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screaminglygay · 5 months

Text

Warm welcome

pairings: kate bishop x fem!reader, avengers x reader (platonic)

summary: after 3 months of being gone, you finaly came back home, but there is a new addiction to the avengers, will the two of you come along?

warnings: new series so very very slow burn!, some swearing, bad grammar possibly (i hope not hehe), alcohol consumption, bad jokes, reader being little mess, that’s it for this part I think:)

word count: 5.5k

an: new series!! since i got back into being very obsessed with miss bishop, so i decided to start a new series, its gonna be long, cuz my ideas for this went crazy!

an2: and yes, this is an universe where everyone is alive, most of them are 100% happy and it´s just a safe space, come at me as you want, but i just need them to be happy. that´s all, thank you.

an3: yup i am back! so sorry! work, school and sickness is just not it. ill answer all of you soon! thank you for support, i see youuu!

!MDNI!

After long time away from you found family, you finaly came back home. It was supposed to be quick mission in Morocco, but after you found out that this is something bigger than some usual drug trafficking you had to stay. Not just for Fury´s sake, but for your own too.

And that´s how you stayed over 3 months in some old motel, that looked like a typical horror hounted house, alone. But that was a past, you´re currently standing infront of the main entrance of the Avengers Compound, ready to open the door and see everyone.

As you open the door the voice of a F.R.I.D.A.Y., the Stark´s AI. "Welcome home, miss (Y/L/N), should I contact the others that you are home?"

"No, no. I want it to be surprise. And (Y/N) is just fine, like I´ve said before, many times." you smile.

As you traverse the hallways, anticipation builds with every passing moment, knowing that you're drawing closer to that cherished destination—the main living room. The anticipation turns to a gentle excitement, a feeling of returning to a sanctuary that holds a piece of your soul.

And finally, as you reach the threshold of the living room, a soft sigh escapes your lips, and a smile graces your face. The sight of the familiar couch, but most importatnly the sight of your favorite people.

"That´s the question, do you put cereals or milk first?" you hear Pietro´s voice, smiling at the fact that he didn´t change a bit, still the same goof. Three months are not so long, but at the same time everything can be different in three months.

You watch him for a little bit and then you dediced to speak up. "Everyone who puts milk first is total psychopat," you calmly say as all of their faces turns to look at you.

"Oh my god! (Y/N)!" Pietro says and in a second he´s lifting you up and pulling you into a tight squeezing hug.

"Hey Speedy," you chuckle as he´s crushing your body. "Pietro... too much, ouch." He let go of you.

"Sorry, sorry. It´s been like what?" Pietro laughs and puts you down.

"3 motnhs, 17 days," you look at your phone, "4 hours, 18 minutes and few seconds." Pietro laughs at your comment.

"It was a long time, let´s just say that." You can hear another sokovian accent, this time the voice belongs to a woman. Wanda.

She hugs you close, hints of warm vanilla and soft lavender dance around you. It's a scent that feels like homecoming, wrapping you in familiarity and a sense of belonging. You smile into the touch, as you felt that the touch is soothing the ache of missed embraces. You feel the gentle warmth of her hug infusing into your being, fulfilling a longing for touch that has been starved for far too. "Hi." is all you can mumble, while hugging the girl.

"Hi," she mumbles back, no words needed for the two of you, both of you missed eachother like lungs misses the air. To be fair, Wanda was the first person you grew close to, when you´ve joined the Avengers. She was quiet, but so well spoken at the same time. You never had to explain things for her to understand you. And the same went the other way around.

The rest of the Avengers come into the living room and all of their faces lit up, when they saw you. All of them are here. Except for Carol, who is probably somewhere in the space, you haven´t seen her in almost half a year, since she had off world mission even before you went to Morocco.

You shared many hugs with all of them, and you didn´t mind it a little bit. You were so touch starved after being alone, that you hold everyone closer for at least a few seconds and all of them did the same. Suprisingly even Yelena didn´t said anything, like she always did.

You scan the whole room, chcecking if you didn´t missed anyone and you in fact did. But the person is not someone you recognize. There is this tall, dark hair girl, who looks pretty much the same age as you. She looks effortlessly stylish in her well-fitted blue jeans paired with a cozy gray sweater. The jeans accentuate her figure while the relaxed elegance of the sweater gives off a vibe of comfort. The girl looks rather awkward as everyone greets you. Not that she wouldn´t know who you are, she does, she heard a lot of stories about you, almost like she knew who you are, but you don´t know anything at all and that makes her feel awkward.

You look at her and smile, not knowing what to do yourself, so Clint steps in, "(Y/N), this is Kate, our new help, Kate this is (Y/N), our old help." You nod at Clint´s words and extent your hand for her to shake it.

"Pleasure to finaly meet you, (Y/N)." Kate smiles her hand has a firm grip.

"Nice to meet you too, Kate." You smile, maybe too much for a normal meeting. You have to admit she is georgous and her completly blue eyes are making you forget where you are right now.

"(Y/F/N)!" Natasha storms into the living room, her voice a sharp, controlled fury that cuts through the air, making you swallow... hard. "When did you arrived?" Even thoug she was mad for not knowing you came back, she was very relieved that you are okay and alive. As her hands wrap around you, you let out a squek and you froze knowing what comes afterwards. "Are you hurt?"

"I´m fine," you quickly say as the rest of the team watch you closely.

"I didn´t ask you, how are you, I´ve asked you if you´re hurt." Her eyes scans your face where she sees the little cuts you have on your face.

"A little bit." You mumble and Natasha raises her eyebrow. "I might have or might have not fallen out of the third floor, " you mumble again.

"YOU FELL FROM THE THIRD FLOOR?!" Natasha is basically yelling at you right now.

"Kinda," sometimes you were terrified of that woman, and that sometimes is now.

Natasha takes a long deep breath, "(Y/N), how do you kinda fell out of a third floor?"

"I´m gonna check her up." Bruce smiles and stand up, leading you to the hospital wing downstairs.

"Thank you, for saving my life," you whisper to him as you´re leaving the living room.

"Don´t mention it, but you know... she´s worried about you. We all have been." Bruce opens the door for you.

"I know, but I´m really okay, just few bruises."

...

After 20 minutes of checking you up, and hearing your story of falling from the building, Bruce looks shocked. He didn´t said a word yet, only wrote down something in his report.

"This is going to be a very long mission report, just from the medical side," he looks at you, "(Y/N)... you had your lower ribs broken, twice actually. And- I´m suprised you´re not screaming in pain right now. How do you truly feel?" Bruce finally looks at you.

"I feel good, really. I mean it hurts, yes. But I felt worse. It feels like a daily workout with Natasha," you shrug as you joke, but Bruce doesn´t seem amused by your joke, but he still nods.

"You know Natasha can look into any mission report, right?" He looks like he´s more scared than you are.

"I´m aware, yes." You give him a confused look.

"Well good luck..." he pats your shoulder, "just rest for the next days, keep yourself hydrated and don´t share the story how you fell from the third floor, please. She would lose it."

"But it truly wasn´t my fault I-" Bruce looks at you and you stop, "got it." You nod.

...

"Alright, so picture this: I'm in this quiet little motel in Morocco, writing down some information I found out that day. It's just me, the mission, and this cute little stray cat that kept showing up at my door. Every night, like clockwork, she'd appear, almost like she knew I needed a friend. So, one day, I caved and let her in. You know, against all mission protocols and stuff. Bla blah blah... but she became my only friend, so I would not lose my mind completly." You talk about your experiences on the mission.

"And then, the weirdest thing happened. One day, she just disappeared. I was worried, you know? Felt a bit empty without her there. But on my last day, she came back. And guess what? She brought company—tiny, adorable company. She led me to this corner, and there they were, her little kittens. It was like she wanted to say goodbye and show me her new family all at once. It was… unexpected, but kinda touching, you know?" You smile, thinking about the tiny family.

"It was truly cute and adorable, also it was kinda relaxing after seeing all the bad and negativity. Like... animals are truly precious you know." As you´re talking you didn´t notice another person coming into the living room, until that person decides to speak up.

"(Y/L/N)," you turn around and notice it´s Nick Fury himself.

"Fury!" You smile.

He didn´t smile back, he has the same old Nick Fury look, "I want your report soon..."

"Y-yes, sir." You nod your head, hoping he would welcome you a little warmer, but it´s Nick Fury after all.

"And (Y/L/N)?" Fury says while basically walking out of the living room already.

"Yes, sir?"

"It´s good to have you back." He smiles, Fury smiles at you. There go your wish of a warmer welcome. Nickolas freaking Fury smiled at you and welcomed you home, warmly.

You have a pround smile on your face, when Tony speaks up, "I work for him for god knows how long and he never looked at me this way..."

Natasha looks at Tony and smirks, "can you blame him?".

You sink into the couch with a grin, finally getting a chance to unwind in your home-away-from-home. After swapping stories and catching up on compound news, Tony steps in with a suggestion—a special Avengers night. Not his typical flashy party, thankfully. He calls it a "Catching Up Night," just a laid-back dinner and some drinks.

It's not about going all out; it's about the simple pleasure of hanging out with your superhero pals, sharing laughs and updates. Tonight's vibe feels relaxed, a chance to chill and connect without the whole party frenzy.

...

Like always druing these 'non party party' you and Pietro moved to the bar section, as he loves to make people their drink based on their personality and you just like to sit and listen to him ramble.

"Do you want a drink called 'Tiny cold' or 'Closet paradise'?" he smirks, being proud of his jokes, like the usual.

"Really? First of all I´m not that tiny, also I´m not in the closet. What do you want me to do, tattoo a pride flag on my forehead?" You raise your eyebrow.

"If it wasn´t true you wouldn´t get so defensive, darling," he winks.

"I hate you."

"No, you don´t." Pietro towers above everyone you know, his playful teasing is basically a form of big-brotherly teasing.

"I´ll get the closet paradise, please." You roll your eyes.

"Coming right at ya!" Pietro smiles, once again, he won your little fight.

"So, Pietro, spill the beans! Who's this new girl, Kate?"

"Ah, Kate, huh? What do you want to know about her?" Pietro say while making you the drink.

"Everything! No one's given me a straight answer. Or any answer at all. I mean I didn´t ask, but I´m doing that now..." You ramble.

Pietro smirks at your words, "I mean... she´s cool."

"Come on, Pietro, don't be like that! Is she nice? What does she do?" You are obvoisuly frustrated as not even Pietro is giving you any tea.

"Well, she's got moves, that's for sure. Quick on her feet, sharp with her arrows—" He almost finishes up the drink for you.

"Arrows?" You cut him off.

"Yep, a regular Robin Hood type, except with better aim and a cooler outfit." He put ice in the glass.

"Is she nice, though? Friendly?" You want to get to know her.

Pietro nods and serves you the drink. "Yeah, she's cool once you get past the whole 'I'm new here' vibe she's got going."

"What do you mean?" You smile at him for giving you the drink.

"Why don´t we invite her and you find out yourself?" Pietro says, not really waiting for your answer and he is already waving like a crazy person at Kate, who is still standing next to the table by herself.

Kate smiles as she notices, that she doesn´t need to stand there awkwardly alone, and she little less awkwardly skips over to the bar. Small "hi" escaping her mouth.

"Hey there archer, why were you standing there all alone, when you can have fun with us?" Pietro starts the conversation.

"I uh-" Kate starts, but no smart explanation leaves her mouth.

"Pietro..." you look at him.

"What?" He looks at you, not knowing what he did wrong.

"No, he´s right. I´m little socialy awkward." The tall girl responds.

You smile at her, slightly noding your head. "Aren´t we all?" You try to make her feel a little better.

"I´m not." Of course Pietro had to say something.

"Well you´re one of a kind, Speedy." Pietro smirks proudly, while you roll your eyes once again.

"Um... what are you drinking?" Kate nods towards your drink in your hand. It was indeed very pretty colorful drink.

"I am drinking a drink that Pietro made..." You say while looking at the drink in your hand.

"The drink has it´s name, (Y/N)." Pietro smiles innocently.

"Yeah, well... I forgot it." You simple just shrug while Kate looks very confused.

"I´ll get one too, please. It looks tasty." Kate looks at Pietro, who just giggles to himself and starts to prepare Kate one 'Closet paradise' too.

All three of you start to be a little tipsy after some time, since Pietro´ alcohol ratio was 2/3 and the remaining ingredients 1/3, he´s just a begginer behind the bar. You realized that Kate is such an easy person to talk to and she´s not that intoverted as you though the first time you saw her earlier today. She´s the exact opposite to be fair, she´s very talkative. In some topics more than Pietro, which you thought is impossible.

After a little bit you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, when you sit down on the toilet, you can´t hide your stupid little smile anymore. Why are you smiling? You don´t really know. But it´s nice, it´s really nice actualy.

After 10 minutes, you come back to the bar, seeing that Kate is sitting there alone. "Where is our bartender?"

"He was invited to an arm wrestling match and, of course, he went." You can notice, that Kate´s cheeks are a little flushed, due to the few drinks she had.

