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hyoer · 1 month ago

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Project: Get Over Bob (2)

pairing. Bob Reynolds x reader

synopsis. Bob likes someone that’s not you and now its up to you to carry on Project Get Over Bob.

warnings. Mentions of suicide (vagueish), mentions of child abuse and forms of non-physical self-harm, mentions of drugs :( Bob just struggling a lot with life but reader and the team are there to make it better even if it’s just a bit. Lots of angst and no comfort… Yet. Also, a bit of kissing. I may have made reader english unintentionally :) expansion of readers relationship with the team!! The Void and a little?bit of the Sentry make an appearance.

word count. 6.5k

Notes at the end of this chapter

part 1.

Phase: Bob?

Robert Reynolds grew up like a dog, held taught at the neck, beaten into submission for the hell of it. He'd spent 29 years running from the cage he grew up in.

From backwater towns to unkind cities, across borders and oceans, he was always searching for his next high.

And every time he found it and crashed, he crashed harder.

All of his misfortune had led him to Kuala Lumpur. What better place, he thought, for cheap meth and good food?

Not that he could afford either once he landed. His so-called "working holiday" quickly devolved into sleepless nights and cheap motel rooms.

The lab was a nightmare, and the splitting of his mind it hurt, it hurt so much. But none of that pain could compare to the guilt.

The sickening knowledge that he'd hurt people.

That he'd become the thing he feared.

His father had always told him: Violence is in your blood. One day, you'll understand it's not cruelty—it’s survival. Bob had spent his life trying to prove him wrong, only to fail.

Waking up in the vault was terrifying. But that fear was eclipsed by the feeling of something stronger, the opportunity of a real life.

A final chance.

He regarded it as the single most important moment of his life. Sure, getting the sentry serum was life-changing. But he’d give it up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping what he had now.

And you were there the day it all started.

You weren’t a child assassin like Yelena, or a phasing shadow like Ava, or a walking weapon like Alexei, Bucky, or Walker. But you moved with purpose. Precision. That quiet intensity set you apart. You weren’t the strongest in the vault. But took twice as many hits as you dealt and got up three times as fast.

Now, in the tower, most of Bob’s nights were spent with you. He’d perch himself on your sofa, fingers picking at the frayed threads along the armrest, eyes blurred but never closed. You’d talk about everything. The strange weather patterns, Alexei’s obsession with marketing, the new taco shop opening downstairs—mundane things, your voice soft and steady, trying to anchor him.

The room always felt smaller when you were there. Your presence was a warmth that filled every corner, something he could almost reach out and hold if he wasn’t so afraid of breaking it somehow.

But even you couldn’t keep the thoughts out.

The silence between your words gave them space. The darkness of the room fed them. And the safety you offered made them bolder.

“I wish I’d died in Sarasota.” he said one night.

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with a fear he hadn’t expect.

“Hey—no, no. Please don’t say that, Robert.” you moved closer “Please just- just look at me.”

Your hand cupped his face, fingertips grazing the edge of his jaw, soft and trembling.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t sexual.

It was a safe feeling touch, he’d always wanted that.

You always gave it to him.

“Look, I won’t tell you that you can’t feel like this, it wouldn’t be right for me to say that. But you’ve been working so hard to unpack your issues and work at them, please, please just give yourself the credit you deserve.”

He blinked up at you, fighting the urge to look away.

“Most people go their whole lives never even trying to unpack their pain,” you continued, voice low but unwavering. “But you—you’re facing it. That’s brave.”

And for a moment.

The void inside him seemed to shrink that bit smaller.

Being at the tower felt freer than the life of a nomad he’d adopted for the past 7 years. There were still plenty of rules, curfews, schedules and therapy sessions—but the structure gave him purpose. It kept his mind and body active.

Every morning, Yelena would bang on his door like a madman.

“Make sure you grab your coffee ~” she’d call through the door, already bounding halfway down the hall by the time he’d have opened his eyes.

There, he’d find you with your back turned, shuffling through the music on your phone, tapping your foot lightly to the beat. He’d reach over and grab two cups for you both before heading out for a run in Central Park with Yelena, well, he’d be attempting to run, but that was besides the point.

He’d run beside Lena, wheezing through half-finished stories about old jobs or nights he barely remembered. She’d hit back with tales from the Red Room. They were always darker, sometimes sad, but she was a master of comedy so he’d be barking out laughs between gasps for air the whole way.

Once she was finished torturing him he’d head back to the tower to meet Ava in the lab.

She was helping him work toward his GED—something he’d started years ago, then abandoned when life got too loud. Now, with all the time and resources in the world, he thought it would be a good time to start again.

Ava was the best teacher he could ask for.

She never rolled her eyes when he forgot how to do something, never laughed when he misread something aloud.

Her teaching was patient and kind.

She wasn’t much of a talker, which was a given with her solitary upbringing, but that was fine with him. They’d spend time in comfortable silence, with Bob occasionally breaking it to ask a question. Both of them used to the quiet, neither of them quite understood what normal looked like but their quiet friendship fulfilled them both.

After finishing up with his work, Bucky would usually steal him away for sparring.

“You keep dropping your guard.” he’d grunt, tossing Bob onto the mat for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

“I don’t have a guard.” Bob would mutter, staring up at the ceiling begging someone, anyone for a break.

He hated physical exercise.

The sentry serum had made Bob invincible and while he didn’t feel any pain, his frustration was with his lack of ability.

His strength was absolute, his body impenetrable, but, he wanted to be able to move around with the same grace and stealth that the others did.

