#bruce is *this close* to getting him one of those child leashes

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Dick Grayson as Robin at the very beginning of his tenure accidentally and perfectly imitating that thing that Batman does where he disappears in the middle of a conversation the second the other person's back is turned like

Robin: So what's next, Batman?

Batman: there have been reports of unidentified shipments coming through the southeast harbor. *turns around* we-

Dick Grayson, who is a menace and also has adhd: *gone*

Bruce, who just lost his 10 year old child: fuck.

Bruce thinks its karma. Gordon thinks its hilarious.

[piedpiperart]

Can We Keep Him pt 3

Chapter 2

Jason was laying on his bed with the little rascal next to him, playing a cute little puzzle game on Jason’s ipad. It was a bit surprising to find out how smart the kid was. Even though he didn’t know words, the kid was good at following patterns and puzzles. Angry Birds was a favorite so far, and Jason got to see the kid swish his tail to the music. It was adorable.

The two elder residents spent the day keeping the kid occupied, whether with games or snacks. It was harder to keep him occupied without food, and Jason was glad to discover that ipad games were a hit. He didn’t risk leaving the kid alone yet, too afraid he’d wander off and they’d lose him in the gigantic manor. Absently, he wondered if they should get him one of those child leashes.

 After a scare with the kid trying to climb out the window, Alfred figured out how to teach the kid how to use the toilet. He’d told Jason that the kid caught on pretty quick, even looking around for a step stool to wash his hands. The man speculated that the kid might have memories from before he was abandoned that he recalled, such as having a step stool under the sink. Jason hoped that was a good sign, considering they might have an easier time acclimating him to indoors.

Surprisingly, the kid let Alfred trim his hair, but screeched and cried when they’d tried to de-tangle it. Both Jason and Alfred had scratches on their arms from trying to hold the kid still, and not even grapes calmed him. He’d only been soothed when Jason gave him a few cookies in apology. The little guy’s hair turned out to be straight and jet black now that it wasn’t a tangled mess. Jason had thought the kid’s hair was curly before, but turns out it was just knots and tangles, some of the hairs even had twigs attached.

Jason looked up from where the kid was sling-shooting pigs to the door when he heard a knock. Alfred stood in the doorway with a fond smile. “I’ll be starting on dinner in a moment if you’d like me to watch the little one,”Alfred said,”Master Bruce will be home soon if you would like to get started on any homework you may have.”

“Alright,”Jason groaned, rolling off the bed. He did have homework, and had asked his teachers to email him anything he’d missed today. “Can he keep playing?” 

“Perhaps a bit longer,”Alfred nodded, coming into the room to scoop the baby up. He growled a little at being disturbed, but stopped when he realized he could keep playing the game. He leaned his head on Alfred’s shoulder as they walked out to the kitchen. “You’re welcome to join us,”He added, and Jason shot him a smile and a wave as they left. 

Bruce was happy to be home after a long day of doing paperwork. He felt himself relax unconsciously when he opened the door and stepped through. Taking a deep breath, he smelled the beginnings of dinner. He was pretty sure it was spaghetti, and Bruce was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful for Alfred. He didn’t know how he’d be able to function without the man. 

Pulling off his jacket, he hung it in the hall closet, catching the umbrella inside before it hit the floor. That one never stayed in its spot, so he was always ready to catch it. Closing the door, he hummed to himself, thinking about what Jason was up to. He was almost to the kitchen when something on the floor caught his eye,and he paused.

“Alfred,”Bruce called out, a little strained as he kept an eye on the raccoon tail disappearing behind the kitchen island. The thing was dangerously close to the elder man as he turned from the stove to look at Bruce.

“Ah, perfect timing Master Bruce, you-”Alfred began, but was cut off by the other.

“Alfred, don’t move,”Bruce cautioned, holding his hands out like he was trying to prevent the butler from freaking out. “There’s a raccoon in the kitchen. Just come towards me, slowly.”

“Oh,”Alfred blinked. He looked down to the ground and back up to his son. “You mean our guest. Master Jason found him last night in the dumpster and brought him home.”

Bruce paused. “You let him keep a pet raccoon? Alfred-”

“Good heavens, no,”Alfred cut him off, shaking his head. Before Bruce could protest,  the man bent down to pick up the animal. He came back up, cradling-

“Is that a child?” Bruce nearly gasped, approaching the two. He couldn’t take his eyes off the little black haired boy who closely resembled a raccoon. His blue eyes were bright against the black marks around his eyes. 

Bruce reeled back as the child hissed at him, tiny fangs on display until Alfred shushed him with a few pets to his hair. “He responds best to food,”Alfred said,”Do pick up the bowl of orange slices on the counter there. He’ll get acclimated to you faster if you give him snacks.”

“I.. what?” Bruce says, still staring at the child glaring at him. 

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Alfred retorted, raising an eyebrow. Bruce shook his head, still confused but mind running with theories and possibilities. 

The kid perked up when Bruce picked up the bowl of fruit, switching from glare to puppy dog eyes faster than the Flash. Despite his confusion with the situation, he couldn’t help but give a fond smile at the little guy. Alfred set the child down when he started wriggling, and Bruce was amused to see him scurry around the kitchen to stop at his feet. 

Little claws hesitantly latched onto his pant leg with big blue eyes pleading up at him. He dutifully handed a slice to the kid, who snatched it with a chirp. “Alfred?” Bruce pleaded. He didn’t see any signs of comprehension when he or Alfred spoke, and the child was clearly food-motivated. 

Taking pity on the man, Alfred explained,“Master Jason found him.”

“He wasn’t patrolling,”Bruce cut in, much to Alfred’s exasperation. He felt a tug on his pants and fed the child another orange slice. 

“No, the young master went out exploring on the premises,”Alfred said fondly,”Something about a treehouse. He found the child in the dumpster out front, eating trash.”

Bruce squinted at the kid, examining him. He doubted the kid was plant for Batman if he was eating trash. He assumed Alfred and Jason to be the reason he was so clean and clothed with what Bruce was sure to be his old baby clothes. He frowned when he thought about the reason why the kid was all alone in a dumpster of all things. It wasn’t hard to speculate from the kid’s appearance. 

“I can hear you brooding,”Alfred chimed in, making Bruce sigh. “I hope you’ll be able to help Master Jason find the boy’s name, and perhaps a call to Dr. Thompson is in order.”

“I’ll call Leslie,”Bruce grunted. After a moment of consideration, he bent down to meet the little guy. Cheeks puffed out and orange juice on his face, Bruce couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest at the way the kid brightened at the sight of him up close. He stayed dutifully still as the kid poked his cheek with a clawed hand, rubbing his slightly stubbly jaw before turning his attention to Bruce’s colorful tie.

“After dinner. If you would bring the young one to the highchair, Master Bruce, I shall fetch Master Jason,”Alfred said, leaving the two alone in the room. 

Brief panic overtook Bruce for a moment before he shoved it down. He passed the boy another orange slice that was immediately accepted, and carefully picked the kid up. His heart swelled when the boy seemed content in his arms, eating the orange slice and stroking the flowery tie. Bruce held the boy carefully, feeling the soft fur of his tail and brought him over to the high chair.

Bruce didn’t quite want to let the boy down just yet, especially when the kid seemed perfectly fine in his arms, so he merely sat in the seat next to the highchair with the kid still in his arms. “You met Baby Bear!” Jason exclaimed, sliding into view. He came up to the two of them, ruffling the kids hair before climbing into the other open seat next to the highchair. 

Alfred came strolling in behind him, eyebrow raised to Bruce. “I assume you need assistance with the high chair if you are still holding him?”

Bruce was sheepish, but moved to put the boy into the highchair while Jason snickered. “You know, I’ve always wanted a little brother,”Jason hedged, and Bruce shot him a look. 

“He might have parents,”Bruce argued weakly. “With his… attributes, he might be better suited with someone with similar abilities.”

“Aw, but he already likes us,”Jason bargained, watching Bruce feed the kid another orange slice with glee.”And we’ve made a lot of progress! He’s not eating trash and he's not covered in dirt. I even got him to wear pants!”

Bruce winced at the image, but looking at the adorable little ears on the boy he couldn’t bring himself to argue with Jason more. “We’ll see,”He hedged.

Truthfully, he was still processing the information and making plans to get the boy medical exams and blood tests to find his parents. There was no way the boy had been left in Bruce’s dumpster on purpose. If anything, the boy had been living in the woods around the manor for a while, and either regularly went to the dumpster for food or recently discovered it. He’d have to check the security footage to see when the kid started showing up. 

Bruce was brought out of his musings when Alfred placed a plate in front of him.He gave a smile in thanks at the plate of spaghetti and meatballs, with a side of garlic bread. A bowl was given to the toddler, and a plate to Jason. It would be a lie to say they weren’t all watching the kid skip over the fork to grab a handful of noodles and sauce. He was obviously delighted at the taste, even if they cringed at the sauce decorating his hands and face as he munched.

“Aww,”Jason cooed when the kid found a meatball and held it with both hands to nibble on it. “He’s just so cute, isn’t he B?”

Bruce hummed neutrally. As of now, the boy’s placement with them is only temporary. Just as long as it took for Bruce to find him a better home. A home more suitable to a feral boy with raccoon traits, not a billionaire’s lifestyle constantly in the eye of the media. It wouldn’t be fair to the boy to subject him to that or the nightlife. He just had to ignore the wry smile from Alfred and Jason’s knowing grin.

Chapter four 

[dairy-farmer]

I think it's kinda funny how Jason got the best possible version of dad!bruce, and now jason hates bruce but can never even think about leaving him alone and tim got the worst possible version of dad!bruce but tim still is wholly devoted and loves him but ironically enough can do without him

it really is such an ironic situation. jason got a bruce who already had his "practice kid" (dick ☹️) and so knew what to do and what not to do mostly. but bruce also lost dick by holding onto him to tightly and keeping a short leash and making him feel like he was living in his shadow when dick grayson was meant to be in the spotlight. jason got the fun bruce, the one who played around with him, who didn't make it all about "work" and robin. jason got a much better childhood with bruce than he ever got on the streets or with catherine as much as he may have loved her. but the fact remains that jason WAS very clearly a traumatized child. he probably witnessed a lot of pretty bad and traumatizing stuff as a child living in the part of gotham where crime was the ripest, overpoliced, and under served. and bruce making him feel safe, offering food security, and the idea of a protector he could rely on wasn't enough. jason was, in my opinion, so NOT mentally equipped to handle the things he would see as robin which was what made his eventual fight and the way he clashed with bruce so bad.

and so jason dies. and bruce is horrified and traumatized and bruce is a detective. and he's lost his second child, this time permanently. and dick and jason were such different people and the only thing that connected them was bruce. therefore bruce MUST be the problem. him as a father must be what caused them both to leave him and push him away. when you've eliminated all other possibilities what ever remains, no matter how unlikely, must be the correct answer.

so the problem is bruce. and then tim arrives and he already has parents but then those parents die and spending so much time around tim almost eases the pain bruce feels which just makes him feel guilty. bruce, after jason, died most likely set up some mental block to truly recognize or treat tim as a kid and even when tim IS his kid that block never comes down. I fully believe bruce did that because in one issue bruce hypnotized and basically jedi mindtricked himself into forgetting he was ever batman. so it really is tragic, the idea that tim was essentially a glass child as a result of jason's death and that the close connection bruce had with jason and with dick is never one he'll ever be able to have with tim because tim is the kid that came right after. and damian and cassandra both recieve a better father than tim did because they met him when he was getting better and healing. but tim. will always only have the bruce that he is so devoted to but one who just cannot love him the way he does his other children.

[brucie-bruce-waynee]

The Actor and the Billionaire Part 3

(A/N: Another Monday update. Sincere apologies! Finals week has just started and I am dragging my feet on this final essay! I have these posts already queued up on Ao3 so if you want true Sunday updates, I would heavily suggest going to my Ao3. Each post is updated in the masterlist pinned as the top post on my page!)

Word count: 3.5k~ words

A buzz from your phone made you stutter in your jog. Stopping your treadmill, you started reading.

‘Need an Instagram pic of you and Bruce getting ready for the gala tonight. You’re showing up together. A car will pick you up in an hour.’

The text was from Maggie, head of the social media branch of the marketing team for Wayne Enterprises. Her texts were always like this, straight to the point and with no sugar coating. It was refreshing. You opened your texts with Bruce, wiping sweat from your brow. He hadn’t responded to your gif of a cute cat. How rude.

‘Maggie said I need to be at yours in an hour. Alright if I bring Cinnamon?’

‘Yes.’

Well, alright then. You decided to shower and style your hair a bit before the car would grab you. Cinnamon was leashed up, and you were on your way to the Wayne penthouse.

You didn’t know why Bruce had abandoned Wayne manor, but you made a pretty good guess that it had to do with memories of his parents. Everyone in the city thought that. Too painful. That was something you would never understand; try as you might. Losing a parent was the most heartbreaking thing a child could go through.

Rolling up to Bruce’s building, you were greeted by a few paparazzi and reliable press members. They tried pushing their cameras in your face, but you continued into the building. Alfred was there in the lobby waiting for you to bring you up to Bruce’s floor.

The penthouse was a fucking Gothic castle. He was literally Dracula. There was no other explanation for it. The man of the hour emerged, looking so tired and wired. You placed Cinnamon on the floor but didn’t unleash him. Bruce came closer to you, so close you could smell the scent of rain on him.

“You’re not going to turn into a bat and suck my blood, right?”

Bruce turned somehow paler. He exchanged looks with Alfred, eyes wide with the whites bloodshot. You could fill the whole of the ocean with his blue eyes. They were your favorite feature. Maybe it was because you so rarely saw them stay still.

“No,” he responded haltingly.

“Cool. Maggie told me my outfit was already here for me. Is it alright if I unleash Cinnamon? He knows how to heel, so he’ll stick by me.”

Bruce nodded and began leading the way, the clunk of your shoes and Cinnamon’s nails clicking following him down the hallways. The three of you entered a lavish room with a plush carpet and the most oversized bed you’ve ever seen.

“I thought the largest bed was a king-size, but that’s definitely bigger than a king,” you said conversationally, pushing down the mattress.

“It’s an Alaskan king,” Bruce said, rummaging around in the closet there.

One quick Google later, and your jaw was on the floor. Cinnamon had already made himself at home by curling up directly in the middle of the vast bed.

“Holy shit, dude. Are all the mattresses in your place this big?”

“I only have five rooms here, so yes,” Bruce said, laying a dry cleaning bag on the bed.

“Is.. is this your room?”

“No, this is a guest room. Yours if you want it.”

He spoke so little. It intrigued you to know what he thought about when he wasn’t talking. With your limited experience as a young person, it was true that those who spoke the least had the most to say or were incredibly insightful. What kind of insight would you get tonight?

“I can have a room in your penthouse?”

You unzipped the bag to reveal a nice suit, no tie: just a black blazer, trousers, and a shirt with hidden buttons. Bruce hovered behind you; hands tucked firmly into his sweatpants.

“If you want. I assume we’ll need to pretend to stay the night at each other’s places sometimes,” Bruce said in an almost embarrassed whisper.

Oh. Right. You hadn’t thought of that. It had only been a week.

“Well, I appreciate it very much. Now, Maggie wants you to post a picture of me in the bathroom getting ready for the night, and then she wants me to post a picture of you getting ready in the mirror. An adjusting the tie in the mirror picture.”

As you talked, you pulled your makeup bag from your larger bag and dumped it on the counter in the en suite bathroom. It was gaudy, with black marble tiles on the walls, ceiling, and floor. God, it looked endless in here.

“Okay, so I’ll put on some basic makeup first and then you can take a picture of me in the middle of doing my eyeshadow,” you game planned out loud, shuffling your supplies around on the counter.

Bruce nodded and watched as you created your canvas for the night. You were dressed in the trousers, the old flannel you were wearing clashing horribly—the perfect Instagram post. You told Bruce you would give him a signal when you were ready. Cinnamon, ever the attention whore, decided to get in the frame. He was stretching up your leg, looking for pets when your hands weren’t free.

The click of the camera sound made you blink, but you continued to do your makeup until you finished. Your inspiration was Zendaya’s suit look at Vanity Fair. It was pretty good if you did say so yourself.

“How does the picture look?”

Bruce held his phone up for you to see. You looked good in the backdrop of this lavish bathroom.

“Hmm. Maybe I should get some black marble in my bathroom. You can go ahead and post that. Maggie said no captions necessary.”

Whoosh.

It was out on the internet now.

You finished up then, shucking on the blazer. Deciding to leave a couple of buttons on the shirt open made you feel super-hot. Bruce had been dressing behind a room divider and stepped out. You stood next to him in the mirror.

“Haha, we match! Too bad you have to wear a tie though.”

It was your time to hone your photography skills. Phone in hand, you called Cinnamon to Bruce, then stood back. Your baby stretched himself up Bruce’s leg, his paws reaching the top of the man’s thigh. You laughed and snapped a picture.

“Baby boy, you’re so thirsty for attention!”

Cinnamon galloped to you, butt wiggling out of control.

“Yes, you are! You just want everyone to pay attention to you. It’s all about me, isn’t it?”

Cinnamon stood on his hind legs, and you held his front paws in your hands and danced with him for a moment. You didn’t see Bruce angling his phone toward you again and taking a picture. That wouldn’t be something he’d share with you for a long time.

“Okay baby boy, we have to go,” you said to Cinnamon. Turning to Bruce, you continued. “I left some food with Alfred and a bowl too if he doesn’t mind feeding him.”

“He won’t. No one can resist the allure of Cinnamon,” Bruce said.

“Quite right, my good sir!”

You enjoyed galas; you did. The charities who put them on were always for great causes. But they were so time-consuming. The part you liked the most was the food and drinks, not necessarily the networking with industry big wigs.

“I heard about your last security guard. Poor guy. Whatever did he do to get himself fired?”

God, you wish people would stop asking you that. You gave a halfhearted answer about different paths to this politician and tried finding someone else to talk to. A hand clapped on your shoulder, and you were confronted with someone you remembered from your early acting days.

“So, you and Bruce Wayne! I must say I’m surprised. You two seem like total opposites,” said a nasally-sounding director from Hollywood. Martin Martin. Yes, that was his real name, and yes, his parents were actors. You wouldn’t be so terrible about names if you ever have kids. Martin was as sleazy as they came. Why he flew out here was unknown to you, but you smiled through gritted teeth.

You could feel the crowd around you leaning for a listen, and you felt a wave of deep anger. Of course, being an actor comes with this sort of invasiveness, but if you were in a real relationship with Bruce, you couldn’t imagine the kind of anger inside you with a statement like that. This guy talked to you like he knew both you and Bruce personally. Ugh.

“Well, everyone is multifaceted of course,” you replied, rolling the stem of your champagne flute between your fingers.

“I saw your Instagram posts. Very cute. Especially your little dog,” he said, tipping back the rest of his Old Fashioned.

“Thank you.”

You felt Bruce at your elbow and saw Martin startle. He wasn’t looking when Bruce somehow materialized.

“Hi, Bruce. How was the hors d'oeuvres table?”

“Mmmn,” was all he said, shooting a look at the director in front of you. Martin had the conscience to look guilty.

“Did you try the shrimp thing they had up there?”

Bruce finally looked at you now, and something in his eyes changed the energy of your interaction. It was, well, it was something that made your face hot. Bruce’s hand landed in the safe zone above your hip but before your ribcage.

“I looked at it and thought you might enjoy it more. Let’s go,” Bruce said, punctuating his statement with a gentle tug on your waist.

“It was so nice talking to you,” you said to the director, keeping the sarcasm out of your voice. Turning to Bruce, you leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for that save.”

“You looked miserable,” Bruce replied, feigning a kiss on your temple.

“Martin Martin is awful. He’s had so many allegations against him. I worked as an extra for him in my very first film and was lucky to be plain enough to fly under his radar. But like you’re one to talk! I see that look on your face when the mayor talks to you,” you said, smoothing the lapels of Bruce’s suit jacket.

At the mention of the mayor, Bruce cringed, and you held in your laugh.

“She just wants good things for the city. And the people,” you soothed.

“She’s just so… persistent.”

Now you do laugh, and it catches the attention of everyone around you. What could Bruce Wayne have said that was so funny? You suppose the crowd would never know.

“What do you think about Batman?”

After the shrimp poppers, Bruce swept you away for the night, and now you were sitting in the back of his car. The seat was smaller in the back, so your thighs were fully pressed against Bruce’s. It was warm, almost hot. You had a lollipop in your mouth, courtesy of Alfred, who asked you your favorite flavor a while back.

“Batman?”

“Mmm.”

Tapping the hard candy against your teeth gently, you thought. This seemed important to him. Why would he ask if it wasn’t crucial?

“I think… that Batman used to be as feared as the criminals in Gotham because he kept himself apart from the people. The crime lords are above the common people, and he seemed to hover above them menacingly. I don’t think he intended it to be that way, especially with what he’s doing for the city now, but we didn’t know that back then. Now, though, he’s doing as well as he can to clean the streets. Which I think is admirable. I certainly couldn’t do it.”

You punctuated your sentence by popping your lollipop back in your mouth. Bruce looked deep in thought. Alfred was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“What about you?”

No response. You leaned in and touched the back of Bruce’s hand where it rested on his thigh. He startled and looked at you. His gaze was intense. You’d never seen him look quite like this. It was attractive.

Wait.

Oh.

Oh.

“I also think he’s trying his best, and that he’s not quite reaching his full potential,” Bruce said bitterly.

You pat his hand and bring it to your chest, holding it there for a moment. Bruce keeps his eyes solely on you. On reflex, your eyes go to his mouth, and you know he’s looking at yours.

Mild despair comes over you when you feel the familiar turn onto your street. The moment is broken when Alfred stops the car. You had never felt upset at a person like this before. You weren’t even that mad! It wasn’t like Alfred was breaking up a tender couple moment between you. You weren’t a couple.

This was a job, and you needed to remember that.

It took a makeup wipe, face wash, and pajama switch until you thought of that moment again. And again, you were focusing on Bruce’s eyes and how they sparkled.

Augh!! What was this, middle school? God. No crushes. Especially work-related.

You lay in bed, Cinnamon curled up next to you. His little chin rested on your hip as you absentmindedly stroked behind his ears. This wasn’t good. You couldn’t lay awake thinking about Bruce Wayne. He probably didn’t even expect that you could be attracted to him. Which seemed impossible.

He was sweet, albeit a little tricky to get through to. Sensitive to the highest degree, considering the sad lot life had dealt his parents. He was a firm boundary setter and keeper. But he was so witty in text conversations with you. He was always willing to shoot back at your jokes with his incredibly dry humor. You were positive that wasn’t on purpose. It surprised you how quickly he had opened up, but he shrunk back to that same husk you sometimes saw on the news every time you met in person.

“Ugh, Jesus Christ,” you said aloud, startling Cinnamon. You cooed sympathetically at him, and he whined at you as if to say, ‘You disturbed me, bubby! How could you?’

