up his brain. But Dagger holds no love for Iron Man, who at one point blasted him into a wall before he could so much as raise his daggers, and so the answer a curious minion overhears is a snappish “sure is enough of a selfish bastard to fit the bill”.

There’s this man well into his fifties, who’s been working behind the bar of the Gustav’s all his life. He’s used to the odd people slipping through the door way too late, used to barely hidden weapons, used to shady deals and not asking questions.

He’s less used to a bunch of very shady men gathering together in one corner, arguing, louder and louder, drawing more and more attention. Over Tony Stark of all things.

But he’s kept his head down all his life and he continues to do so. Until the men demand a refill and one of them demands to know whether it’s true, whether Tony Stark really is a villain. And this man, who’s rarely ever been asked for his own thoughts, bares his teeth as he thinks of Stark, of the man who has been born with everything he could have ever wanted, and so he rants about arrogance and entitlement and how Stark has done more damage to this world than that damn Loki ever did.

And the men listen silently, occasionally nodding in solemn agreement, and the next round the bartender gives out for free.

There is Carter Whistney who hasn’t been high up in HYDRA’s hierarchy. Which might just be the only reason he is still alive and free. But ever since HYDRA’s fall--or setback, depending on whom you ask--he has begun to make a name for himself. And whilst not as high up in the underworld as, say, Loki, he is doing well indeed.

As such, when the first rumours of Tony Stark being secretly a villain reach his ears, he could afford to spend ten minutes laughing about how gullible his minions really are.

Then. Then he takes the situation for what it really is. A chance to besmirch the name of Tony fucking Stark, an irritating nuisance in every honest villain’s butt.

And so he turns back to his terrified underlings with a wide, crazed smile on his lips and uttered a single confirmation.

There is Brock Rumlow tilting his head to the side in consideration. For the past three weeks or so, the underworld has been abuzz with rumours about the one and only Tony Stark, a name that never fails to draw attention from every side of the legal line.

It’s not the first time that uninformed morons and FOX reporters insist on the inherent evil-ness of the guy, but those rumours usually dissipate within days. This time it seems like every minion in New York has been won over at the same time.

It could be a coincidence, mere happenstance, but Brock Rumlow doesn’t believe in coincidences. And since this time the theory clearly isn’t gonna disappear on its own, perhaps it’s time to--reconsider.

After all... There has been the Incident.

(Nobody talks about the Incident.)

With a sign Rumlow pulls out his newest burner phone. It’s time to let the others, who are less likely to pay attention to their underlings’ worries know of this new development. Whether it’s true or not, rumours as persistent as this one will have uncomfortable consequences sooner rather than later.

They need to deal with this as quickly as possible.

The Council of All That Is Evil And All That Spreads Evil is in full session. Which is to say, all its twenty four, highly esteemed members are shouting and flinging insults at each other, as is usual at this stage in the informed decision making process.

“This is preposterous!” one of the more conservative members interrupts. “Why do we even waste our time with this pointless discussion? Iron Man is a hero, there’s no questioning that!”

“Then where was he during Project Insight?” another one throws in heatedly. “Why wasn’t he defending his precious civilians from all those armed helicarriers? Helicarriers that he built by the way.”

“Hulk wasn’t there either and I don’t see you trying to turn him into a villain!” the first one shoots back.

“Psh,” a third member scoffs. “Hulk runs all the time.”

“And someone explain to me how a man who routinely hacked SHIELD and other secret government data banks, could not know about HYDRA’s continued survival!” the second one continuous with new fervour. “Explain how a man with the most developed computing skills didn’t know his own business partner made deals with terrorists.”

“He almost got killed by said terrorists,” the first one scorns.

“Oh, like you’ve never gotten rid off your partner because he knew too much,” the second snarks right back.

“I can’t believe we’re even considering this.” A fourth villain buries his face in his hands.

“You have to admit though, there’s a lot of holes in these stories,” his seat neighbour comments. “I mean, do you really think SHIELD could just sneak a spy in right under Stark’s nose and he’d suspect nothing?”

“Order! Order!” the Council’s president bellows. “I do not believe that we will resolve this issue today. Therefore I ask that you keep your eyes and ears open, and gather as much information as possible for the meeting in two weeks, where we’ll discuss this again. Meeting adjourned!”

Technically there are 2-3 more parts planned. Two more from various villains’ perspectives and then one from Tony’s point of view. But this was getting ridiculously long as it is and also I’m increasingly less sure if it’s a good read? Damn you, insecurity. Let me know what you think?

Btw the alternate title for this was The Only Acceptable Consequence Of Tony-Hate, just because.

[flowerfan2]

Close To You - 2/11

Stucky, 6k, M, A03

Although Steve and Bucky are finally in the same place, they aren’t as close as they would like.  This is a story about how they heal.

Chapter 2

Despite the seemingly encouraging turn of events brought about by Steve’s decision to kiss Bucky good night, it’s two steps backwards the next day.  Bucky can tell Steve is frustrated by his lack of progress.  

“Thought I had it licked,” Steve grumbles one night, after a long evening where too many Avengers drank too much whiskey and each felt the need to slap Steve on the back repeatedly in an effort to get him to join in the fun.

 “I don’t think it works that way,” Bucky replies, pouring them each a glass of ice water.  

 “Do you think I should tell them?”  Steve is leaning against their kitchen counter, tension pulling his shoulders tight.

 “Not my call.”

 Steve scoffs.  “Didn’t ask you to make the call.  Asked if you thought I should tell them.”

 Bucky weighs his options. Be truthful, and risk Steve taking his advice and then regretting it.  Or refuse to give his opinion, and make Steve angry – and possibly give him a reason to keep sacrificing his own comfort for his misplaced view about the good of his team.  Better go with truthful.

 “Yeah, I think you should tell them.”

 “They’re gonna be mad I didn’t say something sooner.”

 Bucky shrugs. “Maybe.  But it won’t get better by waiting.”

 “What if…” Steve turns away, sighing and running his hand through his hair.  “They all think I’m so perfect.”

 Bucky laughs, and Steve glares at him.  “What?” Bucky asks.  “They aren’t going to think any less of you because you’ve got trauma.  They’ve all got trauma – it’s practically a requirement for the gig.”

 “But I’m their captain,” Steve says seriously.

 It’s not a joking matter to Steve, and Bucky knows it.  But hiding isn’t doing their team morale any good either.  “You ever thought maybe it would be a good thing for the team? Bring you – us -  closer together?”

 Steve frowns at him. “How?”

 “Maybe it’s time they understand that you’re only human, too.  You’ve got flaws just like they do, even with the super serum.”

 “Flaws, huh?”  Steve says, looking hurt.

 “That’s not what I meant,” Bucky breathes out, cursing himself.  “Issues, or-”

 “No, you’re right. ‘Cause if not being able to hold you in my arms isn’t a flaw, I don’t know what is.”

 Bucky feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, and he gazes wordlessly at Steve. He’s about to make some comment about how the conversation had taken an unexpected turn when Steve launches himself at Bucky and wraps his arms tightly around Bucky’s shoulders.

 Bucky’s frozen, barely registering Steve’s face pressed against the side of his own, and Steve breathes out a shaking laugh.  “Christ, Buck, hug me back already.”

 Bucky complies, and Steve sags into his arms.  Bucky’s over the moon, and he can’t keep it inside any more.  “God, I love you, Steve.  I love the hell out of you.”

 Steve shivers, and tightens his hold on Bucky.  “Love you too, Buck.  Always. Always.”  Steve pulls back slowly, and runs his hand down Bucky’s metal arm, giving his hand a squeeze before he lets go.  “That felt really good,” Steve says slowly, meeting Bucky’s eyes.  “Thanks.”

 Bucky nearly giggles. “Anytime.  No thanks necessary.”

 *****

The next day, just as the Avengers are standing up to file out of the conference room after an entirely overlong discussion of training goals, Steve clears his throat.  

 “Um,” he says, and freezes.

 Clint grins and gives Steve a hard pat on the back.  “Spit it out, man.  Didn’t you hear?  Tony’s bringing in burritos for dinner, from that place that makes the spicy pineapple salsa.  We haven’t got all day.”

 Steve cringes, and Bucky’s heart goes out to him as the silence continues.  But he’s got the Avengers’ attention now, especially Bruce, who is sending Steve an encouraging look.  Natasha seems to understand that there’s something wrong, and she shoves Clint out of the way, putting a hand on Steve’s arm.  Of course, that doesn’t help.

 “Steve, maybe you should…” Bucky trails off.  He’s not sure what he was going to suggest – do it by text message?  

 “I’m fine, Bucky,” Steve grumbles.  “Look, it’s not a big deal,” he says to the group.  “I just… I’d like it if you guys didn’t touch me so much.”

 Natasha yanks her hand away from Steve’s arm as if she’d been burned, and everyone takes a step back.

 “Are you contagious? Did the super serum stop working? That’s it, isn’t it?  Do we need to quarantine you?”  Tony asks.  “‘Cause that’s no problem, I’ve got a whole spare apartment you could move into, was saving it for Thor but he always stays with Jane, just say the word and it’s yours.”

 Steve sighs, as the need to deal with Tony snaps him back into captain mode.  “I’m not sick.  I’d just rather you not touch me.  It makes me… anxious.  But I’m working on it.”

 There’s a long beat.

 “All this time, you couldn’t have told us, Steve?”  Natasha’s voice is soft, more hurt than accusing.  

 “I’m sorry.”  Steve opens his mouth as if to continue, then just shakes his head and walks out of the room.  

 Everyone’s head swivels to Bucky, as if they expect him to explain.  But there’s nothing he can say.

 “You knew, didn’t you?” Tony finally asks.  “It’s why you’re always so twitchy around Cap.”

 “I’ve known Steve for a long time,” Bucky says.  He thinks these people forget that, sometimes.  For all their teasing about Steve being an old man, they forget that Bucky was there with him.  That they’ve both been marched into the future unwillingly, if by different means.