Bucky pushed him harder than anyone else.

But it never felt cruel.

It was focused and encouraging.

Like he was his older brother who believed in him enough to never go easy.

You’d sometimes be there too, just out of sight in the adjacent room. You’d be reviewing mission footage or deep in a debrief.

Bob liked it better when you weren’t watching. Not because he didn’t want you there, he just preferred to keep his exploits or lack thereof between the senator and himself instead.

Dinner was one of the best parts of his day.

Sitting at the dinner table didn’t involve endless lectures or threats of harm. Alexei and John would always be the first ones at the table, seated across from him like some sort of strange uncle-nephew trio. They weren’t constantly at each others throats but when they were it was way more entertaining for him.

John always had a dumb joke ready but Alexei managed to always have a weirder one. Half the time, they would argue about whether Kramer vs Kramer was a Christmas movie or if John had browned the butter well enough for the banana bread.

“Why do you even eat potatoes like this?” Alexei would say, stabbing one with his fork “It is so dry, no soul.”

“You’re literally Russian dude?!!” John would shoot back his voice raising an octave.

“Russia has great food, you know my father-”

Bob was definitely not listening to the rest of that. But he would smile and finish his meal with a warmth in his heart and that’s all that mattered.

You and Bob would take your daily walks after dinner.

The city was quieter at night.

Well, New York never really was, but it was quieter in the way Bob liked. Just a low rumble of traffic in the distance and the occasional click of footsteps as you both aimlessly wandered.

Bob chuckled at your retelling of your siblings meeting Ava for the first time. His smile lingered even after you’d finished talking, it was a strange one. It felt like he was half-sincere and half-lost in thought. His steps slowed and he turned to you, “You’re one of my best friends, y’know, just thought I’d tell you.” said more like a question than a statement.

You smiled. “That’s why you’ve been looking constipated this entire walk?”

He huffed a laugh, but his face still has a serious look “I mean it. It’s not just because we have to live together or mission stuff. You’re always there for me even when I’ve been hard to be around.”

“Bob, you’ve never been hard to be around, ever.”

He didn’t respond right away. His jaw flexed and eyes fixed somewhere past your shoulder.

“I guess I-I just keep thinking” voice low “That I’m this ticking time bomb. Like the more time you guys spend with me, the quicker I’ll blow up a fuse and hurt you all.”

You were quiet for a second. Then you said, “You ever think that maybe we don’t need protecting from you? That having you around is so good that we’d be willing to keep the Void at bay forever? I would go through hundreds of rooms for you Robert, every damn day if I had to, I’m sure the others would too.”

You didn’t say anything else, and he stared at you for a moment before sputtering out that it was late and you both should head back. He really hoped you hadn’t noticed how red his ears were.

Bob thought that maybe you liked him the way he liked you.

But he decided to push silly thoughts like that away. You would have said that to everyone.

It wasn’t that Bob himself didn’t like you; he just felt as though pursuing you would be another Malaysia. He would somehow grip your light so tightly that it would burn only you, leaving him at the centre of yet another massacre. And Bob was far too kind, he cared for you far too much to doom you to a life of walking on eggshells.

He would get over you. And he knew just what to have to start his journey.

A sweet treat.

Bob didn’t plan on finding the bookstore.

He was walking to find a new dessert place, the serum left him with a serious sweet tooth.

Bob liked walking on Main Street. Sure, there was always a major risk of him literally destroying everyone in the city if the transdimensional being in him escaped but, the feeling off blending in and being normal was worth the risk.

He walked for another ten minutes before he saw it.

The bookstore that you were always raving about. You had begged the whole team to come with you, rambling on about the idea of a book club in preparation for the new Christopher Nolan film, but your pleading had been interrupted by Mel informing them all they had press to finish up.

He decided he’d go in and find you something, that should cheer you up.

Bob wandered into the store, trailing his fingers along the many books, stopping only when he'd collected too much dust for his nose to handle. It reminded him of a place he’d hidden out in once, years ago.

Different city.

Different Bob.

“You looking for anything specific?” came a voice.

He turned and saw her.

A short woman with long loose waves nestled into a bun, a pencil sticking out of her pocket and reading glasses hanging around her neck. She looked at him cheekily and something about the intensity of her gaze flustered him.

“I’m-I’m not really sure, I’m looking for a friend but I have no idea what she would want.” he replied honestly, scratching the back of his neck.

She smiled, “Those are the best kinds of searches.”

Their first conversation was short. She’d recommended some kind of fantasy novel.

He’d bought it and you were so happy that you spent the next two weeks singing Bob's praises to anyone and everyone.

That included Lily.

Bob came back the next week to pick something else out. And the week after that.

And each time, Lily was there with a new recommendation. With questions about what he liked, how he was doing, how you were doing.

Sometimes they talked for a minute.

Sometimes ten.

Bob never told her who he really was, nothing about the Thunderbolts stuff, though he was sure she knew.

Just said his name was Bob and that he was working on “getting his life together”.

She never pried. Never asked why his hands sometimes shook, or why his eyes would occasionally glow. She always spoke to him gently and laughed at his shitty attempts at jokes in a way that made him feel like maybe he was just a guy in a bookstore.

Someone normal.

One day, he decided to be brave, “You ever uh free for a coffee?” he'd asked, the words almost catching in his throat.

“As in to drink it? Or are you asking me out?” she looked surprised.

Shit, she looked like she was freaked out, he almost backed off right then, but he decided to push through. He nodded “Yeah yeah uh the second one.”