“Sorry, buddy. Wanna go for a run?”

Cinnamon danced across your bed to jump to the floor at the mention of the word. Laughing, you dressed in your workout gear and grabbed your phone. It was three am. Checking your crime watch app, you saw it was looking okay for this time of night. You’d just jog around your block and the next a couple times.

The lightest smattering of rain gave a pleasant atmosphere to your jog. You didn’t have your headphones in. Just because you were stupid enough to go out into Gotham at night didn’t mean you’d sacrifice your hearing. You may be an idiot, but you’re not stupid. Cinnamon did his business as soon as you stepped out the door.

“Good pee,” you said.

Starting up a brisk pace, you were able to reach the corner quickly. Once you started, stopping was out of the question. The breathlessness in your chest made you cough and feel alive. The more you focused on your breath, the less you concentrated on Bruce.

Stopping to catch your breath, you leaned against a light post. Cinnamon sat comfortably on the ground, also panting but smiling. Checking the time, you saw it was 4:30 am.

“Good run, boy?”

You hear the shink of a switchblade from the alley in front of you. A chill rolls through your body. Three figures moved out of the shadows. Matching black hoodies made them indiscernible to your eye until they were too close for you to run away. Cinnamon growled but backed between your legs. The middle one, clearly the ringleader, jerked his chin at you, teeth gleaming yellow from the street light.

“The poster child of Gotham! What are you doing out here at this time, your royal highness?”

The sarcastic, grating voice from the center figure made anger shoot through you, but you knew keeping still would be better in this sort of situation. Keep small and stay still as much as you can.

“Think you’re so much better than everyone else because of your fancy apartment and freaky looking dog? Who do you think you are, bitch,” the same guy continued. What? Were his goons not allowed to speak?

They could insult you as much as they wanted, but you drew the line at hating your dog. You stepped forward, intending to defend yourself, when the thud of boots stopped everyone in their tracks. The rain picked up, creating a thick sheet between your small group and the new lone figure approaching you. With the distraction, Cinnamon jumped into your arms and shivered there.

“Dude, we should get out of here. That’s the Batman,” the figure on the left said. All of them were wearing ski masks.

“I don’t give a shit, man. We’re not leaving until we get money,” the middle one said.

“I don’t think so,” said the deep voice from the rain.

As fists began to fly, you ran away from the scuffle down the street. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Bad idea, coming out of your place at this time of night. You wouldn’t do something so stupid again.

Even as you feel your freedom, you stop and turn. Batman is engaged in combat with your would-be attackers. He’s winning, obviously. But something about how he came to your rescue makes you want to stay and watch out for him.

He takes down the guys quickly. When he turns to you, there’s a faint glimmer of recognition in the back of your mind. But of course, he’s familiar. He’s Batman.

“Can I walk you home?”

Holy deep voice. Batman sounded like he gargled gravel in the mornings.

“Oh, uh, sure.”

He steps towards you, and you begin walking down the street. You don’t try and run. That will only increase the velocity of the raindrops and get you wetter. That was a tidbit you got from a book a long time ago. Cinnamon, however, is desperately trying to cower into your arms. His short-haired coat is essentially nothing in this weather, and you should’ve put a sweater on him or something.

“We’ll be home soon, boy,” you said into the wet fur on top of his head.

Batman’s armored hands come into view and scoop your dog out of your arms. What the hell? That’s so fucking rude. You’re about to say something when he pulls his cape from behind him and wraps your dog in it. Cinnamon snuggles right in.

“Thank you.”

Batman hums, and it reminds you of Bruce. A couple of cars pass in the street, and you’re reminded that the workday is starting for most people. 5 am, says your phone.

“I’d advise you not to leave your place again, but I can tell you already won’t,” Batman speaks up.

“Absolutely not. God, I was just so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t really… think,” you replied.

Silence. Your wet socks squelch in your tennis shoes.

“Can I confide in you for a minute? I just need a sounding board for everything that’s happening in my life right now.”

He hums again, and this sends you. You’re leaning against opposite walls of an alley between your building and the apartments next door. You tell Batman as much information as you can without giving away the ruse of the fake relationship with Bruce.

“So, we’re not technically a couple yet. But I really like him. And I don’t know if I should just turn this flirtationship into something real or just let it fizzle out.”

You look up to the sky, where the rain slows down. The back of your shirt sticks to the bricks behind you. Batman is standing ramrod straight with your dog wrapped in his cape.

“Anyway, thanks for listening. I’m going inside now and not coming out for a few days.”

You take Cinnamon back and look at him in your arms. He’s nearly asleep. Your dog is friendly but not this friendly. He takes a while to warm up to people despite seeming so eager. It’s peculiar. The proximity of you and Batman has your heart thumping in your chest. It reminds you of Bruce.

Batman’s armored hand comes up to brush against your jaw, and you startle. You just weren’t expecting him to touch you. He guides your face up, your eyes following. You make direct eye contact with Batman. His eyes are intense and surrounded by black paint.

His lips part. Slowly, gently, he leans in. He’s going slow enough that you can lean away if you want. Maybe this will help you get over your feelings? That’s terrible reasoning. His eyes are just barely open. That recognition flashes in your mind again, and you push it away.

Then, you’re kissing Batman.

It’s chaste, hesitant. Batman’s hold on your jaw is gentle. He is so, so careful with you. His mouth doesn’t open. You pull away first. Batman’s eyes open, and you finally place where you remember them from. Cold sweat drips down your spine, even colder than your rain-soaked workout clothes.

“Bruce,” you whisper, horror in your voice.

Batman is there, and then he takes out a fucking grappling hook and shoots himself into the sky, out of your sight. You stand there, stunned.

What?

What??

WHAT??

“Oh my god.”

[yourmcu]

Mesmerized (ii)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Request:

@lostaurorax​ said:

hii!! i love ur writing i was wondering if u could write a natasha x reader fic were reader is part of the guardians of the galaxy and they come to the compound and natasha is just starstruck but reader plays kinda hard to get and then just a bunch of fluff !

Word count: 2,551

A/n: basically a day out with Natasha. you like having her around. she likes having you around. Part 2/? (more notes at the end of the fic!)

Warnings: mostly fluff, but ending’s pretty angsty (help), some thor fluff in the beginning, jealous!nat if you squint

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

gif not mine!! credits to the owner^^

After Natasha left your room she immediately goes straight to hers. She barely falls asleep.

She stares at the ceiling, absorbed in her own thoughts. She tries to shake away the heat rushing to her face whenever the moment you kissed her on the cheek replays on her mind. All it took is someone like you to get one of the toughest people in the compound turn into mush.

She never believes in the ‘love at first sight’ bullshit because, well, it is bullshit. It’s impossible to love someone you just met. But who knows, right? You might just be an exception.

No, Natasha frowns. I just like her... a lot. It’s different.

The next morning, her run consists of her planning out the date day with you, where she’d take you first and stuff. She stops by the front gate of the compound, suddenly worrying. She wants to impress you. But what if you don’t like what she had in store? What if you think she's boring?

You're the type of person that almost likes everything and you’d express it kindly if you don’t. Boring you should be the last thing on Natasha’s mind.

Natasha walks into the kitchen to hydrate herself but halts once she saw the mess you and Thor had all over the counters.

“Wait, hold on- no, that’s - oh god, Thor, that’s too much batter!” You smack him on the arm and laugh, tilting your head a bit to figure out how you’d get the large pancake out of the pan.

“Oops,” Thor says sheepishly, turning around to put the bowl back on the counter, noticing Natasha’s confusion. “Oh don’t worry, Natasha, we’ll clean up after we’re done.”

The mention of the redhead makes you turn as well. “Good morning, Nat.” You beam. Normally, Natasha would sent a glare to anyone who calls her that, someone who isn’t a close friend, but with you... instead of a glare her eyes light  up. Giving you a small smile, she greets you back.

“I thought you were going out?” She questions, passing by you to reach the fridge.

“We were, but IHOP’s closed, under maintenance they said,” Thor sighs and you hum in response. “It’s quite alright. I heard you guys are going out anyway-”

Natasha lowers the water bottle from her lips, staring at him. “You heard?”

You spin around to clean up after turning off the stove. ‘I didn’t tell him anything,’ you mouth to her, which makes her think Steve somehow knows of it already.

Thor lets out a laugh, grabbing the whole pan and twiddling his fork, “you two have fun.” He winks and walks out of the room.

-----

“They were so cute,” you look back at the newly engaged couple near the window of the restaurant. “And really, you didn’t have to pay. I can pay you back.”

Later that afternoon the both of you headed out. Natasha parked her car somewhere and since it was a nice day, not too hot or anything, you both strolled around the city to find a place to have brunch.

“Y/N, it’s fine. I’m the one who asked you out.” Natasha chuckles, remembering the way you pouted in there begging her to let you pay at least for your own food.

You huff, smiling. “Fine. But I’m getting you back.”

So far you were having a good time with her. You got to know each other more, she told you stories about some of the team’s missions from other countries which were relatively rare, her first encounters with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, and in return you told her some about your out-of-this-world missions with the guardians.

And no you didn’t tell her about the history of moon rocks or some shit, nor did you promise to bring her back some. Who even collects those nowadays? Natasha was more interested about your early life, on Earth, which you were thankful for. You were taken away from your father (the only parent you preferred and loved) who was pure human one day by your alien-freak of a mother which you inherited your fire powers from.

You don’t like talking about it. But with her you're surprisingly comfortable.

Natasha smirks. “So we’re going out again sometime?”

“Of course we are.” After two seconds of pure confidence you wish you didn’t say that out loud. “Well, you know, I won’t force you to something you don’t want it’s - it’s your call.”

You're in the middle of telling her about your favorite bar and diner, the one your father always takes you as a child and you even paid a visit there the last time you were on Earth.

“Huh. Isn’t that the one that just closed?” She recalls

“No, really?” You drag out the ‘no’, sighing. “They’re the best. They make their own iced tea and beer and stuff... and - oh!”

You feel something rub against your ankle: a fluffy dog who's looking up at you with its tongue out and its tail was wagging wildly. Natasha raises her eyebrows, her eyes trailing to the abandoned leash behind it.

“Hey there,” you kneel down to pet it with caution just incase its intention is to bite you. But it seems to be happy and tame. “Look, Nat, s’adorable.” Natasha chuckles briefly and starts looking around for a person who looks frantic and is finding, calling a dog. 

“This fella belongs to the animal center.” You caress the dog behind its ear while you read the information on its collar.

It isn’t that far, it seems like the dog just escaped as well because the guy running the center was unaware of its absence.

“Thanks!” Said guy smiles in appreciation, reaching out to take the leash out of your hand. Natasha’s mind is focused on how the guy looks at you for the first time. It's the exact same look she gave you that night. Mesmerized, as if it was love at first sight. She doesn’t miss how his hand brushes yours, completely intentional. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t returned him. The pups here just grew out of their mom’s milk and are very hyper. It’s a lot of work.”

You're completely oblivious to this, you’re just glad the dog is back to where he belongs.

“No problem, he’s very sweet.” You smile politely. “Are they up for adoption? It would really help you out if they were, you know, and this one here is well behaved.”

At this point Natasha’s just eyeing the guy like he’d pounce on you any minute now. He’s definitely into you and she doesn’t like it.

“You’re welcome to stop by anytime,” he grins, ignoring your suggestion. “Can I have your number?”

“Oh, I don’t have a phone...” you trail off.

“That’s right, she doesn’t.” Natasha steps in and she catches the guy off guard and surprised that the Black Widow is actually with you the whole time. Natasha intertwines her hand with yours, pleased with his dumbfounded reaction. “We’ll be on our way now.”

You didn’t expect that but you weren’t complaining. Her hands were soft, and it brought this comforting feeling you couldn’t explain. But you clear your throat once the both of you are a few blocks away from the center.

“Sorry, he gave me an off vibe,” Natasha mutters and removes her hand from yours.

“Don’t be, I appreciate you looking out,” you smiles. Her car was getting into view now. “If it helps you sleep at night though, he wasn’t my type.” You joke.

Turns out you weren’t completely oblivious.

Natasha merely scoffs, getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

After the dog incident you both drove around different parts of the city. You went to a different mall to stroll around, commenting on anything you both saw that would somehow lead to a stupid story that happened at some point in your lives.

A local artsy bookstore, not gonna lie Natasha liked reading a good book when she had the time. So did you. It was nice to know that she’s the type of person who liked reading. Quill always got annoyed with you whenever he saw you reading silently in the ship (but when was he not annoyed with you?). The only ones that was willing to try and read back in space were Mantis and Gamora, bless her soul.

“These are good,” you mutter to Natasha. “All my books are on the ship, I think, but if I get to them I’ll let you read my favorite one... if you want.”

Last stop of the day. Natasha claims it’s a surprise.

“I don’t do well with surprises,” you whine, holding back a smile. “Just tell me.”

“No. And besides, we’re already here.” Natasha chuckles.

Your eyes light up on how stunning the scenery was. An edge of the cliff and below is a beach that doesn’t look like it’s visited by people everyday. The beautiful sunset, the sky made up of purple, orange and almost pink magnifies the calmness of the waves crawling gently to the shore.

“I always come here whenever I need to,” she says silently and exhales, walking over to you. “It’s the perfect place to go whenever those idiots get on my nerves.” You laugh lightly at her reasoning.

Natasha pats a spot on the grass beside her. She holds her gaze on you as you sit down, sighing. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” she manages to stop staring at you and look up at the sky instead. It's getting darker by the minute, the orange and pinkness started to fade as the sun went down, all of it replaced by light purple, darker shade of blue.

You're used to different colored skies. It would always vary and depend on what planet you were on, plus you always see those stars shimmering up above, so your focus is on the water and the waves. The way they move calms you.

“Thank you for today,” you murmur. “I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t expect any of this happening.”

Natasha hums. “I hope I wasn’t too boring.”

“Of course not, I think you’re very interesting and you’re fun to be with.” You say genuinely.

Once the sun is fully down and the moon had taken over the sky, the both of you get up to head back to the compound. “Eating out here would’ve been nice but Steve’s in charge with dinner, he wouldn’t be too happy if he knew we already ate.” The car ride back is silent, but the good kind. A content, comfortable one.

Okay so, your stay took more than a few weeks. 

You grew close with the amazing group of people, plus your good relationship with Natasha just kept growing and... just got better.

Thor stayed too because he didn’t have a choice, but he didn’t mind. Rocket left one pod for both of you to use that’ll send you to wherever Quill’s ship was up there. 

You and Natasha went out when you had the chance, taking turns treating each other to stuff. You learned that Thor included your books when he packed you a bag, and now Natasha was borrowing one of them.

Sometimes you’d join them on missions. You did a great job every time, not wanting to be a burden to a team you weren’t officially in. Sometimes you’d join Steve into a sparring session at the compound’s gym.

Speaking of which, he’s treating both you and Natasha as if you’re dating.

“Would you look at that, your girl managed to give me a bruise. She’s a keeper.” Steve tells Natasha.

“You totally deserve that.”

You also started sparring with Natasha. And Tony caught on with the whole ‘dating’ thing from Steve.

“Oooh, am I interrupting something here?” Tony smirks. He's going back and forth visiting the compound and coming home to his wife and daughter at their cabin. It's working out though. “I think the mat’s unsanitary. Take this to the bedroom.”

“Oh shut up, Y/N was just working on her tackling.” Natasha grunts, leaving you sprawled  on the mat, exhausted. “It’s getting sloppy. We’ll go again in a minute.”

-----

“Y/N,” The devastating tone of Natasha’s voice makes you look up. “Quill’s calling. He’s looking for you.”

“What?” She doesn’t answer but instead motions you to follow. In her office is a hologram of your fellow half-human and he looks distraught.

You step in front of the hologram so he can see you. 

“What happened to a few weeks, L/N? It’s been almost three months!” Quill says. “Look, come back, bring Thor with you. Our distress signal goes off almost every day and we can’t keep doing this without both of you.”

“Alright, how much time do I have before you lose your cool?” You reply sarcastically, but you're also worried and didn’t want to leave. You know better than to argue with the guy.

Natasha doesn’t want you to leave so suddenly. There’s limited communication between you and her once you go back up there. She grew attached to you.

Quill gives you an obvious look. “As soon as possible! Just - just get back here, please?” Then he abruptly ends the call.

You roll your eyes and left the room to pack, barely noticing Natasha hunched over, visibly sad and anxious that you’re leaving.

She loves you, and now you’re leaving without that knowledge.

You told Thor about it when he passed by the open door of your room. He didn’t look thrilled to be leaving so suddenly. After packing everything up (on his part it wasn’t that much) he offered to carry your bag for you as you said your farewells.

“Sorry guys, duty calls,” you sigh, hugging everyone. “Seeing as Tony’s not here just tell him I’ll miss him or something.”

“Will you come visit soon?” Wanda asks as she pulls away from your hug.

“Definitely.” You turn your head when Steve nudges you, nodding his head to the direction where Natasha is shifting, pacing, avoiding any eye contact.

You walk over to her. She tries holding back tears as you did. She grew attached to you and now you’re leaving. “Hey Nat,” you cup her face, trying to get her to look at you. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna leave either, not right now, but-”

Natasha kisses you, pulling you close to her as much as possible. Tears fully streaming down her face. She’s never felt this way before, about anybody, for a long time.

But let’s face it, you both know you loved each other. Maybe the both of you just knew that if you got together, it’ll be extremely hard for your relationship once you left. The long distance relationship thing. Even if you aren’t, it's already too painful for Natasha, like she's caught off guard or something. None of you knew that today's your last night on Earth.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Natasha whispers after pulling away.

You smile sympathetically, wiping her tears away with your thumb. “You know I’ll come back, right, pretty girl?” Natasha exhales shakily and pulls you into a hug.

“You better.”

----

I found a song for this fic-series whatever, please I’m so proud of myself the song reminds me of this story

I’M ANNOYED THAT I HAVEN’T PUT IN MUCH ABOUT THE READER’S FIRE ABILITIES IN THIS ONE BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY ANYWAY (they’re on a date she wouldn’t need it for anything)

[bunathebunny]

cracking

Homecomings are not always happy.

For Maribat Platonic November Day 18 - Scuffle

@maribat-platonic-november

Marinette left with a corpse. What she returns with is a girl who should have been dead.

She tilts her chin almost in a challenge as she passes the unconscious girl to Alfred. Carefully like Carrie is more than the teenaged hero she mentors.

She stares after them even as Alfred carries the girl to bed with something like tears in his aged eyes.

Not for the first time, Bruce wonders if he had ever looked at either Dick or Jason the same way Marinette looks at Carrie: fond and soft and protective, almost, straddling the thin line between a parental figure and a mentor. Like the most precious thing is the sleeping child and the bright light they carry in their heart.

"I know you want to have words," Marinette bites out, whirling onto him the moment the door to the elevator closes, "But believe me when I say this: I have no regrets."

Her gray eyes glint with the fierceness that undoubtedly drew Jason to her. The stubborn way she plants her feet must have been one of the reasons why fate has deemed her an equal for his head-strong Jason.

There are, however, prices that need to be paid, debts that need to be settled. The Lazarus Pit gives but it also takes.

Marinette, of all people, should have known better. She, of all people, should have been aware of the risks, of the complications that a resurrection via the Lazarus Pit brings.

Bruce looks at this bright, bright girl whose eyes once held the spark of life that had long faded. Losses made her jaded and what she carries in her heart is now the grief and the fear of getting too close and being left behind.

“I know you are upset,” he begins, watching as the young woman tenses, shoulders going rigid as she stares at him with a poisonous gaze, “However, we both know the Lazarus Pit brings more risks than rewards.”

They know. But grief is powerful: it can either make or break a person.

And Marinette meets his eyes head on. Challengingly with her chin tilted up and steely eyes.

“Would you say those things if the one who came back is your son?”

Just one question. Clean and swift – ruthless in the exact same way that Barbara drops her bombshells.

For a moment, he lets grief cloud his heart. Let his mind imagine that the person who returns is his boy. Dick, with the strong-willed set to his shoulder and an easy smile. Jason, a tender and shy smile on his lips.

Except, that did not happen. Except, this is a world where none of his boys are within reach.

“Do not bring them into this,” he speaks slowly, something hot unfurling in his chest, “This is about Ms. Kelley and the resurrection that you had a hand in.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s voice is calm – too even when her silver eyes are blazing, “So it is Ms. Kelley now?”

“Do not attempt to evade the question. You knew resurrection is not normal yet you did it anyway. Dead people are not supposed to come back to life, Marinette. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

Marinette shakes and Bruce can almost see the moment everything spills over.

“Fuck you! Don’t talk to me like I am a child, Bruce! Don’t lecture me about the risks! I am the goddamned Guardian! I know about those and I’m not losing anyone, not again! Can’t you just, for once in your life, be happy that one of them came back!”

“You are not looking at the bigger picture, Marinette,” Jason and her, they both let emotions cloud them – passionate to a fault; Bruce, on the other hand, holds a tighter leash on his emotions, “Have you ever thought about whether she wants this? Whether Jason wants this to happen? Whether Dick wants you to do this?”

“How would you know!” Marinette screams back, hands fisted by her side like she is restraining from hitting something – or someone, “He’s dead! Everyone’s dead! How would you know, Bruce?!”

“He was my son! I know what my boys would have wanted! And this-” he gestures of everything between and around them, “-is not what they would have wanted!”

Marinette is glaring at him. She wounds a hand into her hair, like that would give her something grounding to hold on.

"What do you even know!" she shouts back, "After Jason, you kept everyone out! Kicked Dick out! Didn't even send a goddamned card to tell us!"

She is trembling all over, swaying like a strong gust of wind is enough to topple her.

"I was in class when his name disappeared! I was so fucking scared! Left so many messages too, just begging you to tell me how he was!"

Yes. That did happen.

But Marinette had been too young. Too young to be burdened by the death of her soulmate.

He had thought he could have hidden it. Blamed it to some space missions or magical mishaps. Just until she was old enough, until she had her life together.

"Dick told me a week later," her voice lasps into a whisper, "After you kicked him out, no less."

She laughs, the sound bitter and hollow.

"Imagine going home only to find out your baby brother is dead and you have to break the news to his soulmate because your fucking father doesn't want to, what? Inconveniences her?"

"That's enough!" he tries, restraining the heat that is pushing at his chest, threatening to spill over, "We are straying from the topic."

"Everything is about the Mission with you, isn't it?" she hisses back, hackles raising, "Jason died and you did nothing! Dick died and you don't even know his last words! Carrie died and now she's back and you keeps talking about risks!"

"Because there are," he tries, really, he does but his patience is wearing thin, "I know you don't like it but you need to look at the big picture."

"Fuck you!" Marinette curses empathetically, head shaking as she edges backward toward the stairs before she turns, making a beeline toward it, tears glinting at the corner of her eyes, "This is so not fair! Stop! Shut up for a damned second about risks and just be fucking happy that she is back, can't you!"