"Of course." You chuckle as you sit next to Kate on one of the bar stools and your eyes immedietly look at her. "Do you like it here? Being in the team? Superhero stuff?"

Kate´s eyes meet yours, "I do have to say, that I idolized it a bit, but it´s not so bad. Not at all." She smiles at you, "what about you? Was it hard being away from your family?"

You nod, "First two weeks were okay, it went suprisingly fast, to be honest. Another week was really boring and then... it´s just mashed in one big mess of fighting, bleeding, falling and running away." You chuckle, but the smile never reached your eyes and Kate notices that.

Kate knows that she needs to make you feel better, "I uh... you know people here missed you a lot. To be honest when i officially joined I felt like there is something missing in here.."

"Oh please..."

"No, no, really. When I moved in, Clint told me that no one gives better tours than you. He also told me that no one makes better coffee´s, which was a first big indicator, that you have to be a class." Kate let out a chuckle and so did you. You often had many stories to tell, when you were giving tours, even though you are the second youngest Avanger. And the coffee you make? It can bring a smile even to the grumpiest Winter Soldier.

"And from that moment I heard a lot of things about you, (Y/N). It felt like I knew you too, like I missed you too." Kate admits, after that she sips on her drink.

"Wow, that´s really... nice to hear." You smile from ear to ear. "I hope you heard only the good things though." You slightly blush. "But um... thank you, Kate."

"No problem." She smiles back.

"To be fair, I didn´t heard anything about you, but I would like to change that." Smooth.

"That is pretty fair." Kate nods as she finishes her drink and so did you.

"We can go to the roof." Is a sentence you said at the same time and you also laugh at the same time

"Roof it is." You chuckle as you two get up and aim to the roof.

Upon reaching the rooftop with Kate, a gentle but brisk breeze sweeps by, causing a subtle chill to settle around you. The evening's tranquility is undeniable, yet the slight coldness in the air prompts you to huddle a bit closer to yourself, silently wishing for an extra layer to ward off the chill.

"I don´t want to admit it, but Pietro makes really good drinks." Kate starts as you two sat next to eachother.

"He does, he´s the best, really." You mumble as you nod to Kate´s comment.

She looks at you, for a bit scanning your face, then she speaks up again. "Do you and... Pietro you know? Are you two together?"

That question almost makes you sober, "I- what?!" You look at her, "oh god no! No, no, no," you laugh.

"No? Oh sorry, I just... assumed." She lets out a little shaky breath.

"We´re close friends, but that´s all. I actually joined a little bit after them and since all of us were scared and going into the unknown we decided to stick together. Including Wanda." You explain the situation, while Kate nods at your words.

"Oh- I see." Her eyes are still on you.

"I wouldn´t choose Pietro in any scenario..."

"That´s harsh." She chuckles.

"I mean it in the best way possible, he´s... anyone who will date him is lucky and unlucky at the same time. Being his friend means having a strong willpower not to kill him, I can´t even imagine what it would be in a relationship with him."

"That´s fair, I guess." Kate nods.

"Give him few more moths and you´ll understand..." You let out a small giggle.

"So you´re not into cocky people?" Kate is bold, very bold. it shocks you, but at the same time it excites you a lot.

"I- don´t really know. I guess... if you´re nice to me, that´s all I´m asking, really." You shrug, once again making eye contact.

"Wait really? This little? Oh come on, not even type? Just 'Nice'?" Kate can´t believe your words.

"Yup. I´m not picky at this point."

"Oh wow, you´re one of the migty heroes, and all it takes to steal your heart is to be nice?" Kate smiles at you, trying to hold a laugh.

"And a good smile, I´m quite sucker for pretty smiles." You didn´t even register you said it, until Kate repeats it.

"Nice and a good smile, whoa (Y/N), be little humble." She nudges your side with her elbow.

"Very funny, Bishop. Do you know how hard is to find someone, who is actually nice? It´s hard these days." You sigh dramatically.

"Whatever you say." Kate lays down, looking at the stars. You watch her for a few minutes and then you lay down next to her.

It feels like you two know eachother longer than just few hours. The alcohol might be a little helper, but at the end you feel like you two are gonna be close friends.

"I still think that there is way more good people than bad, so you might have a chance..." she mumbles as she watches the night sky.

"You think?"

"I know that. For example here, all of you guys are nice, super nice. And I´m not saying it just because you´re 'The Avengers', but I can tell that no matter what you´re trying to do the best." Kate turns her head and looks at you.

"You know you´re part of this punk family too, right? And also it would be weird and kinda pointless, if some bad guys were in the Avengers." You chuckle as you point out.

"That´s not what I´ve meant and you know it." She rolls her eyes and looks back up.

"How did you even met Clint?" You ask, shifting your position so now you´re laying on your side, facing the archer.

"Um... I saved a dog´s life and he almost hit me with his car." Kate responds like it was nothing.

You laugh, "I have to say that is very original way to get into the team. 'You almost killed me and I won´t sue you, if you let me be an Avenger.' And bonus points for saving a dog´s life."

Kate groans and turns on her side to face you, "it was not like that... I was running away from a weird kinda scary looking guys, which later on I found out they were called 'Track-suit mafia'-" As Kate starts to explain how she actually got on the team and how she is basically the young and female version of Clint, you can´t help but notice how happy she is.

She's delving into these tiny details that might not matter to the story at large, but they mean the world to her, and you can sense it. Her storytelling consumes her so much that she's using her entire body, mostly her hands, to illustrate every bit of it. You find it incredibly endearing, the most adorable thing you've ever witnessed.

"Oh wow, so you´re badass basically." You laugh.

"I- yeah, you could say that too." She laughs as well.

"Well it is a honor and-" you sit back up, while you still look at her. "Thank you for your service, miss Bishop."

Kate smile and notices your subtle shivers in the chilly air, gently nudging you. "Hey, you're shivering. Come on, let's head back inside."

You attempt to brush it off with a weak smile. "Nah, I'm good, just enjoying the view."

She tilts her head, giving you a knowing look. "Sure, you are," Kate teases. "But seriously, you're freezing. Let's go before you turn into an icicle."

Reluctantly, you nod, giving in to the undeniable truth. "Alright, fine."

The door creaked open, welcoming you into the comforting embrace of the heated indoors. With a grateful smile, you thanked Kate for her concern, secretly relieved to escape the biting cold.

"There you are! Where have you been?" A slightly drunk Tony takes your hand, "thanks to me, being so amazing, I´ve got a little suprise for you!"

"I was- what surprise?" You give Stark a confusing look.

"It was not thanks to you, but Fury." As soon as the voice echoes through the room, you instinctively recognize it—Carol, immediately drawing your attention her way.

"Carol?!" You turn around and notice a tall blonde lady standing behind you, with her hair down and a black pants with a black tank top.

"I heard you came home." She said with her typical smirk, while her big strong hands wrapped your body. You simply just nod.

"How long will you stay?" You knew right away, that it won´t be for long.

"Just tonight, I´ll be leaving tomorrow early in the morning." You sigh, it was like this all the time, Carol will come and go, you didn't hold it against her at all. She is the protector of the whole space, not only The Earth. It was hard for her too, you hoped that she will remeber to be Carol for a bit, not only the Captain Marvel. And thanks to Valkyrie, she´s taking care of herself too, but after what happened to Monica, it became worse again.

"So still nothing?" Carol just shakes her head and you frown.

"But we won´t stop looking and we will find her." Carol is trying to be strong, but all of the people in this room knew, that it was just too much, even for a hero like her.

Trying to ease the situation you speak up. "Well then let´s ejnoy this few hours, all of us together." You smile, "I´m glad you´re home too, Car." She nods and smiles back at you.

"Natasha have mentioned, that you had fallen from third floor..." Carol sits down.

"You never finished that story, (Y/N)." The Widow stares at you and your eyes immedietnly search for Bruce, he only shakes his head.

"Oh um... it is not worth telling, nothing special nor interesting." You smile and quickly grab bunch of chips on the table.

Captain Marvel looks at Natasha and nods, "I see," and with a smirk on her face, she sips from her drink. "One would say, that it would be an interesting story to tell." Carol point out.

"Well it´s not." You take some more chips.

The night flowed seamlessly, filled with lively conversations and shared laughter as everyone talked and truly enjoyed themselves. It was one of those evenings where every conversation was engaging, every joke landed perfectly, and the camaraderie among the Avengers felt stronger than ever.

…

As you wait for the elevator to your room, you can´t help but smile. After a long day, today was really good. After you reached your room it didn’t took you long enough to fall asleep.

...

"MY BEST FRIEND CAME HOME AND NO ONE TOLD ME?!" You hear a voice yell at you. Before you can open your eyes, your hit with what felt like pillow.

"Huh?!" You blink a few times to get use to the light in your room.

"WHEN DID YOU CAME? HOW LONG ARE YOU HERE-" Now it was your turn to take the pillow and throw it at the person. As you finaly focus you notice that it´s Spider-boy himself.

"What time is it?" You mumble, still being half asleep.

"6 A.M. BUT WHY DID NO ONE TOLD ME YOU´RE-" And he is hit with another pillow.

"Don´t yell, please," you rub your eyes.

"You´re not happy to see me?" Peter sits next to you on the bed.

"I'm excited to see you, but maybe not with the yelling and at a more reasonable hour than 6 freaking A.M. I'll be much happier." You smile as you open your arms, inviting him into a nice early morning hug.

"Why did no one told me you´re back? I´m always the last one to know things." Peter whines dramatically as he pulls away from the hug.

"Well Tony told me you went with MJ and May on a dinner, so that´s why he didn´t want to ruin it." You shrug, "Anyways how are things with you and MJ?" You raise your eyebrow and he blushes a bit.

"Things are good, really really good, (Y/N). And yesterday dinner with May was really good, we all had fun." You smile at his response.

"I´m really glad." You are happy for you friend, it took him ages to finally confess to her. "Do you.. uh do you know Kate?" You look at him as Peter nods his head, "well... I met her yesterday, and we had a little converstaion on the roof and... she is nice. Really nice. Clint chose a good person" You say with a little blush on your face.

"Oh my god- is she like really really really nice?" He teases.

"Yeah..." You smile, knowing that Peter got your message.

"That is cute. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has a crush. Awww." Peter chuckles.

"Eww stop. I don´t know if it´s a crush, maybe it is... but you- " Peter cuts you off.

"Can´t tell anyone. Got it. Don´t worry. But under one condition..." Peter points up a finger.

"And that will be?"

"You have to talk to her, actually talk to her. Not just you´re super topic about the weather." You always talked to people about weather, when there was nothing else to do and you were dying to save the conversation.

"Easy." You smirk.

Spider-boy raises his eyebrows, "Easy? Let me bet, that you you will forget your own name when she looks at you."

"Oh shut up." You get out of the bed, taking just some oversized hoodie, since you already have a black swetapants and a shirt. "And since you woke me up this early, you´re making me a breakfast." Peter just nods as you two walk into the elevator.

...

When Peter starts to make you some pancakes, Carol walks in.

"There you are! I´m leavin for now, but-" You didn´t let her finish, you just rush to give her a warm long hug.

"I know. Just be careful and don´t forget to take care of yourself." The blonde one smiles.

"Copy that. So... see you later?"

"See you later, Cap." You salute her, which makes her laugh. And with that, Carol went into the skies once more and this time you hope you will see her sooner than in 6 months. The sentence 'see you later' is always better than a goodbye.

As you and Peter swap stories, reliving the adventures and crazy story times. Before he can finish his story about training with Bucky, a dark-haired girl strolled in, catching your attention.

"Morning." She smiles at you and then looks at Peter. Her raspy deep morning voice, messy hair and gray sweatpants with a white tanktop is something no one prepered you for.

"Hi, hello, morning, good- one!" Kate smile just widens and she goes past you to the fridge to get a fresh orange jucie.

Peter leans in closer and mumbles. "You owe me 10 bucks," having the most arrogant smile on his face. You just slap his arm.

"Can I get some pancakes too, please?" Kate watches as Peter flips another one on the plate.

"Of course!" He starts to make a few more, until he looks at his phone, "oh no! I completly forgot. (Y/N) watch the pancakes. I have to go, but you ladides have a good morning!" Peter gives you his spatula and even though Kate just nods and sits down, you know what his plan is.

"Bye Peter." You stare at him, but deep down you´re glad that you can spent some alone time with the archer.

He just sends you a wink and leaves the room.

"Need any help with the toppings?" Kate asks, watching you finish the rest of the pancakes.

"N-no, I've got it. I mean, I can handle it. Thank you, though."

Kate chuckles softly, noticing your nervousness. "You seem a bit flustered. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, just... morning jitters, I guess. I'm not a morning person."

"I see." She smiles.

"Do you have any plans for today?" You look up from the pan.

"Just the usual, a bit of training, maybe some archery with Clint later." Kate asnwers as you put some pancakes infront of her. As Kate tries the pancakes, you feel a sense of relief mixed with a tinge of excitement.

"The pancakes turned out pretty great! Anyway, how about we plan something fun for later? Maybe a movie night?" Kate say while finishing her last piece.