She studied his face - not judgmental, just thoughtful - “Okay, yeah sure, but be warned I’m coming in hot off the back of an awful relationship. Like the guy was Loki levels of out of his mind, I may go crawling back.” she joked.

Bob smiled.

“Here. Take my number.”

Once outside with her number tucked safely into his breast pocket, he took a moment to take in a breath.

He thought about you for a second, your smile, your voice and he felt guilty, but you didn’t like him. It was ok for him to move on and he was sure you’d support him putting himself out there.

Right?

Phase 3

Phase 3 was not feeling as easy as you’d predicted it would be.

Not thinking of Bob was difficult. He engulfed your every thought, every second of the day seemed to stretch out further than you thought possible when you worked on any task that didn’t include Bob.

Even sleep didn’t offer a break.

In your dream, Bob appeared doe-eyed, curls falling over his face and his skin glowing. Your hands were roaming his body and his breath was hot against the shell of your ear. He was calm and collected, his movements slow as he cradled you tightly to his chest.

His head turned to you, his lips inching closer to your face and then all at once pressed against yours. His head angled to the right to swipe his tongue against your bottom lip, the action causing you to gasp and heat to bloom in your chest.

As your hands began to reach for his face, they fell through, jolting you awake. Your bed cushioning your movements didn’t stop your face from hitting the side of the bed frame.

You’d never made out with anyone before, so how the hell did the kiss feel so real.

“What the hell?”

Huffing you drag yourself to the bathroom, you find Bucky there brushing his teeth. You say nothing to greet him and the strangeness of your silence isn’t lost on him.

He offers a smile as he makes his way out of your shared space, he’ll bother you later once he brings back a red velvet from the store near his and Steve’s old place in Brooklyn.

Remind yourself to get an electric toothbrush, this one is struggling to withstand the force of your anger as you scrape each tooth with all of your strength.

You were doing so well to not fall back into thinking of Bob.

So why did this dream have to screw everything up?

By the time you’re done damaging your enamel it’s time for another hellish sparring session with John.

Good Lord, you were not in the mood.

You unwillingly tread down to the gym, smelling the clinical bleach mats before you round the corner.

The gym always smelled like sweat, chemical cleaner, and testosterone — basically John's cologne. You pushed the door open hard, making it slam against the frame making John jump from the noise and trip over the weight in front of him. Wait did that weight say 2000kg holy shit-

“What crawled up your ass?” he barked, startled but recovering quickly.

“Nothing. Just thought I’d get a bit of payback. You ready?” He smirked.

The mat is thick beneath your bare feet, cold and spongy. Walker stands a few feet away, stretching out his legs, the muscles in his arms rolling under his shirt. For someone so impossibly strong he sure was wirey looking.

Captain America, my ass. You reminded yourself he had limits — he had to.

You both began circling each other, and a quick step to each side had you both falling into a familiar rhythm.

“You know he came by asking for you, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything.” you swing your fist, miming a punch, daring him to act.

Walker was always too trigger happy for his own good.

He would always bite.

“Y’know its pretty obvious to everyone include Bob that you’re distancing yourself from just him,” he said, launching at you with flurry of jabs. You dodged most, but he caught your shoulder and stomach hard.

Jesus that hurt, you deserved an extra matcha latte for lunch as a reward.

“Yeah? Well, he’s the one glued to his girlfriend’s side every hour of the day.” you step back with your arms up “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

He raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing “If you don’t like him, then why would it—”

“Oh my God, John,” you cut him off, voice tight “Everyone knows. I know Bob knows I like him. I don’t understand what people want from me! I’ve been kind. I talk to her, I talk to him. I haven’t said anything mean or snarky, I’m not making a scene. If they’re in the room, I don’t disappear... I’m trying.”

Your breathing was heavy and you could feel the pressure rising behind your eyes. You weren't prone to emotional outbursts and John felt like he’d provoked you without reason.

“What else am I supposed to do?” you whispered.

John looked like he was going to say something — probably a joke, probably one of his usual offhand lines to break the tension.

But he didn’t.

“I see him with her and it really hurts.” your arms dropped and you began to take the next few of his punches half-heartedly. You weren’t fighting back anymore.

Just standing there, letting the blows land and getting back up like clockwork.

“I-I can’t do this. I’m sorry”

You turn away, walking over to the wall pressing your forehead gently against the cool panelling. It’s the only thing that you could think to do to ground you. John comes up behind you, placing his hand on the top of your back, patting it like he would do to his son when he was helping him drift off to sleep.

John spoke, his tone gentler than usual.

“How do you always eat my hits like that?” he asks “You sure you’re not a mutant or something?”

You half-laughed, half-sighed, “If I was, I wouldn’t be a B-grade superhero like Variety said.”

He snorted behind you “And you believe the opinion of the magazine that made me ride my shield like a horse?”

You both laugh. John stands there with you until you calm down.

He tells you to clean up and head back upstairs, he says he doesn’t need you so stressed out so close to you guys’ next mission.

As you make your way up to the kitchen to fill up your water bottle you pass the library, freezing when you see two familiar figures sitting side by side on the floor.

Their arms are fitted so tightly next to one another, they look like their melting into each other. Lily reaches out and nudges a stray curl back behind Bob’s ear.

You feel sick.

Bob’s cheeks flush a little, and he gives her a sheepish grin and you make the mistake of scuffing your slippers across the floor in an attempt to walk away. They both look at you wide eyed, like they’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Hey guys” your voice gentle “Looks like a tornado flew through here, what you up to?” you’re hoping the fake texan twang is enough for them to not see the obvious awkwardness on your face.