The grandfather clock slides back into place, leaving him alone in the Cave. Cold and lifeless.

Lacking the brightness and warmth that a Robin clings to.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2020, Day 1

Waking Up Restrained / Shackled / Hanging

Ao3

Warnings: descriptions of torture, violence, dislocated shoulders, referenced child trafficking. This fic is mature. Please read responsibly.

-o-o-o-o-

When Dick wakes up, he's on his side; his cheek pressed against cold and grimy cement and his shoulders pulsing with a discomforting ache. 

He groans, his body feeling like tar has been stuffed between each of his joints—which makes it difficult to begin moving. His stomach rolls, and the sharp pain near the temple of his skull isn't helping much. 

What… happened?

He remembers… he remembers patrol. Leaving his apartment and swinging towards the streets to fight the constant stream of crime Blüdhaven is so willing to supply. His memories get hazy the more he tries to think about what happened during and after the patrol, making the pain in his head twinge torturously. 

Deciding that there's not much he can remember at the moment, he resolves to try and figure out his situation—because even though he has little memory, just the information that he was on patrol is enough for him to realize he's in his Nightwing suit. He recognizes the familiar skin tight feeling of the kevlar. 

What he notices immediately with just a few agonizingly slow movements is that his gauntlets and boots are missing. Which is not good. He twitches his nose and he relaxes only slightly when he feels the sharp edges of his mask. His anxiety, however, only rises when he realizes that his hands are stuck behind his back.

Okay. Captured and restrained. The cuffs are heavy and thick, at least a few centimeters thick. There's a small length of chain between the cuffs that can hardly be called a "length". There's not much space between his two wrists, perhaps only three or four thick chain links spanning between the shackles. 

He goes to move his fingers and test just how tight the shackles are on his wrists, but he realizes quickly that his fingers are stuck; curled into an uncomfortable fist and held in place with something cold and plastic. 

Okay. Alright. This is fine. Dick can still work with this.

He opens his eyes, slowly, to not agitate his headache nor his rolling stomach. He figures that if no one has revealed themselves to Dick so far then he must be alone. He hasn't exactly been quiet walking up, which is something Bruce might be disappointed by but come on. There's only so much Dick can do when confronted with what's definitely wavering effects of some sort of tranquilizer. Nausea, aches, groggy and slow movements, feeling like shit in general. 

The first thing he sees through half-lidded eyes is the grimy floor he's laying on top of, and since there's really not much to see here he moves on to the rest of the room.

And scratch that. There's not a whole lot to see in the room at all… at least, not from his position on the ground. Nothing but walls in front of him that are made of dark brick stone. 

Dick shifts, curling up slightly to get his shoulder positioned under him so he can work his way up so he's sitting. It takes a minute, a minute filled with panting breaths and barely contained gagging that makes his stomach want to show him what he had for dinner. Eventually, he makes it, his back pressed against the wall and his legs strewn out in front of him and his head leaned back so he can catch his breath and try to make his stomach settle.

Don't throw up, Dick. He doesn't want to be covered in his own sickness by the time his captors decide to show themselves. It will be totally embarrassing and Dick had a cool, pretty boy reputation to keep up after all. 

And besides, when he blinks his eyes to look at the rest of the room he's in he finds that it's rather small and compact; throwing up here would make the smell linger horribly. 

His stomach rolls and he decides to do his best to not think about throwing up. Starting… now.

He brushes his eyes throughout the room he's woken up in. Besides the stone wall and the heavy looking door, there's not much to see besides a singular bulb installed in the center of the room above him. 

That; and a chain hanging right besides it. 

He frowns at the chain. The end has a singular clip hook attached to it. From where it's hanging—about three feet from the ground—it travels up to some sort of makeshift pulley system; composed of various eye hooks that run along the ceiling so the other end of the chain latches next to the door. 

The clip at the end looks strong too. Something that would be used for lifting heavy equipment.

Now that he's studied the room to its extent, he shifts so he's looking over his shoulders to his hands. Duct tape, he finds, is what's keeping his hands in a fist; multiple layers of aluminum colored tape preventing him from messing with the shackles or breaking a joint to slip out of them. 

Alrighty then. 

He should probably work on getting his hands in front of him. Just to give himself a little bit more of a fighters chance. 

And of course, when he goes to do so, his hands are stopped by another freaking chain that he hasn't noticed till now. It's attached to the tether between his wrists and then it connects to the wall; like a leash, but an infuriatingly short one. There's hardly any give. He's stuck to the wall and he's not going anywhere. 

He lets his head fall back against the bricks behind him once again, cursing that sometimes criminals are smart about things. 

Then, with that flawless dramatic timing most criminals often have, the door opens.

Dick brings his legs up to his chest, positioning himself so he's less vulnerable, as a group of three masked men—judging by their body types—make their way inside the room he's trapped in. He glares at the one that steps closer to Nightwing as the other two hang back. One by the door, one by the chain connecting to the wall. 

One man, who must surely be the leader, stops just outside of Dick's kicking range and kneels down to the balls of his feet. The balaclava he's wearing covers his entire face besides a section for his dark eyes, but Dick gets the feeling he's smirking. 

"Alright," Dick says, shifting so he's sitting straighter while making sure his tone is unbothered and bored and not at all as groggy as he feels, "let's get this out of the way. M'names Nightwing, I like long walks on the beach, and I'm not going to tell you any secret identities."

"Which would be a shame," the man in front of him says, "if we cared for secret identities."

A bolt of confusion shoots through Dick at the sentence as the man stands up, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head. He isn't interested in secret identities? That's… a new one. Most villains who capture him practically beg for his name, that way they can get Batman's name. The first time Dick's been beaten with the reasons of secret identities, it was scary, sure, but now that he's older he's just sorta… gotten used to it at this point. A villain who wants to know his name is a predictable villain. 

One who wants something different is a dangerous villain.

"You see, Nightwing," the man continues, "all we want is information. We have a couple questions for you, and if you cooperate you won't be hurt."

There's no we'll let you go . Just you won't be hurt . Dick doesn't know who these guys are or what they want, but whatever it is, it can't be good. 

Dick flashes a toothy smile. "Oh, a few questions? Is that all? Ask away."

"Does the name The Silence ring any bells?" The man asks, and Dick fights a scowl because it does ring a few bells.

They are an international, underground human trafficking organization. Grabbing kids from all over the globe and selling them to various rich assholes for a multitude of disgusting reasons. Dick's fought them before, in fact, they had a station in Blüdhaven that he worked with the police to raid and rescue the kids trapped inside. 

But that was three weeks ago. 

"It sounds familiar," Dick replies slowly, wishing the man wasn't wearing the stupid balaclava so he could judge the facial expressions better. He can't tell anything with just the eyes. "But they were taken down weeks ago."

Keep it vague. Do not let them know that you know more than the bare minimum.

"We both know that's not true, Nightwing," the man says with a sigh. "The Silence has reaches across the entire globe and for the past decade they have gone entirely unnoticed. Until now, where you took down the base in Blüdhaven twenty days ago." He pauses, then gives Dick a hard look. "Until when, just a day ago, another base in San Francisco was taken down by none other than Red Robin and all those other powered brats."

Shit. Shit . They caught on way quicker than what anyone was planning. The moves on them were supposed to be "accidental". Like Dick "stumbling" upon the warehouse, expecting to find some other crime and instead finding a massive group of child kidnappers and sellers. Like Tim and his team just happening to catch wind of the base and taking it out because it was in his city. Bruce really isn't going to be happy about this one. Dick really hopes Jason's okay. He's the one who's undercover and getting the base locations. 

"Look, I don't know anything about this, I just saw what was happening and took it out of my city," Dick says, flexing his fingers in the tape they're wrapped in. This is going to get messy fast, he can tell. 

"Anyone with a brain can see the bats are connected to this," the man says with a sharp edge to his voice. "And I'm not in the mood to pretend you don't know anything. What we want to know, Nightwing, is where you're getting your information and how many other bases you know about."

So… Jason hasn't been found out yet. Good. That's good. There's no way Dick will sell him out, not when they have close to fifteen other major locations and are currently working with the local authorities to take them out in one fell swoop. 

 Dick takes a breath. "I really have nothing to tell you."

The eyes of his captor hardens and Dick fights to keep his heart steady. He knows where it goes from here. Even before the leader motions to the other two men. "Then you have decided to make this difficult for yourself."

Then, the two other men approach. The moment one of them gets close enough, Dick lashes out with his legs, kicking him in the shins. But, because this guy is 1. Huge and 2. Has a friend , Dick's quickly overpowered as his shoulders are grabbed and he's shoved so far forward his nose almost slams into his knees. His shoulders protest angrily as his wrists remain attached to the wall by the short leash, but that discomfort doesn't last long before his shackles are disconnected from the wall and he's hefted up to his feet by two pairs of meaty hands on his biceps. 

His head spins as they frogmarch him past the leader into the middle of the room, right next to where the chain is dangling. The lightheadedness quickly fades though with a dosage of adrenaline as he's held stiffly in place. 

When his hands are grabbed and he's turned so his back is to the chain, he fights down a fit of panic and desperately ignores his rolling stomach. "What are you doing?" 

There's the clinking of metal links, a snap, then one moment turns into another and Dick is left standing in the middle of the room with the slack between his shackles attached to the hanging chain. 

He glares at the leader and watches out of the corner of his eyes as the two other men return to their positions—one by the door, the other by where the very chain Dick is now tethered to is latched to the wall. 

He has a very bad feeling about this.

A very bad feeling that he knows exactly where this is going. 

"Last chance, Nightwing," the leader says, "tell us what we want to know and you won't be harmed."

Dick shuffles his feet and rolls his shoulders, mentally preparing himself for what's about to happen. This is going to suck .

"I'm telling you, I don't know anything," Dick tries, making his voice sound as genuine as he can so hopefully they believe him and not torture him for the next who knows how long. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, he has no such luck as the leader turns towards the man by the chain and nods. 

Now Dick, he isn't lightweight. Sure, he's short for his age and quite lean compared to most people, but that flat stomach and slim shoulders are made entirely out of muscle . And muscles are, in fact, heavy . Yeah, he's nowhere near Bruce's record weight of 210 pounds, nor around Jason's outstanding 230, but come on. Dick's almost six feet of pure 145 pounds and that's heavy . 

Which is why it shocks him so much that Mr Man over there takes the chain from the wall it's connected too and manages to successfully yank the chain down so hard that Dick's feet leave the floor for a minute. He just manages to curl up with his back keeping contact with his fisted hands, but without the purchase of his fingers added with the weight of his own body, he quickly finds his shoulders burning with strain. 

Dick's an acrobat. He can hang from many positions safely for long periods of time, but there's nothing safe about strappado. His shoulders are on fire, and it's only been a few seconds. His chest is tight and the metal bites into the skin of his wrists, and just when he feels like his ribcage is going to burst he finds his knees hitting the floor roughly. 

He's painfully aware of every nerve and cell in his shoulders, he can feel the blood pulsing with a sharp agony that has him swallowing gasps. 

And of course, before he can even recover, the chain is yanked again loudly and violently that has him stumbling to his feet, his wrists held so high above him that he's forced to bend forward and stand on his tip toes. 

Dick's flexible. He can twist and contort unlike anyone other. 

But let it be put on the record that some joints are not meant to bend certain ways. The shoulders shouldn't be pulled back and up like this. 

It's agonizing. A pain that's way more biting than what he expected. He hasn't been tortured like this before—which admittedly is a terrible thing to say because it implies he's been tortured before but in other ways… which is a correct assumption, but still —and honest to the gods and to mother nature, it's like his entire upper body is on fire. 

His stomach threatens rebellion as he's held upright in this new stress position. His chin is suddenly grabbed and Dick soon finds himself glaring through the strands of his bangs at the man in charge of this fun play date. Dick wants to vomit on him. 

He keeps that just to his thoughts. He'd actually rather not. 

"Where did you get your information?" The man asks, eyes cold and glaring. Dick bites back a wince as the chain jerks slightly, sending pings of pain into his shoulders and neck. 

"No one," Dick hisses through clenched teeth. "No one told me. I was scoping out the warehouse and just happened to find- Ahg-!"

His chin is released and he's in the air with one mighty tug. He chokes back a cry as he's suspended awkwardly above the ground. It's even more painful this time. It came more of a surprise and he didn't get to prepare himself. His abs strain as he attempts to curl up to relieve a little bit of the tension in the socket's of his shoulders that are bending way too far in the wrong direction. He just manages to catch sight of the two other men both holding the chain before his vision is obscured by the leader approaching him. 

If Dick wasn't so concerned with not having his shoulders ripped from the socket's, he could kick him in the face right now. 

But he doesn't, he can only force himself to not cry out and keep his face a straining level of nonchalant as the man speaks above the ringing in his ears. 

"Where did you get your information?"

Dick grinds his teeth and shakes his head. 

Which is thankfully answer enough, Dick's pretty sure if he opens his mouth he'll scream. 

Though, because it's the answer they don't want, Dick's lowered just a bit and then jerked right back up.

He'd be lying if he says he doesn't release a choked off shout. It's horrible . The strain, the tugging, the constricting, the weight. It's a miracle he hasn't dislocated a shoulder or two yet. 

He's held up there for what feels like an eternity but in reality must have been just another minute or so before he's lowered back to his feet. He tries to keep standing, but his mind is so hazed over with pain that he falls to his knees once more, his heels hitting his ass as he leans forward and gags—the nausea in his stomach finally winning. 

Thankfully, it's more like just an acidy spit-up. No past meals to be seen. Regardless, there's a horrible taste in his mouth to match the horrible ache in his body and the humiliation of throwing up at the feet of a captor. 

A hand in his hair. A tug on the chain.

"Where did you get your information."

Dick doesn't bother answering, and the force of the chain lifting him up is so great that he feels the back of his biceps hit his head right before…

Crack .

Pure, unhinged agony pounds into him as his left shoulder finally gives out. He yells through clenched teeth, his feet scrambling for purchase that isn't there, and then, there's a second horrible pop as his other shoulder dislocates as well, and he's not able to hold back this scream. 

Dick's hanging now, his wrists fully above his head in the worst way imaginable, gasping choking on his spit—his upper arms and the area around his neck burn like hellfire. He can't breathe. He can't even try. It's all pain pain pain pain that sends bolts to his fingertips and down his ribs. The meat of his shoulders press against his ears, and all he can do is dangle as his brain tries to process the horrible signals that's being sent though every burning nerve. 

"Was wondering when that would happen," someone says all faraway. The leader or one of the other two, it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that his eyes are blurry and he can't focus on anything other than the dislocated joints that are already becoming oh-so-worryingly numb. 

He's dislocated his shoulders before. He has . But this is different. This is awful. This is… this is…

"Where did you get your information, Nightwing," the leader yells through the haze. Dick blinks rapidly, trying to focus, trying to find the present though the maze that is torture. His head hangs, the nerves in his neck feeling like he's pinched them all individually, but he does manage to at least look up and mumble. 

"What was that?" Someone asks. 

Dick tries again, but only mumbles and grunts escape. 

The leader leans forward and Dick does the only thing he can do, he spits the biggest wad of phlegm he could gather right onto his enemy's face. 

The leader howls in disgust, yelling something too loud for Dick to process. He only has a moment to silently celebrate a victory when the tension holding him suspended in the air is suddenly lost, causing him to once again fall to the floor. Only this time, he crumbles all the way down, landing awkwardly onto his feet, down to his knees, over to his side and right on top of his right shoulder. 

Everything goes white then. Ringing. Nothing but lightning bolts of angry, poisonous red as the pain envelops him. 

He gasps, choking on air, trying to crawl back to his eyes and ears to see what is going on around him, trying to ignore the invisible knives that slice into his upper body. 

He fails. Dramatically so. He passes out from the pain, and the pain remains even in sleep. 

So much so, that the only reason he can tell time has moved when he wakes up is that he's no longer in the middle of the room, but shoved back against the wall. He's laying on his side, but he can't feel anything in his shoulders. His fingers itch below the layers of tape and he doesn't have any strength left to even check to see if he's connected to the wall again. 

He releases a shaky breath and remains limp on the ground, praying that someone will come and that this will all be over soon. 

[veryvincible]

Do you think you could share some of your Tony Ty youth/relationship days hcs? hehe

Yours truly,

Tys obsessed fan

Oh boy! I have been sitting on this for a few days now, because there is, uh, a lot. Also, I adore you, and I love every Ty ask I receive.

I think this post would end up far too long if I responded the way I desire to in my heart, so I’ll keep it relatively simple (edit: it did not stay relatively simple, and also it branched out slightly into other topics. This is so very long. Be warned.)

Content warnings here for psychological/emotional abuse/domestic abuse/child abuse!

I like to think they didn’t really have a “let’s get together!” moment. I think they ended up becoming close, they were casual with each other, and it just kind of... became what it became. I think they probably ended up using labels at some point, but I don’t think there was ever an official, “Would you like to go out on a date with me?” or “Would you want to be, like, boyfriends?” moment. 

I think Tony was a generally isolated kid (obviously, he gained acquaintances like Bruce and potentially Reed as he grew older, but you know) and Ty was... probably also a generally isolated kid. Ty may have had a few other “friends” around, given what we know about him; he’s certainly charismatic. I don’t think Ty would have really developed close friendships with many people, though, given that his personality seems more rotten the closer you get to him.

We don’t see a lot of their childhood together at all, so this is almost entirely shit I’ve come up with for the sake of fic writing and general note-taking for the sake of coherency with how I write Ty, but.

One thing I tend to lean toward is the idea that Ty had kind of an awful home life. This isn’t really an, “Aw, boo, so sad, what a tragic man,” sort of thing so much as it is that... I think Ty and Tony are at their most interesting when they’re contrasting forces, and the idea of Tony (a victim of abuse who broke the cycle) becoming friends with Ty (a victim of abuse who perpetuates the cycle) at a young age, not in spite of their differences but because of them, is something I really like to think about.

We don’t actually get much of Ty’s parents in canon-- they’re kind of implied to be, like, Fine Parents. They’re contrasted with Howard Stark, who pulls the shark-eat-shark business motherfucker thing and basically causes Mr. Stone’s business to, like. Drown, or whatever. You know. The contrast there is implied, and I respect that for what it is. That being said, that’s not what interesting for me to write, and as such, I’ve chosen to tweak these little details for the sake of my more personalized (and slightly more self-indulgent) fic writing experience.

I think there’s a lot of potential in considering the differences between how they act at home as opposed to how they act with each other, too. I think Home Tony is generally apprehensive and subdued, but more uncertain and anxious than outright fearful 24/7. In IM Vol. 1, Howard was shown to be unpredictable; we got to see a lot of bad, but there were also sparkling moments wherein they seemed to be bonding as a father-son duo, and Tony would actually get to work with his father and learn from his father. I think that very well could have exacerbated the anxiety he felt, because he’s not being taught to never touch anything ever-- he’s being taught that there are very specific circumstances under which he’s able to explore as he’d like to, and those circumstances are 1) virtually impossible to accurately predict and 2) subject to change at the drop of a hat. So, Tony has been shown to be at least a little bit capable of testing the waters with what he’s allowed to do in the house and what he’s not allowed to do. That doesn’t make it any less anxiety-inducing, it just makes him a tiny, tiny bit of a more active child than one who’s constantly paralyzed.

Home Ty, to me, would be the opposite-- he is fearful 24/7, and as such, his behavior as a child is kind of... flawless, at least in the eyes of parents who think that children should be seen, not heard (and sometimes not even seen). I think both of his parents were abusive-- his father more so than his mother, but certainly both of them, if only because I think it would be yet another nice contrast between him and Tony, whose mother wasn’t perfect but certainly tried harder and felt more for Tony than Howard did. I like to think Ty was kept on a very short leash at home; boundaries were predictable, there were no “glimmering moments” he could grasp onto in order to make him feel like there was ever a chance of having normal family dynamics, and he was too afraid to really... do anything about it.

In contrast, I think Boarding School Ty was probably a lot pushier, a lot more risk-taking, and generally just... took up more space. I think he was still pretty fearful of authority and nervous about punishment, but he was well aware of the fact that this was distinctly different from being at home and that most people at school didn’t give a flying fuck about him. It likely could have been both liberating and anxiety inducing for someone so used to being around people who found it important to control him. I think he was probably pretty manipulative at this point, but I don’t think it was at the point where you would point to him and go, “Oh, what a fucked up, toxic person!”, especially since he was, like... a little fucking dude. Like, a fucking young’un. But I think the seeds were sort of planted here, and given that he had no healthy relationships to model himself after, he worked off of the assumption that in order to have control as opposed to being controlled, he needed to 1) possess things, 2) protect them aggressively, and 3) make sure his authority wasn’t threatened.

Boarding School Tony (from what little we’ve seen of him, though we can imagine he was probably similar to pre-boarding school Tony for a while, just with more Issues now) was probably the opposite-- less willing to take up space and less willing to take risks. It’s not unimaginable to assume that he might have thought his (extremely) mild exploratory tendencies might have had something to do with the abandonment, and he very well could have adjusted accordingly; if him causing trouble for people was what pushed his parents to leave him, he would very simply not cause trouble. A lot of this is nabbed from Adult Tony tendencies, wherein pretty much everyone else is prioritized over himself and he’s practically incapable of finding himself worthy of anything at all.

It’s the classic “extrovert friend-adopts an introvert” trope, except... it’s a severely damaged child feeling gutsy enough to finally, finally take up space and find something to possess and control for his own for once... friend-adopting a severely damaged child who very likely feels like the best way to proceed in relationships is to very clearly identify boundaries, figure out what it is the other person wants from him, and try to adhere to those desires as much as he’s able.

Of course, canon portrays the relationship as a “friendly rivalry” that Ty takes much more seriously than Tony does. From what we’ve seen of Tony, though, Tony doesn’t actually want to be better than anyone. In fact, he tries his best to make it seem like the opposite. He treats everyone like they’re on the same level, he tries to simplify the concepts he’s explaining so no one feels inferior to him, and, generally, he just... isn’t much of a braggart. That isn’t to say competitive/proud people can’t be kind and gentle and want to level the playing field often, but in Tony’s case, it seems that competition is best for two things: 1) having two intelligent, capable people trying to outdo each other and, in the process, creating better and better technology for the betterment of society at large, and 2) lighthearted fun.

For Ty, it very clearly wasn’t just lighthearted fun, and I think most of their childhood rivalry would have become formulaic at a point: Tony would put a good amount of effort into their competitions, but if it seemed that Ty was lagging behind too much, Tony would simply back off and let things even out. I don’t think Ty was predictably a sore loser; in fact, I think he was unpredictable, and I think a part of Tony that had only known life to be unpredictable found some level of sick comfort in that.