 “Tell us what to do,” Clint says.  “We didn’t mean to upset him.”

 Bucky looks at Bruce, who gives him a nod and speaks up.  “You don’t need to do anything special.  Just stop the casual touching.  Give him a little space.”

 “No more movie nights?” Tony asks.  “We could Skype him in.  We could all Skype in.  I could come up with a better system, the audio never works the way it should.”

 “He doesn’t want to be alone,” Bucky says.  “He likes you guys.  Just maybe cut out the back slapping and shoving.”

 “I should have picked up on it,” Sam says, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I’ve known lots of guys that feel this way.  Shit.  I’m a shit friend.”

 “Don’t feel bad about it,” Bucky says.  “Just fix it.” He leaves the room and bounds up the stairs, looking for Steve.  

 He’s not in their apartment, so Bucky sends him a quick text.  <i>Where are you?</i>

 There’s no answer, and Bucky paces the apartment for a few minutes, then sends another message. <i>You don’t have to come home now.  I’m not bugging you to do anything.  Just want to make sure you’re okay.</i>

 Steve responds quickly. <i>I’m fine.  Taking a walk.  See you later.</i>

 *****

It’s two weeks before Tony suggests another movie night.  Steve accepts first, announcing on the group text that he expects everyone to be there. Bucky knows Steve’s trying to project confidence, but Bucky can tell he’s nervous; before they head over, Steve changes his shirt three times and fusses over his hair.

 Bucky’s not sure why this night is stressing Steve out so much – they’ve seen the Avengers plenty over the past two weeks, for meetings and even a tedious mission that involved six hours on the plane for only one on the ground – but he realizes why as soon as they get in the room.  Without a job to do, Steve is adrift, somehow even less comfortable with his team than he used to be.

 He sees Sam approach Steve near the bar, keeping a healthy distance between them, and start speaking to Steve in a quiet enough voice that even with Bucky’s enhanced hearing he can’t hear the words.  But it must work, because Steve’s shoulders relax just a little, and Sam gives him a wry smile.  

 Finally the two of them come over to the couches, Steve sitting in the corner of one, Sam taking the opposite chair.  Natasha is about to join Steve, but she pauses as she passes Bucky.  “He feels more comfortable with you next to him, doesn’t he?”  she asks under her breath.  

 Bucky nods. “Yeah.”  There’s no need to beat around the bush anymore.  Bucky sits down in the space next to Steve, and Natasha curls up in the corner on his other side.  

 As the evening progresses, everyone loosens up.  By the time they’re watching the second movie, even Steve seems to be settling down. Bucky’s hand is resting on the couch between them, and when Steve slides his hand over and wraps a finger around Bucky’s pinky, he knows the night is a success.  

 *****

The next day Steve comes back to the apartment after a meeting with Coulson, and frowns as he opens up his laptop and pulls up a file.

 “Take a look at this,” he says, showing Bucky a memo with “Avengers Eyes Only” stamped across the top.

 “This what Coulson wanted to talk to you about today?”  Bucky asks, scanning the document.

 “Yeah.  He wanted Natasha to go with me, but I told him it should be you.”

 The memo outlines the shady behavior of a very prestigious financial management firm, headed by two women with extremely well camouflaged ties to what may be a former HYDRA cell.

 “He really thinks these two are HYDRA?”  Bucky asks. “They’re some of the most successful women in the U.S.  Weren’t they in the news recently?”

 “Yup, when their book became a best seller.  Something about an update on ‘How To Win Friends and Influence People.’”

 “With evil, apparently,” Bucky grumbles.  “Beats out honestly every time.”

 “No, it doesn’t.”

 Bucky looks up at Steve, who is frowning even harder.  “I didn’t mean it, pal.  Just seems that these guys don’t ever learn.”

 “So we’ll teach them.”

 Bucky tries not to grin at Steve’s earnestness.  It’s part of what Bucky loves about him, after all.  “I’m in.  So – why me?”

 Twenty-four hours later, Bucky and Steve have both had a crash course on the latest accomplishments of the two titans of finance, and are on a quinjet heading for Washington, D.C. There’s a lavish party being thrown to celebrate the success of the women’s book, and Coulson thinks it will be the perfect opportunity to get close to them without arousing suspicion.

 Steve will be playing himself, a national icon seeking advice on how to invest the buckets of money in back pay he accumulated while in the ice, as well as the hefty stipends he’s been receiving for his work in defending the free world since then. Coulson believes the women will jump at the chance to be able to say they have Captain America as a client, and had no trouble getting a ticket for Steve and a plus one.

 The trick, however, will be setting up an opportunity to extract information from them about their possible HYDRA connections.  Coulson’s informant has noted that one of the methods the two use in negotiations is to always stay together, one of them constantly monitoring the ways anything can go wrong.  Coulson had wanted Natasha to go along as Steve’s date, and lure one of the women away from the other.  But a better approach had seemed obvious to Steve.

 “You sure this is going to work?”  Bucky asks, smoothing his hands down his suit jacket.  It’s without a doubt the most expensive piece of non-armored clothing to ever have touched his skin.  Tony claims it’s a spare he just had sitting around in his closet, but Bucky doesn’t think even Tony has an extra Tom Ford suit tailored to Bucky’s measurements just gathering dust.  

 “Are you kidding?  You look like a million bucks.”

 “But having me as your date…”  Bucky’s run this over a dozen times since Steve told him the plan yesterday, and he still doesn’t know how to say it without putting his foot in his mouth. “You sure you want to…?”

 Steve stills, glancing quickly up to the front of the plane where the pilot is starting to get ready for their descent.  “Do you not want to be my date?”

 Bucky’s heart pounds in his chest.  “Don’t go turning my words around on me.  That’s not what I said.”

 “Say what you mean, Buck.”

 “Okay, fine.  This how you want to come out?”  Bucky doesn’t really care about the world knowing about his own sexuality – no one seems to pay him much attention, anyway – but people have certain expectations of Steve.

 Steve squares his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest, defensive.  “I already came out.”

 It had been a brief mention in an interview months ago, and had quickly been overtaken in the news cycle when a B-list celebrity’s emails got hacked and it was revealed that he was spying for Russia.  

 “Saying it and showing it are two different things.”

 Steve turns away from Bucky, straightening his uniform.  He’s in full stars and stripes, shield and all.  It’s not the most elegant outfit for a black-tie event, but apparently their hosts had requested it.   “Like I told Coulson, we don’t have to say anything about… us.  Having someone as your plus one doesn’t necessarily mean you’re romantically involved. And if Nora and Catherine are curious about it, that can only help with the mission.”  Steve sighs and turns back to Bucky.  “If you were uncomfortable with this, I really wish you had said something earlier.  But I can call Natasha, she can probably be in the air in less than an hour-”

 “Steve, I’m not uncomfortable with the mission,” Bucky finally blurts out.  “I’m fine.  I just want to make sure you’re okay.”  He reaches for Steve without thinking, and the flinch he gets in return as his fingers brush Steve’s arm only make the whole thing more miserable.  “Sorry, I’ll…”

 “No, it’s okay, I’ve got to get ready for it, anyway.”

 “For it - for me to touch you,” Bucky says slowly, pained.  “So you can be prepared.  Act like it doesn’t matter, like it doesn’t make you sick.”

 Steve meets his eyes, realizing what has Bucky so distressed.  “No, no – crap.”  Steve frowns, then reaches out and grabs Bucky’s hand in his own.  “It does <i>not</i> make me sick to touch you.  I swear it.”

 Bucky searches Steve’s eyes, and sees only sincerity.  But he can also tell how hard Steve is working at keeping his hand steady, so he gives him a squeeze and pulls away.  

 Steve looks down, crestfallen.  “Not sick. Nervous.  Happy.  A little shaky, depending on the situation.”  He raises his head and holds Bucky’s gaze.  “Not sick.”

 “Okay.”  But the lump in Bucky’s throat won’t go away.

 “Hey,” Steve says, reaching up to adjust Bucky’s tie, his face achingly close to Bucky’s.  “Let’s not touch at all at this shindig.  That way I won’t be pretending with you.  Not for a minute.”

 It seems ridiculous, but the idea actually makes sense to Bucky, and he can feel some of his tension fade away.  “But – then what about your plan?  Won’t they wonder why we’re not more obviously together?”

 Steve shrugs, a mischievous smile on his face.  “Let ‘em wonder.  Anyway…” he waggles his eyebrows and quite obviously looks Bucky up and down, “I think you’ll be distraction enough.”

 Bucky laughs, a warmth spreading through his chest.  “Don’t flirt too hard, you’ll break something.”

 “Not a chance.  Super soldier, remember?”

 Bucky flutters his eyelashes and grins at Steve.  “How could I ever forget?”

 The mission goes well, better even than they had imagined.  Nora has her eyes on Bucky from the moment they enter the room, and whisks him away to dance while her dark haired business partner works on convincing Steve to invest his money with their firm.  Bucky catches Steve watching them so often he starts composing lectures to Steve with the part of his mind that isn’t occupied with keeping Nora entertained, mostly of  the “I can take care of myself, stay in your own lane” variety.

 But when he and Nora join Steve and Catherine at the bar after a slow dance, Bucky gets a closer look at Steve’s face as he turns to offer a stiff greeting to Nora.  He recognizes Steve’s expression as one he hasn’t seen in a very long time.  Steve Rogers – Captain America, every beautiful muscle of him – is jealous.

 Back on the jet, once they’re in the air, Steve quickly runs down what he learned.  Coulson wants the information as soon as possible, so they do a quick debrief over a secure line.  As hoped, in the course of convincing Steve to give their firm his money, Catherine had spoken about the many people who she had advised over the years, including some names that were definitely HYDRA adjacent.  It was exactly what Coulson needed to keep the investigation going.

 That task done, Steve makes an offhand comment about how much Nora enjoyed Bucky’s company. There’s a bitterness there that bothers Bucky.