Bob giggles and she explains their plan to find the ultimate saag paneer recipe, both finishing the others thoughts and animatedly nudging each other when they think the other ones wrong.

You decide that the scene is too intimate and too domestic and you need to run away.

Bidding them goodbye with a wide smile you all but run past the kitchen to go to your room and stew in your jealousy.

While Lily continues to argue the importance of the four forms of taste Bob swallows hard, his gaze distracted and brows slowly knotting together.

Something seriously doesn’t make sense with you.

You sit with your knees up on your bed, the soft glow from your bedside lamp casts shadows across the room. You make shapes with your hands and play with the shadows, your headphones are playing something by Lorde that makes you feel worse somehow.

That’s a first.

The door to the bathroom slowly cracks open, Ava’s brown curls visible as she inches her way in as quietly as possible.

“I’m awake y’know.” you grin at her, she was so cute when she was trying to be sneaky.

She guffaws “Yeah I k-knew.”

You stare at her accusingly with your brow raised.

“Ok so I thought you were asleep, so what? You can tell me off later once you tell me why you flooded your room on purpose.”

“I plead the fifth.” your expression completely deadpan.

“We’re both English! That doesn’t work.” she laughs out, not angrily but with the same tone a mother would with her child.

“Technically-“

She stops you “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the flying boy that you’ve been pining over?”

“That’s a low blow c’mon.” your pout is unintentional, you love Ava but you do not need to think about him even more after the day you’ve had, it would ruin the plan even more than it already had.

“Can we just drop the topic of Bob and just hang out? Since you’ve already snuck your way into my room”, she stills for a moment and without warning jumps onto your bed and grabs your waist. With her head in your lap you begin to thread your fingers through her scalp.

She mumbles something, half of her mouth buried in the plush fabric of your pyjamas. You’re sure it’s something about the way you keep the room way too cold for comfort.

This is nice you think.

Maybe you don’t need just Bob after all.

Phase 4

Never mind maybe you do.

Bob seems to struggle less and less with the concept of never seeing you around, he fills his time with Lily and her life. You think he seems to fit in fine with her spin classes and zoo dates. Not that there’s anything wrong with exercise and animals.

It isn’t your life, Bob isn’t your boyfriend and he would never want to be.

Ouch.

Maybe you really were on the cusp of really becoming invisible to him.

Just like you wanted?

Whatever, you didn’t have time to think about Project Get Over Bob anyway, Valentina had scheduled a gala to honour the ‘ex- Avengers’ as she called them. None of you were happy with the phrasing and you were sure Sam would talk you, Buck, and Joaqins ear off when you met up later tonight.

Your dress had been fitted a month or two before and Mel had scheduled a glam team for everyone so you go through the first half of the day abnormally relaxed.

You, Yelena, John and Alexei make your way downstairs first. You hear someone mumble about there not being enough space for everyone in the car but the air is so cold and bitter they’re lucky your ears haven’t frozen off by the time you’re off to the venue.

Once there, you struggle to get the train of your dress to stop sticking to the bottom of your heel, you curse loud enough for Alexei to notice and carry you out like a doll.

“Your dress ok my little firecracker?”

“Yeah thanks Lexei. You guys go ahead, I wanna go to the bathroom before heading in”

He nods and turns around, walking towards the others and wrapping his arms around them, binding them to himself as he rushes them in.

As you finally look up at the scene in front of you, your breath stutters.

The building in front of you was immense.

The lights perched about the balcony and grounds are blinding, and you grip the train of your dress in an attempt to calm your nerves. You focus on the sound of constant chatter and the feeling of the pebbled walkway under your heels.

Before your time with the team, you’d worked as a paralegal with the Govenor of New York. It was thankless but looked great on your Linkedin. You hadn’t figured out how to write Avenger in the current jobs section without seeming like an idiot yet. Galas were a common part of your job so you weren’t worried about having to network.

No what you were nervous about was keeping your cool around Bob. You’re sure that seeing him in a suit would kill you.

Now, back from the bathroom you feel a lot lighter and not just physically.

“You’re looking very foxy tonight lady.” without hesitation you reach out behind you to hit Joaqin.

“Why’d you say the same thing to me at every event dumbass.” the man gives you a bone crushing hug and another pair of arms snake around you while he squeezes.

“Buck been training you too hard or something? You look tired.” Sam and Joaqin really were tied at the hip recently, maybe Bob’s comment about them reminding him of Tina and Tina was right.

Wait, get yourself together, no more Bob!

You talk to the both of them for around twenty minutes before you're all ushered into the main room. You move effortlessly between the hoards of investors, senators and random people that you really don’t know, spitting out jokes and making conversation that the others on your team definitely don’t understand. You forget they didn't have to go full corporate for their previous day jobs.

God bless your internship at EY.

As you make your way over to the buffet, a voice calls out your name, you turn and see your friend Finley. He’d worked on a campaign with you a few years back.

You missed being less busy, even the stress of a political campaign was quieter than the constant press and training that had taken over your life. His sudden appearance was a welcome distraction.

“Look at you,” he said, pulling back to take you in “Avenger, huh? Still can’t believe you went from filing out my paperwork to fighting eldritch horrors.”

“Hey it’s not my fault you were so bad at your job.”

You both laughed and decided to find a nook to reminise about your awful pay and long nights together.

Your conversation was cut short when your phone buzzed in your clutch. A quick glance at the screen showed Bob was calling you.

You swipe the notification without a second thought.

You tell youself to remember the plan.