For Tiberius Stone specifically, I tend to read more into the unintended consequences/implications of his character based on one-off lines that... weren’t really intended to say much. The story canon gives us isn’t incohesive, exactly! It’s a pretty good story, especially if you’re not hellbent on analyzing character motivations. There’s just a lot about Ty that doesn’t seem very stable. Obviously, he’s not a stable person, given that he, uh, freaked the fuck out and tried to take over the world. But when I say Ty doesn’t seem very stable, I mean his character doesn’t seem the most stable at a second glance; we’re given conflicting accounts about his motivations, his intentions, his past, and even what he’s trying to do in the moment. And some of these inconsistences can be found in dialogue from Ty’s own mouth.

Now, if you read into it from a point of view that’s canon-adjacent as opposed to canon-compliant (i.e., assuming there’s much more of a story there than canon offers, and canon’s “case closed!” for the timeline of Ty’s life isn’t actually a closed case), you can gauge not only some level of dysregulation, but also... a level of delusion, almost. Ty seems disconnected from reality, but it’s not like there’s one single alternate timeline of events that’s cohesive in his head. It feels like his view of the world and, most importantly, himself (and this is excluding dialogue wherein he’s explicitly lying to Tony in order to manipulate him).

Most notably, we can kind of gauge fluctuations in his own views of his self worth. He engages in constant competition with Tony, he refuses to come back to America after leaving until he’s more successful than Tony, and pretty much everything he does is to prove he’s better than Tony. So, he thinks he’s better than Tony, right?

Well, not really. Because so much of his life was spent with the understanding that he wasn’t better than Tony. That was the whole reason he was gone for so long. He said he’d come back once he’d beat Tony, and... he still hadn’t beaten Tony. The beginning of the narrative leads you to assume that he thinks his big victory was being richer somehow, but it was all a set-up to bait Tony into Dreamvision. He comes across like he wants to kill Tony at first, and when that doesn’t work, he wants to... keep Tony. Like a pet, almost. But he also wants Tony to... kill him?

It’s a lot. It’s messy. It’s inconsistent. And that’s kind of what’s interesting about it. It (unintentionally, probably) suggests that Ty doesn’t have consistent motivations, which is something you do see often in people who are in survival mode in environments that don’t necessarily warrant it. It suggests a psychological wound that’s easy to poke at.

Essentially, Ty just comes across as very... hurt. Which, y’know, doesn’t justify shit and doesn’t make him any better of a person, but it provides the opportunity for some interesting narratives to sprout. Figuring out all the ways that Tony could unintentionally pick at this psychological wound of his and all the ways Ty could poorly respond is neat, I think, and I feel like these kinds of narratives tend to be very... raw, I guess, is the word I’m looking for. They just kind of hit hard, especially for those who have experienced similar situations.

It’s just something that’s terribly common in abusive relationships-- any implication that the traumatized abuser is doing something wrong can be a trigger for a borderline nervous breakdown, which makes communication practically impossible and, if the victim of the abuse feels obligated to stick around or take on the role of caretaker, turns the relationship into a cycle of insecurity and misery on all fronts. That’s not to say the abuser and the victim are suffering equally or are equally justified/valid, but it is a kind of relationship dynamic that can be incredibly cathartic to both write and read, and it’s also just... I don’t know. It just, as the kids say, hits different.

So, rewinding about four paragraphs there (whoops, this is getting long), I think most of my feelings about youth/relationship days Ty/Tony kind of center around this concept of two suffering people handling their trauma in totally opposite ways. I think it’s especially interesting to look at it from the point of view of them as younger adults (or teenagers, or children) who aren’t so set in their ways quite yet. You see these redemptive qualities and you see these children and these teenagers who are so, so ready to be helped and saved and cared for, but with the knowledge that they just... don’t get that. Not for a long time, at least.

It can feel fatalistic from a narrative standpoint, and... I mean, it kind of is. There are very few circumstances under which I could see Ty getting a redemption arc of any kind, and that’s kind of what makes a younger Ty so tragic. Everything he does is born of insecurity and anger, and everything Tony does is born of insecurity and love.

I think (for a short period of time, at least), they molded each other. Ty’s anger and competitiveness only solidified Tony’s inferiority complex and Tony’s inability to really, genuinely stand up against Ty in a way that would make any lasting meaningful changes only cemented the idea in Ty’s head that this was an acceptable way to be.

Now that that’s out of the way, here are some more simple and concise headcanons, because you asked for them and I’m sorry this became so terribly long and broke off in so many different directions:

- I think Tony and Ty bickered a lot as they got older. I don’t think Tony was totally incapable of standing up for himself, but I do think Tony probably had a tendency to call Ty out in the moment, and when Ty became too agitated and too unreasonable, Tony just left it alone and let it settle. 

- I think Ty can play house extremely well. He probably remembers all of Tony’s favorite foods, favorite songs, favorite fabrics, favorite... I don’t know what other favorite things you could have, but you get my point. I don’t think he always used this information, but I think it would be incredibly important for him to know how to make someone feel loved, even if he didn’t always employ these methods (and in some cases, may have actively withheld certain kindnesses as acts of pettiness). I think it was also incredibly important for him to know Tony’s dislikes, for... obvious reasons.

- As I said before, I think Ty had a tendency to become terribly dysregulated; I think he was more than capable of both premeditated manipulation and unintentional manipulation. I think he very likely could have fallen into a spiral of thoughts that could make it pretty clear just how easily his self worth and his view of Tony’s worth fluctuated. 

- Tony’s just... a stronger person than Ty. That’s a given. That’s been proven. And I think a lot of Tony’s willingness to put up with Ty would have come from this idea that he was more resilient and Ty was more fragile and volatile, so if Ty needed to take shit out on him every so often, that was fair enough.

- Another factor that may have played into Tony’s tolerance of Ty’s behavior in their youth (which, again, wasn’t nearly as awful as what Ty did as a grown ass man, given how Tony responded to Ty post-Dreamvision and how he pretty much immediately broke things off-- though, I very much enjoy the concept of Tony making some effort to make amends and Ty failing to meet him in the middle yet again) could have been the fact that it feels like Ty probably didn’t have a lot of other friends at all, especially not close friends. I think Tony would very much carry the weight of this “Maybe I’m the only person in the world who loves him” mindset. He values human life quite a bit, and I believe that even on a less intimate scale, if Tony tried to view the situation through the perspective of an outsider, he would still feel terribly, terribly saddened by the very human tragedy of being forced to take more than you can reasonably handle and becoming difficult to redeem as a result of this-- not because there’s no good left in you, but because you’re so frightened by the idea of even touching the trauma that you can’t force yourself to acknowledge you have a problem to begin with.

- I don’t think Ty feels the same comfort and warmth from physical contact that most people do, not because of anything innate (i.e. a natural preference), but because the only physical contact he received for a long, long time was, uh... Awful! That being said, I think he enjoys physical contact on the basis of being the center of attention, and he probably initiated physical contact quite a bit. I think Tony’s very big on physical contact, and Ty would very much play into Tony’s preferences here, too. Just to make himself seem like a better, more attentive boyf.

- This one is less tragic-- I think Ty and Tony get pretentious together! While I adore in-canon comparisons between Tony and the rest of high society, I also think a long-forgotten part of Tony’s character in fanon is the fact that he really does fit in with a more yacht-having crowd just as much as he fits in with your average Joes. He was raised by them and with them, after all, and his education was shaped by this. Of course he doesn’t love a lot of the culture around it, but with regards to the more harmless aspects of being a privileged kid in the environment he was in (the experiences one might have that aren’t inherently negative, that is, like having certain extracurriculars or being exposed to certain educational content), I think Ty and Tony really mesh here. Tony’s sense of humor with Ty would be totally different from his sense of humor with someone like Steve, which would also be totally different from his sense of humor with someone like Rumiko. Tony’s incredibly well-rounded, and I think he could match Ty’s Classics-loving, borderline classical theater kid tendencies very well.

- This one is 100% headcanon, based on virtually nothing other than, like, one comic panel... that isn’t even awesome evidence. It’s just a personal hc. I think Ty’s gay. Like, obviously, he’s gay for Tony, w/e. But I think Ty’s gay as in, Ty is exclusively attracted to men. The only women he ever had eyes for (or showed interest in) were the women that Tony had shown interest in/dated first, implying that there’s more of a possessive/competitive aspect than anything really... genuine. Of course, that doesn’t mean he can’t be bi, pan, or anything else (or straight, obviously, but this whole post is about him and a guy he likes to fuck, so that doesn’t really fit into the theme, here), but I prefer to write him as someone who’s only really interested in men (Tony specifically), and I prefer to write Tony as a bisexual man with a preference for women. This wasn’t really intended to be a big contrast between them; I had the headcanon for Tony already set in stone (haha), and for a long while I wrote Ty as a bi man, but recently I’ve kind of shifted things around to better accommodate my feelings about these characters.

- I love, love, love tattooed Ty. Get this man a quote in Latin on the base of his neck. Get this man some symbolic tattoos. Let this man be a poet who simultaneously wants to appear profound for appearances and wants to have these symbols on his body just because he likes them, and he likes to look at them, and they feel reflective of who he is. I have very specific Ty tattoo thoughts that I do not remember at all, but this is the gist of it.

- I think Ty handles the “normal” adventurous stuff, but he’s far more of a, uh... I don’t know, a pussy? than Tony is. Tony deals with actual threats; Ty deals with fake, stupid threats. Ty is the guy who rids the dorms of cockroaches when Tony’s too afraid to and Tony is the guy who handles home invasions.

- I think the vast majority of Ty’s abuse is emotional/psychological, not only because this is what comes most naturally to him and it’s easy for him to fall into these manipulative tendencies without necessarily thinking about it, but also because physical abuse would cross a line for him in his head that would be very difficult to ignore. I think, if you take into consideration how volatile he seems, his flip-flopping back and forth between how he feels about both himself and Tony could become more exaggerated and more severe, possibly leading to an irreversible breakdown of his psyche. I think there could very well be an, “Oh, I’ve become my father” moment if that were to happen, which is exactly why it doesn’t happen. Ty’s too wrapped up in this idea that, so long as he doesn’t cross that line, everything he does can still be justified. Which is garbage.

- Tiberius did not like Sunset Bain. Sunset Bain did not like Tiberius. 

There’s a lot more that comes to mind, but this is already upwards of 30 paragraphs, and I, uh. Do not want to make this longer than it already is! So, do with that what you will.

Again, obligatory note here that this is canon-adjacent and canon-inspired, but not an analysis of canon material in the sense that I’m attempting to pick apart what the intents of the writers were. What canon provides is much more straightforward. These are headcanons, this is for funsies, and a lot of less important background details have been tweaked for the sake of the narratives that I, as a fanfic writer, would like to write and see written.

Thank you so much for the ask! This was legitimately so nice to write. I rarely ever get to spam about this, which is very likely why there’s just so much text every time I receive an ask like this, but. Again, it was very nice and I’m very grateful for you, anon.

[lazywriter7]

Five Bells

Written for @lightsonparkave prompt one and two. Cheers to the delightful @firebrands for all her words of encouragement.

Summary:  

After returning the Stones, Steve takes a detour through time.

First few lines of dialogue taken from Avengers: Endgame. All other lines in italics, as well as the title, are taken from Kenneth Slessor’s Five Bells.

________________________________

“How long is this gonna take?”

“For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds.”

  Time that is moved by little fidget wheels Is not my time

the flood that does not flow.

 I have lived many lives, and this one life

  “You know which bagel,” Steve says – mostly distracted. Cross-legged, notepad on thigh, he is drafting new training plans for the team; Pietro is proving to be a unique challenge.

“I do?” Tony queries, standing above his shoulder. The couch is low and he towers over Steve. “I don’t remember that being covered by the history books… unless I’d fallen asleep, of course.”

Steve freezes. No, no, he stills. The setting sun angles over Tony’s cheekbone, a deep, burnt red.

Steve lowers his gaze, his skin shivering with the afternoon chill. “Sesame seed, please.”

  Why do I think of you, dead man

 You have gone from earth,

Gone even from the meaning of a name;

  It is in the little things. Natasha’s surprised blink when Steve brings her a peanut butter sandwich, the hollow silence when he curses on the comms and no one chimes the L-word back at him.

It is nothing. It should pale before the face of the big things, the earth-shattering, the miraculous – the reality of getting to hear their voices, see their faces, unblemished, every day.

Even Christmas. Clint snags a thumbnail under the wrapping paper and peels it open from the middle; lifts the box set of Jurassic Park colouring books in the air and shakes it. “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit. Thanks, Cap.”

It’s for Cooper, Steve thinks; it’s dumb, I couldn’t help myself, you haven’t told us and I’m so sorry–

“Did you not have presents in your time?” Tony asks, part snark and mostly befuddled, the multicoloured gleam of fairy lights dappled in his hair.

I didn’t have you in my time – and. And. It is in the little things.

  Yet something's there, yet something forms its lips

And hits and cries against the ports of space,

Beating their sides to make its fury heard.

  “They’re shiny. Silver.” Tony says, bruised eyes, dim with a kind of terror Steve has lived through first-hand. “These big, heaving whales in the air… and everything else is dark. All of you are dead.”

It’s been twenty-three days since Steve told him about December 16, 1991. New traumas evoking older nightmares.

“And I’m alone.”

It wasn’t real, Steve should say. That is the correct response to a nightmare.

It was real, in another, deliberately forgotten lifetime. Five years, and they weren’t even the worst of it.

“We can prepare,” Steve fists his hands by his sides, so as to not reach for Tony’s trembling ones on the kitchen countertop. Everything around them is night and still, but for the flickering of the bulb overhead. “We’ll be ready for them when they’re here.”

It’s like a face shifting from the shade into the light; the gratitude moving over Tony’s features.

The kettle whistles, Tony pads over to the stove – and for an instant, it’s as if a cloud passes and Steve is convinced this is a BARF memory. There by the corner, the real Tony stands with shoulders curled in – gaunt, emaciated, mouthing words.

Liar. Thief. Liar, liar.

  Are you shouting at me, dead man, squeezing your face

In agonies of speech on speechless panes?

Cry louder, beat the windows, bawl your name!

  Tony, Steve breathes – and Tony catches it on his lips.

This has never happened before. Steve has no memories to compare it with, and catalogues every detail to add to a rolodex of sensations, for safekeeping; Tony’s eyelashes fluttering against Steve’s skin, the way the callus on his thumb digs into Steve’s chin when he’s holding it steady, the soft skin in the crevices between his fingers as their hands wound tighter together, the happiness of an impossible moment.

Tony pulls back, smiles softly.

Steve closes his own eyes, brushes his mouth over the corner of Tony’s, where the wrinkles begin – the place missing just a few extra lines.

  But I hear nothing, nothing...only bells,

Five bells, the bumpkin calculus of Time

Your echoes die, your voice is dowsed by Life

  “I have… Arlington.” Steve awkwardly presses himself against the wall of the overfull coffeeshop, paper cup oozing warmth through to his palms. Sometimes, if he lets himself forget, the crowds piling through the street and bustling indoors can still stun him. “There’s a memorial there, I mean. But if I could pick, after I eventually… Brooklyn, probably. In the Barnes family plot, if they allow it.”

“What,” Steve asks – turned morbid by the laughter and press of people around him. Fifty percent. It never happened here. “What about you?”

Natasha looks at him, brow crooking high enough to reach her hairline. Steve used to think that blistering colour came from hair dye, but he knows better now.

“Where I’d want to be buried?” She summarises bluntly. It’s like a wound getting cauterised – relief and pain making everything insensate.

The answer is a farm that isn’t supposed to exist, in the middle of nowhere. “Minsk,” Natasha says instead, and it doesn’t sound like a lie he’s heard before.

  Nothing except the memory of some bones

Long shoved away, and sucked away, in mud;

And unimportant things you might have done,

Or once I thought you did; but you forgot,

And all have now forgotten

   “Happy Sputnik Day!” Tony choruses, Thor’s deep base rumbling alongside his. Bruce is in the attached kitchenette, peering at jar labels in the shelf; Clint and Natasha playing Borderlands on the couch.

Steve comes further in from the doorway, gaze flitting incorrigibly from person to person. “What?”

“You know, Sputnik. The day all of humanity became a little cooler, and the Russians successfully launched the first satellite into orbit, driving the Americans insane.” Tony springs to his feet, wide grin approaching for a morning kiss. “October fourth.”

He barely catches Steve, fingers clamped about the arms, just as Steve pitches into the floor.

One year, one year one yearoneyearone –

Past, present, future swirls together in his serum-perfect brain, gibbering over two words, a fact so carefully forgotten; his breaths grow shallower and shallower, pain shooting through his chest with every hitch, black-spots-inverse-stars shimmering in his vision–

“You’re dead.” Steve rasps out, Tony’s face shuttering in confusion. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it. “You’re dead.”

  Where have you gone? The tide is over you,

The turn of midnight water's over you,

As Time is over you, and mystery,

And memory, the flood that does not flow.

  He’s curled on the couch, apostrophe-like; dry-mouthed but breathing slower against Tony’s denim-covered thigh. Tony drags blunt nails over his scalp, quietly humming under his own breath.

I’ve watched you, Steve thinks hazily – watched you raise a child, watched you be blissfully married, watched you speak to Howard, father to father, and dole out more understanding than he deserved, and let me walk you away from your pristine life and give me more trust than I had ever earned. I watched the silver grow from the temples of your head to the longer hair-strands, to the scrub of your goatee, up to the fleck of your brows. And the longer I keep watching you now, the more I know I’m watching someone else.

“Was so sure,” He can hear his voice reverberate off the floor, more of a croak than anything– “tha’ I wasn’ gonna leave you this time.”

Tony regards him, hum falling silent. There’s a dam there, in those eyes, holding back a wave of slowly stirring anger and injury that Steve fully intends to weather – but is leashed now, for some reason.

This Tony doesn’t have grey in his beard yet, but even as his lips move and Steve braces himself, he says–

“I’ll forgive you.”

  The night you died, I felt your eardrums crack,

And the short agony, the longer dream,

The Nothing that was neither long nor short;

But I was bound, and could not go that way,

But I was blind, and could not feel your hand

  After he’s said his goodbyes, Natasha follows him back to his room.

“Is he still in the plane somewhere?”

Back at the beginning, when he’d been dropping off the Tesseract at Camp Lehigh – he’d briefly considered it. Dropping off an envelope on Peggy’s desk with the coordinates of the Valkyrie, so that the other him could find… something. Maybe a happy ending, maybe just a chance. But all of time and its knowledge had been laid out before Steve, and he hadn’t resisted one extra indulgence.

It was only time before he met Scott, after all. One extra Particle than he had, one trip to the forties and back – and his self could be spared the pain of thirty years in the ice.

In twenty-twelve, Steve changed the course of history merely by showing up; all deep sea vessels, search parties in the Arctic called home. Captain America was alive and well.

“Seventy five, point two three zero six north, ninety nine point one one three zero west.” With every blink, Steve can see her memorising the numbers. “Find him, kick his ass into gear. Don’t let him run.”

She nods, and remains waiting in the doorway. Steve is motionless on the bed, the looming weight of the future wrapped around his wrist.

He looks at her. Natasha’s lips curve straight up, soft and reassuring.

“See you in a minute,” Steve whispers, and disappears.

  If I could find an answer, could only find

Your meaning, or could say why you were here

Who now are gone, what purpose gave you breath

Or seized it back, might I not hear your voice?

  Back on the platform, Bucky runs to him first. His brows are furrowed with faint surprise.

In that other past, and now that was The Other – Peggy had set him free in the seventies, aided by information that Steve left behind. When Steve re-emerged in twenty-twelve, he had no idea where Bucky was and how the years had passed for him – fettering his impulses in steel, and letting it remain that way. His interference would accomplish little, and Bucky had always managed on without him.

Or maybe that had just been easier for him to believe.

“Not the end of the line just yet,” Steve says.

The surprise smooths out of Bucky’s features, so does the staidness; he squeezes Steve’s elbow once and for a second, that grin seems alive.

“I hate running alone,” Steve tells Sam, who’s standing but two paces behind. He strides forward to catch up, reaches out and wraps Sam’s solid fingers over the strap of the shield in one motion. “Hold this for me, will you? Be back soon.”

He turns and walks. It’s a short one – the lakehouse property isn’t really big. There’s grass everywhere, and dandelions, and no headstones.

Just a tall, stately oak towards the side – foliage in full summer splendour. There’s already a circle of dropped acorns around the base, ready to sprout into a hundred, newer lives.

“Hey.” Steve strokes his fingers over the burnished bark. “I’m back.”

 I have lived many lives, and this one life

 Time that is moved by little fidget wheels

Is not my time, the flood that does not flow.

  Outside the lakehouse, Laura is bundling the kids into a van. Clint steps down from the porch, murmurs something to her, then jogs over to where Steve is watching, arms folded.

“She did have family,” Clint says, almost as an aside. “Sisters, a few others.”

Steve breathes the news in. The scent of summer is strong in the air, lilacs and crabapples and the soil itself.

“I have a few of her effects. They must’ve heard, already, but someone should tell them in-person.”

“I’ll find them.” Steve affirms. Clint nods, and walks back to the van, where Cooper sticks his head out of the open windowpane and gets his hair ruffled teasingly for his efforts.

Steve watches, the warmth of the sun beating down his arms and back. He has a feeling Minsk is pretty nice this time of year too.

[ticklikeabomb]

One-shot : Low-Key

Pairing : Loki x Plus Size Reader ; Avengers x Plus size Reader

Warnings : Language ; Innuendos

Word Count : 2k

Requested by @lizzybatesblog : Are you taking requests right now? If so, could I ask for a oneshot where Loki walks in on the reader singing and dancing to Low-Key by Ally Brooke and Tyga and thinks about the song she is singing as if she is saying his name? I'm so sorry if this doesn't make sense. And I love your writing! :-)

A/N : I got carried away AGAIN xD

You were born as a Mutant. At first sight, no one knew that you had powers, not even you. It was even more astonishing considering that your parents didn’t have the Mutant gene. You were an only child and suffered from isolation, kids at school quickly picking on you for your weight. To escape that reality you created your own in your head. Their comments quickly became a buzzing background sound while in your universe, music was your life supply, the air your lungs seeked for.  Years passed by and you discovered that you could play any tune after just hearing them once. Very few people had that gift so you didn’t think a lot of it. Reaching your twenties, you decided you had enough of the small town life and expanded your universe by tempting your chance in New York. Resourceful, kind and full of life you managed to get a job as a pianist for a party. Not really asking for the details and just glad you had a chance, you wore your fanciest outfit and made your way to the party. When you entered the room and saw the people inside, you felt small. It was the Nobel Prize after party and here you were about to play for some of the ‘greatest’ populating the world. You took a seat in front of the piano and began to play the first notes of Lykki Li’s Deep End song. 