 “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

 Steve looks surprised to be caught out, and then chagrined.  “Sorry.  Got no right to be.”

 Bucky frowns.  “What’s that even supposed to mean?”  

 Steve just shrugs and goes up to the front of the jet, ostensibly to help the pilot with something. Bucky knows he’s just avoiding him, and he doesn’t like it.  But he’s been up forever, and if Steve is going to be a pill, he might as well get some sleep.

 Bucky takes off his suit jacket and sets it carefully on the seat next to him, loosens his tie, and stretches his feet out, ankles crossed in front of him.  He knows he looks good… he’s tempted to watch to see if Steve checks him out, but Steve is decidedly paying attention only to their flight plans, so Bucky lets his eyes fall closed.

 He’s almost dozed off two or three times when he opens his eyes to find Steve standing in front of him, an indecipherable expression on his face.

 “Can you help me with this?” Steve asks, tugging on the straps of his shield harness.  “I think one of the straps is twisted.”

 Bucky nods and stands up, going behind Steve to check the buckles pressed firmly against the center of his back.  One of the straps is indeed twisted, and just as Bucky starts to straighten it out, the plane bumps in a bit of turbulence and Bucky jostles up against Steve, both his hands going to his shoulders, his hip bouncing off Steve’s side.

 “Shit, I’m sorry.”

 “It’s okay,” Steve replies quickly.

 “Hard to do this without touching you, sorry.”

 Steve lets out a shy laugh under his breath.  “That was kind of the point.”

 Bucky freezes, his fingers still wrapped around the harness straps.  He wants to ask for clarification, wants to make sure, but it’s not as if he didn’t hear Steve loud and clear.  Maybe Steve needs him to trust him on this.

 “Okay,” he says calmly, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  The harness is fairly simple – a loop around each arm, meeting in the back in a metal bracket that holds Steve’s shield.  Bucky traces his hands around the leather around Steve’s right arm first, making sure it is lying flat, then rests his right hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder as he does the same with the strap around Steve’s left arm.  

 He’s right up against Steve’s back, reaching around him carefully.  Steve inclines his head to the side, eyes fluttering closed, as if he’s trying to soak in Bucky’s presence.

 Bucky stays still for a moment, then runs his fingers over the twisted piece on Steve’s back, smoothing it out so that it passes easily through the metal buckle.  

 “I think it’s fixed,” Bucky says quietly.  “Want me to help you get it off?”

 Steve nods, barely moving. Bucky gently tugs on the straps where they rest on Steve’s shoulders, and Steve arches his back to let him remove the harness.

 There’s a long moment, then, when neither of them move, and then Steve turns to face Bucky, his blue eyes wide.

 “Thanks.”  It means more than Steve is saying, a combination of apology and promise, but Bucky knows better than to press him now.

 “Anytime.”

 Steve takes the harness from Bucky and stows it in his duffel, then retreats into the bathroom to change out of his uniform.  When he comes back in his sweats and t-shirt he sits down next to Bucky and rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder, as if it’s a perfectly normal thing for Steve to do.

 “You must be beat,” Bucky says, not wanting to break the spell.

 “Been a long day.”

 Bucky stretches a little bit, adjusts his position so that Steve can rest more comfortably against him. “We should get some sleep.”

 Steve agrees and lets out a long breath.  Bucky waits, as still as he can, hoping Steve will stay where he is.

 He does.

[winchester-with-wings]

Growing Pains, Part 1 / (Second Chances Series)

Bruce Wayne x child!reader fic!

AUTHOR: @faithtrustandpixiedust95

Summary: Growing up as Y/N Wayne, you find a new way to train and even make a friend.

Word Count: 4300

A/N: reader is about 12ish. My sister is writing her fics all in the same universe but each one has a different title and are broken into parts.

*Disclaimer* I did not write this. My sister, Sam, did and I am posting this with her permission.

Sequel to 

“Shattered Beginnings” 1 / 2

“Adjusting” 1 / 2

Sam’s Mobile Masterlist

Life as Y/N Wayne had been moving on. You were Bruce’s baby girl and he truly loved you as much as you loved him, which was a lot.

You two would spend most of your time together whenever Bruce wasn’t working and you weren’t at school. You and Bruce would even train together and spar for fun.

Not much changed once you found out your dad’s “super-secret”, you would help out in the Batcave every so often and help your dad whenever he needed it. The only thing you weren’t allowed to do was to go out in the field with him and stay up super late.

Honestly, you were okay with this decision. As good of a nerf “sharp-shooter” you were, you were in no way ready to start battling it out with the bad guys.

You had just started training in mixed martial arts and you were loving it. The combination of being able to escape holds and dish out your own blows was helping you get through your own issues. It was a good release and you felt more confident in being able to somewhat protect yourself.

You were learning a lot from Bruce, he was teaching you defensive techniques as well as offensive. When you were older, he taught you how to disarm people with weapons, how to handle loaded weapons safely and how to shoot them as well. You were a natural shot, your nerf skills were finally paying off as a real life skill!

He taught you how to blend into your surroundings and these training sessions usually ended in hour long hide-and-seek battles, once you got the hang of it, you ended up winning most of the games.

You had excelled in your stealth training exercises, often using them on Bruce and Alfred when they least expected it. At one point you had snuck up on Alfred while he was making cookies. Right as he poured in the flour to the batter, you scared him, causing him to spill the flour all over himself, you, and the kitchen. He was not happy about it, but you thought it was funny. You were sure to have Bruce snap a picture of it to put in the memory book.

You loved playing with all the different gadgets that Batman got to use, especially the grappling gun. You were a regular lil’ monkey, swinging back and forth, up and down. It was your favorite mode of transportation around the manor between the first and second floor, you were too good for stairs, this had become the ongoing joke between the three of you.

There had been a certain training exercise using the smoke bombs that didn’t end particularly well. But that was because you weren’t training, you were more playing around, unsupervised, and you had set off most of the smoke alarms much to the bemusement of Alfred and Bruce.

You also learned to hone in on your observation and detective skills. Bruce would bring back pictures and info he had found at the crime scenes he would investigate. Once he loaded them all into the computer, you looked at them together creating a case file of clues and evidence to send over to Gordon for the police to use.

You were very detail oriented with these case files. There were a few instances where you had found a small piece of evidence Bruce hadn't come across and it helped to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Together, you and Bruce, made a good detective team. Having the interpretation of a well-seasoned vigilante and the new perspective of a creative child, gave you the perfect resources to figure out the cases and turn in the bad guys.

Of course Bruce always kept you at arm's length during the more brutal cases, and you always only helped from the safety of the cave. You weren't old enough to go out and be by Batman’s side in the field.

In the next few years, you definitely progressed in your MMA training becoming particularly good at nerve-striking and takedowns. You loved the challenge of taking down bigger opponents, aka your dad, by using the person's weight against them. Being small and athletic had it's advantages for climbing and moving quickly.

You were a competitive little booger! You would train at the cave with your dad everyday after school, you had a knack for improvising and tweaking your learned skills into something more useful for someone your size.

The nice thing about it though, was that your dad never held back during training. He knew what you could and couldn't handle and you would surprise him every now and then by going beyond his expectations.

Even with all the intense training you did, you still got to be a kid. You socialized and goofed around at school, sometimes a little too much. You were a troublemaker at times, but it was all out of good fun.

Your teachers loved having you in their classes. You were smart, quick witted, and kind to the other students. You often volunteered to help other kids out when they were struggling to grasp a concept in class and you did your best to include everyone in what you did so no one felt left out.

There were a few occasions where Bruce would have to leave work in the middle of the day to come down to your school because you had gotten into a fight, but you only fought with the bullies when you were trying to defend the kid being picked on. You didn’t like seeing other kids getting bullied, so you would put the tormentor in their place even if it meant you got in trouble, it was worth it. You took after your adoptive father in that way; you wanted to save and protect people if you had the ability to.

Being a Wayne at Gotham Academy had its ups and downs. One of the downsides to it was that whenever you misbehaved, like getting into fights, it would end up as an article in the news. You seemed to be following in your dad’s footsteps with making headlines over pointless affairs, it was normal for kids to act like that, but because you were a Wayne, everything was looked at under a microscope.

But one of the upsides to having your name, meant you were never alone at school. Kids were always trying to be your friend and you welcomed the interactions respectfully, but you knew when it wasn't sincere. You had yet to make a strong friend at school that you could rely on.

It was a hard search, because no matter who you chose, there would always be secrets that had to be kept on your side of the friendship. Secrets weren't a good foundation for friendship.

At age 12, you were enjoying school and your training. It was exhausting sometimes and you continuously felt the pressure of lacking a true friend.

Bruce had come up with the idea of having you compete in junior MMA fights to explain your skill behind fighting and to maybe make some friends. It was a good story to feed the media to keep them from figuring out your family secret.

You became undefeated in your MMA meets, one after the other. You trained hard and it showed.

The media loved showing up to your meets to cover your fights. It was a juicy topic in the news.

Some outlets supported your participation, approving of Bruce's decision to let you compete. It was seen as a fatherly thing to do, to let your kid be a part of a sport.

Other outlets saw it negatively, thinking it was inappropriate for the heiress of Wayne Enterprises to fight in such a barbaric sport.

The only thing the two sides agreed on, was the fact that it was a good idea for you to learn self-defense.

If it had been up to the schools and parents of Gotham’s youth, self-defense classes would have been a mandatory skill to learn in school. But because of a crooked politician on the Gotham Board of Education, it was never put into circulation in the school’s curriculums.

So training in private and competing in meets became the name of the game.

You loved it. It was as social as it was competitive and you enjoyed your fights, with your dad coaching you and cheering you on at every one.

It was at the State Finals that you had met your match in opponents.

You had progressed to the finals with ease and each fight had been a good challenge, but never hard enough. You were looking for some serious skill to compete against and you found it in the title fight of the finals.