But you feel it suddenly, like someone is burning the side of your head with a lighter. What the hell?

When you look to your left, you see him.

Bob stands a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

His suit is black, tailored so precisely it looks painted onto him. The jacket hugs the top of his shoulders so deliciously, when he moves the fabric pulls just enough to remind you that he actually does have muscles and it isn't just rainbows/kittens under there. His shirt was crisp white, the contrast against his tan skin made your throat dry.

But it’s his face that really leaves you breathless.

His heavy brow bone, sharp and prominent, is even more pronounced under the chandelier lights. Shadows pooled in the hollows of his brow, making his already intense features twice as alluring. And his eyes—

God, his eyes.

Wait he looks really pissed.

His usually kind blue eyes looked unsettling, flashing wisps of black and gold. Did Bob always look like he was wearing eyeshadow or was it just today?

His gaze flicks from your face to your phone, then back.

He’d seen you ignore the call.

For a second, you brace waiting for him to say something, to call you out right there and then. But instead, Bob just… turns away but not before you see something raw flicker across his face, you just cant figure out what.

You text him a few times, a flurry of messages explaining you were in the middle of something important and were going to call him back, you promise.

Bob just replies with a thumbs up and tells you not to worry about it.

That somehow makes you feel worse than if he'd told you off.

The rest of the evening is fine, you have fun stuffing your face with courgette tarts but are worried about what to do when you get home. You’re leaving for Ulaanbaatar tomorrow morning and really don’t want to leave on a bad note.

The team was beat by the time the night was over, you all piled into your cabs and single-filed your way up to your rooms.

You’re two steps into yours when Bob lightly pushes his way in before the door closes.

“Hey”

His voice soft.

You turn, and there he is, still in that damn suit, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Was he trying to make you pass out on purpose? His eyes are tired, not angry. It makes you feel guilty, you’d have prefered him to be angry.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” he states.

Not an accusation.

Just a fact.

You swallow. “I’ve been busy. The mission prep—”

“Don’t.” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do that. Not with me.”

You want to look away, but his gaze is so strong it feels like the room is falling away and all you can see is him.

“You haven’t hung out with me in weeks.” he says “You stopped eating breakfast with me, you did a U-turn in the hallway when you saw me last week and I know that you hate pottery so whats going on?” a pause, he looks nervous “Did I do something?”

Your chest aches “No. It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. How could you explain? That every time you saw him with Lily, laughing at some joke you weren’t part of, it felt like he was ripping your heart out with his bare hands. That you were supposed to be over him, but you weren’t, and it was eating you alive?

Before you can force out another lie, Bob’s breath hitches. He can see the cogs turning in your head, attempting to lie to him again.

Wait, was the air in the room becoming thicker or was it the stress of the situation settling into your body?

His hands clenches. His pupils dilate—too wide, too gold.

Gold? Shit.

“Bob—” You step forward, but he staggers back, not wanting to touch you, bracing himself against the wall. His knuckles turning white where they grip the plaster, cracks begin to form under his palm.

That was not good.

“I don’t understand what the fuck your problem is! You go f-from telling me you aren’t avoiding me and that we’re such great friends to complete silence. I just, I don’t know what I did to make you upset with me.” his voice tapers off as he lowers his hands from the wall, the anger and frustration leaving his body only to be replaced with the sinking feeling of dread that maybe you really didn’t care for him.

“Hey, sweetheart I think we should both just calm down I’ll-“

“NO, no I won’t, I refuse to be ignored. We’ve devoted ourselves to you, don’t you see that!!” his voice is hoarse and it sounds as if all three of them, Void, Sentry and, Bob are shouting at you.

His body begins shaking and before you can even think you and Bob are completely gripped by the inky black tendrils of the Void.

The Void swallows you whole.

You land on your knees in a familiar place.

“No, no, not here, not again” you whine.

Maria Hill stands to your left, frozen in time.

You missed her, you missed her more than anything.

But you refused to live through it again, you worked so hard to come to terms with that day and it was a low blow for him to show you the room that you’d already worked so hard to leave a year before.

The scene changes and she’s there, right in front of you, bleeding out on the concrete.

Again.

And again.

“You like pulling cheap shots every time you force me to come here?” you scoff, sure the place scares you, but you calm yourself when you remember that Bob is stronger than whatever torture the Void is willing to put you through.

He’ll be here, you know he will.

“It worked on you last time, what’s the harm with trying twice?” a static-like voice whispers out from behind you.

The dark figure steps out in front of you, gripping your arm so tightly you can feel your muscle and bone press grind together. Despite the pain, you can feel him.

Feel Bob.

His presence calms you enough to stop struggling with the vice like force on your body.

You reach out, holding his face. The action angers him. You can’t see him but feel his features curl into a snarl.

“You think that a pathetic fucking human being like you can touch me or calm him? You think he dreams of you or thinks of you even a fraction of the amount you do.” his grip tightens even futher.

“Even the team, they think you’re dead weight, they tolerate you. Nothing more”

Suddenly Bob appears and he’s not alone.

He’s got an arm around Lily, whispering something in her ear and kissing her so deeply it feels innapropriate to observe.

You try to look away but his hand, Bob’s hand, grips your jaw leaving you unable to turn your head.

The Void purrs, his tone amused "He pities you and wants your attention because he’s bored, once he has her do you think he’ll care? He’s too kind to tell you to fuck off"

The Void senses your sudden hurt and latches on.

Digging deeper, he flashes every humiliating memory of yours—failed training sessions, missions where you froze and fucked up, anything that would make you hurt. "You’re a placeholder," he hisses, "a charity case. And the worst part? You know it."

