#well Tony and one villain

[oifaaa]

I feel like while we've had a bunch of villains become heroes in recent years but we've not had nearly enough heroes becoming villains which equivalent exchange I think for every villain that goes hero permanently there should be one hero that goes villain permanently

[diamondnokouzai]

the problem with ultimate iron man is i really do enjoy obadiah stane more than i have any right to.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

funniest disney history facts i can think of atm

literally EVERYBODY thought the lion king was gonna flop and pocahontas would be their greatest movie ever made. people begged to ditch lion king and work on pocahontas.

the reason robin hood ends so abruptly is that there was an actual ending planned and storyboarded but the crew spent too long arguing about everyone’s fursonas to finish animating it

madam mim was way less comedic in the original book but because her character was too similar to maleficent (who was in their latest film at the time), the sword and the stone crew decided to differentiate her by making her fucking hilarious

when making a goofy movie, jeffrey katzenberg (studio chairman at the time) told bill farmer to give goofy “a normal voice.” farmer, who had been voicing goofy for eight years at that point, including in the goof troop show that a goofy movie was a sequel to, was very confused. after making an attempt they decided to scrap that note completely.

as of march 2023, farmer is still voicing goofy, and tony anselmo has been voicing donald since 1986. the 2017 reboot of ducktales, which was slated as “wanting to do for donald what goofy movie did for goofy,” featured both actors as those characters; they had also been doing the voices for the original ducktales and goof troop/goofy movie. all the times goofy and donald interact in the 2017 ducktales however, donald was voiced by guest star don cheadle as a joke

current voice of mickey mouse bret iwan has stated that he has attempted to play kingdom hearts and did not do well

disneyland’s current world of color halloween overlay features a plot that is basically “the disney villains simultaneously adopt a goth kid” and i love it

people will make jokes about “well math says that the beast would’ve been 11 when he was cursed” well that was actually the original intent, but a flashback scene of baby beast was scrapped because he looked “too much like eddie munster”

when disney sent a representative to pixar to check on toy story production, she was like “this is all great! what style of music are you thinking” and they were like “for what” “for the songs” “we uh. we weren’t gonna have. any songs” and she went dead silent and then went “i have to make a call” and left the room

saludos amigos and the three caballeros were made as ww2 propaganda. the government commissioned disney to make movies to make latin america like them so that they wouldnt side with the nazis and provide them an in to invade, and latin america really liked donald duck so

saludos amigos was apparently the first time many usamericans realized that latin american people were like. people. film historian alfred charles richard jr said that the film “did more to cement a community of interest between peoples of the americas in a few months than the state department had in fifty years”

while latin america generally liked both films, chilean cartoonist rené rios boettiger fucking hated the chilean segment of saludos amigos, seeing the main character of pedro the plane as a weakass bitch, so in response he created condorito, the most popular comic character in all of latin america

disney wanted to adapt ts eliot’s old possum’s book of practical cats. his widow adamantly refused, and then sold the rights to andrew lloyd webber bc he wanted to make it sexy and she said “tom would’ve liked that”

in case you haven’t seen the defunctland, walt disney wanted epcot to be a futuristic utopia where he was basically the dictator. then he died so they just made it another theme park

speaking of defunctland the first defunctland video was on disneyworld’s alien attraction and please watch it. please it’s so funny

after the huge failure of the black cauldron disney was going to shut down its animation department. the department tried to convince them to keep them alive by showing them the one scene they had finished for the next movie– the mouse burlesque from the great mouse detective. it worked

the only attraction the black cauldron ever got was in tokyo disneyland where they put a tour under cinderella’s castle where everyone had to escape the disney villains trying to kill them, only to end at the horned king and the cauldron, who would try to sacrifice them to satan. this tour was popular but was closed in the early 2000s as the tunnels didn’t fit earthquake regulations and i want it in disneyworld so bad

walt disney once referred to his unionizing workers, led by goofy’s creator art babbitt, as “commie sons of bitches,” and i want a mickey build-a-bear that calls me a commie son-of-a-bitch whenever i squeeze its paw

[enigmaris]

All Father Thor, King of Asgard,

A new ruler of Hel has been chosen, the fearsome King Phantom, defeater of Pariah Dark. It is time for Asgard to prepare to pay the dues required to keep peace between the realms of the gods and of the dead. Bring the terms of your surrender to King’s Phantom’s representative on earth, Daniel James Fenton of Amity Park.