The second the first words came out of your mouth, the guest’s chatter went dead silent. Only your angelic voice was heard, each word touching them deeply. Among the guests was Bruce Banner, who never felt so peaceful in his entire life. He went back to the compound that night, a large smile on his face, feeling as relaxed as ever. He asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to play the song in his room but something was off. The peaceful feeling wasn’t there, something was missing. It lasted over a week, the frustrations getting the best of him when he eventually asked F.I.D.A.Y to play the camera footage of the after party. He was listening to you play and sing on the screen but the feeling wasn’t there. Tony, Thor and Loki entered the lab and frowned at seeing Bruce, his hands on his head. "What's wrong with him?", asked Loki. "Hey buddy, you're ok?", asked Tony worried. "No…yes… I don't know, it's just her voice." His fellow teammates looked at the screen and frowned. "I rather thing that she has a lovely voice", commented Thor. "That's the thing. When she sang something happened in me, some sort of energy. I've never felt more peacefully as that night", said Bruce before continuing. "F.R.I.D.A.Y can you isolate the sequence and show me the brain composition." 

"Don't you think you're exaggerating there?", asked Tony with a chuckle. The AI did as requested and Bruce told her to press play. "There ! Look. The guests brain composition seconds before she played, they seemed normal but as soon as she began playing and singing, the pleasure side of the brain activated and they're bodies show signs of…compliance?", he pointed at the screen. "That's indeed awkward. F.R.I.D.A.Y give me everything you have on her?", exclaimed Tony. "See I told you there was something." "An enhanced?", added Thor. "If so, she's not listed in the system and that could be a problem. Here an address", said Tony. "Let me go talk to her", exclaimed Bruce. That's how you ended up at the compound. Brought along by Bruce, you waved at the Avengers with a bright smile. "I'm Y/N", you told them. They introduced themselves, not that they needed to. "Bruce told us you're an enhanced", called Sam your way. "I'm a Mutant to be exact." You saw them frown and you elaborated, "I was born with it, they were not generated." "And what exactly are those powers?", asked Wanda. 

"Y/N can persuade her environment to comply as she pleases with a simple word. It can be while she sings, plays piano or any other instrument. Her power lays in her voice", answered Bruce. "Really? Why don't you show us", exclaimed Tony with a cocky smile. You looked at him and asked what was his favorite song. He told you it was Back in Black by AC/DC. You cleared you voice and focused on him, singing the first words of the song. You saw his face crunch in disgust. "Arghhh what the hell? Why are you singing that horrible song, I hate it. Stop it! Stop that, I can't stand it", he shouted angrily. You smiled at the others impressed faces and looked back at Stark, continuing the song but switching his feeling from hate to love. "Yeahhhh that's what I'm talking about. Best song ever !!! I'll fight anyone who says otherwise", he said with sparkling eyes. "Hmm I have to admit that's impressive but in what use would it be while saving the world?", chuckled Loki. You looked at him with mischief in your eyes, "Dance !" and saw his legs and arms move against his order. His face screamed shook and anger cause he had no more control over his body. "Shake that ass", you said and he began twerking. Thor let out a loud laughter along the others. "Who knew Asgardians could twerk", you smirked before looking back at Loki and seeing him fall to his knees, fighting to get up after you said "Down". 

That was a year ago, an eventful year. If someone told you that being part of the Avengers would be on the line when you left your hometown, you would laugh on the person's face. And yet, here we are. You became part of the family, always smiling, open-minded, kind, funny, affectionate and patient with everyone. You were more than a coworker and a friend, you were there when they felt down, angry, sad and comforted them. 

You were currently checking the new songs out on Spotify and put it on shuffle. At some point a catchy song came up and you hummed along. The song "Low Key" by Ally Brooks ft Tyga quickly became your favorite. You would get out of your room in the morning, singing the first lines of the song before entering the kitchen. 

"Low key, low key, you should really get to know me." The God of Mischief was in the kitchen, cutting pieces of apple and frowned hearing you say he should get to know you better. "Why's that dear?", he turned your way but deep in your mind, you didn't noticed he was addressing you. Frustrated he let it slide but kept eyeing you during the whole breakfast. The second time he heard you call after him, he was making his way out of his room after having a shower. "Low key, low key…Yeah, I know you got some things that you could show me", you said with a smile. He felt his face flush and his manhood throb underneath his sweatpants, affected by your words. He cleared his voice and called after you, "I beg your pardon?", he asked you. You looked up and saw what seemed to be a pissed off Loki (who was in reality flustered). "Hey Loki everything alright?", you asked him. "I could ask you the same thing. I don't know what are those things that I could show you but this is extremely inappropriate", he exclaimed before vanishing, leaving you behind confused. 

The third time he heard you 'call after him', you were doing squats in the gym. He was already looking at you, your curves driving the God insane. "Low key, low key, I see you looking at my body very closely. But there's a lot of things about me that you don't see. You know we could take it fast or take it slowly. (…) I can take you places you ain't been before me. Then, the rest I guess is self-explanatory." He widened his eyes, following your ass up and down before he cleared his throat and leashed out of the gym, groaning. "What's got over him?", asked Bucky to Steve. "I have no idea and I'm not sure I wanna know", the blond haired responded. 

The fourth time he thought he heard you, you were all alone in the living room looking out to the sky while mumbling "I see you watchin', you been plottin' on me, low key, yeah" He felt his heart drop in his stomach, scarred that you may think that he was plotting something against you. 'If you only knew', he thought. He wanted to let you know the feelings that he was harboring for you but was scared you would turn him down. Little did he know that you liked him too. Sure if you wanted you could say one word and have him kneeled in front of you but you didn't play games when it came to your family, friends and Loki. 

The next day Loki couldn't sleep and decided to read the book he saw in your hands a couple of weeks earlier. He was finishing the fifth chapter when he heard noise coming out from the gym. What he saw made his heart beat frantically : you singing and dancing happily. What caught his attention after were the lyrics.

Low key, low key, you should really get to know me Low key, low key, you should really get to know me

Yeah, I know you got some things that you could show me

Low key, low key, you should really get to know me

I see you looking at my body very closely

But there's a lot of things about me that you don't see

You know we could take it fast or take it slowly

We could fly out to Ibiza and get cozy

All your friends are looking for you

They don't know where you're at

'Cause you left with me and slipped out the back

Low key, low key, you should really get to know me Low key, low key, you should really get to know me

Yeah, I know you got some things that you could show me

Low key, low key, you should really get to know me

He mentally face-palmed himself discovering you were singing this song all along for weeks, instead of calling after him and felt bad for leaving you standing by yourself when he lashed out without giving an explanation. He entered the gym and you turned around, your eyes sparkling when you saw him approaching. You spread your arm into an invitation and he grabbed your hand. His arms circled around your wide waist and yours on his neck, you danced together. No words needed. Loki felt bold and dropped a chaste kiss on your neck. "Loki", you breathed out. You felt him push you closer and hummed contentedly. "That wasn't very Low key was it?", he said and felt her smiling. "I found it quite smooth at the contrary", you responded and looked at him in the eyes. "Y/N…I -", he started but you shook your head. "I know, me too", you smiled. His smile joined yours before he leaded down and showed you how much with a chaste but passionate kiss. You spend the rest of the night talking, him telling you about the times he thought you were calling him but were singing the song to which you laughed loudly. When you looked at the clock you saw it was already breakfast time. Your hands joined, you and Loki entered the kitchen and prepared something to eat. You were cutting fresh fruits when you mumbled out a new song : Ponyboy by Sophie. 

"Ponyboy… lock up the door"

"Ehmmm Y/N why would I lock the door and why are you calling me Tony Boy?", asked Tony. You looked at him confused for a second and your eyes locked with Loki's. "Oh no it's starting again", you commented before cracking up in loud laughter, Loki joining you. He stood up and dropped a kiss on your shoulder. "Did I miss something?", asked Bucky to Steve. The blond haired again shook his head and mumbled, "I have absolutely no clue what's going on in this place." 

* gifs not mine, credit to owners*

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[smkkbert]

Time for a story - A husband’s job

Closing his eyes briefly, Oliver sucked in another deep breath of the fresh morning air. At the beginning of November, it was increasingly cold. He knew it was only a matter of time for Felicity to lecture him that he had to dress differently for his morning runs, so he wouldn’t be sick.

Just the thought of it amused Oliver. Every single day on the island had been colder than it could ever be here, and Lian Yu hadn’t offered any warm clothes either. It had prompted him to adapt to cold, so, whenever others felt cold, he could just chuckle. It had also helped him to strengthen his immunity to sicknesses of all kinds. He was barely ever cold.

Oliver turned into the driveway of his home at exactly five-fifty-two. Nodding his head, he smiled. He was more than satisfied with his time. He was all the more satisfied with Hawk’s time as the young dog had done really great today.

“Come here, Hawk,” Oliver said, and Hawk stepped closer to him quickly, “you have done good today. You are a good boy.”

Since Oliver had returned from his five years away, he hadn’t been a good sleeper. When he had gotten together with Felicity, that had caused problems. He had woken up around four in the morning, ready to start his day, but Felicity had slept next to him. He hadn’t wanted to wake her up, so he had done his best to just lie still and let her sleep for as long as she wanted to. Eventually, they had agreed that he was allowed to sneak out of bed by four-thirty to go for a run.

Having a training partner with him was a great experience. He knew that he would never get Felicity to run with him. Hawk loved it all the more, and he was making sure that Oliver got back into his best training form. His energy was motivating.

Petting Hawk’s fur with one hand, he loosened Hawk’s leash and nodded towards the house. Immediately, Hawk waggled his tail. Oliver didn’t need to say it for Hawk to know what would come right now.

“What do you say, Hawk?” Oliver asked. “A little race to the house? The winner gets five minutes of snuggle with Felicity.”

Hawk barked, giving his consent to the race. No more words were needed. Both of them started running to the door, activating the last of their energies to make this run. Although they both gave their best, Hawk won the race by far.

Chuckling, Oliver came to a stop in front of the door. Turning to Hawk, he patted his hand on his chest. Immediately, Hawk lifted onto his hindlegs, putting his front paws to Oliver’s chest. Oliver smiled, kissing Hawk’s nose.

Back when he had agreed to getting a dog, allowing Bruce to choose one that he thought fit into the family and gifting it to Felicity, Oliver had never believed that he would love this dog so much. He couldn’t have been more wrong. He was exactly that kind of person he had made fun of once upon a time. He was the kind of guy that loved his dog like a child.

Hawk had just enriched their family life in a way Oliver had never thought was possible. He was making sure that everyone was coming together at least every once in a while. He was spending the kids as well as him and Felicity comfort. He was giving Oliver strength in therapy, accompanying him to every single session.

“Good boy,” Oliver whispered and kissed his nose once more, “you deserve the snuggle with Felicity.”

When Oliver unlocked the front door, Hawk pushed past him to get in first. He didn’t hurry upstairs to get his prize though. Instead, he hurried into the kitchen to get some water Oliver guessed.

He, on the other hand, would use that time to quickly get some snuggles with Felicity first. He slipped out of his shoes and hurried upstairs. It was almost six now which was the time his alarm would go off in case he slept so long. Oliver would turn around to tell Felicity that he was heading under the shadow, and Felicity would either use those minutes to catch some more sleep or she would choose to be waken up and follow him into the shower.

Oliver opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped inside. He wanted to close the door to make it even harder for Hawk to come into the room and steal Felicity’s attention. He knew that Hawk would just jump up the door and onto the door handle to open it. They were trying to stop him from doing that, and closed doors didn’t help. Hence, he left the door ajar.

He tiptoed to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Felicity didn’t even stir. She continued to lie there motionlessly, looking unbelievable beautiful as she was sleeping peacefully. He could easily fall in love with her all over again, and he probably just did.

“Felicity,” he whispered, and it caused Felicity to take in a deep breath, “I’m back.”

Felicity grumbled slightly and turned her head to the other side. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. Oliver could already see that she was still so very tired that there was no way for him to get her to join him in the shower. Tugging some strands of her blonde curls out of Felicity’s face, he could see the small furrow between her eyebrows. She really didn’t want to wake up.

“I will head under the shower before I wake you,” Oliver whispered, gently stroking his fingertips against the furrow between her eyebrows until Felicity relaxed a little, “sleep tight.”

Smiling, Oliver leaned down and brushed his lips against Felicity’s forehead. As soon as his lips touched her warm skin, he stopped and frowned though. Felicity’s forehead wasn’t only warm. It was warmer than it should be. Felicity was running a slight fever.

Oliver bit back a deep sigh upon pulling back. He put his hand to her forehead for a moment before he rested both palms against her slightly reddened cheeks. Looking at her face thoroughly now, he could see that she was pale. In contrast to that, the skin under her eyes were darkened by shadows. They weren’t showing completely yet, but they were already there.

With a low sigh, Oliver shook his head. He shouldn’t be surprised that Felicity had caught a slight infection. Last weekend, it had been Tommy. Last week, it had been Addie. Before her, it had been Emmy, who had caught the infection in school. In a house with five children, four of them under ten years, one always infected the other. Felicity was particularly endangered when it came to infections because the kids always needed her the most when they were sick.

The problem was that Felicity wasn’t an easy patient. While the kids preferred to be cuddled 24/7 when they were sick, Felicity liked to ignore it. If Oliver gave her the chance to do it, she would just go to work until she either fell asleep at her desk or just passed out. Knowing Felicity would fight any symptom of the infection for as long as possible, it would probably end with the latter.

When Hawk came into the room, pushing the door open with his nose, Oliver moved aside quickly. Hawk didn’t hesitate as he jumped into the bed and snuggled up to Felicity. Attracted to the warm fur, Felicity rolled onto her side and wrapped an arm around Hawk. She pushed her face into his fur with a soft sight.

Pursing his lips, Oliver grabbed his phone from his nightstand and moved into the bedroom. He had already unlocked the display and found Emily’s name in his contacts by the time he sat down on the edge of the bathtub. With a single movement of his thumb, he made the call.

“Good morning, Oliver,” Emily said, taking the call quickly, “what can I do for you?”

Oliver wasn’t surprised that Emily sounded like she had been awake for hours already. Knowing Emily, Oliver wouldn’t be surprised if she really had been. Emily worked day and night if necessary. When he had become mayor, he had been disappointed that he couldn’t have snapped her from Felicity’s fingers. With Becky, Felicity had found someone just as great as Emily though.

“Hi, Emily.” Oliver sighed. “Felicity’s sick. She’s not coming to work today.”

“Really? Did you handcuff her to the bed or what did you do?”

Oliver chuckled. “I hope that I will get around doing so, but I will definitely do it if that’s what is necessary.”

“I don’t doubt that.” The amusement was definitely audible in her voice. “Anyway, Felicity doesn’t have any important appointments anyway. She was supposed to make one or two important phone calls, but I will call Mr. Wayne’s assistant and ask if he can do that instead.”

“He will do it.”

Oliver didn’t have any doubt. He knew Bruce and his feelings for Felicity well enough to know that he would do everything she could possibly need. As distant and as business-orientated he could seem, Oliver knew better than that.

“Thank you, Emily,” Oliver said. “See you soon.”

“See you.”

As soon as they had hung up, Oliver dialed Becky’s number. There was one more thing he would have to do to increase his chances of making Felicity stay home. He knew Felicity, and he knew what she needed to agree on staying home or to give into it more easily at least.

“Oliver?”

Unlike Emily, Becky sounded like he had just pulled her from her sleep. He wasn’t surprised by that either. He knew that Becky worked best when she put a little pressure on herself which was why she always set her alarm late, so she would have to hurry to get home.

“Sorry for waking you up, Becky, but you have to cancel all my appointments for today.”

“Oh, who’s sick now? Millie? William?”

“Felicity,” Oliver replied with a smile, “I will stay home with her to make sure she gets the rest she needs. Otherwise, she is going to work from bed or, even worse, escape the bed as soon as I have left the house.”

“No worries. I will handle everything. If anything important comes up, I will tell Mr. Diggle.”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

Ending the phone call, Oliver hurried to slip out of his clothes and hop into the shower. While the water was pelting down on his shoulders, massaging the tight spots on his shoulders and the back of his neck, Oliver tried to figure out how to tell Felicity that she had to stay home today. He already knew that it wasn’t going to be easy.

Felicity hated staying home and doing nothing. She was usually full of energy, so there was always enough of it to spread it between Queen Incorporated, Team Green Arrow work, five kids and him. That said a lot about her energy because being his wife alone had to cost a lot of energy. He wasn’t the easiest husband to care for.

The thought made Oliver grin a little. Turning off the water stream, he stepped out of the shower cabin and toweled himself. He hurried to slip into his sweat pants and a white shirt.

Stepping back into the bedroom, Oliver found Felicity curled up against Hawk’s back. Both of them were sleeping peacefully. Soft snoring came from the pillows at the head of the bed, but Oliver couldn’t say if it was Felicity or Hawk who was snoring. It didn’t matter anyway.

Oliver sat down on the edge of the bed once more. Brushing Felicity’s hair out of her face, he leaned over her and touched her forehead with his lips. Her skin still felt warm.

“Felicity,” he whispered with low voice, “hon.”

Felicity groaned, not yet opening her eyes. She turned her head, so she was facing him. The small furrow between her eyebrows told Oliver that she was caught on the verge between sleep and wake.

Brushing his fingers through her curly hair, he whispered, “Hon, I canceled your appointments for the day.”

He knew it wasn’t exactly fair to wake her up that way. It was like ripping off the plaster before you had counted to three. Since their mornings were determined by a tide schedule that was only going to get more stressful when one of them dropped out, he couldn’t waste much time. Besides, Felicity would have to know that she had to stay home sooner or later anyway.

“You should stay home,” he told Felicity with whispered voice, “you’re sick.”

Usually, Felicity would frown at him angrily and try to fight him about it. He could even see how some muscles in her face were twitching in a weak attempt to show any anger. Her eyes were so glazed and her muscles so weak that it didn’t work though. She just looked utterly exhausted.

“I’m trying really hard to be mad at you,” Felicity said with raspy voice.”

“I know.”

“It doesn’t work though.”

“I know.” Oliver smiled softly. “To make it easier for you, I will stay home too to take care of you.”

“I won’t make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Oliver leaned down and placed a kiss to the corner of her lips. “Just close your eyes and sleep for a little longer. I will make sure the kids get all ready for the day.”

“I will come with you and-“

As soon as Felicity tried to sit up, Oliver pushed her back down at her shoulders. Felicity was too weak to even try to put up a fight. She just dropped back into the pillows with a tired yawn.

“I’ll do that. Just rest.”

He placed another kiss on her forehead and tugged the blanket closer around her. He knew it was stupid because she was no little kid, but he felt better doing so. After his time spent on the island, he knew what it was like to feel cold. From the slight trembling of Felicity’s body, he could see that she was feeling utterly cold.

Seeing her like that, Oliver wished that he could just snuggle up to her under the blanket. He wanted to wrap his arms around her as tightly as possible. Embraced by him, she would hopefully feel better.

Since he had to take care of the kids, he was relieved that Hawk took over the task of warming Felicity up. He crawled closer to Felicity, making sure that she could feel his warmth. She turned onto her side and snuggled back up to him, so his warmth affected her.

Oliver could watch the two of them forever, but he knew that he had to get downstairs. Breakfast wasn’t going to make itself.

With a brief glance at his watch, Oliver hurried downstairs. He knew he had to hurry because the kids always liked to waste a lot of time in the morning. He and Felicity usually had to kick their little butts a bit to make sure they left the house in time.

With that knowledge, Oliver just cracked some eggs into the pen and toasted some slices of bread. It wasn’t his favorite breakfast to make because he preferred to feed the kids some well-needed vitamins before letting them leave for the day, but Oliver guessed that he didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t let them be late for school.

As soon as the eggs were done, he pushed the pen off the hotplate and put the lid on top to keep the food warm. He hurried upstairs to wake the kids then.

Light was already coming from William’s room. He always set his alarm instead of letting Oliver or Felicity wake him. Usually, Oliver only saw him once he got downstairs, but today, he knocked at William’s door and stepped in as soon as his son allowed him to.

“Morning,” Oliver said, sticking his head in through the ajar door, “sorry to bother, but Felicity’s sick.”

William perked up his eyebrows. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Oliver sighed. “I will wake your siblings now. I could need your help downstairs though.”

William nodded. “I’ll hurry.”

“Thank you.”

There had been a time that Oliver had felt guilty about how much William had to cut back sometimes. When he was here, he often had to be considerate of his siblings because they were just so much younger than him. Family activities always had to be suitable for all kids which usually meant that they were child-friendly.

By now, Oliver knew that William liked being a big brother and taking responsibilities for them. The kids were looking up to him. They loved him, and he loved them.

Oliver proceeded waking up everyone else. He knocked at Emmy’s door and wasn’t surprised to find her lying across the bed with the blanket wrapped around her middle. Tommy needed several kisses and a long hug to get out of bed. Millie opened her eyes with a smile the moment Oliver stepped into the room, and Addie looked at him grumpily before he even got to tell her good morning.

He took Millie and Addie downstairs with him already. Usually, he and Felicity would both dress one of the two before taking them downstairs. Since he had to handle the morning alone, he felt it was the best to just let them have breakfast in their pajamas. There were a lot of things you learned about kids when you became a parent, and one of the most precious experience Oliver had made was figuring out that, if you tried to dress the kids in a hurry, it would only end in tears.

Downstairs in the kitchen, he lifted both girls into his arms and sat them down in the high chairs. He put some of the scrambled eggs on their plates and handed them their small forks that were particularly for kids. Millie was already quite trained in eating with it, while Addie still had her troubles. She wouldn’t let anybody help her though.

“Dada, where’s mama?”

With a sigh, Oliver brushed his fingers through Millie’s dark hair. She looked exactly like Felicity looked in old photos from her childhood. Just like Tommy, she had inherited Felicity’s naturally dark hair. Unlike Tommy’s hair, Millie’s was just as curly as their mother’s too.

“Mommy’s in bed,” he replied, “because she’s feeling sick.”

“Sick?” Addie asked while she was chewing her eggs. “How?”

“She is running a fever,” Oliver explained gently, “so she is feeling very tired, and she needs to rest. Daddy is going to stay home with her to make sure that she will get everything she needs to get better soon.”

“Tea, rusk and cuddles?”

Oliver smiled. “Tea, rusk and cuddles.”

“Rusk is yuck,” Addie said, shaking her head, “yuck, yuck, yuck.”

“I am almost sure that that’s going to be mommy’s reaction too,” Oliver said with a sigh and tickled Addie under her chin, “so maybe tea, soup and cuddles it’s going to be.”

“I can cuddle with mama too,” Millie offered proudly, “she taked care of me when I was sick.”

“She took very good care of you when you were sick.” Oliver tipped his forefinger on the tip of Millie’s nose. “We don’t want you to be sick again though which is why you and Addie will go on a little trip with Raisa today.”

“Cool!” Millie’s eyes grew wide. “Where?”

“It’s going to be a surprise,” Oliver lied as he didn’t have an answer to that yet, “but I can tell that it’s going to be very, very cool.”

Luckily, before Millie could ask any further questions, Oliver heard steps from the chairs. He hurried to spread the left scrambled eggs on the three plates for William, Emmy and Tommy. He also added a few slices of toasts to each plate and already held them out for the kids when they entered.