The shame burns so deep you can’t breathe, can’t think, and as you begin to find your voice to tell him that you didn’t care and he’d had misjudged your reaction, the Void delivers a final blow.

His face flickers to resemble Bob "You really thought I could ever want you?" It’s so cruel and something within you is so caught off guard at the sight of Bob that you believe him.

The Void’s glee is palpable.

And then a voice cuts through the dark.

“Enough”

Bob.

Your Bob.

He stands at the edge of the nightmare, his eyes are blown open and wild, his hands clenched like he’s holding up the weight of the world

The midnight world suddenly splinters.

You wake up and the room is shaking, no wait, the room isnt shaking its you.

Bob’s crouched in front of you, his face concerned and he cradles your head in his arms “I didn’t—I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your pain and fear is so strong you feel like you could collapse. You want to run away and scream, call out to everyone to take you away and lock you up somewhere that it couldn’t find you.

But you don’t dwell on those feelings, you know Bob, he must be devestated that he pulled you into the Void.

Your tone is soft as you push youself up “Hey, hey look at me. It wasn’t your fault, how were you supposed to know the big guy would come out so quickly.”

“But I let him hurt you-”

You stop him “Don’t, don’t say anything. Look we need to take you to the med bay now j-just don’t say anything please, just don’t.”

Bob stares at you—hurt, guilty, devastated—but he doesn’t protest.

You both hobble down to the med bay in silence and you cant help but wonder if he remembered what you both had been speaking about before or your hidden shame.

You really hope he hadn’t.

You’d called Yelena down on your way, telling her the other guy had come out to play for a bit and Bob was shaken up. She’d raced down as quickly as she could to relieve you of your babysitting duty.

Outside of the med bay, you speak to her in hushed tones while balancing the entire weight of your body on her, exhaustion setting in.

“You ok?” she strokes your hair as you tremble.

“Yeah I just, I need sleep.” she doesn’t press you for answers and you’re grateful. One small kiss to her head and you decide you’re ready to leave.

You glance back at Bob through the door, he’s already looking at you, pensive. You smile reassuringly and can visibly see his shoulders slump down in relief.

You leave but not after throwing another gummy smile and a thumbs up at the man.

The morning comes too soon, you’re still upset from the events of the night, but that doesn’t mean you can just shirk your responsibilities.

You’re packed and out the door before the sun fully rises, meeting John and Alexei downstairs. They don’t ask why your hands won’t stop shaking or why your eyes are so bloodshot.

As the engines hum to life, you glance back at the Tower one last time.

Project Get Over Bob was a complete bust.

Hey guys, hope that this chapter has you guy’s as excited as I am to continue on to the final part of this fic! Sorry for not adding a taglist to this fic but there were a lot of replies and I didn’t think I could get through them!

If you have any tips for fic writing pls follow me I’m always looking to improve.

I hope the writing style isn’t too different, I’m still trying to find my style and footing when it comes to this stuff!

The next chapter will be filled with plenty of comfort and maybe something a bit cheekier if you catch my drift!

#bob reynolds x reader #bob thunderbolts #bob reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds angst #robert reynolds #thunderbolts #bob x reader #yelena belova #bucky barnes #ava starr #john walker #alexei shostakov #marvel x reader #sentry x reader #void x reader

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iydiamartinx · 2 months ago

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UNEXPECTED GUESTS I

jason x reader, platonic!damian wayne

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto & @omi-resources word count: 835 synopsis: Jason’s secret relationship is discovered by Damian—who keeps showing up uninvited. Jason’s patience is tested, popcorn is made, but at least Damian brought cinnamon rolls. a/n: this one went off the rails slightly and the rest of the upcoming parts are equally as unhinged (at least compared to what I usually write).

Compared to your apartment, Jason’s place was practically Fort Knox. You and he had been dating long enough that you’d practically moved in—and you knew his secret identity. Still, you’d never met his family, something Jason was adamant about keeping that way. You knew of them, of course, but hadn’t expected to meet them anytime soon.

Which was why you definitely weren’t expecting a ten-year-old ninja to break in.

You had just stepped out of the shower when you heard it—the quiet thud. At first, you thought it might’ve been Jason returning from patrol early. But then came the faint creak of the window opening.

Jason never used the window.

Cautiously, you stepped into the living room, still in a robe, hair dripping. And froze.

There, near the kitchen counter, stood a boy. Arms crossed. Hood down. Eyes sharp as blades.

“You’re not his roommate,” he said flatly.

You blinked. Your shoulders slowly relaxed. While you’d never met Damian Wayne personally, you’d seen enough pictures—and heard Jason complain just enough about the “demon child”—to recognize him instantly.

“…And you’re not the pizza guy,” you replied, equally dry, one brow raised. “So I guess we’re both surprised.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t even blink. Just stared, like he was trying to unearth your darkest secrets with sheer willpower.

“Who are you?” he demanded, stepping forward.

“His girlfriend,” you said, calmly. And waited for the explosion.

There was no point in hiding it. You figured that now that you’d met Damian, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the Bat-family found out. Honestly, you were surprised they hadn’t already—weren’t they supposed to be the world’s greatest detectives?

It didn’t take long.

“I knew it,” the boy hissed. “He’s been acting suspicious for weeks. Staying out longer. Not snapping at everyone. There was even a smile—a smile—on his face during training.”

He circled you slowly, hands behind his back like a miniature detective—or a very judgmental cat. “I assumed he was hiding something. Drugs. Maybe a dog. But you… you’re worse.”