Of course the media outlets were present at the finals, you had gotten several people interested in your standings of the sport and since you were “The Wayne Princess” the news felt obligated to cover your events.

You took advantage of the spotlight, making sure that other kids at the event were getting just as much attention, if not more than you were. You would grab reporters and tell them to talk to this kid or that kid.

The meet went like all your others had gone. You would sit and watch the other kids compete, enjoying yourself before it came time for your fight.

This particular fight was going to be a bit different than previous ones.

You had been competing at a skill level that didn't match the girls division of your age, so to keep things fair, you competed against the boys.

Your competitors weren't happy about fighting a girl, but it was the only compromise that satisfied the judges without putting you in over your head.

Everyone was apprehensive of what was going to happen. When you entered the ring with the other kid, you were focused on getting into the right head space. You channelled a very specific anger that allowed you to get your adrenaline pumping. You heard the official call to you to clear the fight and you walked to the middle of the ring to meet the young man you were fighting.

He was the same age as you, he had short red hair and green eyes with small freckles pebbling his face. He had blocky shoulders, was slightly taller than you and had a strong build for someone your age, but you matched his athleticism according to the judges, based off your previous fights.

He looked pissed off and glared at you like he was ready to knock you out with one punch. He'd fought hard to get here and he wasn't going to let some girl take that away from him.

You felt your adrenaline spike and your heart starting to race, knowing that this was going to be your most challenging fight to date.

The official went over the rules he wanted you both to abide by. He asked you if you understood and you nodded with your headgear and mouthpiece in, he did the same for the boy and he nodded as well.

“Touch gloves and return to your corners. Let’s have a good clean fight!” the official shouted over all the parents and kids cheering.

You tapped your red gloves to the boy’s blue gloves and looked him in the eyes. You were ready to go just as much as he was. The tension between the two of you was readily apparent to the crowds watching from outside the cage.

You returned to your corner and when the bell rang, you met each other in the middle of the ring and started to fight.

You were making careful calculated dodges of each punch the boy sent; he had gotten a few jabs across due to the reach of his arms. You made sure to keep a bit more space between the two of you so as to better dodge his far reaching punches. You kept light on your feet, constantly moving, making him chase you.

He had the advantage on reach, but he wasn't as quick on his feet as you. You made note of this and tried to tire him out as much as you could.

You got a few strong kicks into his body, but he retaliated with a combo you were just barely able to block.

At one point in the first round of the fight, he pushed you up against the gate and threw a few punches. You managed to block them and then pushed him off of you, getting out of the corner. You were about to advance and start your jabs when the bell rang before you got to him.

You both went to your respective corners and your coaches and parents were talking to you, feeding you confidence.

“Nice job, baby girl, tiring him out! That’s the way to do it! Make this fight be on your terms,” you heard your dad cheering behind you from the gate.

You nodded at him and looked at your coach.

“Good job Y/N, that was a good first round. I noticed he doesn’t have super sharp footwork, I think if you can get him to the ground to grapple a little, you might be able to get him into a good hold. Avoid those long arms of his, he's got a lot of strength behind those punches. Keep tiring him out and then when you’re ready, go for the takedown. Just remember to play clean,” he emphasized that last sentence because he knew you liked using your tweaked techniques to grapple with other students during training before the meets, but there were rules to follow and judges were watching.

You nodded at your coach and took a drink of water and then the official was calling you both back up to fight.

The bell rang and you advanced toward the young man throwing a right hook to his headgear. He wasn’t able to block it well because he had timed it wrong. You took his moment of confusion to send a combination of punches to his body.

He was thrown off by the sudden change in your fighting getting more aggressive. You could see him making mental notes during the fight, adapting to your moves.

He dodged another punch and returned one to you which you were able to block, but the power in the punch still definitely hurt. While you were recovering from the blow, he got a strong kick to your side that knocked the wind out of you. He made his way to advance again, but you backed up out of his reach so you could catch your breath. You could feel your side already starting to bruise and stiffen.

You were bouncing around on your feet, getting a bit winded, but you saw the same look on his face. You saw a red mark forming on his face from your previous punch and he was breathing hard trying to keep up with you.

You decided to try going for a takedown, getting bored with the footwork.

You closed the space between you, keeping your arms up and blocking his advances. When you got close enough, you put your arms around him.

He was trying to break the hold and was able to push you away, but this made it so you were able to get into the right position to put your small body into his chest in a particular hold that sent him slamming to the ground over your shoulder.

You flipped him and were suddenly straddling him, sending punches left and right. He had his arms up, blocking his face when he tried to buck you off and pin you to the ground. You adjusted to his movements and the next thing you know, you had his arm in your grasp.

His arm was pinned between your legs and you were pulling it back in the direction taught to you for an arm-bar hold. This was painful for the boy, he was trying to get out of the hold groaning and wincing in pain.

The official was ready to break the hold, per the rules for your age group, when you felt the two taps on your leg and you let go.

He had tapped out. The official came up to the two of you on the mat and assessed the boy to make sure he wasn't injured.

The crowd of people watching were cheering at the sudden end to the fight.

You stood up and stretched out your hand to him to help him up. He was reluctant to take it at first, but when he looked at his coach, he knew he had to in order to be a good sport.

You helped him up and then handed him an ice-pack that your coach had tossed to you, giving you a big thumbs up. You smiled at the boy and said in an encouraging and cheery tone, “Nice job, that was a fun fight, hardest challenge I've had. You did great!”

The boy just glared at you and then his face softened, “Thanks. You did a good job too. Congratulations on your win...maybe we can have a rematch in the future,” the boy teased with a now friendly smile on his face.

You shook hands with the boy and the official came up to you two, raising your left arm in the air to signify you had won by tap-out. The judges brought out a big shiny belt and put it over your shoulder. You held it up high and smiled at your win.

You looked around the ring and noticed everyone was cheering, but no one was louder than your dad. He had both hands up in the air in victory and he was cheering your name like a normal competitive dad would. You laughed at this and walked towards him when the official let you and your opponent go.

Bruce picked you up in a big bear hug and twirled you around, he was smiling enough for the both of you. You just laughed and hugged him back.

When he set you down, you were bombarded with cameras and questions from the reporters.

You stood tall with your victory belt still draped over your shoulder. You looked back behind you and got the attention of the boy you had fought, you motioned for him to come over to you and the cameras. He walked over, seeming a bit uneasy and stood next to you.

You smiled at him in a way that told him to follow your lead and you turned back to the camera to answer the questions of the press with your opponent next to you. You made sure any questions they asked the boy were respectful and you defended him against any kind of humiliation.

“What’s your name?” one reporter started off the interview of you and your opponent.

“My name is Roy,” he said, still a bit timid at the attention.

It was nice that Roy didn't live very far away. He was in Star City, another dangerous mecca that seemed to be run more by the mob than by delusional villains.

Each town seemed to have their own issues, but they also had their own heroes. For Gotham it was crazy villains and Batman; for Star City is was the mob and the Green Arrow; for Central City it was meta-humans and the Flash; and for Metropolis it was aliens and Superman.

Your detective skills got the better of you and you had done your research on each city’s series of crimes and the hero who cleaned up the mess.

After the state finals, you and Roy had become good friends. He had been a little bitter at first at the fact that a girl beat him, but he eventually lightened up.

You two would often meet up and spar at the gym, coaching each other and teaching each other new moves. You were happy to find out that Roy had moved schools from Star City and started going to Gotham Academy. He was in most of your classes. You two had become thick as thieves. He was over at your house after school and training almost everyday and what was weird was that Bruce didn’t seem to oppose having someone over at the manor all the time.

If anything, Bruce seemed to approve of the friendship and welcomed Roy and his family over whenever they wanted.

Roy was being raised by his uncle, Oliver Queen. A tall man with short blonde hair and a golden goatee. Oliver had soft blue eyes that he seemed to hide behind. He never talked more than was necessary, but he loved lecturing. Roy always came to the house rolling his eyes from the “valuable lesson” Ollie had just rambled on about for the drive over to the manor.

You didn’t really know who he was, but Bruce did. Apparently Oliver was another playboy-turned-dad when his nephew had gotten into some trouble and his parent’s solution was sending him to stay with Ollie. Roy didn’t seem to mind though, he liked being with his Uncle Ollie, it seemed to be a good fit for the both of them, they balanced each other.

Ollie was over at your house just as much as Roy was and he and Bruce got along really well. A little too well if your observation skills served you right.

One night after Roy and Ollie had gone home, you asked your dad about it.

“Did you already know Ollie before you met him at the MMA meet, Dad?”

“Yes, I have worked with him a few times. He owns Queen Consolidated. Our companies are working together on a major project right now, so he moved to Gotham with Roy to make the commute easier,” was your father’s simple response. It didn’t sit well enough with you though.

“Okay, but you seem to like, really really, know him...how?” you pressured your dad, who was now smiling seeing that you had figured out yet another secret.

“He’s the Green Arrow, Y/N.”

“WHAT?!” was all you could squeal out in your signature squeak. “I knew there was something more between you two!”

“We’ve started working together on some cases. He’s been training Roy too. That’s why we were comfortable with you two being friends,” your dad explained it as if it was no big deal.

“So...does Roy know who you are?”

“Ollie is probably having a similar conversation to our’s with Roy right now on their way home,” he assured you.

“Okay, cool. Then I don’t have to hide anything from him anymore and wait for him to tell me about it. That takes a weight off my shoulders!” you sighed and laughed, still a bit dumbfounded at the news.

When you and Roy saw each other at school the next day, you both were a bit unsure of what to say.

You broke the silence.

“So does this mean we’re like ‘cousins’ or something? And like the cousins where you just say you’re family ‘cause of how close you are, even if you’re not related by blood.”

Roy just started laughing at your rambling, “No, I don’t think we’re ‘cousins’, I think it just means that we get to be even closer friends than we initially thought.”

You smiled at the statement and hugged your friend, which caught him off guard, causing him to blush. When you saw his red cheeks, you chuckled and punched him in the shoulder in a friendly manner, causing him to laugh and relax.