"Sounds perfect! I'd love that, Kate." Oh maybe early mornings are not so bad.

...

Over the next month, the bond between you and Kate flourishes, evolving into a deep and cherished friendship. Training sessions become a shared routine, where sparring sessions turn into moments of encouragement and laughter, each victory and defeat strengthening the relationship between you. Kate's guidance and support during training sessions spark a newfound confidence within you, making each session not just about physical exertion but also about trust and shared goals.

Movie nights become a beloved tradition, the occasional heated debate over the best movie snacks were on daily basis. It's these moments, cozy and intimate, where you find yourself drawn further into the orbit of Kate's infectious personality, her laughter becoming the soundtrack of your nights.

Walking Lucky, Kate's faithful companion, becomes a cherished routine. You find comfort in these quiet moments, admiring Kate's easygoing nature and her love for Lucky, feeling your admiration for her grow stronger with each passing day.

Yet, as your friendship blossoms, so do the feelings within you. What started as little crush has transformed into something deeper, a warmth that lingers whenever you're near Kate, a longing that grows with each shared laugh and meaningful glance. But you bury these feelings deep, treasuring the friendship too much to risk changing its dynamics.

thank you for reading! hopefully you’ll love this new series!!! 💕💖💞

#adele writes #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #marvel fanfiction #marvel #hailee steinfeld #avengers x reader

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arseniy-arsenicum33 · 3 months

Text

All Hermits in Hero Forge!

Season 10 is coming! And I've finished modeling every Hermit (Thus far) in their TCG-cards poses!

Special thanks to Hoffen for their original minecraft models...

You've already saw these eight models in my Life-series minis showcase, slight tweaks and costume changes... I really need to buy Hero Forge subscription, so i can manipulate fingers individually... Now, for the new guys... Guess what?! I've figured out how to make links! Now you can see my references directly! Technology!

Ren got his cool casual look...

Docm77 inspired primarily by Belmarzi's design, such as this... It was very funny to suddenly stop in the middle of this project to model him hugging Snoop Dogg...

JoeHills, unsurprisingly, based on real-life Joe Hills... But I did have this comic by my side while modeling him, for moral support, because modeling someone's likeness is always stressful...

Cleo's pose pose a challenge, It uses a transparent one-legged skeleton inside the main body... Like a real armour-stand magic! I like how it turned out...

I've started watching Zedaph very recently, so both Noxolotl's and Applestruda's portrayals of him were very helpful in forming mine...

Blaise's Hermit line up was used for Cub and Hypno, which you will see down the line... Bee's art was helpful, once again, and these Cub-arts by Sylvan...

My main goal with Jevin was to somehow convincingly make a slime look slimy... I was so ready to make him as rotund as this art, but alas, program restrictions...

This art was used for False at the very beginning, but it drifted so much with the addition of cheekbones, that it doesn't look like it at all anymore...

Hypno had a surprise for me, because before making this model, I've never saw this brown line on his chest as a boob-window... But now, I am convinced... This is the art, that guided me to that conclusion... Ghostea's and Locus's portraits were useful for figuring out his face...

Iskall lifted from this art... Hero Forge doesn't have any cool one-eyed visors, so I've settled on monocle for him and Doc...

Hero Forge also for some reason doesn't have a hand-held flower, so pretend, that Stress doesn't hold a pen, okay? And has a cardigan... Based mainly on this and this art, which was also used for XB...

My best guess with Keralis was that he is doing Edvard Munch's "The Scream" ommage... Thanks to Myra and Cole , without them, Keralis would've looked more like a bug with them big ol' eyes...

Oh, boy, XB... A true enigma for me... Pictured here, lightly jogging... Only you could tell me, if I did a good job with him, I sincerely have no idea... Since this is in part a TCG-inspired project, it would've been wise to use references from the actual TCG-cards... To bad, I've came up with this idea near the end of a project...

I have made so many Xisuma-costumes, and only now I am showing you the main friendly-neighbourhood DoomGuy cosplayer himself... Do I need to credit id Software for this?

WelsKnight is my champion in regards to how many references I needed for him... 1 2 3 4 5 6 7! Despite how many armour options Hero Forge has, making something coherent out of them was difficult... Especially, keeping in mind, that one day I'm going to model HelsKnight as well...

And finally, TinFoilChef, based heavily on this stunning artwork... And somewhat on this skin by Ink-Ghoul... It all comes around...

And the Creator Himself! Beef! And his wonderful portraits: 1 2 3 4...

I actually going to use him as an example, to address something...

Here is how my screen looks, then I am working on a model... My method of creation is derivative by nature, it requires the art and creativity of other people... And I have SO MUCH anxiety about this... Not being an artist, but still trying to make something with my limited capabilities... And post it on the internet, oh horror...

With recent talks about plagiarism and AI-art, it has come to my attention, that I myself not so different from AI, just not so efficient... So, this is why I so obsessively document my influences, it is the least I can do... Credit the artists, that I stole from... Please, check out everyone mentioned, subscribe to them, commission new pieces of art...

And if you've liked my dorky "minecraft youtubers made in DND character creator" models... Thank you...

Sometime later there will be a google doc on my blog with links to every model I've ever made, go nuts with them... Try Hero Forge for yourself, it's fun...

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ceilidho · 5 months

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Hi! I've been reading your Ikea Soap series (I love it!!!), and I was wondering how would he react if the reader snapped at him. Like he finally goes too far, or she's been having a bad day and she just yells at him, saying she wished he was as nice with her as he is with everyone else. Of course she's angry and frustrated, because everyone else gets nice Johnny and she's stuck with creepy Johnny. Like she completely loses her composure, telling him how uncomfortable and creeped out he makes her feel sometimes.

On another note, when I read about Soap leaving to spend the holidays with his family, I almost expected him to show up with them when the reader is working. I can picture him introducing everyone, and it's almost as if they knew about you somehow. His mother acts like she thinks the reader is his girlfriend??? But when asked about it, Soap just laughs and turns around.

Idk, this is a little all over the place. Just wanted to say I really enjoy your work💗

thank you so much!!!! i really appreciate it!!!

hmm I think Soap has too much of a temper to put up with being snapped at. Like at first he might get pouty and look a bit hurt, but it would very quickly morph into something dark and ugly. I mean, if he's able to justify his incredibly creepy behaviour towards you to himself as it is, he'd definitely be able to justify his anger if you were to yell at him. He'd definitely snap back at you about being ungrateful (I almost wanted to say he'd say something snarky about being on your period, but I'm 50-50 on whether he'd even think about that or if that's more of a mean!Ghost thing to say).

He'd probably be a bit spiteful about it. Wouldn't help you lift something up if you asked him for help, but he'd still be hovering around nearby so he was the closest person you could ask for help. Would glare at any other employee that tries to help you and tell them that he's trying to make a point. He'd probably make such a stink about your little "blow up" because he's just got such a short fuse and he'd be so hurt to have his advances rejected in such a frank way (I know you said she snapped at him "aying she wished he was as nice with her as he is with everyone else" but I think Johnny would take that like "I don't like the special way you treat me") and Johnny lashes out like an angry dog when he's upset.

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jedijesi · 5 months

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Caught in the Cats Web Chapter 13

Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy! Reader

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, Injuries

Word Count: 3.8K

Chapter Summary: Felicia and Miguel hide from assassins on her Earth and embrace a day of normalcy.

Co-Author: @stclairesplace

A/N: All art goes to the original artist! Enjoy some calm before the storm.

New York Earth-194

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as Miguel and Felicia began to stir from their slumber. As they gradually awakened, their eyes met, and a gentle smile passed between them. The soft sheets clung to their bodies, offering a comforting embrace that made it difficult to leave the cozy haven of their bed.

Stretching lazily, Miguel’s hand gently caresses her cheek. He gently pulls her in to exchange a tender kiss, their lips moving in perfect synchrony.

“Buenos dias, sleepyhead,” Miguel whispered against her lips.

“Good morning, my handsome spider.” Felicia smiles, pulling back to hide her face in the warmth of his chest.

Feeling Miguel slightly shift to get up, Felicia used whatever strength she had in the early morning to stiffen her hand on his torso, keeping him from moving. Miguel let out a long exasperated sigh and smirked at her antics of trying to keep him close to her.

Miguel untucks his arm from underneath, now wrapping it around her shoulder so he can stroke her arms which lay haphazardly across his torso.

“Are you comfortable, Hermosa?” He asks, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Mmhmm very,” her voice was sleepy. A small smile plays on his lips as he admires the serenity that washes over her face. "I can feel you staring at me," Felicia whispers, her eyes still closed. Sensing her desire, Miguel reaches out and gently takes her hand in his, guiding it to his face. Her fingertips graze his cheek, and she can sense the contours of his features even with her eyes shut.

Savoring the intimate moment, Felicia brings her thumb up to his face, stroking his cheek, tracing the lines and curves that define his face. Slowly, Miguel guides her hand to his mouth, his lips tenderly brushing against each delicate curve and outline that adorns her hand and wrist.

“My big teddy bear,” she says with a grin, looking into his sparkling eyes.

Miguel gently pulled her arm to wrap around his neck, careful of her injured torso that followed suit. He then takes his hand to reach under her neck tilting her head up to meet his lips in a deep compassionate kiss. They break apart only for a second before Miguel mutters on her lips, “And you’re the only one who’s ever gonna see me like this.”

Felicia tucks herself into his chest, pulling the sheets up to cover half of her face.

“Mmm fine by me. I like this part of you.” Her voice muffled between his pecs.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt so-“

Felicia lifts her head from his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

“So what?”

“So peaceful.”

Her expression then shifts to concern, “Miguel-”

“Felicia.”

“When was the last time you had a break?”

Miguel blinked, eyes darting around the ceiling trying to think of the last time he did have a break, or a day off for that matter. “When was the last time we had a date?”

Felicia frowns, “You still worked that day.” Miguel’s mind searches his memory for a minute, trying to pinpoint another day. “Exactly what I thought. I’m asking LYLA.”

“No do not- why are you calling-”

“Shush” Felicia places a finger on his lips, reaching around to press the button on her watch that rests on the nightstand.

Suddenly, LYLA’s form appears in the bedroom. “You are decent right?!” she quickly covers her eyes with her hands in fear.

Felicia rolls her eyes at the AI, “Yes! We are decent otherwise we wouldn't call you.”

“Oh, well ok!” She uncovers her eyes, immediately returning to her bright bubbly spirit. “What do ya need?” she happily beams.

“LYLA has Miguel ever had a day off or any kind of break from working?”

“HA ya right! No, I’ve never been around to see it. Jess has been harboring him for a long time to take a break from working. But he always comes back to work! And then- and I mean- I mean he always comes back to work with that grumpy I’m gonna kill someone today look on his face it scares a lot of people-”

“Thank you LYLA, as always,” Miguel grumbles out.

“LYLA please silence all notifications for Miguel unless it’s an emergency,” Felicia smirks, gazing into Miguel’s annoyed eyes.

“My pleasure boss!” She fades off with a wink.

Miguel sits upright, “Boss?! Since when did you become a boss to the AI I created?”

“Well… I am the most talented Spider-person the Spider Society has… plus I’m dating the boss.” She moves to sit up, feeling the sting of her healing wound. Slowly, she repositions herself so she now straddles his waist. “Listen, we need to keep you safe, and I need to heal. I don’t care how long it takes, but that means you are taking a break!” She huffs out.

Miguel sighs a short “fine”, causing Felicia to let out a small cheer and clap her hands enthusiastically.

“What do you want to do, handsome? Anything you want!”

He rubs her legs in thought and says in a low voice, “There are a few things that I’ve been thinking of doing.” He leans forward, his lips hovering over hers, with a giant smirk plastered on his face.

“Not that.” She lightly pecks him on the lips then brings her hand up to stroke his messy hair.

“You feeling up for a walk?” Miguel inquires, massaging her hips.

Felicia tilts her head, mentally assessing her wound. “A slow one, maybe. Why?”

“How do you feel about showing me around a bit?”

She arches his brow at her idea, “Show you New York? It’s New York, haven't you seen like a thousand?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I’ve fought in countless New Yorks, but I’ve never… experienced it.”

“Ok then, I’ll show you around.” She says with a soft smile.

“Now can I have my kiss, Hermosa?”

Felicia chuckles and nods, “Yes you may,” placing her lips onto his. He reciprocates hungrily, running a hand up her thigh, and gently squeezing her bottom. After a few moments, they reluctantly untangled themselves from the sheets, their bodies intertwined until the very last moment.

Miguel helped Felicia stand from the bed before they made their way to the kitchen, hand in hand. “What do you wanna eat this morning, eggs?” Felicia asked as she looked around the fridge, grabbing some cheese and butter, as well as some fresh fruit.

“Aye! Mí vida!” Miguel scolds, ushering the woman away from the fridge and to the stool on the island. “You are not allowed to cook! Rest.” He says, placing a kiss on her forehead before returning to the refrigerator.