Your lips twitched. “A dog would’ve been worse, to be honest. He’s not exactly home on time for walkies.”

He ignored your joke. “How do I know you’re not a threat? An assassin. A spy. Someone sent to manipulate him.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “You think I’m seducing Jason Todd for intel?” You snorted. “Believe me, no one’s paying me for this kind of emotional labor.”

His lips twitched—just barely. Not a smile. Not quite. But something close.

Still, he didn’t back down. “What do you know about him?”

“Enough to stay,” you answered simply, dropping onto the couch and toweling off your hair. “Enough to know he sleeps better when I’m here. Eats better. Talks more. Still leaves his laundry everywhere, but that’s apparently not fixable.”

Damian stood frozen, like he was running your answer through a thousand internal filters.

Eventually, he moved to sit—perching like a hawk on the armrest across from you, expression still wary but less… militant.

“So you know what he does,” Damian said stiffly.

“It’s how we met,” you replied, reaching for the remote. “He was horrible at keeping the whole alter ego a secret.”

“Are you trained?” he asked next.

“To deal with him? Yes.” You shot him a grin. “To fight? Not really. But I have excellent aim with a frying pan.”

For the first time, a snort escaped him—quick and unintentional. And then: “I suppose you’re tolerable.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone under five feet has said to me.”

Damian frowned. “I’m ten.”

“Still under five feet.”

He huffed but stayed where he was, and after a moment, reached for the coffee table and grabbed the half-finished puzzle you’d been working on. Without asking, he began fitting pieces into place with alarming precision.

An hour later, Jason came home through the fire escape, expecting silence—or maybe the sound of you watching reruns, bundled up in one of his old shirts.

What he didn’t expect was the sight of you and his youngest brother sitting side by side on the floor, surrounded by puzzle pieces and popcorn, mid-argument about whether Red Hood could beat a grizzly bear in a fight on pure strength alone.

He stopped in the doorway and stared.

Damian glanced up. “You’re late.”

Jason blinked. “You broke in.”

“He made popcorn,” you said helpfully, tossing a piece into your mouth.

Jason pointed between the two of you. “What the hell is happening?”

“She’s tolerable,” Damian said, as if that answered everything.

Jason groaned. “I leave for two hours…”

“And you almost lost your popcorn privileges for keeping me hidden,” you added, smirking at him. “Apparently, I’m a national security threat.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about Wayne surveillance equipment and upgrading the locks to keep out demons.

But secretly?

He didn’t mind the sight of the two people he cared about most, sitting there together and getting along.

He’d just never admit it out loud.

Next Part →

#jason todd fic #jason todd one shot #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #damian wayne #damian wayne approves #platonic!damian wayne x reader #humor #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood #Unexpected guests

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not-neverland06 · 11 months ago

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Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment.

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan.

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation.

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling.

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding.

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name.

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected.

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head.

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit.

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles.

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout.

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it.

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean.

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly.

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath.

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something.

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check.

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull.

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott.

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger.

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps.

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him.

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be.

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes.

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest.

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space.

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices.

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together.

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart.

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen.

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others.

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal.

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside.

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear.

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers.

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds.

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other.

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs.

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan.

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities.

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid.

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode.

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns.

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being.

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids.

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone.

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission.

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave.

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy.

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse.

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold.

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen.

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead.

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down.

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue.

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur.

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened.

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash.

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up.

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this.

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize.

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus.

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up.

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more.

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be.

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal.

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too.

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia.

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze.

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire.

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold.

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you.

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment.

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire.

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you.

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming.

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him.

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus.

#wolverine x reader #Wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #x men #deadpool and wolverine #Wolverine

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jjk x y/n #toji x y/n #star divider by benkeibear

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timmydraker · 10 months ago

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Tim begins to distance himself from his family after Damian becomes Robin.

It was obvious in the way he ran off to rescue Bruce, but that was more of a physical thing at the end of the day. He was desperate and had lost any kind of safety net and support he had after Dick threatened Arkham and how badly he hurt Alfred with his instance that Bruce was alive.

Either way he was going to get Bruce back, if not because he felt like he was an aimless, nothing human being without Batman then there was that he wanted to be believed.

Then Dick handed over Robin to Damian who at that point genuinely despised Tim, though there was also a level of jealously in the young Wayne’s mind at the intelligence and analytical Tim.

It was then that Tim decided he would bring Bruce back and then do his own thing, outside of Robin and outside of Batman.

He clearly had done his job hadn’t he? Sure Bruce was dead, but Dick was acting as Batman and that Batman had a Robin, so his reasoning for being Robin was extinguished.

Tim brings Bruce back and the older man praises and thanks him for several days and then, like everything else, the attention moves away. It goes to him connecting with Damian on a vigilante level and catching up on the last several months of him being ‘dead’. It goes to Jason who, now that he’s lost his foster father has decided that maybe he could try a little harder after all.

It goes to everyone and anyone other than Tim and this time? That’s actually the plan.

Tim isn’t as good of a hacker as Barbara, but she’s basically a god at it so compared to others he might as well be master level, just not against her. This he uses to shift around peoples schedules so Alfred has no choice but to let him go to school on his own (Tim may have also invented an early morning ‘club’ that was totally legit and not at all a fabrication). He makes it so when Dick is over or Jason takes the rare opportunity to visit he had to work at WE or DI, something important he can’t neglect.

He never has to walk Ace or Titus because he’s busy with his team mates.