“Thanks, Dad.”

William grabbed his plate and hurried to sit down next to Addie, casually using his fork to push the remaining eggs closer together on her plate to make it easier for her. He fully ignored Addie’s protests that she could do it on her own.

Tommy smiled at Oliver when he handed him his plate. Emmy just looked at him with sleepy eyes. She sat down at the table and started picking in her food. She looked like she was about to fall asleep again right here with her face in her breakfast.

Usually, this was the time for him to prepare the kids’ lunch snacks for school. Given how much he loved cooking and how much he loved keeping an eye on a healthy family diet, he always put a lot of effort and energy into this. It bothered him a little that he wouldn’t get to prepare the kids’ lunch today, especially because he knew what they would probably have for lunch instead.

“Okay, here are ten dollars for each of you to buy yourself some lunch,” he said, handing his three oldest the money, “but please don’t use it just for sweets. If you buy a few sweets for dessert that’s okay, but you need real lunch.”

Emmy stared at the banknote like she had never seen one before. Frowning, she looked back and forth between the banknote and her father. She almost looked like she expected Oliver to tell her that she had to eat that small piece of paper for lunch.

“What’s that?”

“Money,” Oliver explained matter-of-factly, “which is the usual thing to use when you want to buy lunch.”

“But I never buy lunch,” Emmy said, her frown deepening, “because you always prepare our lunch.”

“Mommy is sick, so I didn’t have time to prepare lunch this morning,” Oliver explained calmly before he looked at William, “can you take my car and drop Emmy and Tommy at school on the way?”

“Sure.” William nodded before he frowned. “Felicity wanted to check a homework I have to hand in tomorrow. I have a couple free periods today, so I could work on that.”

“I will check if she had already taken a look at it.”

With that, Oliver hurried upstairs. There had been a time that he had been at least a little bit disappointed that his kids preferred to have Felicity check their homework. By now, he was relieved that at least William never asked. He had taken a look at one or two essays he had written, and Oliver had barely understood any of it.

As quietly as possible, he opened the door to the bedroom. While Felicity didn’t move, Hawk lifted his head from the pillow and looked at Oliver with a punishing gaze.

“Sorry,” he whispered more to the sleeping Felicity than to Hawk, “but William needed his homework.”

“On my nightstand,” Felicity replied sleepily, pointing a finger onto her nightstand, “all done.”

Oliver crossed the distance quickly. He grabbed the papers from the nightstand and leaned over Felicity’s head to brush a gentle kiss onto her cheekbone.

Fairytales might make little kids believe that all stepmothers were bad, but Felicity did the best she could to prove that the dark sides of fairytales weren’t true. There were stepmothers out there who loved their stepchildren as much as their own. There were stepmothers that made no difference between stepchildren and own children, stepmothers that didn’t care about that ungrateful prefix of their title. Felicity was definitely one of them.

Back downstairs, Oliver handed William the essay. Continuing to push scrambled eggs into his mouth with one hand, he skimmed through the commentary Felicity had left for him at the margin of the paper.

“I don’t understand half of these comments. Maybe I can-“

“Felicity needs her rest,” Oliver said gently, shaking his head, “you can ask her later if she is fitter then.”

William sighed, but he nodded his head. Still frowning, he continued reading the essay. His frown only seemed to deepen with everything he was reading.

Oliver was about to turn to Millie and offer her some grapes now that she had finished her scrambled eggs. Before he could do so, Tommy suddenly threw his fork across the room.

“Hey,” Oliver said loudly, turning towards him, “what are you doing?”

“If mama’s sick, I stay home too.”

Frowning at Oliver grumpily, Tommy crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked quite determined, like nothing Oliver or anyone else could say or do would make him change his mind. If Felicity was staying home because she was sick, he wouldn’t leave her side.

A part of Oliver wanted to tell Tommy that Felicity really needed her rest now, and she wouldn’t have that with all the kids around her. He knew that Tommy would only get angrier if Oliver told him any of that though. He wouldn’t understand why he couldn’t help Felicity to feel better, and the last thing Oliver needed on top of everything else this morning was for Tommy to throw a temper tantrum.

“I want help mama too.”

With a sigh, Oliver turned to Millie. She didn’t look like she wanted to fight Oliver as much as Tommy did, but she seemed quite determined on her decision too. If he didn’t get a handle on this soon, nobody would go to school today.

That Addie hadn’t eaten a bit of her breakfast since Oliver had mentioned that Felicity was sick didn’t make it any easier. Addie was already quite light for her age and her height. She had to eat to at least maintain her weight if it didn’t increase yet.

Oliver rubbed his thumb against the tips of his fingers, taking some deep breaths. Usually, a situation like this was easy for him to handle. Usually, Felicity was at his side though. She always fooled around with the kids, making them smile and giggle to ease the situation. That was her magic.

“Okay, listen,” Oliver said, finding his calm again, “I have a suggestion.”

All kids, including William, looked at him. It was actually quite interesting to see how much all of them were affected by the fact that Felicity was sick. For a long time, he had believed that he was the only one whose life felt like it was getting out of control when Felicity was sick. In a lot of ways, she was the glue of the family, the one to mediate between all of them and to make them stick together even more tightly.

“We give mommy the rest she needs today and tomorrow,” he said, “but we will all do something great on Saturday. What do you say?”

“And what do we do?” Emmy asked, narrowing her eyes down at Oliver.

“We can talk about that tonight.”

“With pizza,” Addie said.

Oliver perked up his eyebrows. “You want pizza for dinner?”

She nodded her head firmly, making all her blonde curls jump up and down around her face.

“Okay,” he gave in because it seemed like the easiest way to calm the situation down once and for all, “we will talk about what we are going to do together while we are having pizza for dinner.”

Emmy, Tommy, Millie and Addie all cheered and exchanged high-fives. Oliver shot a glance at William, and he wasn’t surprised to find his oldest son doing his best to bite back a grin. The five had certainly used his short trip upstairs to decide how they could make him agree to order pizza for dinner. When it came to eating habits, they were all taking after Felicity.

Some other time, he might take revenge on them for it. Today there was just no time for that.

“Okay, you three,” he said and counted at William, Emmy and Tommy, “have to go upstairs and brush your teeth. Chop-chop.”

The kids didn’t have to be told twice. They dropped their cutlery to their tabletop and hurried upstairs. Oliver could hear William hushing his little siblings, reminding them that Felicity needed her rest.

Oliver just shook his head, releasing a deep sigh. If there was one thing for sure, it was that it wasn’t ever getting boring here.

→ → → → →

With another glance at his watch, Oliver decided that he should really be allowed to wake up Felicity now. He was all in for letting sick people stay in bed for as long as they wanted and needed, but he also firmly believed in airing bedrooms. Oliver didn’t doubt that the air was completely used up upstairs.

Oliver hurried upstairs and slipped into the bedroom quietly. By now, Felicity was lying across the mattress with the blanket covering her from the head to the toes. Only some tips of her hair sneaked out from under the blanket. The pot of tea he had brought upstairs for her a few hours ago was still untouched on the nightstand.

Pursing his lips, Oliver cocked his head. Even though he couldn’t really see Felicity, he already felt sorry for her. He barely remembered what it was like feeling sick because he barely ever was sick, but he could assume how hard it was. She had to feel really bad if she just wanted to shut out the world around her and crawl into her black hole.

At least Hawk was with her. He had rested his head on her knees, sleeping peacefully. Since he had jumped into bed this morning, he hadn’t left her side at all. He hadn’t even had breakfast yet, and he still didn’t complain. He just stayed by her side, spending comfort the same way he did when Oliver was in therapy.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Oliver stroked his hand down Felicity’s body under the blanket. She released a low sound, making him know what she was awake although she probably hoped that she’d still be fast asleep.

“You should come downstairs,” he suggested with lowered voice, assuming that she was suffering from a terrible headache, “so we can air the room a little.”

“Don’t want to get up.”

Oliver felt the corners of his lips twitching in response to her grumpy voice. She sounded like Emmy when someone tried to drag her out of the bed before ten a.m. on a Sunday morning.

“You could continue napping on the couch. There are fresh blankets and fluffy pillows.”

“Don’t want to go downstairs.”

“You don’t have to,” Oliver replied gently, “I’m going to carry you.”

There was a brief pause as Felicity considered her options. After some seconds, she eventually lowered the blanket from her face and looked at him. The expression in her eyes was hazy, and a fine film of sweat covered her pale face. Oliver put a hand to her forehead to feel that her skin was still warmer than it should be.

“Fine,” she said grumpily, „but I want to take my blanket downstairs.”

Oliver tried to hide his amusement. If the angry glance Felicity shot him was any indication, it didn’t exactly work though. Felicity could still see it, but he wasn’t surprised. She could always read in him like in an open book.

Since Oliver knew he would only make it worse if he said anything now, he simply pushed his arms under Felicity’s body and lifted her into his arms. Although her blanket certainly offered warmth already, she still snuggled as close to Oliver as possible. Her head rested right under his chin.

When Oliver turned to take her downstairs, Hawk jumped out of the bed and ran ahead quickly. Oliver only followed slowly, doing his best to make sure the blanket wouldn’t move from Felicity’s body. She was trembling from the cold already.

Downstairs in the living room, Oliver lay Felicity down on the couch. He exchanged her blanket against two fluffy wool blankets. Although Felicity released a dissatisfied sound at that, not happy with the cool fabric that was covering her now, she pulled the blanket as close around her possibly. She would never admit it, but Oliver was sure that she could smell the difference too. The new blankets just weren’t as overused and sweat through.

Hawk jumped to the foot of the couch, lying down at Felicity’s feet. He rested his head on her ankles and released a deep sigh.

“Do you want me to switch on TV for you?” Oliver asked, turning towards Felicity once more. “In the meantime, I could get you some of the soup I have cooked for you.”

“I am not hungry.”

“I know.” Oliver sighed, combing his fingers through Felicity’s hair. “You have to eat something though, and it’s Raisa’s special chicken soup. It will work its magic on you too. Trust me, it always does.”

Felicity scrunched up her nose. Even just the thought of food seemed to disgust her. Nonetheless, she nodded her head. She knew that Raisa’s soup could work magic. Even the kids could be convinced to eat something when they were sick, at least if it was Raisa’s special soup.

Oliver grabbed the remote from the couch table and switched on the TV. It didn’t offer anything really good, but at least one of those wildlife channels offered a documentary about koalas. They looked plushy and sweet, so he guessed it was something Felicity would like to watch.

He kissed her forehead and went into the kitchen. He had put the pot of soup to the hotplate, still warming the food. He lifted the lid from the pot and breathed in the delicious steam that came from the pot. Maybe he would eat a plate of soup today too.

For now, he just filled some of the soup on one plate. He had to make sure that Felicity was getting something good into her stomach before he would even serious consider eating anything. He could live without food for days. He had learned to ignore hunger after all. He hated the thought that anyone close to him didn’t eat regularly though.

With the plate in one hand and a spoon in one hand, Oliver returned to the living room. When he saw Felicity hidden behind the blanket completely, he stopped and cocked his head though. Maybe she was feeling a lot worse than he had suspected so far.

Hawk’s dark growling made Oliver direct his attention towards the TV that Hawk was growling at. Two kangaroos were jumping across the screen.

Quickly, Oliver stepped towards the couch table. He grabbed the remote and switched off the TV. He knew how much Felicity hated kangaroos. They completely freaked her out. Whenever they were in the zoo together, she hid behind him whenever they just got anywhere near their enclosure. She was as afraid of kangaroos as other women were of spiders.

“You do know that they are just on TV, right?”

“I’m sick,” Felicity grumbled from under the blanket, “so you are not allowed to mock me. Besides, they look like they are attacking me.”

Oliver put the plate of soup on the table and sat down on the couch. Pressing his lips together, he pulled down the blanket, so he could see her face. Her eyes were widened as much as the swelling around her eyes allowed her to open her eyes.

“Would I let anything or anyone attack you?”

“Why don’t you ever get sick?” Felicity suddenly changed the subject and frowned at him angrily. “It’s not fair!”

Oliver puckered his lips. If he was honest, he believed that those five years away had just made him immune to any kind of sickness. He had been so traumatized that his body had adapted to the constant stress. Even now, years after he had returned from living through that hell, his body was still running with all the adrenaline and all that stress hormones in his veins. They fought of any infection that threatened to take hold of him.

“The good thing,” Olive told her gently, “is that, if you are sick and I’m not, I can take very good care of you.”

Felicity grumbled, but she nodded her head briefly. No matter how grumpy she thought she looked, Oliver could see that she had already given in. She agreed with him because deep down she already knew that she was right.

When her gaze turned towards the soup on the couch table, Oliver smiled. That she could look at food without feeling sick was certainly a good sign. Maybe all the rest this morning had helped, and she was feeling a little better already.

Oliver adjusted the pillows behind Felicity’s back, helping her to sit up a little straighter. He grabbed the plate of soup from the couch table, and Felicity already reached out her hands for it, but Oliver didn’t give it to her. Instead, he filled a spoon with the soup and led it to Felicity’s lips. Felicity hesitated for a moment before she let him feed him.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” he asked after she had swallowed the first spoon of soup. “I knew you needed this soup.”

“And what else do you have up your sleeves for me, Mr. Queen?”

“Just the usual duty of a husband,” Oliver said, “making sure you keep warm and cozy. Get you some soup to make you feel better and maybe some ice cream for your throat if you behave. And after that, maybe we could take a bath together.”

Felicity nodded her head slowly, and she even managed the smallest of a smile. When he fed her the next spoon, Felicity put a hand to his knee and scratched her fingernails over his jeans.

“Maybe being sick is not that bad after all.” 

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14​ @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye​ @seaolicity​ @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp​ @felicityqueenforever​ @leagueofolicity17​ @yryssss​ @myhauntedblacksoul​ @sherlock44​ @sinceriouslybea​ @olivyflavescentdeer​ @olicitys-castle​ @ofnothingcharming​ @vaelisamaza​ @smoakedandcharmed​ @alexisa1206​ @mysaudadespt2​ @florence-bubbles​ @addictiontelly​ @queens-of-arrows​ @memcjo​ @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog​ @oswinelevenforever​ @olicitylovemaking​ @bandanab310​ @mymusiclove101​ @lynslogic​ @scarletqueen23​ @olicityshipper19​ @alex-wesley​ @arrows-4ever​ @unabashedlynerdypatrol​ @louehmysoul​ @ligiapimenta​ @chattyyana​ @charlie-leau​ @coal000​ @samcrowleys​ @ishippolivia​ @julianegomesqueen​ @malafle​ @miriam1779​ @charlinert​ @melaux​ @ontheolicityship​ @myshipperlife​ @wrightainsley​ @lexi9515​ @ladygreenwood​ @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl​ @morinamel​ @mje-thomas​ @kebarry​ @canadianheartgirl​ @nannett2307​ @almondblossomme​ @kathrynelizabeth89​ @imdfabulous​ @mrt2501​ @arsipaci14​ @salasvia​ @brandis91​ @cainc3​ @morganmiguess​ @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl​ @iamisalima​ @nessafrancis-blog​ @jonhdiggle​ @niki-is-amazing​ @universed-posts​ @hopeful-warrior​ @senoritaswiftie​ @bellemmie​ @green-arrows-of-karamel​ @iheartarrow​ @olicityovereverything​ @oliverfel4​ @olicity-in-the-heart​ @fullychippedcreation​ @geemarie​ @everything-but-normal-cat​ @myarroworld​ @tjmartinez​ @pleasantfanandstudent​ @j69confessional2​ @scentedcolorpirate​ @icanica74​ @tjmartinez98​ @certainmentalityface​ @tatianadamaceno @ryelew​ @wildwillowzepplin​ @missafairy​ @letsplaymurde-r​ @lipizette​ @positivepiper​ @nuttymilkshakehologram​ @laksagirl​ @turnupthemusicandscream​ @pumpernickle93​ @onceuponanolicity​ @1106angel​ @jaspertown​ @fadinglands​ @morganashimi83​ @mochababychristy​ @omglovechrissie​ @mariejr88-blog​ @thetaufactor​ @onceuponanolicity​ @speakandseethetruth​ @bri206​ @aglasgo​ @geemarie​ @pineprincess​ @nerdgirljen​ @eternal-olicity14​ @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay​ @lovelycssefan​ @tsseract​ @flowerandsunshine​ @dcnmarvelgamergeek​ @blondeeoneexox​ @monetsmark​ @bb-olicity​ @mashamarty​ @rulerofsilence​ @erika-amber​ @nothingmorethanmyotps​ @kayleenyc​ @tonto16​ @olicityfluv​ @olicitea1990​ @haahaaa2408​ @pattid1​ @faegal04​ @24karatgem​ @wrldtravler​ @readerkas​ @olicity-beliver​ @greencoffeecups​ @snorlaxishere​

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[the-shadow-of-atlantis]

It Wasn’t

Summary: Selina underestimated how much she cared

Tagging: @lizartgurl @thespacebuns @melyaliz @coffee-randomness @speedypan @gobydana

Read Earlier Parts Here

It wasn’t supposed to come this far, Selina thought as she waited for the light to turn green. The plan was simple she would date Bruce Wayne and just happen to target the rich he hung out with. She wasn’t supposed to be in this deep, but still she couldn’t help herself she couldn’t help but fall for him, and she couldn’t help but want to be there for Annabella.

~~~~~

“Hi Selina!” Annabella greeted with a smile when the door opened, she was carefully perched in Bruce’s arm.

Selina smiled back as she grabbed her coat and walked into the hallway.

“Hello kitten. Bruce.” She nodded and held onto Bruce’s free arm.

“I know a small place we can have lunch. Hopefully away from prying eyes.” Bruce said as they began to walk.

“Sounds good.”

“When can I see the kitties?” Annabella asked looking back at the door.

“After lunch sunshine.” Bruce said giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Okay.” Annabella mumbled as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

By the end of the day it was Annabella who had Selina caught. There was just something about that little girl that she couldn’t help but want to make happy. It was adorable seeing how Bruce would talk to her and make her be heard. It was heartwarming to see her walking around her apartment attempting to herd all the cats so she could hug them all at once.

~~~~~

Selina sighed as the light finally turned as she sped down the road. It wasn’t supposed to go this deep yet when she found out the truth she couldn’t help but stay.

~~~~~

“Hi Selina!” Annabella greeted cheerfully as she hopped into the apartment, she paused to tug on the bright blue leash that was attached to her cat.

“Come on Mr. Kitty, you’ll love the kitties here they’re very friendly.” Annabella encouraged the cat who was carefully sniffing the air as if expecting some sort of danger.

“Sorry, she insists on bringing him everywhere now that the leash came in.” Bruce explained as he stayed by the doorway.

“It’s alright, I like the little guy anyway.” Selina smiled watching as Mr. Kitty eyed the other cats warily.

“Are you sure you don’t mind watching her? I could just ask my assistant to look over her while I’m in the meeting.”

“Go.” Selina insisted. “She’ll have more fun here anyways.”

Bruce nodded before calling out to his daughter who came running back.

“I’ll be back at lunch time.” He said as he knelt down and kissed her cheek. “Be good sunshine.”

“Bye papa.” She hugged him and returned to her spot in the middle of the living room.

Selina busied herself with paper work as Annabella sang along to the kids show that was on. She helped Annabella color when she offered.

“Selina?” Annabella asked as Selina came back from the door holding the takeout that was ordered.

“Yes kitten?” She asked as she moved to the kitchen and began putting the food into plates, Bruce should be on his way over soon and even though she couldn’t cook to save her life she did know how to make takeout look presentable.

“Do you know Español?” Annabella asked focused on the show Dora that was playing as she pet Mr. Kitty who sat in her lap.

“Un poquito.” Selina admitted and heard Annabella gasp.

“Really?” She asked excitedly. “Yo también. Pero no tan… Good. I’m still learning.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah, papa says it’s good to learn more languages.” Annabella adjusted her hold on Mr. Kitty and focused back on the show.

Selina slightly frowned, she had heard rumors about Annabella’s mother but never thought much about them. Now she couldn’t help but be curious.

When Bruce showed up Annabella spent the entire time they are talking about what she did and showing her father the drawings. Bruce smiled as he listened occasionally asking her about what she drew or what she learned. When they finished Selina and Bruce stayed in the kitchen as Annabella went back to play.

“Thank you for watching over her, Alfred should be back tomorrow.” Bruce said.

“No problem, she’s a joy to have around.” Selina paused. “I’ve been meaning to ask, you never speak of her mother but I can’t help but wonder what she’d think about you having a girlfriend around your daughter.”

She studied Bruce carefully, he seemed to stiffen a bit and his gaze shot towards Annabella. She was distracted however apparently trying to teach small group of cats how to read.

“Her mother is not interested in her.” Bruce said bluntly making Selina look at him in shock. “I know what the tabloids say about my daughter, and I know you do not believe what they say. I met her mother once we had a night together I don’t remember much from it. I only found out about Annabella because her grandmother thought it be best if I knew of her. Her mother was going to give her up but I couldn’t let that happen, even more so when she was born early. Her mother may not want anything to do with her but Annabella is my world, I’d do anything to keep her safe.”

Selina stayed quiet as she watched the little girl play with the cats. She remembered how quickly the small girl latched on to her since that night. Selina was in too deep but at the same time she wasn’t sure she wanted to get out.

~~~~~

Gotham wasn’t the right place to raise a child. Selina thought as she pulled into the parking lot and ran out cursing as the cold rain came down on her. She knew first hand about Gotham and so did Bruce. This place was toxic it sucks the innocent out of everyone. Yet Annabella seemed to almost be immune to it, she just brought so much good into everything. No matter how much certain people tried to bring her down there were still those that would be there to defend her.

~~~~~

Selina was watching Annabella who was trying to reach the little food on the table that was laid out.

“She eats so much.” She heard a woman say a couple feet next to her, if Selina could hear them she knew Annabella could too.

“That girl is gonna be fat if she keeps it up.”

“And so messy too. Absolutely no manners.”

Selina took a long sip of her champagne. Annabella had gotten her hands on a little ball of food but was munching on it with a sad face. Selina was about to walk over but stopped when she saw a pretty blonde woman kneel down next to the young girl that she recognized from some magazine covers.

“Hello.” She smiled sweetly and Annabella smiled back.

“Hi Cici.”

“Whatcha eating?” Cici asked.

“I thought it was the bread with chocolate but this one tastes funny.” Annabella pouted at the food in her hand.

“You got the crab stuffed one.” Cici laughed as she looked at the table.

She grabbed a napkin so Annabella could get rid of the cursed food and gave her the one she was reaching for.

“Here eat an extra one for me.” Cici said handing her another one shooting a small glare at the women next to Selina. “I love your hair.”

“Thanks.” Annabella’s face lit up. “Selina did it. She’s good with hair.”

Cici looked up and Selina waved.

“I see, why don’t you go back to Selina, don’t want to give your dad another scare now do you?”

“Okay, bye Cici.” Annabella waved and hopped back to Selina.

Selina gave Cici a small smile and a nod as she picked up Annabella, Cici nodded back and turned to mingle with the rest. Bruce showed shortly after.

“Papa can we go to McDonalds? The food here tastes funny.” Annabella wrinkles her nose a bit, making Bruce chuckle.

“Sure sunshine I could use a burger myself. Selina?”

“I’m in.” Selina said giving a sly smile to the women who were glaring at them now.