“This is gonna be great,” you said with a dopey smile on your face.

“Oh, no. You’re not about to ‘fangirl’ on me are you?” he teased.

“So what if I was?” you defended, “Our families rock, dude. How can you not be freaking out that my dad is you-know-who and your uncle is who he is? It’s like the beginning of the greatest superhero team-up ever!” you shouted, putting your hands in the air out of excitement.

“You’re such a dork, Y/N,” he taunted. You laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder again.

“Whatever, we gotta go to class or we’re gonna be late for math. Last thing I need is the media finding out that the ‘Wayne Princess’ is tardy to class every now and then,” you mocked, saying the nickname like it left a bad taste in your mouth. Of all the name’s they called you by, you hated that one the most.

After school and training that day, you came home to find Bruce had come home early from work.

“Hey, Dad! You’re home early. What’s the occasion?” you inquired.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he started, “You’ve been training really hard and doing well in school that I thought you deserved to do something fun.” He pulled out two tickets from behind his back and handed them to you.

They were tickets to a special circus show that was in town for the week. It was a highly coveted performance, not your typical circus. You looked at them and beamed with excitement.

“Really?! I saw ads for this show all over town. They even advertised it at the school. I hear there’s this really cool trapeze performance that is just gut-wrenching! When are we going?”

“Friday night after school. We’ll do a nice dinner beforehand and then go see it, how does that sound?” he suggested.

“Great! I can’t wait. Thanks, dad!” You hugged him and then took a picture of the tickets with your phone to send to Roy and brag.

Part Two coming soon...

tagging: @readerlucy @alohalisha @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics @sleepingalong @ahsokaslament @annabananna394 @kiri-hakumei @chrisevansisdaddy04 @emily-83113 @heyitssilverwolf @evyiione @abbytheninja

[gldngrl7]

Karamel Fic: Permission to Flourish (9/11)

Title: Permission to Flourish

Author: gldngrl7

Date Started: February 12, 2017

Rating: T for Teen (I know!  I can’t believe it either!)

  Author’s Notes: 

This story is the sequel to Bulletproof. Please read that one-shot before diving into this one.

Comments are welcomed, flames are destroyed with my freeze breath.

So many many thanks to my those who’ve taken the time to comment: @lostin-the-desert, @anaveragegirl15, @threesilverthings88, @emarasmoak, @myfangirlinghq, @hermi1907

  Chapter 9/11

         I don't wanna live forever

               'Cause I know I'll be livin' in vain

                          And I don't wanna fit wherever

        I just wanna keep callin' your name

                 Until you come back home

         --Zayn & Taylor Swift – I Don’t Wanna Live Forever

  Resolving to return to National City and recommit her time and, more importantly, her energies to saving the people in need was one thing.  Actually doing it was another.  Her immediate reaction to arriving back in the city was to slip into a depression unlike any she’d experienced since her initial arrival on Earth.

 For six years she’d had time to think about everything that she’d thrown away that night in the bar.   Everything that she’d let go of as if it had meant nothing to her. Someone who could understand her like no one else ever would—understand her aloneness and her uniqueness.  Someone she could understand.  It could have been a chance to heal old wounds between their planets and respective cultures – a chance to find unity after a thousand years of strife.  Even if the people of their planets could never know, Kara could have found a victory in that and, in a way, been able to put Krypton finally to rest.

 Physically, he was a match to her, or at least close enough.  It took two hands to count the number of broken bones she’d given to boys she’d liked and with Mon-El…Mike…she would have never had to worry about that. Genetically, they were compatible as well.  Daxamites had once been Kryptonian, which meant…she might have been a mother one day.

 Lois had been able to have Clark’s children, but Eliza explained that what worked in one direction would most assuredly not work for her.  Cervix of Steel – not to put too fine a point on it.  Over a year after Mon-El had left, when Lois found herself pregnant with Jonathan, her mother’s discovery had been like a final kick in the teeth.

 When it came to finding him, for the last six years she’d had options.  Emails to send, a cousin to hound, internet searches to run, and newspapers to scour for information and clues.  But now…those options were spent and there were no more roads to travel down.  None but the only one open to her, and at the end of it she could see only loneliness and bitterness.

 One thought kept circling around and around in her mind and all she wanted to do was escape it.  ‘This is my life now.’

 She went through the motions though.  Going to work, investigating and writing her stories, saving cats from trees and runaway trains from collisions.  She zipped in and out, oftentimes unseen and uncelebrated, whenever remotely possible.  She became a blur, which seemed somehow appropriate.  Then, when she could, she retreated to her loft and crawled into her bed, pulling the covers over her head.  Never even bothering to turn the lights on.

 After Alex had gone six hours without communication from Kara nearly a week ago, the eldest Danvers sister had gone on high alert. Upon the younger’s mysterious return, Kara had asked Alex for some space but had told her nothing, claiming she wasn’t ready to talk about it.  Alex granted her request, but as her sister, would only honor it for so damn long.

 She had noticed the lack of smiles, the slump of her shoulders and that her bright shining eyes had turned a dull shade of denim blue.  Seeking answers on her own, she’d stumbled across something during a keyword search on the internet.  On Saturday morning, when Kara hadn’t shown up at the DEO at her regular time for a briefing on possible Dominator movements, Alex decided to take matters into her own hands.

 Quietly, Alex let herself into Kara’s apartment, finding the place uncharacteristically filthy.  The fourth-floor loft apartment had always been a little cluttered, because her sister was a pit of packrat, but this was filthy.  Empty take out containers that never quite made it to the (overflowing) garbage can, several days’ worth of dirty clothes strewn about as if they had simply been dropped, and left, where she’d removed them, and cups of half-consumed coffee as far as the eye could see.

 “Kara?” she called out, already sensing that this journey would lead to only one place.

 A person-sized lump in the middle of the bed revealed Kara’s position.  Alex could see the lump contract further into a fetal position beneath blanket as though she were trying to disappear.  Alex reached for the blanket and pulled it back.  “Last time I checked, invisibility wasn’t one of your powers.”

 “Go away,” Kara sighed, with no real fight in her voice, which Alex found more disturbing then the demand itself.  Kara reached for the comforter and took it back, tearing it in the process.  “Dammit,” came the muffled curse from beneath the goose down. Feathers flew up from the bed, slowly drifting back down on the mid-morning sunbeams streaking through the window panes.

 “You know I’m not going to do that.”  She grabbed at the blanket again and this time her sister let her pull it back.  “Talk to me.”

 “Alex,” she whined, just as she had when she was twelve and wanted to be left alone.  Alex had never been the type to leave Kara to wallow for long.

 Alex sighed.  She was going to use what she knew against her sister.  “You found him, didn’t you?” she asked.  “You found him and went to see him.”

 Kara looked at Alex, rolling her eyes back in surrender with a shuddering sigh.  Despite the depression and melancholy, she’d managed not to cry since leaving Mon-El in the hospital cafeteria.   Kara had held it all in and now the tiniest crack would be all it would take for her to shatter like a dam bursting.  “How did you know?” she sniffed.

 “Keyword search revealed unconfirmed reports of Supergirl being seen in Philadelphia.  Valor operates out of Philadelphia.  I put two and two together.  It’s first grade math, Kara.”  

 And there it went.  The dam.  Tears flowing, face crumpling, skin reddening, snot producing sobs issued forth without the slightest sign of stopping anytime soon.

 “Oh my God, Kara, what happened?  What did he do to you?” Alex asked, horrified look on her face.

 “H-he t-teaches second g-grade,” she sobbed.

 There’s not a box of tissues to be found because Kryptonians don’t get the sniffles, so Alex rushed to the bathroom and tore some toilet paper off the roll.  Thinking better of it before leaving the restroom, she turned back and manhandled the rest of the remaining roll from the dispenser.  This seemed like an entire roll situation.

 Alex handed her a wad of toilet paper and set the rest on the bedside table.  Kara wiped away the tears she was desperately trying to gain control of, while Alex retreated to the kitchen for a bottle of water.  “Blow!” she shouted over her shoulder.  “Gently.”

 She heard Kara’s honking nose from the kitchen as she twisted off the cap of the water bottle.  Grabbing a trash bin from beside the bed, she held it up for Kara to drop her tissue into and handed her the water.  “Drink,” she said.

 “Bossy,” Kara pouted.

 Alex’s eyebrows went up in silent condemnation, but Kara swallowed a gulp of water without further complaint.  When it seemed that Kara had control over her emotions once more, Alex sat down on the edge of the bed and bent down to unlace her boots.   Taking them off, she placed them neatly side by side next to the bed and twisted around. “Scooch over,” she instructed. When Kara complied, Alex climbed into the bed facing her and pulled the feather-bleeding covers over both them. “Now…start from the beginning.”

 Kara told her sister about Bruce Wayne’s accusation and her emotional breakdown in front of him and how that led the billionaire to take pity on her and send her Mon-El…Mike’s…location.  After that the entire story poured forth in fits and starts, Alex reaching back periodically for more tissues, the trash bin, and finally the bottle of water in turns, until the story was complete.

 “Second grade, huh?” Alex marveled, unable to mask the amazement on her face.

 “Right?” Kara agreed with a sniff.  After some consideration she said, “It makes sense though.”

 “How so?”

 “He always loved having fun, and you should have seen him with those kids, Alex.  He was…perfect.  He wasn’t the man I thought I remembered.  He was something more…something better.  He found himself.”  Kara sniffed again, another tear tracking down her cheek.  “What does it mean, Alex?”

 “What does what mean?”

 “He went away and got better, and I…floundered.”

 “You didn’t—“

 “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. We both know it’s true.”

 “You had the burden of guilt, Kara.  He didn’t.  You’ve never been good with guilt and you know it.  You didn’t flounder—“

 “I floundered.”