Felicia's eyes followed Miguel affectionately as he gathered ingredients and set up a fresh pot of coffee. The care and attention he put into each step resonated with her, a stark contrast to the hustle of her life. The last time someone took care of her like this was when her father was alive, more than fifteen years ago. Her body filled with the warmth of nostalgia, remembering the way her father would make her just about anything she wanted for breakfast.

As the eggs sizzled in the pan, the aroma of coffee filled the air, creating a comforting atmosphere in the kitchen. The two of them engaged in playful banter, their laughter intertwining to form a delightful symphony that momentarily drowned out the chaotic noise of the world outside. In those precious moments, the simple act of sharing a meal became a sanctuary, a refuge from the complexities of their superhero lives.

With breakfast now ready, Miguel gracefully carried their plates to the sunlit dining table. Gently, he lifted Felicia, placing her in her seat. Taking his place across from her, their eyes met. They embraced the rare moment, enjoying the peace and normalcy. The sun streaming through the window painted a gentle glow on the scene, making their shared breakfast feel like a timeless moment suspended amid their bustling lives.

“When’s the last time you cut your hair?” Felicia asked, her lips curling in a smile as she a forkfull of eggs into her mouth.

Miguel stared at his plate, taking a moment to process the question. “Not sure. Why do you ask?”

“Can I cut it for you sometime?”

“...Sure? Do you not like my hair or something?”

Felicia abruptly dropped her fork onto her empty plate and leaned forward, “Are you kidding I love your hair, it’s one of my favorite things about you! I’m just offering to cut it for you when it gets too long for you, that's all. Gives me a chance to play with your hair.”

“Is that so…” Miguel stared at Felicia with a beaming smile. “What else do you like about me chica linda?” He hums.

“Ohh well let’s seeeee.” She sing-songed to tease him.

Felicia smirked, savoring the last bite of her meal before elegantly rising from her chair. She carried her empty plate to the sink. The clink of plates and the sound of running water sounded as Miguel observed her with a teasing smirk, waiting for her to come up with a witty response.

“I like your butt, it’s very firm.” She nods. “Oh, I like your wide shoulders and your facial features, aaanndd-”

“Aaaannnd what else?” He says, rising from her seat and stalking up behind her, pressing his chest against her back, barricading her against the sink. He lowers his head to place small kisses along her neck.

“Aannndd you’re an incredible leader.”

He immediately pulls away from her neck, body stiff in shock as he looks down at the top of her head, dumbfounded. “There is nothing else that you like about me?”

Felicia dumbly shakes her head, as if she’s lost for words. She turns around to face him, an innocent smile on her face. As soon as she looks up at his face, she immediately breaks character and starts laughing, covering her mouth as she lets out a snort. Miguel stands in front of her, hands on his hips as his face turns red in frustration.

“Awww poor baby, I’m sorry I am.” Felicia settles down her laughing by wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing herself tightly against him. His stance is unwavering, shoulders stuck in place as he ignores her pleading stares.

After a moment she smirks against his chest, before reaching a hand down to gently run over the bulge in his boxers. “I’m sorry, baby, I’ll say it, I’ll say it.” She reaches up on her tiptoes, pressing kisses on his cheek and neck, before whispering, against his lips, ‘Baby, I love your giant fucking cock.”

Miguel’s facade breaks down as he shakes his head and leans in for a kiss. He pulls her into him, pressing his hands on the small of her back as he whispers in her ear a sarcastic “Thanks”

Felicia finally settles down, removing her arms from around his waist, and begins to exit the kitchen, still maintaining eye contact with Miguel as she leaves. “I’m gonna go take a shower before we leave.” She says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Felicia turned the corner and headed towards the bathroom, where Miguel followed closely behind. He knew she could shower by herself, but that protective side of him couldn’t help but worry. The sound of running water filled the bathroom as she stepped into the shower, her body enveloped by the warm drops of water sliding down her body.

She wipes the droplets of water from her eyes, and she turns to find a very naked Miguel outside of the shower door. “Mind if I join you?”

“Oh, please do.” She purrs.

Miguel stepped into the shower, the warmth of the water cascading down his body as he carefully began to remove the bandages that concealed the aftermath of the attack. The shower echoed with the soft hiss of pain as her stab wound met the warmth of the water.

Felicia, resilient yet vulnerable, couldn't stifle the discomfort, and Miguel couldn't help but whisper a series of apologies, each word heavy with remorse. His eyes reflected a mix of concern and guilt as he navigated the delicate process, his touch gentle yet cautious.

Underneath the gentle spray, they washed away the remnants of sleep, their hands moving languidly over each other's skin. The water cascaded down their bodies, washing away any lingering tension, leaving only a deep intimacy and connection.

As the steam filled the bathroom, their lips met in a tender kiss, their bodies pressed close together. In the shower's embrace, Miguel and Felicia found solace and passion, the water serving as a conduit for their shared desires. Their movements were slow and deliberate, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, a symphony of lust and pleasure, whispering promises to keep each other safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dressed for the winter weather of New York, Miguel and Felicia strolled hand in hand through the halls of her building until they reached the elegant lobby. The opulent architecture of the lobby captivated Miguel's eyes, and he couldn't help but appreciate the grandeur surrounding them.

"Good morning, Miss Hardy," a uniformed man greeted with a respectful nod.

"Good morning, Tom," Felicia replied, returning the nod.

"Good morning, Miss Hardy," A receptionist, chimed in.

"Good morning, Silvia," Felicia greeted with a friendly smile.

The pattern repeated as they encountered more staff members, surprising Miguel.

"Good morning, Miss Hardy."

"Good morning, Jun."

"Good morning, Miss Hardy."

"Good morning, Zara."

Miguel observed the genuine warmth and respect with which the hotel staff greeted Felicia. It was evident that she held a special place in their hearts, and the atmosphere around her reflected a blend of familiarity and mutual admiration.

“Wow,” Miguel said as they made their way to the large doors. “Do you know everyone that works here?”

“Mmhmm,” She hums with a nod. “I’ve lived here most my life.”

The doormen opened the grand doors, ushering the couple into the bustling chaos of New York City. Miguel's arm instinctively tightened protectively around Felicia as he guided her down the steps to the busy sidewalk. Once they reached the bustling street, Miguel turned to look at Felicia's building.

His eyes widened in recognition. "Holy shit, you live in The Plaza?!"

"Yeah," she replied nonchalantly. "I thought you knew that."

"I was too nervous about our date to study the building," he shrugged. "How many paintings and jewels have you stolen to afford a penthouse in the Plaza?"

Felicia smiled, her gaze shifting upward to the grand architecture of the hotel. "It's my daddy's," she revealed.

Miguel's eyes widened in surprise. Felicia had never mentioned her family before. "Go on," he urged, eager to learn more about her and the world she came from.

Her gaze shifted looking up at the glistening buildings before closing her eyes, allowing the memories to flood back, taking her to a time when life was simpler.

17 Years Ago…

The little white-haired girl sat in the window bed, the soft glow of the adjacent building lights casting a cool ambiance in her room. Moonlight danced on her shimmering hair as she played with the strands, creating a mesmerizing dance of silver.

A distant symphony of sirens echoed through the night, harmonizing with the hum of the city. Each wail was a lullaby, a comforting melody that accompanied her moments of solitude.

Suddenly, a silhouette, as dark as the night itself, swung past her window. The little girl's eyes widened in delight, the anticipation written on her face. In an instant, she abandoned her perch, the cool floor beneath her feet forgotten as she raced down the hall, guided by the echoes of excitement.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed with unbridled joy, as the figure crawled into the window. She threw herself into the waiting arms of her father, giving his neck a big squeeze.

“Felicia, what are you doing up?” Walter Hardy playfully scolded, trying to maintain an air of sternness, but his eyes betrayed the warmth of a father's love. Felicia, however, was undeterred by his attempts at seriousness, focused only on the promise of surprises concealed in the bag he carried.

“What did you bring me?” she persisted, her curiosity and excitement gleaming in her eyes as her small hand reached for the bag.

Walter, her father, continued the charade, his arm playfully evading her grasp. “Ah, ah, ah!” he chided, his tone a mixture of mock severity and amusement. “What makes you think I brought you anything, huh?”

Felicia responded with a mischievous smirk, sensing the playful dance between father and daughter that was about to unfold. "Cause I know you love me," she teased, her words laced with playful confidence.

Walter rolled his eyes as he ran his fingers over the black and white streaks of his hair, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Spoiled, daddy's girl," he said with a chuckle, as he unholstered his weapons.

Felicia batted her eyes, her legs swinging in anticipation. "So… Do you love me?"

"How could I not?" Walter smiled with the warmth of a father's love as he presented the all-white Coach backpack to the little girl.

Felicia's cheer echoed with delight as she cradled the elegant backpack in her hands. "It's beautiful, thank you, Daddy!" she exclaimed, her joy radiating from her as she leaped into his waiting arms.

"You better get better grades with that backpack," Walter teased.

Felicia smiled, her affectionate gaze meeting her father's as she pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, the bristles of his salt-and-pepper beard brushing against her lips. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered.

Today…

“You must have been close with your dad,” Miguel says as he ups her back.

“He was my best friend.” Felicia smiles at the memory as the two stroll down the bustling street. “Granted, I didn’t have any friends growing up.” She shrugs as he leans down, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The city's vibrant energy surrounded them, as skyscrapers reached towards the heavens and the sounds of honking taxis and chattering pedestrians filled the air. The cool winter breeze swept through the streets, sending a chill through them.

Felicia glanced up at Miguel, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, Mr. Smooth Talker, what’d you wanna do?"

Miguel grinned, playfully squeezing her hand. "Well, my enchanting partner in crime, I thought we just walked? And maybe go somewhere I heard about that I think you have on your Earth.” He looks her up and down with his eyes. “How does that sound?"

"Sounds like the perfect day to me.” Felicia's cheeks were warm, a playful glimmer in her eyes.

They continued their stroll, the city's rhythm guiding their steps, helping Felicia’s body to acclimate back to normal. They passed street performers, their music filling the air, and colorful vendors selling their creations on the sidewalks. The sights and sounds of New York painted a vibrant backdrop to their conversation. As they turned a corner, a street artist caught Felicia’s attention, creating an intricate mural on a brick wall. She paused, marveling at the artist's skill, her and Miguel’s fingers entwined.

Miguel's gaze lingered on Felicia, his voice filled with admiration. "You like that?”

Felicia still awestruck at the artist’s creation, only nodded her head in reply. Miguel chuckled at her response, before pulling her by the hand to continue down the street.

“Where are we going?” Felicia stumbled, being dragged by Miguel’s hand through the swarms of people.

“You’ll see.” he smiles.

When they approach a corner Miguel quickly spins around to stand directly in front of Felicia, blocking her line sight.

“Whatcha doin’ Migs?”

“Close your eyes, and don’t open until I tell you.”

“Okayyy,” Felicia reluctantly accepted whatever plan Miguel had conjured up, covering her eyes with both her hands.

Miguel guided Felicia through the entrance, his hand gently resting on the small of her back. As they stepped inside, a grand atrium unfolded before them, adorned with soaring ceilings and elegant marble columns. The building itself boasted an architectural marvel—an intricate combination of sleek glass panels and steel beams, allowing natural light to cascade into the space and illuminate the artworks within.

Felicia could sense the air of sophistication that permeated the atmosphere. The soft echoes of hushed conversations mingled with the faint melody of classical music playing in the background. The museum was a sanctuary of creativity, a haven for the masterpieces of renowned artists from around the world.

Miguel watched Felicia closely, a smile playing on his lips as he observed her eyes widening behind her closed lids. He knew she had a deep appreciation for art, and he couldn't wait to witness her reaction when they finally reached their destination.

"Okay, open them now," Miguel whispered, his voice filled with anticipation.

Felicia slowly unveiled her eyes, her gaze sweeping across the gallery ahead. She found herself standing in front of a breathtaking painting, its vibrant colors and meticulous brushstrokes capturing her attention. She gasped, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch the invisible emotions that seemed to emanate from the canvas.

"Migs, this... this is incredible," she stammered, her voice betraying her awe. "How did you know I would love this?"

Miguel grinned, his eyes fixed on Felicia's enraptured expression. "I've been paying attention, Felicia. Plus not to mention you used to steal this stuff for a living. But mostly I just wanted to see the look on your face when you see it all in one big place.”

Felicia steps away from Miguel for a split second, admiring her surroundings and the numerous rooms and hallways that possessed a different treasure.

He tentatively asked, “Are you happy?”

She quickly whips her head to look at him before saying, “Of course I’m happy, I have the best boyfriend in the world.

As they continued their journey through the museum, Miguel reveled in each moment, watching Felicia's fascination with the art that adorned the walls. He cherished the way her eyes sparkled, the way her fingers traced the contours of sculptures and the way her laughter resonated within the sacred halls of creativity.

After a few hours, they finished the tour of the museum, before exiting. They resumed their walk, the city providing a backdrop to their playful banter. They shared stories and jokes, even the occasional spider gossip, their voices intertwining like the streets they walked upon.