~~~~

“I’m here to see Annabella Wayne.” Selina panted as she reaches the front desk. “She was admitted a couple hours ago.”

The woman at the front desk blinked up at Selina a bit startled by her appearance.

“Ms. Kyle?” A familiar voice said.

Selina turned and found Alfred standing outside the little gift shop with a coffee.

“It’s alright Miss she’s with me.” Alfred said to the woman at the desk.

Alfred handed her his jacket and began to lead her through the halls.

“Is she okay?” Selina asked.

“She’s fine now. Sleeping but she did give us a bit of a scare.”

“I thought it was just a small cough.” Selina rubbed her face. “I should have mentioned it sooner.”

“It’s alright Ms. Kyle we thought the same too until her fever kicked in.” Alfred sighed. “Turns out she has broncitis, which has triggered her asthma immensely.”

Selina nodded as the continued through the halls. Alfred stopped in front of a room and ushered Selina to enter. The lights were dimmed but she could see Annabella laying in the bed with a mask over her head. Curled up next to her was her cat Mr. Kitty who lifted his head up when the door opened once he saw it was just Selina he put his head back down and closed his eyes.

“Selina.” Bruce said standing up from the chair he was sitting in. “What-“

“I got worried after you called I had to see how she was doing.” She said as she approached him and gave him a hug. She felt his shoulders relax a bit.

“She’s fine now though she’s going to have to be in here for a couple of days.” Bruce explained, Selina nodded.

“Sir I do suggest you get something to eat now.” Alfred spoke up.

“Go.” Selina urged. “I’ll stay with her.”

Bruce seemed to contemplate it for awhile but gave in.

“I wont be long.” He said kissing Selina’s forehead, he stroked Annabella’s cheek before finally leaving the room along with Alfred who said would bring her a coffee.

Selina sat down at the chair Bruce had been occupying and scooted closer to Annabella’s bed. She stroked the little girls hair out of her face and smiled.

“I honestly never pictured myself to get so attached to someone like your father.” She whispered. “I defiantly never pictured to be so attached to you, but your so special its hard not to. You’re such an amazing and smart girl I cant wait to see what you’ll do. I want to promise you that I’ll always be there for you, but I’m honestly scared to promise that. I’m scared to promise anything because I think eventually my luck will run out. But I can promise one thing, I promise that I will protect you, maybe not to the extent that your father does, but I will be here to keep you safe. After all I always look after my little kittens.”

After a couple of minutes Annabella stirred letting out a small cough, groaning she rubbed her eyes and looked around.

“Selina?” She whispered before coughing again, Mr. Kitty got up and began licking her cheek as if trying to make her feel better.

“Hey shh little kitten your okay.” Selina said as she rubbed her arm.

“You came.” She said with a smile as she pet Mr. Kitty on the head.

“Of course I had to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m okay. Just tired.”

“Go back to sleep then little kitten. Your daddy and I will be here when you wake up.” Selina whispered giving Annabella a small kiss on her forehead as the little girl slowly fell back asleep.

[darkangeldesignstudio]

Dark Horse

*I am warning you all now, this chapter made my Beta cry.*

Setting: Post Civil War era USA. Marvel Cowboy AU.

Preface: Your home is attacked by the Hydra gang and you are rescued by Steve, Bucky, and their group. The government agency, known as Shield, wants them captured and Hydra wants them dead. With nowhere else to go, you join their ragtag group and set out on the adventure of a lifetime. Helping those less fortunate along the way, your small group grows and so does your affection for these two rough and tumble outlaws. When the chips are down, will you all be able to escape unscathed? Or will the boot drop and leave you heartbroken and alone again?

Song: Drowning by Chris Young

Previous / Next

Chapter Four: Saying Goodbye

Striding back towards the house, you met Steve inside where he was grabbing up the last bit of supplies from your pantry. It was so empty inside now that everything was packed up. The house seemed foreign and spooky now that it was empty. It sent a shiver down your spine. Looking to Steve, you said the one thing that had been on your mind since deciding to leave with them an hour ago. “Please, burn it.”

Your shaky, whispered plea was so quiet that Steve had to ask for clarification, not believing what he was hearing. “Are you sure? We can bury your brother, you don’t have to burn the place down.”

Shaking your head, you looked to Steve with tears in your eyes. “No, it’s what he would want. Lay him in his bed and burn it to the ground.”

He watched you, his heart breaking as your chin quivered, trying to hold back your emotions. He couldn’t allow you to hurt like this and stay sane, it wasn’t in his nature to wait while someone suffered. Stepping into your space, he held his arm out to you, asking for permission to touch you.

As soon as you nodded, he pulled you into the tightest bear hug, crumbling your last wall of defense as you broke down in his grip. You wrapped your arms around him, gripping onto his sides like a lost child, tears soaked his jacket as he tried hard to prevent his own tears from falling. It physically hurt him to see you so fragile and broken, after seeing you fight so hard against your attackers in the yard, there was no doubt in his mind that you were a strong person and to see you so broken, reminded him of memories better left in the past. Looking up to the ceiling, he was trying hard to breathe through the emotions that constricted his heart, but then he caught sight of Bucky through the broken window over your shoulder and had to start all over again. He tucked his nose into your hair as a few tears slipped their leash and he smiled a watery smile, just now noting that you had already calmed in his arms.

“Are you better now?” He didn’t want to let go, but in order to head back to camp, he knew he would have to.

“Yes, I think so. Thank you, Steve.” You gave him a final squeeze as thanks before stepping back to wipe your tears away.

“I put your brother’s body in one of the back bedrooms. I wasn’t sure whose room it was since they both look the same, but I can go with you if you want to see him before we do this.”

Shaking your head, you assured him again that you were fine. “I would like to say goodbye in private if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure, Y/N.” With a tip of his hat, he exited the house, taking the last bit of food with him.

You walked into the back bedroom that belonged to your brother, his body was laid out on top. Someone had covered him with a sheet and for that you were thankful.

Turning to take one last look at the surrounding room, you smiled. All of his favorite things were here. A few pictures graced the table to one side of his bed, one of your mother and father smiling together, another of John and Duke in the meadow behind your father’s ranch - taken before he moved to Colorado - and, lastly, an older photo of a twelve-year-old John holding you in his arms. You were only four at the time but you remembered it like it was taken yesterday.

“It’s funny.” You laughed, picking up the photo. Careful not to tear the already frayed edges, it appeared as if the photo had been folded and unfolded multiple times over the years and the thought brought a sad smile to your face. “You didn’t want to take this picture with me. I thought it was because you hated me, that you were jealous because you weren’t the only child anymore, and when I cried to Momma, she just turned to you and said ‘fix it’ like it was that simple.”

Shaking your head at the memory, you began to feel the tears well up again. “You told me a story that day, about the time Momma and Daddy went crazy over taking pictures of you. That it wasn’t me you hated, but the pictures themselves. You were all ‘memories are more precious in the moment’ and ‘I don’t need no darn picture to remember my little sister’. But, you let me talk you into this one photo and pretty soon we were going out and taking more together. Out of all the pictures we took, you always held onto this one and it made me love you all the more for it. That day, you became my confidant and my shoulder to cry on.

“I guess what I’m really trying to say is…” Looking down at his too still form, you felt your courage waver a bit. You didn’t want to say goodbye. Then you had a familiar feeling of a hand on your shoulder, you turned to look, expecting to see his smiling face there, encouraging you to continue. But, though you felt his presence, John was not there. Tears tracked down your cheeks again as you spoke, your voice shook and stuttered, but you would not let the fear of goodbye stop you again. “You are my brother and you always will be. Even if I don’t have a picture to remember you by anymore, I promise that I will never forget you. Or the special place that you hold in my heart.”

Leaning down, you placed a kiss on his covered forehead and turned towards the door. Pausing, you saw your brother’s most prized possession, his white cowboy hat hung on the hook by the door, its black band held an eagle feather that your grandmother had gifted him. He loved that hat, you couldn’t remember a day that he didn’t wear it, cleaning the dust away after every ride. It was battle scarred. The leather was soft and worn, more tan than white after so many years.

Looking back towards your brother’s body, you smiled. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be taking that with me. Think of it as payback for you leaving me too soon.”

With that, you donned the hat upon your head, pulling the brim down to cover your tear-reddened eyes as you went to join the others.

A few moments later, you were all mounted up and ready to leave. The blizzard was starting to bear down, snow beginning to pile up in places. Lighting a torch, made from tar and linen, you rode Boda up to the front door and threw the torch inside. It wasn’t long before the bloodstained wood of the house caught and began to burn.

With one final tip of your hat, you drove back to the group, each taking turns to throw their own torches on the steadily growing fire. You really were lucky to make such great friends so soon after your brother’s passing, It assured you that you didn’t have to be alone again for some time and that was just fine with you.

Shifting away from the burning homestead, Natasha began to lead the way back to camp with Duke in tow. Tony followed close behind as Mark II was overly eager to get back. Steve and Bucky rode just ahead of you, giving you a bit of space to let your thoughts settle.

Looking back one last time, you observed as the flames began to lick through the windows and up to the roof of the house, but something seemed off. You felt as if eyes were following you from the trees, it made you uneasy. Turning Boda, you pushed him into a swift trot, trying to catch up to the others while sparing his legs from too much strain in the deepening snow.

Just as Bucky and Steve turned to see what was amiss, a shot rang out and pain radiated through your right shoulder.

Seeing you begin to fall, Steve ran to your side as Bucky looked for the one responsible. Natasha spotted the man first. It was the one that Tony had knocked out and tied up. He must have escaped from his bindings somehow.

Bucky kicked Sergeant into a gallop, chasing the escaped thug down and putting a bullet straight through his skull, executioner style. Running back to the group, he could only watch as Steve pulled you up from the snowy ground.

Drawing his belt from his waist, Bucky dropped from Sergeant’s saddle and ran to your side. Steve cradled you in his arms, trying not to jostle your wound as Natasha calmed Bodaway as best she could. He used his belt as a tourniquet, slowing the bleeding as best he could before he turned to grip Boda’s reins.

“Calm down, Bodaway. She needs a doctor and I can’t carry her with me on Sergeant. You will need to let me ride you if you want to see her survive.” He felt a bit crazy, speaking to a horse this way, but it seemed he understood what Bucky was saying.

Natasha moved the saddlebags and bedroll from Boda’s saddle and onto Sergeants as Bucky mounted up. The horse didn’t dare move an inch until you were safely in Bucky’s arms.

“I’ll go on ahead, let Bruce know what happened. You guys follow as fast as you can, but don’t risk your necks any more than you have to.” Gripping Steve’s shoulder, Bucky saw the worry in his eyes. “She will be fine, I will make sure of that.”

Steve nodded, patting Boda’s neck and watching as they rode away as fast and as smoothly as they possibly could in the rough, snowy terrain. He only prayed that they would make it in time.

The pain in your shoulder was excruciating. You whimpered with every small bump and jolt as Bucky drove Bodaway through the snowy trails and up the mountain. “Bucky, be careful. Wolves here.”

He smiled down at you. “Did you forget, doll? I have a wolf of my own.”

Bucky let out a piercing whistle that cut through the mountain pass with ease. He only hoped that his white wolf would hear it and make it to them in time.

_______________________________________________________________________

The whistle echoed over the stone faces and travelled back to camp where Soldat was waiting. His ears perked up at the faint sound, but he knew it could only be one person.

He sprinted out the door, the shouts of Bruce and Jarvis trailing behind him, and howled back to his human companion. The sound was both a promise and a threat.

The promise to arrive as soon as possible and the threat to kill anything that stood in his way.

_______________________________________________________________________

Bucky smiled when the familiar howl reached his ears. Soldat was on the way and he meant business. Boda didn’t even flinch. He had one focus, and that was to get you to a safe place.

A clear area between the trees came into Bucky’s view just as Soldat reached them. “Hello friend. I need a favor.”

Soldat cocked his head in question, it looked a bit funny as they were in a full sprint towards camp. “Go, find Steve and the others, and lead them back to camp. The snow is falling harder and I’m worried that they will become lost.”

A bark of agreement was given and Soldat turned, going back the way Bucky had come. He would lead the group home safe and sound.

Bucky turned his attention back to you, realizing that you had gone silent in his arms. “Y/N, doll, don’t go to sleep on me now. We are almost there.”

Your eyes slowly blinked, fighting against the blackness that hovered at the edges of your vision. You knew you needed to stay awake, even if your body protested heavily. “I- I’m s- still here, Bucky. D- don’t worry ab- about m- me.”

Your body was shaking, growing worse by the second. You were going into shock and Bucky knew he was running out of time. “Y/N, don’t fall asleep. We are gonna have to make a run for it and I need you to hold on to me as tight as you can.”

Nodding, you wrapped your left arm around Bucky’s back and gripped his coat in your slowly weakening grip. You wanted to tell him to hurry, you could feel the darkness encroaching on your mind, but your voice wouldn’t obey. You only hoped that Bucky and Boda would be able to make it to camp before you passed out entirely.

Bucky urged the big stallion onward at a breakneck pace, soaring over the ground like an eagle in flight. The ride would have been exhilarating if only you weren’t dying in his arms at that moment. A few minutes passed and the camp was finally in view. The windows, lit up from the fire inside, were like a beacon of hope as you got closer. A sigh of relief left your lips and Bucky stared in horror as your grip loosened and your eyes closed. Bucky thought his heart would stop. But he and Bodaway soldiered onwards, entering camp only a few seconds later.

Bruce stormed through the door to see who the strange horse belonged to, causing Bodaway to startle violently. Bucky soothed him, calling out to Bruce to stay calm as he approached. “Bruce, I need you to come get Y/N from me as quickly as you can.”

Bruce looked wary of the wild black horse, but the panic in Bucky’s voice put steel in his spine. Bucky would never ask for someone to risk injury unless the decision was a matter of life or death and, from the look of the blood on his clothes, this case was dire.

Bruce nodded, approaching calmly but swiftly. Bucky slowly lowered your body into Bruce’s arms before dismounting. Upon closer inspection, Bruce could see that Bucky’s clothes were soaked with blood, making them glisten in the lamp light. Gesturing back towards the house, Bruce shouted for Jarvis, he would need the man’s help if he was going to get you patched up.

Bucky tried his hardest to take Boda towards the barn where the wagon horses were, but Boda refused to move. In a panic, Bucky threw all sense out the window and decided that logic would be the best way to get the horse to cooperate. He seemed more intelligent than most horses, so it was worth a shot. “Please, Boda. The last thing Y/N would want is for you to get sick or hurt by staying out in this weather. Please, just come to the barn where it’s safe and I will bring her to you as soon as she is better. I promise, no one will hurt her while I am here.”

Boda, slowly relented with Bucky’s pleas. His head hung low, worry setting in for his beloved owner. Bucky scratched the male’s neck, trying to reassure the handsome beast. “She will make it, my friend. I give you my word.”

The wavering in Bucky’s voice was disconcerting, but Bodaway believed this strange man. He was strong, the group was strong and determined. Y/N would be safe here.

Bucky put Bodaway into an empty stall inside and relieved him of his tack. His hands shook as he examined the splatter of blood that matted Boda’s shiny coat. He would have to get that off soon, but as long as Boda stayed in the warmth of the barn, it could wait until the morning. With another round of reassuring words, Bucky exited the barn and shut the doors.

Leaning his forehead against the rough wood, Bucky took a few calming breaths. Usually, keeping a cool head in dire straights was easy for Bucky, but this time appeared different. There was something special about you, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Looking back to the trees, in the direction that the others would be arriving, he whispered one more plea into the freezing flurry of snow and wind that rushed around him. “Hurry Steve. I don’t know if I can do this without you.”

Jarvis’s voice shook Bucky out of his thoughts and worry soon took hold of his heart again. “Bucky, we need you in here!”

When Bucky reached the house, the smell of blood permeated the air. Following Jarvis into a back bedroom, he gasped at the gruesome sight before him. Covered, from the chest down, in a thin sheet you appeared so frail and broken on the bed. Your arm had been cleaned, but the wound was dripping blood onto the sheets and into your hair. A dull roaring filled his ears, drowning out Bruce’s questions.

“-cky, -ucky, BUCKY!”

Startled, Bucky whipped his head around and met Bruce’s concerned gaze. “Sorry, Bruce. What do you need? I want to help in any way that I can.”

“Tell us what happened, first. We will go from there.” Bruce tried to put Bucky at ease as he continued to work over your body, but he could tell that it wasn’t helping. This girl must have been important if Bucky was this shaken up. Bruce hadn’t seen the young man this panicked since the last time Steve was injured. And if Bucky was this bad, Steve wouldn’t be much better.

“Hydra attacked her farm, killing her brother and taking her hostage in the process. She fought them, killed about half of their men before she was captured.” Looking back to your now frail form, he closed his eyes as guilt washed over him. “I was so stupid. It should have been me that got shot.”

“Bucky, I need you to focus. There will be time for guilt and pity later.”

Nodding, Bucky finished his retelling as he paced like a caged animal. “She was coming back with us. We set the house on fire like she wished and we were leaving. The last Hydra man, the one that was knocked out, somehow he got out of his bonds and he shot her. He shot her and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Steve and I were right there, but we couldn’t do anything to stop it. By the time I killed the man, she was on the ground in Steve’s arms and losing blood. We tried to stop the bleeding but with where it hit, it was an awkward area for the tourniquet. I took her horse and raced here as fast as I could.”

“But, why did you call Soldat?” Bruce could guess why, but he had to keep Bucky talking if he wanted the man to stay calm.

Halting mid stride, Bucky turned to look at your body with a faint smile. “She warned me. Through all of the pain she was in, she was more concerned about me and the horse than herself.”

Bruce smiled, so that was why Bucky was so concerned. Sadly, the young man had had a hard life. No one had cared much about the boy’s wellbeing after his mother had died, leaving him to fend for himself until he met Steve. Steve was the first person to care about Bucky over himself and to see that quality in this woman would definitely bring back memories for the man.

“She said there were wolves in the woods, so I called Soldat to guide the others back safely. It only took a few more minutes to get here, but by the time you came out to meet us, she had passed out.”

Nodding, Bruce was back to business, working over your injured shoulder. Bucky’s explanation was more for Bucky’s sake than Bruce’s need for information. He could already tell you had been shot from the obvious bullet hole in your right shoulder, but there was something amiss.

“Well, the good news is, the bullet was a through and through. But, the bad news is, she lost a lot of blood and it seems a piece of the bullet fragmented when it hit her shoulder blade and is lodged in her muscle. I can get it out, but she will be in a lot of pain.” Bruce looked to Bucky, determination was etched on his face.

“Do whatever you can, Bruce. Just, don’t let her die.”

A sharp bark echoed through the house, followed by heavy footsteps as Steve rushed into the room. Bucky moved toward his friend, embracing him in a tight hug as Steve’s eyes landed on your body.

Tearing away, Steve approached you on the bed before turning on Bruce. “Why aren’t you doing anything? She’s dying. You have to help her, Bruce.”

Bucky jumped between the two men, trying to calm Steve before he decided to knock Bruce on his ass. The doc was not one to anger in these situations and this really wasn’t the time for an all-out brawl. “We were just talking about what to do, Steve. Bruce is pretty sure he can help Y/N, but there are a few complications to consider before he jumps into the surgery.”

“Surgery? Have you even done this before, Bruce?”

“In a sense, yes.” Bruce took a calming breath, dealing with an irate Steve was never easy. Best to let Bucky handle it.

The two men looked at Bruce with concern and confusion. “What do you mean by, ‘in a sense’, Bruce?” Bucky’s voice wavered with his question. “Can you save her or not?”

Bruce sighed, they were wasting time with these questions, but they deserved a straight answer. “I’ve never done this surgery on a human. I’ve only ever treated animals, but this should be a simple fix as long at Jarvis helps me.”

Steve looked like he was about to protest, but Bucky knew they had no other options here. “Steve, we don’t have time for this. Y/N is going to die if Bruce doesn’t help her. We are wanted men, it’s not like we can shop around for a doctor. Just, let Bruce do his job.”

With a nod, Steve and Bucky exited the room together and Jarvis went to help Bruce start surgery. Only time would tell if you would make it out of this alive, but both men, despite their panic, believed that you would. There was no way they could lose you so soon.

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Prompt: Alternate route to the ABO thing where instead of working together, A! Ra’s killed his competition and claimed both O! Tim and O! Jay, with or without resulting pregnancies and Ra’s stealing them away while framing Roman for the crime.

I was having trouble coming up with what to do about these (especially that last one because I don’t see Ra’s agreeing to that unless he gets something big) and found my answer in combining them.

Is it maybe cheating a little because I only have a couple left and I’m losing steam, and I really miss my wips? Maybe.

Buuut you get a longer fic so yay!

This is based off the Double Omega ask/verse thing that ended up being taken to the next level by Queen_Louise.

Here are the links to the relevant posts: One, Two, Three, Four (last two are Queen_Louise’s lovely stream-of-conscious fic which is how she phrased it and Iike it)

200 Followers Celebratory Prompt-A-Thon

(Prompts are closed. Thank you to everyone sent one in! I’ll be filling them the rest of the week! And a big thank you to everyone who follows me!)

Ra’s/Tim/Jason (Alpha!Ra’s/Omega!Tim/Omega!Jason)

Words: 2340

Rating: Mature (nothing explicit just mature themes, mentioned rape, forced pregnancy, forced abortion, coerced sex)

(This is really long but I haven’t had a chance to put it on AO3 yet. I’ll add that link later)

Ra’s is grateful that Roman is so careless. It’s going tomake things so much easier when they’re finished.

He doesn’t seem concerned about leaving his seed all overthe place, he’d removed a glove earlier to feel warm flesh against his palmwhen he started slapping his omega around, and now he has that bare hand bracedagainst the wall while he knots the poor boy’s mouth.

Far too easy. With Ra’s’ own deliberate movements so that hedoesn’t perspire, keeping his gloves on, careful to keep each drop of his own cometrapped securely inside Timothy… there will be no evidence that he was everhere. Any trace left behind can easily be explained away with how often he interactswith both boys but what Roman is leaving behind will make it impossible tosuspect anyone else.

The crime lord probably figures it doesn’t much matter.Jason will remember him and what he’s done, then the ferocious omega will goafter him. Roman’s probably counting on it, with the deep, bloody bites he’sleaving all over the boy. It’s unlikely he’d be able to resist Roman’s commandsin any meaningful way.