 “You didn’t flounder,” Alex continued from where she was interrupted.  “You continued to do your job, you became a proficient reporter, a job at which you’ve been promoted twice, and you’re still out there kicking ass and taking names every day even when you don’t want to. You didn’t flounder, Kara…you just didn’t give yourself permission to flourish.”

 “And he did,” she surmised.

 “I suppose he had no choice.  Good for him,” Alex said, meaning it.  For six years Alex had been of two minds on the situation. She’d known Mon-El was head over heels for Kara, anyone with eyeballs could have seen it.  But she’d also known that Kara had unintentionally rejected him in a way that would have given the strongest of hearts pause.  She’d understood his need to flee, if for no other reason than to lick his wounds.

 But he’d also gone out of his way to keep information from Kara about his whereabouts and that angered her on behalf of her hurting sister.  Kara had explained that, according to Bruce, Mon-El wanted her to forget about him, put him in the past so that she could live the life she was meant to have, as if he’d never crash landed in her city.  Alex supposed that kind of thinking might make sense to someone who didn’t realize just how much they’d mattered.  He’d thought himself expendable, regrettable and forgettable, and none of that was ever the case.  At least not to someone with a heart like Kara’s.

 “I’ve spent so much time looking for him…I don’t know what to do now,” Kara’s denim blue gaze was nearly overwhelmed by the crinkling of her brow.

 “You get up off the mat, is what you do.  It’s what we always do.  You start by taking a shower.  Please, for love of all that’s holy, take a shower,” she joked.  Alex was rewarded with a sniff and an upturn of one side of Kara’s mouth.  “Then you clean this place up, because this pig sty is not like you.  You’ll feel better once you and your place are both clean.”

 “Then what?”

 “Keep breathing, keep moving forward.  Just keep…being you.  I know it’s hard and I know you loved him and that love changed you. I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. But letting that love break you…doesn’t honor what you meant to each other. And no matter what he said or did, I don’t believe he’d want that for you…not for a single second.  Give yourself permission to flourish, Kara.  I don’t know what life has in store for you, honey, but I have to believe that someone with a heart as loving and as strong and as giving as yours will find happiness.”

 “But I wasn’t,” she lamented.  “Not with him.  I wasn’t loving or giving with him.  I was unloving and I…took from him when I should have given.”

 “Stop rehashing the past, Kara.  You have to let it go and find a way to forgive yourself.” Alex stroked her sister’s cheek wiping away a stray tear with her thumb. “You’re going to have a long life…longer than me—“

 “I don’t want—“

 “Much longer than me,” Alex continued.  “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but there it is.  You’re going to have a long life.  He’s going to have a long life.  You have no idea what that life will have in store for you.  Hey, you might even get a do-over one day.  All you can do, Kara, is to try and be worthy of it when it comes. To be better than you were before. Braver.”

 Alex continued to stroke Kara’s cheek until her sister drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the tears and the emotional purge at her sister’s urging.  Lulled by her sister’s soft breathing, Alex dozed off as well.

 When Kara awoke, the sun was beginning its downward descent outside the window.  Alex was gone but in her place was a note on the pillow.  “Clean this mess up!  Call me if you need me.  I’ll check on you later.  Love you!”

 Kara climbed out of bed, unable to ignore the need to pee for one moment longer.  Her face felt stiff from the residue of her salty tears and her lack of hygiene made her feel as though she needed to be peeled like a banana.  A long, hot shower was in order, where she cleaned every nook and cranny until she felt like a new person.  Or at least, she felt better when she was clean, just as Alex promised.

 After drying her hair, she changed into a ratty hooded sweatshirt and a pair of clingy yoga pants.  The perfect outfit for a spring cleaning of her loft.

 She began by emptying the trash and then filling even more trash bags with empty fast food cartons, old coffee cups, both empty and still half full. And she didn’t stop there.  She threw away junk mail she hadn’t time to sift through in weeks, as well as old drafts of stories that were redlined but never made it to Snapper’s desk because other stories took precedence. Pamphlets she’d picked up somewhere for research went into the garbage.  She gathered the dirty clothes strewn throughout her apartment, separated the colors from the whites and put a load in the washing machine.

 She cleaned out her refrigerator and her pantry cabinets, throwing out anything that was even remotely expired.  Kara emptied all of her canned goods into a box for donating to the local soup kitchen.  Starting fresh became the theme of the day and boxing her pantry food up made it easier to spray and wipe down her cabinets.

 Kara rolled up her rug and tossed it on the couch, allowing her to sweep the floor and then, on her hands and knees, she worked her way across every inch of her floor with a buffer and wood polish.  By the time she finished that task, she was able to change out her first load of laundry for her second, placing he first load into the dyer.

 In her bedroom, she sat on the bed, stuffing down feathers back into her comforter and mending the tear in the cloth with tiny stitches until it was almost as good as new.  She changed her sheets and pillowcases for fresh ones, making the bed with tight corners, even placing the throw pillows at the head of the bed were they belonged, but so rarely ended up.

 The bathroom floor got the toothbrush treatment, as she cleaned every last grain of dirt from the grout of the 2-inch by 2-inch mint green tiles.  Her shower was blasted with mildew cleanser whether it needed it or not, and she took her (old) toothbrush to those tiles too.  She threw out old makeup, deciding that she could use a trip to her favorite cosmetics outlet for a whole new set.

 When both loads of laundry were dry, she put the living room back to rights and sat on the sofa to fold it all, just catching the beginning of an old Jerry Lewis movie on the American Classic Comedies channel. They were showing a Martin/Lewis marathon this weekend and currently airing was one of her favorites.  The comedian was goofy and acted on the outside how she sometimes felt on the inside, so as a child his antics had always lifted her spirits – a quality she was in dire need of right now.  Clothes quickly folded and put away, she left the television on and continued cleaning, pulling lampshades off lamps to give them each a thorough dusting.  Cleaning the loft’s windows came next and before she was done her stomach let her know that it was dinnertime.  Unfortunately, she’d cleaned out her fridge and boxed up her canned goods, so cooking dinner was out of the question until she could do some grocery shopping.

 In the kitchen, she opened her junk drawer to retrieve a series of takeout menus for cheap and speedy delivery.  After all the work she’d done, she could eat a horse, but she decided pizza was the safer choice.  About the time Kara picked up her cellphone to make the call to Luigi’s for her usual order, a light knock came on the door.  Ditching the menu she didn’t need, she walked across the room to the door, speed dialing Luigi’s and placing the phone up to her ear.  Alex must have returned to check on her, or kick her ass into gear.

 “Just in time,” she said loud enough to be heard through the door.  “I was just about to order dinner. Do you want any—“ She stopped short, dumbfounded, when she saw who stood on her doorstep.  Kara’s breath caught in her chest, the butterflies in her stomach doing loop-de-loops like stunt planes at an air show.

 “I hope you’re in the mood for pizza and pot stickers,” Mon-El said, his voice soft and maybe a little uncertain.  He stood in her hallway, boxes held in front of him like a barrier between them.  He was so handsome she had the blink away the emotion welling in her eyes and swallow the lump in her throat.

 “You’re….” she attempted, her tongue suddenly devoid of all lubrication.  “You’re here.”  Her voice was hoarse and weak.

 “I thought we could…have dinner.”  She was an absolute mess, tendrils of hair slipping free from her ponytail to create a wispy, wild halo around her face.  Her hoodie is streaked with dirt as though she’s repeatedly wiped filthy hands across it to clean them.   The knees of her yoga pants are threadbare and she smells a little like laundry detergent and bleach.  There’s a large smudge of dust or soot on her cheek, just below her right eye.

 She’s never been more beautiful.

 In a nervous gesture, Kara tugged the sleeves of her hoodie down until they almost covered the tips of her fingers.  She picked at a loose thread on the cuff of one sleeve, picking and picking until the cuff began to fray at the edges. Just like in the cafeteria, she didn’t know what to do in the face of his presence; what to say…where to begin.

 “May I…?” he gestured to her kitchen from outside the door.

 “Oh! Of course!” she exclaimed, stepping aside to make room for him to pass.  She clung to the door as he passed by her, as though it anchored her to reality.  “Come in,” she whispered as an afterthought, closing the door behind him.  Kara glanced about at her loft, thankful he hadn’t shown up even an hour earlier.

 Thankful he’d shown up at all.  His presence was a gift she could not have predicted, nor expected.

 Placing the takeout boxes on the kitchen island, Mike turned back to her, absorbing the shell-shocked expression on her face.  He felt his stomach sink inside.  Maybe this was the wrong thing, his inner demon taunted. Maybe he should have left well enough alone.  “Maybe I should have called first,” is what he said instead.  

 “It’s fine.” she breathed, still not quite believing that Mon-El was standing in her kitchen after fantasizing about it for so very long.  She always dreamed that he would come home…to her.  The last thing she wanted was to make him feel unwelcome.  “You don’t need to call.”

 “Good.  Because I think we should talk.”

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

More Than You Know - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul Summary: True love didn’t always mean romance. Maybe if that had occurred to them sooner, Damian wouldn’t have been asleep for a year. A/N: A medieval-ish/sleeping beauty-ish AU, (but not at all related to the budding jaydick medieval au I sort of have). All the kids but Dick as still Bruce’s (and Talia’s) kids. Dick was just an orphan who rose in the ranks of the army and is a knight, obvi. Cass is also in the army, one of the few ladies of course, and is away for the whole fic. Tim might still be adopted, I didn’t decide. The ‘plant witch’ is Poison Ivy, of course. Just because it’s sometimes hard to decipher, especially in the true love trope stories, this fic is purely platonic/familiar. No romance beyond Bruce and Talia, for anybody. Inspired by ‘Light’ by Sleeping At Last. Thanks again to the anon who recced the song! I can’t stop listening to it. It’s so Dick and Damian, like waaaaaah. :3

~~

It was the witch, the King said, as the Queen led the way up the tower stairs. The plant witch.

“She was angry at Talia and I,” Bruce explained worriedly. “We were going to cut down some of her forest to expand the kingdom.”