As they reached Central Park, Miguel pulled Felicia into his arms, spinning her around in a joyful dance. Their laughter echoed through the trees, blending with the sounds of nature.

Miguel looked into Felicia's eyes, a tender smile gracing his lips. “Thank you for today, Hermosa.”

Felicia's eyes sparkled, her voice filled with affection. “You’re welcome Migs, you deserve it.” You make every moment an adventure."

Hand in hand, they continued their exploration of the city, their laughter, and flirty remarks carried on the wind. In that moment, New York City became their playground, a canvas on which their love story unfolded, one flirty remark at a time.

Chapter 14

A/N: I know it's been a week already, but now that Thanksgiving is over we are back to our regularly scheduled fics!

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099 @www-interludeshadow-com

#jedi jesi #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #stclairesplace #miguel ohara x female reader #miguel x reader #felicia hardy #miguel o’hara x felicia hardy #miguel o’hara x felicia hardy reader #spider-man x black cat #spider man x reader #miguel o’hara smut #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man x felicia hardy #miguel ohara smut #spider man 2099 #spider-man x reader

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doll3tt33 · 3 months

Text

Your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in…

(kai anderson x gn!reader)

Summary: Kai found himself watching that terrible 90s sitcom you loved ever so dearly. However, a series of uncomfortable emotions came up, along with haunting memories of you from that fateful night. (Yes this is a fanfic, not an ai bot this time)

Warnings: semi-descriptive violence, strangulation (just that, so nothing too hardcore), death, angst for daysssss

Kai sat alone on his living room couch, the whole house plunged into darkness. The only light came from the flickering television, its pale glow washing over his motionless form, doing little to brighten the heavy shadows blanketing the room. His gaze remained fixed on this horribly cheesy 90s sitcom playing before him, but no mirth touched his hollow eyes. It wasn’t just any ordinary awful ol’ sitcom—it was your favorite, a show you'd watch religiously and always swear by. Well, used to swear by... since the light and laughter have now gone from his life, snuffed out in a blinding moment of rage by his own hands.

A light furrow settled onto Kai’s brows as the sitcom’s canned laughter erupted, grating on his frayed nerves. He was two episodes deep, yet he failed to see the appeal when the laugh track cued every half a minute at each terrible excuse of a joke. He wasn’t even sure why he was watching this. He’d always brush off your requests to watch together, so why now? After pushing you away for so long. Why subject himself to this when you’re already gone for good? His eyes lifted and caught sight of the clock, its face stirring memories better left buried, eliciting a weary sigh from him—it was 7:01 pm, when everything had changed in ways even his guilt-laden thoughts could not grasp. Yet, it didn’t matter anyways—the indentation where her body once curled beside him spoke volumes left unsaid, a ghostly echo of her presence was far louder than any crappy sitcom ever could be.

As he stared into the empty spaces she left, memories long buried began to stir—memories of that night just one week past. That first poisonous seed was planted by one of his cultists when whispers of betrayal at 7:01 pm reached his ears, feeding him lies that you were a mole during this entirety. From hearing that alone, a cluster of emotions plagued his mind as though it was a virulent host taking over, fueled by some nameless hurt. Sickly paranoia took root in an instant, anger and an undeniable hint of hurt twisted within, invading his senses, feasting upon every rational thought left. Visions of lies and disloyalty swarmed his mind, utterly consumed by the ardent flames of his bitter rage as his hands that once clung to love now curdled to vengeance, with them wrapped around your throat, his grip growing stronger with each bellow he let out.

At 7:02, air felt like the most precious commodity as your lungs burned for relief. Each sob and croak of plea choked out fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the torrent of thoughts consuming Kai, with the remaining cultists showing only cold indifference to your struggle. To Kai, you were the one thing—the only person capable of unmaking all he built, rendering the cult that defined his existence meaningless. You were his greatest weakness and his deepest love all at once, yet he could not risk allowing it to unravel what he had wrought. Not even for you. Now, you were no longer the light who touched his stony heart—only a traitor responsible for imagined betrayals. Your attempts to fight back were futile, only compelling his hands to curl tighter and tighter, his thumb pressing into your windpipe. Veins bulged starkly against his skin as you bucked helplessly in their clutch. Each struggle spurred only the demand pulsing in his blood: destroy what dared defy.

7:03 pm. Your face had lost its vibrant color, your skin paling as oxygen fled your thrashing form. When you strained to speak, only dribbles of spit emerged through your closing throat. With weakening strength, you raked your nails down his arms, yet your struggles became feeble, futile flailings. Tears blurred your vision as you silently pleaded for mercy, to make him see the truth—that you were no traitor but the one who had held his heart. One final time, you desperately searched his gaze for that one fragment of hope, of love remembered. Just a speck. But shadows had long swallowed any glint of warmth. All that glared back was a crimson fury, vengeance given form, as the darkness deep within now held full sway.

7:04 pm, and awareness began to fray at the seams, thoughts scattering beyond your grasp. Unconsciousness swiftly pulled you into its soundless depths, and you were now limp as a discarded doll. All that remained was a shell devoid of warmth—the body of one that Kai's twisted soul had cherished. A few beats of silence passed as madness loosened its hold, fingers uncurling from bruised flesh and blooms of brutalized skin. He had done it. He had actually done it. You, one of the few people capable of thawing frozen ruins within, were now gone for good.

Kai shook off memories clinging like cobwebs, trying to shift his focus back onto your favorite sitcom, finding bits and pieces, the faint remnants of you existing within the pastime that you’d never shut up about. Yet, it wasn’t the same anymore. It could never be. His gaze lingered on the vacant cushions as loneliness crept in, the empty space beside him mocked with finality. You alone had been a vessel for all the beautifully simple things possible, for him to feel what he thought was long dead—happiness, sadness, hurt, anger, and maybe... just maybe... that small spark of hope that kept him a tiny bit more human, now forever diminished.

𝜗𝜚 author’s note:

Sorry for not adding any dialogue like whatsoever 😭😭. I tried to come up with something but it came out so cringe and I just couldn’t kenensmwk. Oh and SORRY IF THIS IS NOT HOW STRANGULATION WORKS LMAO. I forgot to do my research and I’m not sure how long it takes until someone dies ((why do I have a feeling it actually doesn’t take that long 💀

Anywayss WHOO- first fic ever guys! I’m a lil’ bit insecure cuz I’m constantly like “am I doing this right?” But then I remember It’s literally just writing and I need to shut my stoopid thoughts up-

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batwritings · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 25 - Exhibitionism

More Spider hottie hours. >:3 Enjoy!~

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You’re not entirely certain how you found yourself in this situation. It wasn’t that you were complaining, oh no. Aside from the location, the fact that you were bouncing on Miguel’s thick erection to clear your body of leftover adrenaline, you were happy as a clam.

“Oh mi amor,” Miguel growls, his claws digging into your thighs. It was a welcome pain that blended so beautifully with the pleasure. You feel his sharp canines nip at your collar bone, dragging you impossibly closer.

You were lost in this blissful haze for…well, you’d long lost track of time. Your spider suit was torn to shreds, but you couldn’t even be mad. That last mission had been a near disaster and this was the perfect way to get that leftover adrenaline out of your system.

All was going so well and you were inching closer to your end when your spider sense began to tingle dully in your head. “Fuck…n-not now…” you whined, leaning into every single touch the Latino man laid on you. You did so well at ignoring it all up until you heard the door to Miguel’s office slide open. “Heads up lovebirds, you’ve got company,” you could hear Lyla advise. As if having the slightly-obnoxious AI present during this all wasn’t enough.

Your lover pulls you down all the way onto his cock, forcing you to effectively straddle him in his lap. He used that absurd super-human strength to hold you in place, not letting you continue to ride him. You tried to whine, but bright red webbing wound it’s way around your throat. It didn’t stop you from breathing, but certainly cut off your whine.

“Hey hey Miguel!” Oh fuck it was Peter B. Parker, of fucking course. “Don’t worry, I promise I didn’t bring my little bundle of joy with me. But I do have some new pictures I just have to–”

“What do you want?” Miguel’s tone was cold as always, as if he didn’t have your sloppy walls gripping his member like a vice. “I’m in the middle of something here, so whatever it is make it quick.”

“In the middle of what? Brooding?” Peter laughs. Many members of the Spider Society gave your lover a hard time for how hard he was constantly working. None of them blamed him of course, and it was perhaps their own way to try to help him cope with his past.

You could hear the tell tale signs of the society’s local dad release some web. Next was the sensation of his feet touching down onto the pedestal where their leader loved to sit. You looked to Miguel with panic in your eyes, knowing damn well you two were about to get caught. He shot you one back, one you knew all too well.

“C’mon you gotta see–” Peter’s words dropped from his mouth when he saw the situation the both of you were in. Your arms were wrapped around Miguel’s neck, his claws digging into your hips as if to claim you as his. You were seated firmly on his cock, and you couldn’t help but laugh internally at the blush Peter was now sporting.

Without a word, Miguel leaned forward and bit into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The pain and pleasure blending with each other had you gasping, a long moan falling from your lips. The Latino man lets you go, licking his lips while making direct eye contact with Peter.

“I’m in the middle of something,” he says again, eyes never leaving your interloper. “Can. It. Wait?” Each word gets more and more forced. You can practically hear Peter nodding, a series of “yeah” “sure” and of “of course” leaving him as he makes a quick escape.

Once the door is shut, your lover sighs in annoyance. You feel your body involuntarily clench around the hot, thick cock inside you and piercing ruby eyes look to you. “What? Did you like being watched?” Miguel purrs, giving you a devious smile.

You feel your cheeks heat up, any thoughts getting cut off as you’re lifted up so your boyfriend’s member can slam back into you. “Answer me cariño,” he commands, setting a brutal pace of fucking you again. You’re barely able to think, but by some miracle, your answer falls out.

“Y-yes!” You moan, gripping onto Miguel’s forearms like a lifeline. “L-loved being watched. W-ant you to cl-laim me in fron-nt of them…! Mmh! Mi-guel…!” You can hear the Latino man groan against your skin as you are all but pushed over the edge.

Your skin buzzes with pleasure as you milk his cock for all it’s worth. Your sex leaks against the remains of your spider suit and a bit onto his, but you can’t bring yourself to give a damn. Miguel is not far behind you, his hot cum painting your insides.

The grip on your hips doesn’t lessen at all by the time you are both finished. You’re held close as you feel Miguel inhale your scent. You press a kiss to the top of his head to assure him that you were still here, still solid. A soft chuckle that reverberates against your collar bone catches your attention.

“So mi corazón likes to be watched huh? Maybe we’ll make him stay next time.”

#bat writes #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader

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reivelation · 1 year

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literary references in evangelion

toji suzuhara, kensuke aida, and the last name horaki are lifted from characters within ryu murakami's novel ai to gensou no fascism / fascism of love and illusion.

nerv's motto is a quote from pippa passes, a 1841 verse drama.

"God's in his heaven— All's right with the world!

this line is also quoted in anne of the green grables.

"'God's in his heaven, all's right with the world,'" whispered Anne softly.

isao takahata's anime adaptation anne of the green gables also includes a scene similar to the ending scene of the anime series.

the name of episode 26 (the beast that shouted i at the heart of the world) is a reference to the book by harlan ellison, the beast that shouted love at the heart of the world, a collection of short stories. "i" sounds very similar to "ai", meaning love in japanese.

the greek tragedies, oedipus rex and electra which is fairly self-explanatory... i hope... with the show's use of freudian concepts (shinji's oedipus complex and misato's electra complex respectively.)

the human instrumentality project is a reference to the book series by cordwainer smith, instrumentality of mankind.

despite that, the human instrumentality bears a striking resemblance to the plot of Arthur C. Clarke's 1953 novel, childhood's end.

plot synopsis on goodreads:

The Overlords appeared suddenly over every city--intellectually, technologically, and militarily superior to humankind. Benevolent, they made few demands: unify earth, eliminate poverty, and end war. With little rebellion, humankind agreed, and a golden age began.

But at what cost? With the advent of peace, man ceases to strive for creative greatness, and a malaise settles over the human race. To those who resist, it becomes evident that the Overlords have an agenda of their own. As civilization approaches the crossroads, will the Overlords spell the end for humankind . . . or the beginning?

in asuka and kaji's introductory episode asuka strikes, there are four battleships in the UN convoy named after the shakespeare plays titus andronicus, cymbeline, othello and tempest.

in 2.22, kaji says he feels like urashima taro, referencing the japanese legend named after it's titular character, a fisherman named urashima taro. the legend goes that the fisherman rescues a turtle and is rewarded by a visit to the dragon palace where he is entertained for several days but when he returns to the human world, he finds that he had been gone for at least a century and everything around him has now changed. this is a metaphor for how kaji left tokyo-03 for only two years yet feels as though everything around him has now changed.

episode sixteen being titled (there are alternate titles to several evangelion episodes) sickness unto death after the philosopher soren kierkegaard's book of the same name exploring christian existentialism.

speaking of episodes being titled after philosophical works from the victorian era, is the hedgehog's dilemma. originally described in arthur schopenhauer's collection of philosophical reflections, parerga und paralipomena. the hedgehogs dilemma is a theme seen over and over again in evangelion with episode 4 being titled after it.

the title of evangelion 3.0 + 1.0: thrice upon a time references the book with the same title, thrice upon a time by james p. hogan.