It’s almost a shame. Black Mask is a vicious sadist but he’sclever and adaptable. Their partnership in this endeavor has been wildlysuccessful and a very smooth going for an altercation with the Bats.

But Ra’s al Ghul is going to get what he wants. Someone hasto take the fall for that.

In the end, Roman Sionis is replaceable.

He waits until they’re in thetransport, Black Mask’s helicopter hijacked by League assassins, then shoots thecrime boss with a powerful tranquilizer. He’d have preferred to kill him. Buthe’ll need to assert his dominance over Roman, in front of Jason, in order tooverpower the bites.

Ra’s sighs at the addedinconvenience. He’d miscalculated Roman’s lust for the boy. Never expected himto bother with mating bites the way Ra’s had with Timothy.

The second team calls to checkin. They’ve secured the omegas, wiped, stolen, or destroyed the securityfootage, and searched for any sign that Ra’s had been there, destroying anythingthey might have found.

He wastes no time when theyreturn to the League’s headquarters. There’s only a day or two left of theomegas’ shared heat. He fights and kills Roman in front of both boys. It waslaughably easy. The mobster wasn’t a fighter like Ra’s. Then, taking advantageof the heat haze, the wash of hormones telling an omega they want the mosteligible Alpha mate, he claims Jason too, digging his teeth in deep, past howfar Roman went. It’s the only way.

When both boys come out of theirheat, collared and leashed to his giant bed, Ra’s explains their situation tothem. The growls and threats and curses are to be expected. As is the snap ofteeth when he gets too close. But it won’t stop him. They’ll fall in line soon.

Several weeks later, Ra’s isirritated when it’s Jason who ends up with child. He knows it’s not his.

The omega spends the next monthsseverely distressed after Ra’s has the pregnancy terminated without the youngerman’s consent. Timothy’s presence seems to comfort Jason but even with Timthere, the older boy is distant and unresponsive when Ra’s breeds him.

He ends up giving Jason somespace and focusing his attention on Timothy. But he still allows the boys tospend most of their time together.

It may be that small courtesythat helps them to gradually accept their new place. It takes Jason nearly ayear to come out of the deep depression of having his pup taken. And even then,Ra’s thinks that it is largely thanks to the fact that Timothy, the one Jasonconsiders his mate, is now expecting and that has soothed away some of thepain.

Meanwhile, Batman tears apartGotham, and then the world looking for Black Mask.

Jason shifts a little to get a better position and Tim smotherssome giggles when his mate’s nose brushes lightly at his swollen belly.

“Hello little one,” Jason whispers, lips moving against thesoft green fabric of the robs Tim wears, thumb rubbing little circles nearTim’s bellybutton, “Your mommy and I very excited to meet you, Jackie.”

“Jackie?” Tim smiles down at him, running his fingersthrough Jason’s hair and appreciating how he finally looks healthy again. For along time after his—after Ra’s took his pup, Jason wouldn’t eat until Ra’sforced him (and later, when the Demon finally realized that was doing more harmthan good, not unless Tim encouraged him), wouldn’t sleep until his bodycollapsed. He’d been pale and gaunt and… sad.

But now the sun from the balcony lights up cheeks full ofcolor and Tim can see his mate in those turquoise eyes again instead of theemptiness that had been there for so long.

“I don’t know. Could be a cuted up nickname for Jack or shortfor Jacqueline or even just be Jackie.”

“Jack? Like my dad?”

Jason pauses, fingers twisting the fabric and letting goseveral times. “He tried to stop you from being Robin. If he’d succeeded youprobably wouldn’t be here. Seems like an ok guy.”

“He was,” Tim hums, tightening the arm he has draped overJason’s waist and twirling his black curls between his fingers, “I like it,Jay. It’s sweet.”

Jason sighs sadly. “It doesn’t matter,” he nuzzles his faceinto Tim’s belly, “Ra’s will call it whatever he wants.”

They sit in silence for a moment and Tim can’t help butglance toward the door. It’s locked from the outside. Their suite of rooms isexpansive and luxurious and Ra’s allows them to stay together. But there areonly two doors to stronghold beyond and they’re both well guarded, only openedon Ra’s’ orders.

“Jason?”

“Hm?”

Tim tugs on his hair gently and he comes up easily, carefulto keep his hand on Tim’s stomach.

When Jason is looking at him Tim moves his hand from hishair to cup his face.

“This is our baby.Whatever else has happened or will happen, youare my mate. And I’m yours.”

He wants to add that any children they have are theirs. But he’s hesitant to remind Jason that he’llbe expected to breed. Ra’s has already been making prodding comments aboutwhether Tim thinks he’s ready. He doesn’t expect the older man will wait muchlonger. Especially as Tim gets further along and Ra’s will undoubtedly wish tosee his other omega heavy with the evidence of his Alpha virility.

Jason gives him a small smile and rests his head on Tim’sshoulder.

“It’s thoughtful of you to try to protect me,” he says,breath puffing against Tim’s chin, “But I know it’s just a matter of time.”

Another short silence as they just sit, quietly takingcomfort in each other. Then Jason speaks again.

“And I know they’ll be our kids, Tim. But they will also behis. And we’re not in Gotham. We’re not in the manor. This is the League ofAssassins. We won’t get much say in anything. We won’t get to name them. We won’tget to argue over how best to raise them because we won’t be given a choice.They’re going to be raised like Damian. They won’t get childhoods. They’ll bemolded into weapons.”

Tim swallows. He knows this. He’s been thinking about it alot. He’s come up with the best plan he can think of. Even if he hasn’tcompletely given up hope that Bruce will save them or that Ra’s will let hisguard down.

He’s wanted to talk to Jason about it, he deserves to know,to have a say. But again, Tim’s been reluctant to broach the subject with thestate he’s been in.

Well. Jason brought it up.

“Now that you mention it,” he begins carefully, “I’ve had anidea that might get us some more control over that. But, in the incrediblyunlikely event that Ra’s accepts… it’s still going to be a very big sacrificefrom us.”

Jason blinks at him for a moment. Then they both start whenthey feel the baby kick.

“Tell me.”

Ra’s narrows his eyes.

They are being unusually subservient. Both boys are on theirknees, gaze downcast in deference.

It’s a beautiful picture, especially since getting them tosubmit is still such a chore. His cock stirs but he doesn’t trust it for amoment.

“What is this?”

“A small preview of what we’re offering,” Timothy says,voice steady but pleasantly obsequious.

“Which is what, precisely?”

“For starters, we won’t fight you anymore, we’ll give youwhat you want,” Jason’s voice is less sure but Ra’s is a little surprised toeven hear it at all. This is first time the older omega has spoken to him sincehe had Roman’s child aborted.  

“We’d like to make an arrangement,” Timothy finishes for hismate when Jason doesn’t continue. The sight of the boy kneeling, not meetinghis eyes, belly swollen with his progeny, makes him want to throw them both onthe bed and put a child in Jason as well. The idea of them carrying at the sametime, willingly and eagerly giving into his whims… at the moment, it’s his mostfervent desire.

“What kind of arrangement?”

They look at each other out of the corners of their eyes.Jason gives Timothy the tiniest of nods.

“We don’t want our children raised like Damian—“

“My children,” Ra’scorrects. They better come to understand this simple truth very quickly.

His statement earns him twin scowls of anger and their eyesflicker up to his and stay there.

“That’s the deal we’re asking for,” Tim says, much lessservile this time, and Ra’s thinks it’s a small reminder that they’re actingagainst their instincts and their own wants to bring this to him. The least hecan do is listen. “That they’d be our children,all three of ours. We’d like to work out a balance between League training andletting them have childhoods.”

“Out of the question,” he’s disappointed in Timothy. The boyshould know him better than this, be smarter than this. “My heir needs—“

“That’s the other part,” Jason interrupts quietly, eyesdropping again now that the attention is on him. Ra’s likes this meek look on biggeromega. “The kids get to choose for themselves, when they’re old enough, whetherthey want to stay with the League or make their own way. When one chooses tostay, the Lazarus Pits will give them all the time they need to learn what youwould need them to learn, so there’s no need to make it their entire life from thejump. And we’d… we would…”

He falters again. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breathbut stays silent.

“We’d stay with you,” Tim all but whispers, “For as long asit takes for one of our children toagree to inherit your empire.”

Ra’s’ brows shoot up. He was certainly not expecting anoffer like this.

“You would subject yourselves to this? You would willingly enterthe Pit? Allow it to wash away age and illness to stay by my side until theterms are met?”

“Yes,” both boys mutter together.

“And if you’re allowed to have such an active role in theirupbringing, you would undoubtedly encourage them to pursue alternate paths?”

They glance at each other again. “We… will try not toinfluence their decisions,” Timothy answers.

“Unless you do,” Jason adds, voice thick with conviction,“If you’re whispering in their ears then we will too.”

They’re thinking about their future children, notthemselves, like all good omegas. That’s why they misunderstand.

He won’t mind if they try to nudge his offspring away frombecoming his successor. A willing pupil is better than one forced after all andthey’re correct about the Pits.

So they misjudge his motivation for asking. He he can waitfor one of his future sons to agree. He’s in no hurry if they’re willing to sitat his feet, warm his bed, and bare his children. If these two beautiful prizesof omegas bow to his will and do his bidding, obey and serve as they were meantto, through possible centuries…

Ra’s closes the small distance between them, runs hisfingers through Timothy’s hair before gently grasping Jason’s chin and tiltinghis face up.

He gives the boy a pleased hum when he keeps his gaze on thefloor.

“Accepted,” he rumbles in that low Alpha register, makingboth boys shudder, “We can work out some details in the morning.”

He runs his thumb over Jason’s bottom lip. He can feel Timothy’seyes on them, watching closely, untrusting and protective.

“In the meantime,” he pushes the digit into the omega’smouth and smirks when he meets no resistance. Even if Jason’s eyes havesqueezed shut and his breath has quickened, he seems determined to hold up thesubmissive part of the deal. “I believe it’s past time you resume your longneglected omega duties.”

Jason’s chest heaves up and down even more rapidly as Ra’smoves his hand from the boy’s mouth to his hair, grip firm but not unkind. Theboy’s eyes remain shut tight.

Ra’s waits patiently for him to gather himself, certain theomega knows, and will give him, what he wants.

Finally Jason’s lids flutter open. He stares resolutely atthe floor and wets his lips.

“Yes, Alpha,” he whispers, almost inaudibly.

He glances back to Timothy in time to catch him sigh in whatseems like defeat but this is their deal and Ra’s has accepted it withoutalteration.

“Go sit at the head of the bed, Timothy,” Ra’s orders, “You’llwatch while you wait your turn.”

The boy swallows hard under Ra’s’ piercing stare and Jason stiffensunder his hand.

“Yes, Alpha,” Tim mumbles and moves to obey.

[kneesheee]

Little Devil

warnings:  cursing | vague references to child abuse | age regression

|two|

Jason stared down at the girl bowing before him. She was a foot and some inches shorter than him standing at a solid five feet. Her once milk chocolate colored hair was fanning around her face, but he didn’t concentrate on that. No, he paid attention to the white strip curling through her hair. He had no doubt that if she were to look up then her eyes would be glowing green.

“My apologies for declining to answer your messages,” she stated into the night. “I had not known that it was the Born-Again Prince that was attempting to contact me.”

“Mila,” he groaned exasperated. Jamila Al Ghul. Daughter of Nyssa Raatko and Slade Wilson after Ra Al Ghul decided to play mad scientist with his daughter’s genes. Sister to Conner Hawke/Al Ghul/Queen whichever one he was going by these days. The only friend he had made while in Talia’s care. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Did you honestly think that I was going to stop, dear cousin,” she questioned as she stood from her crouch. The two of them stared at each other before folding into a hug. It had been awhile since they had last seen each other. “Are the rumors true? Are you the new Heir to the Demon?”

Jason grimaced, “Yes. And before you ask, so are the rumors about Nyssa attacking Talia.”

Jamila sneered, “I always knew Mother held no honor. Despite my resentment of him, I am thoroughly grateful that Grandfather chose not to reveal my existence to either of my parents.”

Jason sighed and ran a hand across his face, “Despite everything, T is doing well and she’s safe. I need a favor from you though.”

His cousin slouched a little and crossed her arms, “The Big and Bad Red Hood needs a favor from mwah? Oh, whatever shall I be?”

“No need for the snark,” Jason crossed his own arms looking at her. Her own eyes glowed with the power of the pit behind them. He didn’t want to know how she ended up in such a predicament. He knew she could take of herself. He knew she could overcome the effects of the pit. If anything, it just made his skin crawl as recounted his own experience with the magical waters. “What I do need is for someone to be out there getting me intel. I need a link to the League so I can know Shiva’s process on helping T and if she needs any backup. I also need someone with ears on the ground for whatever it is Nyssa might be planning.”

“And pray tell, why you cannot do this yourself?”

“From what I’ve been told, I’m the reason that Nyssa attacked Talia. If I step outside of Gotham, then I’m going to have eyes on me everywhere. I need to keep a low profile.”

Jamila hummed as she looked him over. She ran a hand through her hair. “The wishing well near Ivy’s Garden. Whatever information I managed to get then that’s where I’m going to leave it.”

“Don’t you want to be the Heir instead, Mila?”

“Not a chance in Heaven or Hell,” she scoffed.

Jamila moved towards the edge of the rooftop the two of them were standing on. A slight breeze picked up and blew her hair through the air. She turned to look at him and the fierce expression on her face soften into something gentle, “Jason, do be careful. You may not be my cousin by blood, but you are the cousin of my heart. I will destroy the world thrice over if it meant that you keep some happiness.”

She fell backwards off the edge before he could give promise to her words. But he watched as she appeared a few buildings over and heading away from the streets of Gotham and he wonders if she can hear his silent pleads that she do the same.

--

When Jason made it back to the manor, he slipped in through the window leading to his old room. A quick glance at his bed and he could see Talia still lying there sleeping peacefully. Even in her sleep, she still looked like a warrior princess.

He sighed deeply. He needs to find a way to help her get back to her rightful age asap. But… but a part of him wanted to delay it as long as it was possible. He wanted to give her the childhood she should have had instead of the one she was forced to live.

He removed his boots and armor from his body before walking into the bathroom to slip into more comfortable clothing. He checked to see if Talia was still asleep before carefully moving two of the floorboards and placing the minimum weapons, he had carried on his person back in their place. With one last check on his charge, he reestablishes the rigged security system on the window that he made. Bruce and the others were so sure that the motion detectors would catch anybody sneaking onto the premises, but Jason learned his way around those from the very first moment he put on the pixie boots. At least with his security, whoever might try to break it would lose their fingers and then their life when Jason arrived to catch them.

Talia sacrificed everything for him. It’s only right that he repays the favor.

Jason made his way out the room with one more glance at Talia before softly closing the door. When he turned around, Cass was standing there. He quirked an eyebrow. “Guard duty,” was all she said.

He nodded his head and the two of them continued down the hallway. Making their way to the kitchen where the rest of the family had gathered before Jason left to make contact with Mila. Three days had already passed with Talia being stuck as a toddler and he was no close to figuring out how to help her. They had no knowledge if it was magic, science or even technology that made her this way.

“Ah, Master Jason, welcome back. Have a seat. I’ll bring out something for you,” Alfred greeted, walking off before Jason could protest. He shook his head with a fond smile and made his way to the dining room where the rest of the family was waiting.

“I’m just saying Bruce, we shouldn’t be distributing so many resources to help that-that woman after all she’s done to this family. It’ll be for the best to keep her as she is. At worst with our help, we can keep her from turning into the Talia we know today and at best, we can just ship her off to another family.”

It had been years since Jason had felt any effects from the pits. Maybe it had ignited after seeing the evidence on his cousin or maybe the anger he was feeling at Barbara’s words were strong enough to relight it. Either way, he could feel it nipping at the back of his mind... Staying there. Stagnant. It was more of a tool for him to use instead of a leash to control him.

“Look Gordon, I get you have your issues with Talia. But you don’t know jackshit about her and if you speak another word about her, then I’d happily show you exactly just how you’re not actually all that great.”

The rest of them startled not having noticed him come in, but he only had eyes for Barbara. He looked up to her. Cherished her even. She was his batgirl. But Talia was his mother and he wont stand for any ill will to her.

“Jason, what Babs was trying to say—” Dick began, but Jason rose a hand in the air. “She can speak for herself, Dick, and she made it perfectly clear how she felt. I’m making it known how I feel, and I won’t stand for any slander against her. You can speak about whatever problem you have with her on your own time, but so long as she’s here… so long as I am here, then you will keep your thoughts to yourself or leave her wellbeing to me and go back to playing with your computers.”

The two held a small staring match as she tried to gauge how serious he was, and he expertly conveyed the threat in his eyes to the next person that spoke on Talia negatively. She nodded her head at him before turning away. Jason took a deep breath and mentally pushed the pit away. He had been doing good and he didn’t need a relapse.

He kept on to his seat and thank Alfred as he placed his food in front of him. He said a quick blessing over his food just like Talia had demanded of him before he slowly began to it.

“Um, Jason, what did your contact say,” he heard Timmy ask from his seat. Jason looked up to see him typing furiously on his computer with one hand and reaching for the coffee cup that Cass was carefully keeping out of his hands.

“She didn’t tell me much and I didn’t press for much. What she did say is that the rumors about who the new Heir is and how fast the information surrounding Nyssa’s attack is spreading.”

Everyone’s brow furrowed. To know that there was someone out there that might be getting ready to start the biggest war in the criminal world was frustrating. They didn’t know who they were looking for or what to expect from them.

“Well, did she at least tell you who the Heir was,” Stephanie questioned. All eyes turned to him and he narrowed his eyes at her. He took great care of what he alluded with his body language before he answered. Heaving a deep sigh and taking on a look of exasperation, he set his fork down and ran a hand through his hair.

“I already knew who the Heir was and believe me when I say they want nothing to do with the title.”

Tim went back to typing on his computer, “Still it would be good know who the Heir is just in case they cause trouble later down the line.”

Jason scowled at the brat, and here he thought Timmy was his favorite. He then sent a silent prayer of forgiveness to Jamila and he swore he could her sharpening her knives and cursing at him. Jason sighed as if he was exhausted with the topic and didn’t want to let this particular amount of leverage go. “Her name’s Jamila. You’d probably find better information on her if you looked up Death Demon. It’s her code name, but she’s even more of a ghost in the underground world than the Winter Soldier from your comics, Timmers. But she is real. I met her a couple of times while training with the League. She put a knife to my throat and told me to stop killing all of her teachers before she got finished punishing them.”

“Am I the only one trying to figure out why Jason seems to be on first name basis with assassins,” Dick exclaimed.

Jason snorted, “I was one myself, Dickhead. I worked directly under Talia before she let my leash go and set me out on the world. Hell, in some parts, I’m still considered one. There are many places that are living in fear afraid of the Red Ronin to come back and rain down vengeance.”

“I don’t think that’s something to be proud of,” Duke muttered from his spot at the table.

Small patter of feet caught everyone’s attention and Jason looked over to the doorway to see Talia peeking in. Her features were twisted in a scowl and Jason was sure that only he and Cass could see the fear lurking in her eyes.

He rose up from his seat immediately catching her attention and then she disappeared. When he sat back down, he pushed his chair further from the table to catch the small body that landed in his lap.

“Hello, تاليا,” he muttered as he scooted back near the table. She laid her head on his chest and whispered, “Hello, Jason” in English. Jason nearly cried with joy. In the past three days alone, she had spoken in French, Spanish, German, Greece, Swahili and Chinese. Sometimes she would switch languages mid-sentence. It was nice to know that she could speak English also though he still felt like a scolded kid whenever she rose a brow at him when he stumbled from her dialect switch.

He handed her the fork in his hands and let her eat the fruit off his plate. Another thing everyone learned was that she was a vegetarian. But she had spoken to him in silence and broken words that Ra had already been training such weakness from her and forcing her to eat meat. She hates it but she won’t go against her father.

“Hi, Talia. I’m Stephanie!”

Right, despite that they had been here for three days coming and going because like hell was, he going to spend the night at the manor… Talia successfully managed to avoid everyone in the house. Everyone except Alfred and Tim that is. She had told him that watching them concentrate on their task was soothing and orderly. It reminded her of home.

She looked up at Stephanie with a blank stare before looking back at Jason. “It’s up to you.”

“Bright.”

Jason nodded his head, “Hey, Steph. Tone it down a little.” He looked backed down at Talia who nodded her head. “Hello, Stephanie.” The girl in questioned almost squeal in delight before the rest of them started to introduce themselves.

When Damian introduced himself, Talia blinked before leaning his direction. She turned back to Jason, “He looks like Mother’s brother. Family?”

Jason pretend not to notice the emotions in Damian’s eyes. He knows that the boy knows little of his Grandmother’s family. “He is my brother.”

“Potential,” she stated with a raised brow. “Worthy of Nobutora name.”

Talia smiled lightly at Damian before she disappeared from his lap and the sound of her feet were heard back in the hall as she headed back to the room. Jason turned to look at Damian who was staring after his mother with a shocked look on his face.

“She had never told me that before.”

Jason crouched down beside him, “It doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

He ruffled the kid’s hair and gave thanks to Alfred for the dinner. He walked out of the room with everyone else wondering what Talia told Damian. “Call me if you get a lead or anything,” he called behind him.

He needed to get back to his apartment and give Talia her bath before they settled in for the night. The Bats could handle patrol for one more night.

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Write for 365: Day 111

Tugging On Your Sleeve Part One

Tim had no idea how it started considering his parents were never around for him to develop the habit and Bruce certainly didn’t have a hand in it. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it until Dick made some ridiculous joke about Jason being wrapped around Tim’s finger or whipped or something else ridiculously childish. Half the time Tim doesn’t listen to the crap that spills thoughtlessly out of Dick’s mouth, but Jason’s anger always trumps ignoring Dick. Feeling Jason violently rip his arm away out of nowhere definitely fell under that category and tore Tim’s attention away from the menu he had been busy reading.

The vibrant shade of red his boyfriend had turned from Dick’s teasing normally wouldn’t have surprised Tim, except for the fact the look on his face was normally reserved for fights over the killing issue. Tim had immediately directed his attention to a smug looking Dick that was making a rather rude gesture with his hands. The mother in line right behind Tim let out an indignant gasp and stomped away with her child in tow after witnessing the motion. Considering the only innocent bystander was now gone, Tim knew he would have to step in before the two elder Robins really went at it.

“Can we please have one lunch that doesn’t end with someone getting strangled?” Tim easily slipped into the quickly closing gap between the two men. “Dick, you promised to be on your best behavior. Don’t make me call Babs.”

“It’s not my fault Jason can’t take a harmless joke.”

“There’s a difference between joking and teasing. You failed to learn that distinction.”

Dick rolled his eyes dramatically then leaned down so his face was on a more even level with Tim’s. “Are you going to make me apologize?”

“I can’t make you do anything now, but I could later.”

“Fine. I’m sorry I made fun of you for letting Tim pull you around like a child with one of those backpack leashes.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

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