“Damian was the first she came across.” Talia tossed over her shoulder. “He was walking his dog as he does every sunrise, but Timothy hadn’t gone with him that particular day. Nursing that illness that had gone around the village. Damian never stood a chance.”

Dick’s heart was pounding, as it had been since he’d gotten the letter. “And what have the doctors said?”

“They’ve said there’s nothing they can do.” Bruce answered. “It’s a curse, and no medicine they’d be able to concoct will do any good.”

“The doctors are useless.” Talia spat. “The witch told us how to fix it.”

“But he is a boy,” Bruce hissed back, even as they reached the landing, and Talia tugged at the door. “He does not have a true love.”

“Then we must find them.” Talia countered. “Whomever he was supposed to find, had he not been put in this state. Because if we do not, then we will never see our son again. Do you want that?”

“Please.” Dick interrupted, staring pleadingly at Talia. “I want to see him.”

Thankfully, the king and queen stopped their bickering, and Talia set back to yanking the door open.

Sunlight spilled onto the landing immediately, followed by the smell of fresh flowers. This wasn’t Damian’s bedroom, Dick knew, but they dressed it up as well as they could to make it look like it. Bookshelves and his paints. Even his collection of weapons sat polished and ready in the corner.

And on the far side of the room, like he was on display at a wake, laid Damian. Fast asleep on the bed, hands folded across his blanketed stomach, and dog lying protectively next to his bed, like he was just down for an afternoon nap.

Dick knew that was not the case.

“We thought the sunlight might help. Keep him warm.” Bruce whispered, even as Dick stepped forward. “The flowers to mask the smell of death.”

“And he is not.” Talia reassured. “He is not dead, but. With no movement, it got…musky up here. And my son deserves a better scent than that for when he wakes.”

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat as he continued forward. As he walked around the resting dog and knelt beside the bed.

Damian’s cheeks were rosy and bright, and his chest rose and fell with breaths.

But with the curse, none of that mattered.

“…We hoped.” Talia started softly, and Dick heard Bruce move closer to comfort her. “You and Damian were so close as he grew, you cared for him so deeply, we hoped you coming here would make a difference.”

Dick didn’t respond, instead slowly reaching out to curl his hand around Damian’s and give a gentle squeeze. Nothing.

“…How long?” He rasped instead.

“Pardon?” Bruce asked.

“How long since the witch cursed him?”

There was no answer, and when Dick glanced up, he saw the king and queen glancing nervously at each other.

“It takes a week for a letter to get from the kingdom to the coast, and it took me a week to get back.” Dick snapped sharply, standing. “That means he has been like this for at least two weeks. But I know you two. You did not call for me as soon as it happened. You never do.”

Bruce and Talia didn’t answer.

“So. How long?” He asked. And when he still got nothing, he stomped his foot, and pointed accusingly down at the bed. “How long have you let my little brother be like this?!”

Talia’s face was stone when she looked back at him. “Knight, my son is not your brother. You were his tutor and his companion. Remember your place.”

“Eight months.” Bruce whispered instead. “Perhaps closer to nine.” Bruce looked sadly into Dick’s eyes. “Three seasons.”

“Three…” Dick gasped. “You’re telling me he was cursed not long after I left?!”

“We did not know the severity.” Bruce tried to soothe. “We did not want to call you back from your station only for it to be nothing.”

“But three seasons?! One month, I will give you. Not nine.” Dick scolded. He looked away from them, first down at the dog, then back to Damian, and sighed. “But…I will do what I can for him. If you two wish to go look for his true love, I will stay and protect him.” A pause, to reach down and hold Damian’s cheek. “I’ll stay as long as he needs me.”

He could tell Talia and Bruce were silently conversing about it, but paid them no mind. Just stared down at the boy he helped raise. The lonely little prince who couldn’t seem to find a friend outside of the stables, not even in his siblings. The one he found in the armory at four years old, attempting to steal armour and weapons. So he could run away and join his father’s army, he said. Find his sister among the ranks, and help her protect their kingdom, he said.

(Because maybe his sister would love him like his family in the castle did not, he whispered through tears.)

He remembered being officially designated Damian’s caretaker after that, when he returned the boy to his parents. He remembered teaching him how to ride a horse, how to hold a sword. He remembered playing tag in the courtyard, and hide and seek. He remembered the time Damian gave him a flower for his birthday, and he wore it tucked behind his ear the rest of the day with pride.

He remembered tucking the boy into bed, telling him stories until he fell asleep. He remembered being summoned in the middle of the night, by Damian’s siblings and the king alike, to soothe a lingering nightmare, and wipe tiny tears away.

He remembered the day his battalion was sent off to the coast, to be stationed there for a year and perhaps longer. He remembered Damian, grown boy of eleven now, in his royal colors, the crown still a little too big for his head, hugging him tightly, face hidden against his armour. He remembered Damian demanding he come home safe, that it was an order from his future king, and Dick joking that he’d see him soon, and promising he’d send letters.

It made sense now, why his letters were never answered.

He remembered looking back only once, as his soldiers moved down the path, and seeing Damian standing on the hill, alone. Watching.

“We’ll have the servants prepare you a room.” Bruce suddenly said. “And we’ll collect your things there.”

“No.” Dick shook his head. “No, have them brought up here, if you don’t mind.”

Talia inhaled, “Dear knight…”

“I can sleep on the floor if need be.” Dick hummed. “I just told you – I’ll stay with him as long as he needs me.”

He heard the queen inhale again to argue, but Bruce cut her off. “Come, darling. Let’s go call the maids.”

Bruce turned out of the room, and Talia went to follow, but stopped at the door, and turned back, just for a moment.

“…Your letters are on his bookshelf.” She whispered. “We read them to him every time a new one arrives, in hopes it will help.”

Dick didn’t look up. Just slowly sunk down onto the edge of the bed, as Talia turned and followed after her husband.

~~

It was weeks. Months. Dick lost track of the time, really.

He rarely left the tower. Opted to stay with Damian, even when he was offered a reprieve. Because when he left that room, it felt wrong. The world felt wrong, without Damian in it with him.

He talked to the child, always with the hope that one of these times, the boy would speak back. A naive hope, because there was no true love yet. Nothing had changed. But still, he hoped nonetheless.

He watched the courtyard from the window as he read books or fiddled with the flowers. Felt like those princesses from the fairy tales he used to tell Damian. Stuck in a tower all alone, waiting for a hero to come rescue him.

He was waiting for a hero, though. A hero to save his little brother, and in turn, save him too.

Damian’s siblings came up to visit occasionally. Would sit and talk to Damian, like Dick did, and then talk to him too. Sometimes they brought him food, sometimes they brought new books. Sometimes they even brought apologies. To Dick, for taking him from his station. To Damian, for not being there when he was cursed. For not loving him the way he deserved when they had the chance.

The king and queen returned with a few they thought might break the curse, and Dick would watch from his perch on the windowsill, holding back Damian’s dog as they tried. But of course, it never worked. Damian never stirred.

They celebrated his birthday while he slept. Twelve years old. The celebration wasn’t large. Pastries made by the kitchen, which Dick and Damian’s brothers ate. The king and queen stayed in the tower with them that day. All day. Dick shared memories of their son, the ones they were too busy ruling a kingdom to create with him themselves.

At dusk, Dick decided to leave the tower. To take Damian’s dog Titus for a walk. But one look into the dog’s eyes, and he knew they couldn’t go alone.

So, he carefully picked up Damian’s body, leaned him gently against his back, curled his arms under his legs, and their group went off.

They ran into Timothy halfway to the castle gates, but he didn’t stop them. Instead, he joined them. Walked alongside, gathered Titus when he got too far, told Dick about his and Damian’s morning walks. How they came to be, how it brought them closer. How he wasn’t on that fateful walk that day.

Dick hoped they’d run into the witch. Just so he could tear her limb from limb. They didn’t.

They stood on the ridge, the one Dick saw Damian at when he’d left for the coast. Watched the night swallow the evening.

“This is all yours, Damian.” Dick whispered sadly, up to the stars. Timothy glanced up at him, then up to the sky himself. Damian remained motionless against his shoulder. “This is all waiting for you to come back to us.”

After that, the winter set in, and even the thick blankets the royal family let him use weren’t enough. So he moved his small mattress closer to Damian’s. Huddled with Titus for added heat.

And it was a comfort, Damian’s peacefully sleeping form being the last thing he saw before he went to sleep each night. Damian being the first thing he saw every morning.

Until it wasn’t.

Until it made him almost mad, in all senses, to wake up and know his friend was no closer to being better. No matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried, no matter how much they loved him.

The curse could not be broken.

Dick reached his breaking point mid-winter. When he was cleaning the tower room. Dust had settled across everything, easels and books and windowsills alike, the flowers were dying, Damian’s weapons were no longer polished – and that just wouldn’t do. Not for his little brother.

So he borrowed cleaning supplies from the servants. Waved them away when they tried to do it themselves. Promised to call for help if he needed it.

He had just finished the bookshelf, and was turning away to head to the next area when his hip nicked the corner of the shelf, rattling it just a little. Some of the books moved, flopping this way or that, and in his periphery, Dick saw a piece of paper flutter out from between two books, and onto the floor.

Without thinking, he leaned down and picked it up, scanning it automatically. The realization hit him instantly – it was a letter.

To him.

A letter from Damian to him, from way back when he first went to the coast a year ago. It was in response to Dick’s first card, Dick could tell by what little Damian had already written.

But the letter was unfinished. Hell, Damian stopped midsentence. Richard, you will never guess

Then nothing.

And it broke Dick’s heart.

It broke it into a million pieces, and those pieces manifested themselves into tears. The first tears Dick shed since returning to the kingdom.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. He was just a boy. He didn’t ask for any of this. Didn’t deserve any of it. He just wanted to be loved. He just wanted to have friends. He didn’t want to be a prince. He didn’t want to be royalty. He certainly didn’t want to be used as leverage against his parents. To be attacked while doing a mundane task such as walking his dog.