It's amazing enough when Murdoch Ross's brilliant grandfather invents a machine that can send messages to itself in the past or the future. But when signals begin to arrive without being sent, Murdoch realizes that every action he takes changes the future that would have been...and that the world he lives in has already been altered!

Then a new message arrives from the future: The world is doomed!

as qmisato pointed out, anno has referenced james p. hogan's works previously as well (nadia: secret of the waters' final episode being titled inheritor of stars referencing hogan's novel inherit the stars)

#my work #analysis #evangelion #toji suzuhara #kensuke aida #hikari horaki #asuka langley soryu #shinji ikari #misato katsuragi #yui ikari #ryoji kaji

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writeforfandoms · 10 months

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Warrior Song 8

Find the series masterlist

Again: playing fast and loose with canon. Noteably with AIs and how they operate or don’t operate over distances. Also, I am not a medical professional, so y’know. Keep that in mind.

We hit our first major road bump since the fall of the Infinity.

Warnings: violence, blood, questionable medical advice, swearing, some lack of self-value, Feelings, sweetness at the end.

Word count: 2.7k

The next few days were quiet. Eventually, you had gone back to the Pelican, Fernando had apologized, and the lot of you had gone on your way to the next clue.

Nobody brought up the cuddle pollen again.

“Anything new?” you asked Joy idly. The AI had connected to your tablet to help keep track of things in multiple places at once, so you’d taken her along with you to gather up water. The stream you’d tested was clear and drinkable, so you were busy refilling water bottles and big containers to haul back to the Pelican.

“Not yet,” Joy said, using the speakers on your tablet. “So far this place is pretty quiet!”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” you drawled.

“Wait.” Joy was quiet for a few moments. “I’ll update you later.” And she was gone, attention pulled to whatever was going on with Blue Team.

Unease churned in your gut, but you figured she’d let you know if there was anything you could do to help. So you just finished up with your task, taking the refilled water bottles back to the Pelican before you and Fernando team lifted the water tanks.

“We’ll have to head back to base soon,” Fernando puffed as you two shoved a water tank back onto the ship. “Getting low on fuel.”

“I’m surprised it took this long,” you agreed with a little huff. “I feel like we must have traversed half the ring by now.”

“Not quite,” Fernando said, shoving the tank back into place. “But close. And still no closer to having answers.”

You hummed, taking a seat. “Well, either they’ll find answers, or there aren’t answers to find anymore.” You shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe the part of the ring that got blown up, or whatever, is the part that had the answers. Maybe they don’t exist anymore.”

“Would be nice if that’s that easy.” Fernando sighed. “Never seems to be, though.”

You hummed, tipping your head back against the wall of the Pelican. “Hopefully we’ll get some news soon. All of this is more boring than I thought it would be.”

“That’s because you missed all the fireworks,” Fernando said, sinking down into the seat next to yours. “That first week was…”

“A lot?” you suggested gently.

“That’s one way to put it.” Fernando sighed. “Come on, one more tank to move. Let’s get it done.”

“Alright, alright.” You stood again and stretched your arms up over your head. Then you followed Fernando outside and got to work.

You didn’t hear anything, didn’t see anything. One minute you were helping carry the tank of water, the next there was a boom and your leg collapsed out from under you. Fernando yelled, scrambling for his gun, and you blinked stupidly for a moment.

And then the chittering of Jackals caught your attention, and you decided now would be a good time to move. Only your leg wouldn’t support your weight, and you crumpled with a shout.

Fernando fired off two quick shots, kneeling next to you. “Can you move?” he asked, keeping his weapon raised and trained on where you assumed the Jackals had been.

“No.” You clenched your jaw tight, pain lancing up your leg as you tried to move. A quick look showed blood. A lot of blood. A through and through shot, maybe.

“Okay. This is gonna suck.” Fernando took one hand off his gun to haul your arm up and over his shoulders. And then he stood, dragging you with him. For a moment, the pain was so intense you feared you’d scream or black out, but you did neither. Just breathed harshly through your teeth and tried your best to keep your weight off the injured leg.

Fernando fired again twice more, swearing near constantly under his breath. “Almost there,” he huffed.

Your eyelids fluttered, attention fractured between the agony in your leg and the boom of shots being exchanged across the new battlefield.

“Almost there,” Fernando muttered again. Two more shots - one from the other side, one from him. And then the two of you stumbled into the interior of the Pelican and he slammed the button to close the ramp.

You fell to the floor with a high whine, panting through the pain. Logically, you knew this was bad. It certainly felt bad.

“Joy, I need help here!” Fernando hit the floor next to you, hands hovering over you. “Oh shit. That’s a lot of blood.”

“Press down,” you wheezed, pushing up on your hands to sit up. “Need the rags.”

“You need biofoam,” Fernando objected, shaking his head, eyes wide.

“No.” The vehemence in your own voice surprised you. “Save it. Only have two.” You took a deep breath, fighting through the pain and the shock. You’d never been shot before. It hurt, a lot more than you thought. “Medical crate.”

Fernando grabbed the crate and dragged it over, throwing the lid somewhere. He grabbed one of the biofoam canisters and you slapped his hand away.

“Not for me,” you insisted, shaking. “Rags, under the exit wound. On top. Press hard.”

“You need–”

“Listen to me.” You grabbed his hand with your blood-slicked one, holding hard. “Stop the bleeding. No biofoam. Not for me. Too precious.”

“Joy, where the hell is my backup?” Fernando yelled, freeing his hand to put the biofoam injector down and grab bandages. He packed a few under your thigh, under the exit wound, and you keened when he had to move you.

“On their way back,” Joy finally answered, sounding about as stressed as you had ever heard.

“Press hard,” you reminded Fernando, taking several fast breaths. He pressed hard and you stuffed your wrist into your mouth to muffle your shriek.

“This is not good,” Joy said. “You’re losing blood fast.”

“Just let me use the biofoam,” Fernando practically begged, though he didn’t let up on the pressure.

“Steady pressure,” you reiterated. “It will stop.” You laid back, starting to feel woozy. “I haven’t bled out yet. Probably not an artery.”

“You are insane,” Fernando snapped. “Fucking insane.” But his hands didn’t let up at all. “Can’t I use some of that powder stuff?”

You shook your head, clenching your hands into fists. “Too deep,” you murmured. “Won’t help. Pressure.”

“Yes, keep pressure, stop the bleeding, I got it.” Fernando was sounding even more freaked out though. “You’re not passing out, are you?”

“Not yet.” You hissed out a breath as he leaned harder on your thigh. “You’re doing great.”

“Do not tell me I’m doing great while you’re refusing the best treatment, you–” He broke off to swear in Spanish.

“It’s fine,” you assured him, closing your eyes. “We’ll worry about stitches later.”

“Stitches?!” His voice climbed at least an octave on the word.

“You’ll do great.” You opened your eyes again, feeling a little blurry. “We can risk some of the… the tea.”

“What’s the risk?” Fernando didn’t move yet, watching you like a hawk.

“Need to stay awake,” you mumbled. “Just hand me one.”

He hissed out another slew of curses but shifted his weight to one hand, pressing down hard enough that you whined. His free hand grabbed a vial of the tea and handed it to you, blood smeared all over the vial. It was a struggle to sit up enough to drink some and not just slosh it all over yourself, but you managed.

More shots fired outside caught both your attention and Fernando scrambled for the gun.

“It’s Blue Team,” Joy was quick to say as the ramp started to lower. “I’m letting them in.”

“Thank fuck.” Fernando dropped the gun again, refocusing on you.

Chief was the first one in, dropping to his knees next to you. “Status,” he demanded.

“Through and through shot,” you gasped, hands curling weakly. “Didn’t hit an artery, would’ve bled out already. Fernando is doing a great job applying pressure. Next is…” You licked your lips and drew in a deep breath. “Next is stitches.”

“Use the biofoam.”

“Don’t you dare.” You lifted your head to glare at John. “We only have two.”

“Base has more.” He grabbed one of the canisters.

“We can’t make more of those,” you argued, trying to push up onto your hands to argue. Kelly knelt behind you, firm hands on your shoulders keeping you down. “They’re valuable.”

“So are you.” John moved Fernando’s hands and injected the biofoam into the wound. You slammed a fist into the floor, both from the pain and frustration.

“John–” you started before your leg twitched reflexively and you sort of whited out, a little.

“Isn’t that stuff supposed to be numbing?” Fernando asked anxiously, still hovering next to you.

“It takes a minute,” Kelly said, voice cool and calm. “The bleeding is already slowing.”

“They were using an MA40,” Fred reported as he and Linda clomped up the ramp onto the Pelican. “A few stragglers.”

“So just shitty luck,” you wheezed, trying to focus on anything but how much your leg hurt, which really only emphasized how much your leg hurt.

“We’re going back to base.” John dropped the empty canister to the side and started clearing away the bloody rags. You lifted your head to watch and swallowed. That was a lot of blood that was outside your body.

“Fluids,” you muttered, almost by rote. “And rest.”

“An excellent prescription,” Kelly agreed smoothly. “One that perhaps you’ll follow.”

“She will.” Fernando scowled at you, although you could see the fear behind the anger.

You waved a hand limply and let your head thunk back against the floor. “Fine. Couple days off it should be enough.”

A big hand caught one of yours, holding you gently, like you were delicate. To a Spartan, you kind of were, actually. A quiet conversation took place over your head about moving you to a seat versus leaving you on the floor. You voted for just staying on the floor.

Apparently someone was still listening to your muttering, because John sat behind you to brace you, letting you lean back against his chest while Linda brought you water. Fernando stood outside long enough to wash off his hands before he stomped into the cockpit and shut the doors.

You did feel a bit bad about that.

As the adrenaline wore off and the biofoam did its job, you found yourself leaning harder back against John. He was the only thing keeping you upright, really.

“We will have a talk about this,” he rumbled in your ear, and, oh, that was his normal voice. Unmodulated. He wasn’t wearing his helmet. You managed to look in his direction, blinking slowly. He was stubbly, just a little. Idly, you wondered how that would feel under your hands.

“We will?” You finally got your mouth connected to your brain again.

“Yes.” His jaw clenched for a moment, and you watched the play of muscles under his stubble with absolute fascination. “When you’re lucid.”

“‘M lucid.” You blinked again sluggishly. It was work to peel your eyes back open.

“Rest for now.” One hand landed on your hip, helping to anchor you in place as the engines whirred to life and the Pelican lifted off.

You grumbled a little. Time blurred. It took much too long between blinks. You felt the Pelican in motion, then landing. Then the clamor of voices, hard armor under you, sudden pain in your thigh as you were lifted.

Then dim lights and something more or less soft under you. You slowly pushed yourself upright, hissing softly at the residual ache in your thigh.

“You should be laying down.”

You blinked at John, wondering briefly how you’d missed him. He was a hulking mass in the corner, dressed down in a slightly too tight shirt and pants. “What time ‘s’it?”

“0200, approximately.” He shrugged.

“Why are you still up.” You lifted one hand to rub your eyes, wrinkling your nose at how dry you still felt.

John was quiet for a few long moments, long enough that you refocused on him. “I needed to keep watch.”

You almost very stupidly blurted out that you were in camp, why would he need to keep watch? Then you realized. He meant you. Keep watch over you. It was his way of admitting he’d stayed up to make sure you were okay.

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you smiled, despite yourself. “I’m not dying,” you murmured.

“Not tonight.” His lips pressed together, briefly distracting you. “You could have.”

You sighed. “It was a logical choice,” you murmured, shifting your weight very carefully on the bed and letting your hands fall to your lap. “Biofoam is not something we can manufacture or replace here, whereas rags and pain tea are readily available.”

“It’s not the call you would have made if one of us was shot. If Fernando was shot.”

You hesitated, because you knew he was right. If Fernando had been shot, or John or the others… You would have used the biofoam. Without question. You sighed, shoulders drooping, sinking in on yourself. “You’re right.”

“So why?” He finally stepped closer, his arms dropping to his sides.

You frowned, struggling with the words for several long moments before you sighed. “You’re critical,” you finally admitted, gaze down. “Fernando is your pilot, you need him. Blue Team are all irreplaceable.” You swallowed hard. “I’m just a medic.”

“And that makes you more replaceable.” He knelt slowly next to the bed so he could catch your gaze.

“Yes.” You closed your eyes, breathing slowly. “I’ve made some hard calls since we’ve all been stuck here. Sometimes that means someone dies. Sometimes it means just a lot of pain and a slower recovery.” You finally looked at him, throat tight. “I’d rather have the supplies for you, in case you need them. Any of you.”

John was quiet for several long moments, giving you time to calm down again. “Your reasoning is flawed,” is what he finally said.