Team mates who think he’s busy helping out Batman.

Tim still does work as a hero, but it’s entirely through his businesses after a while. A few times he has no choice but to go out in a boring black suit with a full face mask and hoodie. It’s got nothing on it, no symbols or gadgets. Nothing to connect him to anyone.

He starts with the homeless, dishing out vaccines like candy without even doing a campaign to showcase it.

Then he changes Bruce’s rather naive approach to orphanages and makes it so every single child who is put through is given a small amount of funding. He makes it so kids have more chance to stay with siblings, makes sure everyone who even so much as enters the ground of a orphanage have a real background check and sure the adoption rate drops, but so does the missing kids and DV cases.

Tim steals over fifty million from people like Luther and Penguin and all kinds of corrupt rich assholes for the majority of the funding and not even a cent of it is traced back to Wayne or Drake businesses. Whiles he’s digging into Lex be manages to get enough evidence to put a sizeable dent in his reputation, even if Lex manages to smooch a fair bit of it back.

He’s manages to take out a large sized trafficking ring and helps get the victims into a real recovery home that he hand picks out security for.

Later, as in a few days afterward, he discovers a dog meat farm and everyone medical veterinary student suddenly finds themself free of student loans and debt and with multiple work opportunities available and volunteer work being down right pleased for.

Tim knows he’s being noticed but given that he basically lives in his office in the heart of the city, he isn’t there to hear his old teammates and ‘family’ talk about the mysterious Dread.

Dread who was named that after a report came out about a theory of an unknown hacker or ‘cyber vigilante’ who was stealing money and information from rich folk and giving it to the poor, giving all of the 1% dread that he would hit them next.

The exact quote was ‘Those with money deeper than their pockets dread the hackers next moves. And they should feel that dread as a warning for this Robin Hood like legend seems to be getting braver.’

Dick was sure the hacker would have been called Robin if he hadn’t chosen that name already, to which Barbara responded with grumbles and growl because she couldn’t find anything other than holes and traps left by the hacker. It was like they knew her every move before she even made it!

Tim, obvious to his growing reputation until it fully took off, hadn’t even considered that his actions would be framed a threat by Batman. He would say it was because he didn’t think Bruce would ever really target him like that, but in actuality it’s because he knew Bruce was one of the few good rich folk. Surely he would be on the side of a secret vigilante hacker trying to use horrible people to do good? He embraced Dread quickly and was happy he make the rich squirm and brought a sense of hope to people, it was just like Robin but instead of them being safe and given light they were given a peace of mind in a mix of revenge and justice.

What Tim doesn’t know is that Bruce is still too far into his whole image of black and white, good and evil, that he tends to forget there’s grey areas.

At least Jason is on the side of Dread, even if he still thinks the myth of a story is just that, a myth.

It’s when Tim blows up a bank when everyone has gone home for the night just so people will find the underground money ring that and he visits the manner to get a few things that he hears them talking about it.

By that point it’s been around two years since he dropped Robin and as usual Dick always greets him with a look of a desperate puppy, “Tim! Hi, you’re here. I haven’t seen you in months, how have you been?”

Tim smiles at Dick even if he hasn’t gotten over his anger at his oldest brother and moves to sit at the breakfast table with everyone (Alfred, Bruce, Jason and Damian).

“Good. Busy, we’ve had a lot of donations lately.”

Jason snorts, “No shit. Isn’t Wayne Enterprise one of the few ones not hit by Dread?”

Bruce grumbles and shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say that. They’ve managed to get into our system and completely changed the Jason Project.”

Jason grins and laughs happily, “you mean improved! Crime Ally is doing great now. Not the best, but still a fuck of a lot better.”

Smiling at the man who once beat him to an inch of his life, Tim takes a sip of his tea and casually says, “You’re welcome.”

The whole table goes quiet as Tim continues to casually sip his tea.

The silence carries for a total minute before Bruce puts down his cup and leans forward with a slight growl in his voice, “Explain.”

“Explain what?”

Bruce stands over his son even from halfway down the table and very obviously tries to calm himself with a deep breath, “What do you mean ‘you’re welcome’?”

Tim makes an ‘oh’ expression before cocking his head to the side in confusion, “I was the one who fixed the Jason Project? Wait, did you guys not realise I’m Dread?”

Damian shouts out a ‘what?!’ That makes Titus jump and Tim laughs under his breath, “What did you think I was doing?”

“Running the business! Not stealing from people and black mailing politicians!”

It’s Tim’s turn to growl now and he stands up himself with a glare at Bruce that is as close as any of them have gotten to the famed Bat-Glare, “Are you fucking kidding me? Like are you a Tully kidding me with that horse shit?”

Bruce looks stunned and Alfred doesn’t even tell him not to swear.

Tim slams his chair into the table.

“What the fuck else would I be doing, Bruce? I’m not Robin, that was taken from me, so what else was I gonna do? I finished my job, not only keeping you from killing anyone but bringing you back, so I had do pick something else. I’m not stealing from the rich, I’m stealing from selfish cunts who ruin peoples lives for no reason and giving it to people like Jason. So, don’t you fucking yell at me and don’t try to make me feel bad for this, not when I’ve done more in two years than you ever have and- don’t you fucking speak Dick, not when you were the one who took my place here away from me! Now, I have a trafficking ring I need to expose so good. Fucking. Day.”

Jason is the only one who follows him.

#batfam #tim drake #bat family #dc comics #batfamily #dc universe #Tim Drake is NOT red Robin #dc #tim drake is a menace #damian wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake centric #hacker Tim Drake

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