He just wanted to be happy.

Dick’s hands began to shake, and his grip on the letter tightened, crinkling the edges. He glanced over towards the bed, and was moving towards it before he realized it.

“Come back.” He demanded, collapsing onto the side of the mattress, his favorite perch since this whole mess started. “Damian, please come back.”

Damian’s chest rose, and fell.

“We love you. We all love you. Your mother and your father. Your siblings, your pets. Your subjects. Me. I love you. You’re the little brother I never had.” A tear dripped down onto Damian’s cheek. “And I miss you. I missed you every day on the coast, and I’ve missed you every day since I’ve returned.”

Titus whined nearby, as Dick dropped the unfinished letter, and gently took hold of Damian’s face.

“And I promise. I swear on my life, and on the life of my king. If you return, I will do everything in my power to stay with you, always. To protect you, and keep you safe and to stop this from ever happening to you again.” Dick rambled, gently stroking Damian’s cheeks. Suddenly he looked up, out the window and towards the clouds. “Please, give him back. Please give me a second chance to love him, and protect him. I will do better this time. You can strike me down if I don’t. Even better – you can take me right now, in exchange for him.”

The clouds didn’t respond. Just rolled away.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes. Bowed his head, and opened them again to look at Damian.

“I wish you could hear me.” Dick whispered. Slowly he leaned down, and pressed his lips to Damian’s forehead. Lingered there for only a moment, for only as long as he could bear, before sitting back up and standing – suddenly needing to get away. Get out of this room. He turned towards the door, and began towards it as he wiped his eyes, murmuring: “Sleep well, my prince.”

And he was at the door, he was just about to depart the landing, and start down the stairs, when he heard a simple, quiet:

“…Richard?”

He spun around so fast he made himself dizzy. But he didn’t care, he did not care – because there was a pair of sleepy, jade eyes turned towards him.

…What?

“…Damian?” He breathed.

Damian frowned, blinking tiredly. “What are you doing back from the coast so soon? We were attacked?”

“So soon…” Dick repeated, stepping awkwardly back into the room. And of course – Damian had been cursed not long after he left for his station.

Damian twisted to look out the window, then back to the room. “Where am I? This is not my room.”

And Dick’s tears…were falling faster now.

“What is wrong with you?” Damian asked in a raspy voice. “Why are you crying?”

Damian tried to move, then. Tried to lift himself up on his arms. But the body that hadn’t moved in a year betrayed him, and with a painful grimace, his wobbly muscles collapsed underneath him.

“What?” Damian looked around again, annoyed more than concerned. “What is-?”

“You’re awake.” Dick muttered, and Damian looked up at him. “Oh my god, you’re awake.”

“Of course I’m awake, why wouldn’t I-” Damian stopped there, face scrunching in confusion. “Wait, wasn’t I in the forest with Titus? We were talking a walk…”

“You’re awake.” Dick repeated, and Damian could only watch as Dick suddenly ran to the window, pushed the pane open, and leaned dangerously out of it, shouting, “He’s awake! He’s awake, and alive! Prince Damian has woken!”

Damian heard a commotion in the courtyard, and demands that someone find the king or queen or other princes.

“Richard, what-” But then Dick looked back at him, and tears were streaming down his face in rivers, joy and sorrow both etched in his features. Suddenly Dick was lunging at him, lifting him from the bed and spinning him around. Holding him close, squeezing him tightly, as the rotations slowed to a stop. Damian felt Dick’s shoulders shaking as he clung to them for support and felt his own face soften in concern as they stilled, as he leaned back just enough to look at his friend. “Richard, why are you crying?”

“A year.” Dick sobbed, as they stood in the center of the room. “My prince, you’ve been asleep for a year.”

Damian blinked. “From what?!”

“A curse. You were cursed on that walk with your dog.” Dick explained. Already, he could hear the steps of at least two people climbing the tower steps. “Your father wrote to me after three seasons, and I’ve been here with you ever since.”

“A curse?” Damian repeated. “Well…what broke it?”

“I do not know.” Dick shook his head with a nervous laugh, even as he tugged Damian back into a hug. “I do not know what broke it. It was a curse broken by true love’s kiss they said, but we were unable to find your true love-”

“I love no one.” Damian hummed harshly against his throat. “Well, perhaps my pets, but I have a feeling they do not count.”

“Well, I love you.” Dick returned happily, and was surprised when Damian leaned back again, looking up at him quizzically. “What? Have I never told you?”

The blush was already rising up Damian’s cheeks. “…Not that I recall.”

“Well I do. You’re like the little brother I never had. The family I never had.” Dick smiled. Suddenly he pressed another kiss to Damian’s temple, before pressing their foreheads together. “And I promise. From now on I will do better in making sure you know that. Every day.”

Damian’s eyes darted between his curiously.

“…You are perhaps the father I never had, as well.” Damian whispered, lashes lowering in embarrassment, and maybe guilt. “And I. Well, I guess it’s not true that I love no one. Because I love you too, Richard. For your kindness, and your care for me. Your friendship.”

“…And maybe that’s all it was.” Both jumped at the new voice, looking towards the door. Bruce stood there, Jason leaning around his shoulder to stare with wide, excited eyes. “Maybe that’s an angle we should have explored further.”

“My lord?” Dick asked, even as Bruce came forward.

“Father!” Damian exclaimed, reaching out. Bruce smiled as he approached them, grasping Damian’s fingers in his, even as he wrapped his free hand around Damian’s head, pressed his own lingering kiss to his hair.

“We assumed true love meant romantic. His future spouse.” Bruce explained to Dick. “Perhaps we should have been looking at other meanings. Familiar. Platonic.”

“But,” Dick narrowed his eyes in confusion, watching as Damian released his hand from Bruce’s, only to gently hold his father’s face. No doubt it had changed drastically since Damian last saw it. “I saw you and the queen kiss him. Multiple times. His condition never changed.”

Bruce chuckled, and suddenly – he sounded old. “He is our child, and we love him more than the sun and the moon combined. But even we know we will never compare to you, Richard. Neither how strongly you love him, nor how strongly he loves you in return.” Gently, Bruce leaned into Damian’s hand, closing his eyes. “You are his true love, knight. You broke the curse, and you saved my son.”

There were voices downstairs, and Jason turned to inspect them.

“Mother has the doctors.” Jason glanced back at them. “Shall I fetch them?”

“No. I think it’s time for Damian to finally leave this room, don’t you?” Bruce kept his grin even as he glanced at Dick. “Would you mind continuing to hold him? A year asleep might’ve left his legs a little weak, and we don’t want to rush his recovery.”

Bruce turned back towards the door, but: “Father, wait.”

Bruce looked over his shoulder.

“I…I lied. I did not mean it.” Damian stuttered. “I do not love no one. And I do not love just Richard. I love you as well. And Mother. And my siblings. I…I just said it to-”

Jason suddenly scoffed. “As if we didn’t already know that, tiny one.”

“You’ve always had such a large heart, son. It’s difficult to navigate at times, and unfortunately your mother and I have not helped you to do so.” Bruce promised. “You and I will talk about it when you’re better. If you’d like.” He glanced at Dick. “Come along.”

Dick followed slowly after, even as Bruce and Jason practically ran down the stairs. It made sense, of course. The doctors were rude men, who hated to be kept waiting. Not to mention Bruce wanted to give them a preliminary assessment before they got started. Dick had plenty of time.

Damian had already curled back into Dick’s embrace, face hidden against his neck, hands clutching the front of his tunic. His breathing was even, and for a moment, Dick thought maybe he’d fallen back to sleep.

“…Richard?”

Apparently not.

“Hm?”

“I dreamed about you.” Damian whispered. “The whole time.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Damian hummed. “And you told me. You told me in the dream that I had been cursed. That I was in trouble, and you were there to protect me. I didn’t believe you. Or perhaps I didn’t care. Because it was just you and I, and we were happy. Sparring, shooting arrows, reading. I was aware none of it made sense, because there was no one else in the whole kingdom, but I ignored it, because we were having all of the adventures you told me we would have when I was a child.”

“My prince, you still are a child.” Dick reminded gently. “Much to your dismay, I know. Also, you turned twelve in your sleep.”

“There was one thing that was odd, though.” Damian ignored Dick’s comment. “Sometimes, in the dream, you would be speaking. And suddenly, midsentence, you would start saying something else. It was after the third instance of this happening that I realized you kept interrupting yourself with the same words. And sometimes you sounded like Mother, or Father.”

“The letters.” Dick wondered aloud, and Damian waited for an explanation. “Sometimes we would read you the letters I sent you from the coast, in hopes it would wake you.”

“Oh.” Damian murmured. “Well. I heard you.”

And Dick thought his heart might burst at that fact. He heard them. Damian heard them in that deadly sleep. Damian heard him.

“…Did Roy actually get stuck in a tree with his trousers down?”

Dick barked a laugh. It must have been loud, as the chatter at the bottom of the stairs suddenly stopped. “Indeed. They got caught on a branch as he climbed, and when he stumbled they were pulled down to his ankles and got trapped in his boots. He was stuck upside down for a good ten minutes, and was too embarrassed to call for help. Poor Donna was the one who came across him.”

Damian snorted a laugh. “Absurd.”

“Mhm.” Dick agreed, continuing down the steps. They were close to the end, now. Just another two turns.

“Richard?”

“Yes, Damian?”

“…Thank you for breaking the curse.” Damian mumbled. “Thank you for loving me more than anyone else.”

Dick hesitated for only a moment, then smiled, lifting a hand to hold the back of Damian’s head.

“It always has been, and will forever be my pleasure to do so, my prince.” He stopped on the last step, uncaring of the small audience he now had as he placed yet another kiss to Damian’s temple. “Thank you for loving me in return.”

And it was soft, under the voices of Talia and Timothy coming to see their boy, but Dick heard it loud and clear.

“Always.”