“What?” You blinked at him, running through your argument in your mind again.

“You’re critical, as well.” He leaned in slowly, carefully, only getting close without touching, until he was mostly all you could see. “You’re not just a medic. You’re not replaceable.”

“John?” You licked your lips, eyes wide, focused entirely on him.

“I’m not good at this,” he muttered. One hand very slowly closed over yours, sending your pulse racing somehow even faster.

“Neither am I,” you admitted, barely even daring to breathe. “Don’t tease me. What do you mean?”

John blew out a slow breath, the only outward sign of his nerves. “You are… special. To me.” His fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours. “I would like to… have more. With you.”

“Like a relationship?” You couldn’t keep the hope out of your voice if someone had paid you.

“Yes.” He swallowed, holding very still. Waiting for you to decide.

“I would very much like that.” You smiled, shy and pleased and overwhelmed. “Can I kiss you, John?”

He considered the question for a moment before he nodded, just slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

You freed one hand to cup his jaw - his stubble was a delightful little rasp under your fingers, and you smiled. Slowly, giving him a chance to stop you or pull away, you leaned in, until you could press your lips to his in a chaste kiss.

Your eyes fluttered open again to find the tiniest of smiles on his lips. “How was that?” you asked softly, unwilling to risk this new thing between you.

“Acceptable.” He paused. “Further research will need to be conducted.”

“Of course.” You tamped down on your own grin… mostly. More or less. It was entirely gone when he took the initiative to kiss you again.

You could have quite happily gotten distracted with kissing him for the rest of the night, except that pain flared in your thigh, reminding you that yes you had gotten shot a matter of hours ago. At your grimace, John frowned a little and started pushing you back to lay down.

“You need more rest.”

“So do you,” you muttered. “Please get some sleep tonight.”

“I will.” John leaned down to press a very careful kiss to your forehead. “Good night.”

“Night.” You watched with your heart in your eyes as John rose, as fluidly as if aging wasn’t a thing that existed to him, and left the room.

Your dreams were surprisingly pleasant, for once.

#warrior song #master chief x reader #john-117 x reader

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 7 months

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One Bad Day....Jason's Death

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 8. Panic Attack, 12. Character Death, 23. Begging, 31. Crying, Alt. 13. Grief Fandom: Batman, Batfam, Batmom, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd Summary: Before Red Hood rescued her, before she was in prison, before she killed The Joker, Batmom experiences one of the most devastating losses of her life. Word Count: 5587 TW: Canon Character Death, Mentions of Torture, Brief Description of Injuries, Grief, Breakdown, Tears, Anger, Character Picks Up Reader Note: This is part of the One Bad Day.... series but can be read as a one-shot (though best to be read after Part 3)Part of @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event.

Series Masterlist

It has been three days since you have heard from either Bruce or Jason and you are starting to get worried. Actually, you are way past worried—you are terrified. Something is wrong, you can feel it in your gut. A gnawing queasiness deep in your stomach that has you unable to eat or sleep while you wait for some sort of news.

Usually, you wouldn’t give this radio silence a second thought. While Bruce tries to send some sort of word as often as he can while out of town, it just isn’t always possible. Especially when he is away on this kind of work. Batman is a force of secrets and mystery. He can’t always risk finding a way to call his wife to tell her he is alright.

You pull the blanket that is draped over your shoulders tighter around you and continue pacing. Alfred had placed it there a few ago, the last time he had come to check on you. When you had first begun to worry, the butler had remained by your side providing constant reassurance and support. But after a while, once it became clear you wanted to be alone, he retreated upstairs. Occasionally, he returned to the Batcave to bring you some food, water, or something to keep you warm, but otherwise, he had been keeping his distance. However, you know the second you call for him, he will instantly be there to get you whatever he possibly can. If only he could get you the one thing you truly wanted right now….

As if summoned by your silent wish, you suddenly hear the distant roar of a familiar engine growing louder by the second. Whirling around, a huge smile of relief on your face, you turn just in time to see the Batmobile burst into the cave and come to a stop in its usual spot. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe again as the driver-side door opens up and you catch a glimpse of Bruce, still in his Batman costume though he has removed his cowl and gloves.

Throwing your arms open wide as you approach the car, you exclaim, “There’s my boys!” Bruce doesn’t look at you as he climbs out of the Batmobile and walks slowly over to the passenger side. “I was just about to send out a search party. How was Ethiopia? Did you find–”

You stumble to a halt, your smile slipping from your face. An icy vice clamps down on your heart as you see Bruce lift something out of the Batmobile: a small limp figure wrapped in a torn yellow cape that reveals small glimpses of the red suit underneath through the holes and tears. Though the cape is also draped across the person’s face, you know immediately who is under it.

“No….” you gasp as your blanket slips from your shoulders to pool at your feet. “No, no, Bruce, no. Please, no.”

As you wait for Bruce’s response, you cling to that last fragile shred of hope that it’s not what you think, that maybe he’s just hurt under there or sleeping or…or…….

But as your husband silently walks past you and lays the body on one of the nearby tables, the drawn, pained expression on his face coupled with the tender care he takes carefully arranging it is the final confirmation you need.

Dropping to your knees, you let out an almost inhuman wail as the truth of the situation slams into you like a nuclear blast. Your baby’s gone. Jason is dead. And you have lost yet another child.

You collapse forward, your forehead pressing hard against the cold cave floor as another wail tears through your chest. No. It can’t be true. Jason has to be alive. He has to be. Oh please, God, please don’t tell me you’ve taken my baby from me. Not again. Please.

As you continue to sob—worldless howls of grief and pain—you feel Bruce drape himself over you as if trying to shield you from this agony….but it’s too late. The damage has already been done and you have been irreparably broken.

In what seems like hours later, once you have exhausted yourself to the point you no longer have the energy or tears left to cry, Bruce sits back and pulls you carefully into his lap. As you lay curled in his arms with your head resting on his chest, you can feel his heart beating beneath you—so strong and steady—and it hits you that you will never again feel Jason’s heartbeat or hear him take a breath. All of those little signs of life you take for granted are just gone…and so is he.

Lifting your head to gaze up at your husband, you force your words through your aching throat, torn raw from all your screaming, and you ask, “What happened?”

“The Joker,” Bruce says as he brushes a tear off your cheek. “He used Jason’s birthmother to lure him in, then he placed both of them in a warehouse that was rigged to explode. I arrived just as the bomb went off. I….I was too late to save him.”

The sound of Bruce’s voice breaking and the tears in his voice sends another jolt of pain into your heart and you nuzzle your head into his neck as you squeeze his hand. He silently squeezes back and you have to stifle a groan as you feel the bones in your hand shift and crack in his grasp, but you don’t say anything. You just let him continue to squeeze your hand long after the point it turns numb.

You haven’t seen Bruce fall apart since the two of you lost the baby. Regardless of what heartbreaks or fights had come your way in the years since, Bruce had remained calm and stoic through it all. It’s just who he was. He was your rock, your lifeline in the roughest of waters, your source of comfort when you needed it the most—so the sight of him breaking adds another layer of grief to your own.

When he finally loosens his grip and you can tell he has regained some of his composure, you whisper, “Did he…. Did he hurt him before…?”

Bruce hesitates for a moment before murmuring, “You don’t need to know the details.”

Which means yes. The Joker had probably tortured and beaten your baby bloody before blowing him up. Another sob threatens to tear from your lips, but you manage to quell it so it is just a whine deep in your throat. You had cried enough for the moment. Right now, you need answers and to come up with a plan. But first…you need something else.

Untangling yourself from Bruce’s arms, you unsteadily get to your feet and begin walking over to the table. Bruce leaps up when he sees what you are doing and he gently grabs your shoulders blocking your path. “Don’t. Sweetheart, just…just don’t. Trust me.”

“Let me go. I need to see him.”

You try to shrug him off but he holds you firmly in place. “No. You don’t. Don’t let that be the last image you have of him—I wish it wasn’t mine. He’s gone and seeing him like that won’t bring him back. So, I’m begging you, don’t.”

“Get out of my way, Bruce,” you growl as you glare up at your husband. “I need to see our son. I need to see what that monster did to him.”

For a moment, you aren’t sure what Bruce is going to do. His eyes flit across your face, trying to find the slightest hesitation he can grasp onto. But when he doesn’t find any, he sighs and slowly lowers his hands as he bows his head and whispers, “Please…Don’t look.”

But you have already pushed past him before he finishes his sentence.

You approach the table with a determined stride, yet you hesitate once you reach it. Jason was always a slight kid, even verging on scrawny, but he had never seemed smaller or more vulnerable than as your hand hovers over the cape still draped over him. Even that first night Bruce brought him home to you, he had so much fire and spirit in his little twelve-year-old body that his presence filled the room. Now, three years later, that fire and spirit had been extinguished and it hits you all over again how young he truly was—how young he would always be.

You feel Bruce come to stand just behind you but he doesn’t say a word. He has tried his best to stop you so now all he can do is wait for you to live with your decision and be there for the aftermath. Knowing he is right there for you gives you a renewed sense of strength and as you take a deep breath, you pull back the cape to look at your son.

Bruce was right. You shouldn’t have looked.

Some of the damage you are expecting based on what Bruce told you. Burns litter Jay’s face and neck as well as his hands. In some places, they are light, almost invisible unless the light catches them just so. However, in other spots, the burns are so severe you can almost see down to the bone. His hands are the worst, so charred and blackened that you fear touching them despite the longing in your chest to hold his hand once more in yours. Looking at the burn patterns, it seems heartbreakingly clear that Jason had tried to protect himself from the blast by throwing his hands in front of his face…he had seen it coming.

Yet as horrible as that realization is, far worse is the damage you weren’t expecting to see on your son.

Beneath the burns and debris from the bomb, Jason’s body is broken, bruised, and bloody in ways that an explosion couldn’t have caused. One arm and leg jut out at odd angles and there are dark bruises all over his face, neck, and the parts of his torso you can see through his ruined suit. One eye is swollen and black, his nose is bent sharply to one side, and his lip is split open wide. You have seen enough blunt-force trauma up close and personal to understand what had to have caused all of this.

Casting one last longing look at your son, you turn to face Bruce. You are visibly shaking, and when you speak, your voice is dripping with venomous fury, “Where is he?”

“Clark is tracking him down and he’ll alert me the second he finds him.”

“And then?” Bruce glances away, unable to look at you. Disbelief washes over you and you step closer to your husband. “Bruce, don’t tell me you are thinking of letting him live.”

“It’s not our place to–”

“He killed our son!” you hiss as you point to the body of the child you both loved. “Jason is—Jason is dead because of that maniac! We can’t let The Joker get away with this!”

“We won’t.” Bruce takes your face between his hands and bends over so his forehead is almost touching yours. “I swear to you, we will find him and throw him back into Arkham where he belongs.”

Wrenching from his grasp in disgust, you snarl, “For how long? A few weeks? A month if we’re lucky? Then he’ll just find another way to escape like he always does and he’ll hurt more innocent people, more people we love. How can you not see that this has to end? That it should have ended years ago.”

“My heart—” Bruce tries to take your hand but once again you snatch it away from him. “I know you don’t always agree with it, but we have a code. A code you agreed to follow when you joined me. And that code means that no matter what The Joker or anyone else does, We. Don’t. Kill. Otherwise, what makes us any better than them?”

“Maybe I don’t care about being better than them anymore. We’ve done things by the book, followed your rules, and where has that left us? Two dead children and a third who barely survived being shot. And you still talk about trusting the same system that allowed it to happen in the first place. Well, who’s next, Bruce? Who will be the next victim in your moral war? Alfred? Dick?....Me? Whose death will it take for you to realize that this won’t end unless we make it end?”

Bruce stares at you as if he is looking at a stranger and not his wife of ten years. Shaking his head slightly, he says, “I understand you’re hurting right now and you’re not thinking clearly. But once some time has passed and the feelings aren’t as raw, you’ll—”

“I’ll what? Forget my son is dead?” you snap.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean? Give it time and things will just go back to normal? That this pain will fade and I won’t care that my son was murdered?”

“Our son.”

“What?”

“Our son,” Bruce says. His voice has a sharp edge to it that momentarily takes you aback. “You keep saying ‘my son’ like you’re the only one who lost him. I know what you and Jay had was special but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love him too, or that I’m not in agony right now. I had to watch, helplessly, as that warehouse exploded knowing I was too late to save him. Then, I dug with my bare hands for almost an hour through the wreckage praying for a miracle only to find—” Bruce presses his hand over his eye as he takes a long, slow, shaking inhale then continues “And then I had to fly home watching vigil over our son’s body, all the while dreading this moment. Knowing I was coming home to shatter the woman I love. But the only thing that made that thought bearable was knowing we could mourn together and lean on each other for comfort. Yet all you can focus on is revenge and murder!”

“No, Bruce. I’m focusing on keeping the family I still have safe. I’m focusing on protecting this city just as you swore to do. I’m focusing on ending terror and chaos in the streets. And if that means one psychotic clown has to die to make that happen, then so be it.”

“We do not cross that line. Ever. No matter who we think deserves it. That’s just how things have to be.”

“Don’t you get it! Jason would still be alive if you had just—” All of your fury evaporates instantly and you inhale sharply as you realize what you were about to blurt out. Bruce’s expression hardens into a stone-cold mask usually reserved for the most lowsome of criminals and, stumbling back, you stutter, “I-I mean…I—”

“If I had what? Say it. Say it!” Now it is your turn to not meet his eye yet he pushes on. “You were going to say that if I had just killed The Joker years ago, Jason would still be alive!”

“I didn’t mean it. It just slipped out,” you whisper. “I know this isn’t your fault, Bruce. You told him not to go but I encouraged him to do what he thought he had to do. That I would support whatever decision he made.” Your voice cracks as you choke out, “I sent our baby off to his death, not you.”

It is the thought that has been nagging at the back of your head since you saw Bruce lift Jason’s body from the Batmobile. The unbearable truth you’ve been unable to face. Bruce had known something felt off about the situation and he insisted Jason stayed home. But when Jason came to you saying he had found his birthmother and needed to go see her, you put your foot down and forced Bruce to take him. If you had just listened to Bruce, if you had just really examined the facts instead of wanting to show Jason you were supportive, your son would still be alive.

Suddenly, it felt like the walls of the Batcave were closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath. Stumbling back a few steps, you say, “I-I can’t do this. I have to get out of here.”

The anger in Bruce’s face disappears as quickly as it appeared. He reaches out to you with a soft, “Sweetheart—” but you continue to back away.

“No. No, I need to go. I-I need to be alone.”

Bruce nods slowly. “Alright. That’s okay. Why don’t you go take a long shower and lay down and I’ll take care of things down here. I’ll come check on you when I’m done.”

You nod back and hurry over to the stairs leading up to the manor. But just as you begin to climb them, you pause and mumble, “I’ll be in Jay’s room.” then flee up the stairs before Bruce can stop you.

Once back in the manor, you move in an almost trancelike state towards the bedrooms. As you pass the kitchen, you hear a soft sniffling and you realize Alfred must have come down into the Batcave at some point and seen what happened. You have been so preoccupied with your own grief, you completely forgot about the butler who loved Jason almost as much as you and Bruce did.

Part of you wants to go back and join him. After all, Alfred always knows how to fix anything and everything and maybe, somehow, he can fix this too. Yet as much as it pains you to admit, there are just some things even Alfred Pennyworth can’t do. So you continue walking.

When you reach Jason’s room, you don’t even pause before opening the door and shuffling in. In one fluid movement, you collapse onto your son’s bed and roll over, dragging his comforter with you until you are cocooned beneath the blanket.

It seems impossible that just three nights ago you were sitting on this very bed with Jason next to you as he told you about how he had been tracking down his birthmother. He had been so scared to tell you for fear he would hurt your feelings. But you had just gathered him into your arms and pressed your lips into his hair as you promised him you would always be his “Ma” regardless of what happened on his search. That you would always love him….

Tears you did not think you could still cry began slipping silently down your cheeks. What would you have done differently if you had known that was the last time you would see your son? What else would you have said to make him understand how much he meant to you? How he had saved you from your grief once before and how you still needed him now?

You bury your face deeper into his pillow as you finally allow yourself to ask the question that you know will haunt you the rest of your life:

Could I have saved you if I had been there?

For the next twelve days, little changes. The only time you leave Jason’s bed is to go to the bathroom, but otherwise, you lay curled in the center of his bed wrapped in his blankets and staring at his wall. Bruce and Alfred take turns coming to check on you several times a day, usually bringing food or drinks and trying their best to coax you into consuming something. You take a little nibble here and there or take a few sips of water, but it isn’t long before you return to your near catatonic state.

Even when Dick arrives a few days after you learned of Jason’s death, it doesn’t make much of a difference. You do allow him to climb into the bed with you where you wrap him in a bone-crushing embrace, afraid if you let go you’ll lose him just like your other children. But eventually, he has to leave and you resume your solitary existence.

On day seven, Bruce slips into bed behind you and wraps his arms around you. For a long time, the two of you just lay there in silence. Then, softly, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “Please, sweetheart, please come back to me. I know you’re hurting. So am I. But I just lost Jason and I can’t….I can’t lose you too. Please, let me in. Let us help each other through this….Together.”

You know he’s right, and it kills you to know you are only adding to his heartbreak, but you just don’t have the strength or the will to be what he needs right now. So, you remain motionless in his embrace, your eyes never shifting their unseeing stare at the wall.

Eventually, Bruce accepts nothing is going to change. Pressing his lips to the nape of your neck, he whispers, “I love you. Please never forget that. And I’ll be waiting, as soon as you’re ready.” Then he slips from the bed and you are alone once more.

The next major change in your routine comes exactly two weeks after Jason’s death when Bruce and Alfred walk into Jason’s room holding a simple black dress. Silently, you allow them to put it on you before they lead you downstairs where Dick is waiting with the car. No one has to tell you where you are going. You already know.

For the short drive, Bruce sits next to you in the backseat, holding your hand tightly as he presses his lips against your temple with whispers of encouragement and love. You squeeze his hand back but make no other acknowledgment of his presence or support. You catch Dick glancing back at you in the rearview mirror a few times, concern etched on his face, and you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. That thought makes you withdraw even further into yourself in shame.

As Alfred pulls to a stop, you make no move to exit the car. Alfred and Dick both glance at Bruce for some sort of guidance as to how to proceed, and he motions for them to get out. Once you are alone, Bruce pulls you into his arms. “If I could spare you from this, you know I would. But we have to make some sort of public show or it’s going to look suspicious. And people are already asking questions. But I promise, the second we’re done, I’ll take you back up to the house. Okay?”

You nod, knowing he is right however much you despise it, and he smiles softly. Placing his finger under your chin so he can tilt your head back, Bruce kisses your forehead as he whispers, “That’s my girl.”

Then sliding his hand into yours, he opens his car door and steps out before helping you out. Immediately you are met with flashing lights and the whirring click of hundreds of cameras all pointed in your direction. You try to ignore them as Bruce leads you down the path lined with photographers and reporters, your face a blank mask void of any emotion.

But that mask becomes harder to maintain as you hear the slight tittering of whispers passing through the crowd. And though you have over a decade of experience being the subject of Gotham’s rumor mill to get used to the kinds of things people say about you, these reach a new level of cruelty:

“Look at the heartless whore. Can’t even spare a single tear for that poor boy Bruce so kindly took in.”

“I heard she didn’t even want to come today but Bruce insisted. Can you imagine? He deserves so much better.”

“She wasn’t even there when he died. Bruce planned a family trip overseas and she refused to go. She would rather stay here to be waited on hand and foot by that butler of theirs than spend time with her supposed family.”

“I bet she had something to do with the boy’s death. Probably didn’t want to share the Wayne fortune with anyone else. Bruce and the older boy should watch their backs. They could be next.”

You remember a time when you would have gone off on these people. Snapped back about how they didn’t know anything about you or your relationship with your family. Caused such a scene Bruce would have had to sheepishly drag you away while his face glowed bright red. But not today. Today all you want to do is curl up in a ball in front of them as you sob, asking how they can be so cruel or heartless to not see your pain or the devastation at your loss. How they could come here—here of all places—just to add to your suffering.

But you don’t. Instead, you allow Bruce to continue leading you forward until you stop in front of the freshly dug grave with the casket placed beside it.

Bruce (well, probably Alfred) had worked out all the details while you were locked in Jason’s room. A plot had been selected in the small graveyard on the edge of the Wayne estate, right next to where Bruce’s parents were buried. The casket is closed so you can’t see how they dressed Jay, but Bruce had promised you in the car that he tucked Jason’s Robin mask into his pocket like you asked. It was the only input you had given on the whole ceremony but it did make you feel a little better knowing he had it with him.

To the world, this may just be the funeral of Jason Todd, but in reality, today you are burying two people, and you wanted to honor that.

Dick comes to stand next to you so you are sandwiched between him and Bruce. Though you don’t as much as glance in his direction, you are grateful to have your remaining son beside you. It is a calming reminder that not everyone has been taken from you. At least…not yet.

As the ceremony starts, you hold your head high and stare straight ahead. It is harder than you thought, the weight of a hundred eyes boring into the back of your head, but you manage to remain calm and composed throughout the sermon.

It isn’t until they begin lowering the casket into the ground that everything goes wrong.

Unable to take your eyes off of the box containing your son as it disappears into the dirt, your body begins trembling violently as your knees give out underneath you. Luckily, Bruce catches you before you hit the ground but his touch does little to ease your trembling.

Still staring at the casket, you begin repeating, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

Bruce pulls you tight against his chest, allowing you to bury your face into his jacket to muffle to sound. You claw desperately at the back of his suit, your chanting becoming more frenzied by the moment despite no longer looking at the grave. It’s just too much. All of it’s too much. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

Mercifully, Bruce gently lifts you into his arms and carries you back to the car. You cling tightly to him, your arms around his neck, even as you continue shaking and babbling, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

“Shhh….” Bruce coos gently. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You did so good. I know he’d be proud of you, just like I am. But it’s over now, and I’m taking you back to the manor just like I promised. It’s going to be okay.”

You nod into his neck as you finally manage to quiet down some. The words are still swirling in your head but at least they are no longer spewing from your lips. You thought you were stronger than this. You thought you could at least hold it together for an hour for your family’s sake, but you were so wrong.

Even though it had been a closed casket funeral, knowing Jay was in there, seeing it disappear into the ground forever…it finalized everything in a way you hadn’t felt yet. All those days laying in Jason’s room, numb and disconnected from the world, you had distanced yourself from the reality of the truth. But there was no escaping it now. Jason was gone and there was nothing you could do to change that.

When you reach the manor, Bruce once again lifts you into his arms though you half-heartedly tell him you can walk on your own yet part of you is glad when he ignores you and continues to carry you up the stairs. You are somewhat surprised when Bruce returns you to Jason’s room without even asking. For some reason, you had assumed he would try to take you to the master bedroom to be with him.

You expect him to climb into bed or kneel down beside it, but once again he shocks you as he simply turns and walks to the door. He only pauses a moment to say, “I had Alfred put a fresh change of pajamas on the dresser.” Then he walks out and closes the door behind him.

You aren’t sure what to think about this. Has Bruce finally given up trying to reach you? Was he more embarrassed about your behavior at the funeral than he admitted? Or has he finally accepted you need time alone to deal with your loss?

Still pondering his behavior, you climb out of bed and slip off the black dress you are wearing. Tossing it to the side, you walk over to the dresser to look for the clothes Bruce mentioned. The sooner you get them on, the sooner you can return to your blanket cocoon and lose yourself to your fog of grief once more.

But as you spy the pajamas and you reach for them, your eyes land on something on the wall. Despite the fact today is May 11, Jason’s calendar is still turned to April. Since he left for Ethiopia on April 25th and was killed on the 27th, he never got the chance to change it. He would never know which classical author’s picture had been selected for May. Instead, Jason ran out of time and now it will forever be stuck on William Shakespeare.

Time….If only you had more time….

Three and a half years. That’s all the time you had with your son. It seems insane that someone who was in your life for such a short amount of time could leave such an impact on you, but there is no denying it. You know deep in your soul that you could not have loved Jason more if you had given birth to him or known him since the day he was born. He is your son just as much as Dick is, as much as the baby you had lost is, and now he’s gone too.

And it’s all because of The Joker.

For the first time since you had crawled into Jason’s room that first night, something besides sorrow stirs in your gut. The red-hot burn of vengeance that you have let your grief extinguish suddenly flares to life in your veins and your hands clench tightly on the edge of the dresser.

Memories begin flashing through your mind: Sitting next to the bed, begging God to save an 18-year-old Dick as he clung to life after being shot by The Joker while on patrol; Monitoring the Batcomputer in horror as The Joker released his laughing gas throughout the streets of Gotham; Listening to Lt. Gordon’s sobs as he told Bruce what The Joker had done to Barbara; Watching Bruce lift Jason’s lifeless body out of the Batmobile as your heart shattered in your chest.

He is responsible for all this death and this pain, year after year after year. He is the reason other villains think they can get away with whatever deadly scheme they have up their sleeves. He is why Arkham Asylum has become a swinging door deterrent that no one fears. He is the one who killed your son.

And he’s not going to get away with it any longer.

Every cell in your body knows what has to be done, yet you also know the consequences if you do it. Is stopping this lunatic really worth destroying what’s left of your family? Can you really give up everything to ensure no one else ever feels this pain you are feeling?

You think about if your places had been reversed and it had been you who had been killed instead and there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that Jason would have burned the world down if it meant stopping The Joker. And if that’s true, how could you do anything less for your son?

With a newfound purpose driving you and a clear goal in your sights, you flip the calendar to May and pin it in place. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stares back at you as you press your finger to May 27th; 16 days from now and exactly one month after Jason’s death. That will be the day. The day you do what you should have done long ago. The day you will kill The Joker.

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