The Noble Scribe of King Phantom,

Ghost Writer

*****

“Okay so let me get this straight,” Tony Stark, Iron Man and Avenger said. “Ghosts are real.”

“Yes.” King Thor Odinson, Asgardian and god of thunder agreed.

“And they’re evil.”

“A bit of an oversimplification, but yes.” Prince Loki Odinson, sometimes villain and would be planet invader, answered.

“And the ghosts have had one ruler, the most powerful ghost in existence. And that new rulers are chosen by combat, meaning that every new ruler is more powerful than the last.”

“Yes, you’ve got the idea.” Thor said looking down at his knees for a moment.

“And since ghosts are so evil and so powerful, that means that their ruler is practically an unstoppable force of destruction.”

“Doesn’t it sound delightful?” Loki asked, to which he received a glare.

“So, for the past 10,000 years, at least, Asgard and plenty of other realms have been paying taxes to the ghost king to avoid a war. A racketeering scheme.”

“I don’t know what a racketeering scheme is but yes, the ghost peace treaty does require that Asgard pay the ghost king gold and magical weapons every century and if we fail to pay that price, then the peace treaty will be broken and Asgard will likely be forfeit.”

“That’s a racketeering scheme!”

“Well then yes.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. It was clear the man’s headache was only growing stronger as he walked through the information the two gods had dumped into his lap this morning. Thor and Loki both had rushed into his lab and started babbling about world ending threats and how they might possibly be absolutely screwed.

“So, now there’s a new king. Which means a new peace treaty has to be signed.” Tony said the words ‘peace treaty’ in the same way he’d say ‘nuclear bomb’ or ‘Steve Rogers’.

“I thought you said it was a racketeering scheme?” Loki asked.

“Shut it.” Tony hissed.

“A new treaty must be signed.” Thor repeated, trying to keep the three of them on track.

“And since the last king Pariah Dark was so powerful that he made the entirety of Asgard tremble, you’re pretty sure this new king, Phantom, is probably worse.”

“Pariah Dark had the power to suck entire planets into the afterlife, destroying them,” Loki said looking at his nails. “Stands to reason that a ghost powerful enough to defeat him could do much, much worse.”

“Right. Fantastic!” Tony practically shouted.

“I don’t think anything about this is fantastic.” Thor admitted, he was ignored.

“And according to you Asgard has been paying the ghost tax for both their realm and ours since we were under Odin’s protection. And since Hela and Sutur destroyed your entire planet and your entire people are refugees, now we have to figure out how to keep an ultrapowerful ghost from wiping out our home without any way of paying him.”

“Technically we don’t know if Phantom is a ‘he’.” Loki pointed out unhelpfully.

“The letter literally says he’s a king!”

“Could be a title. What do the dead have need for gender?”

“This is not the point of this discussion,” Thor cut in before an argument about the usefulness of gender and the concept of a female king burst forth. “We’re here to figure out how to make peace with King Phantom without resulting in a war that would destroy our world and our peoples.”

“We don’t even have Earth’s mightiest heroes anymore.” Loki said, referencing the painful results of the civil war and the Accords.

“We’re fucked.” Tony decided.

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “We probably are.”

[thesirenisles]

..⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Girl Talk

random astro observations 🌸 ..⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

disclaimer: these obs. are pretty general, from personal observation, & just for fun

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⋆.ೃ࿔* capricorn women are hilarious and so charismatic. The maturity of an adult at such a young age. & such supportive energy that manifests as helping you manage or boss UP your life!

⋆.ೃ࿔* pisces sun women are excellent liars... when you're not in your dream world. My childhood Pisces bestie could spin a tale in a second to get us out of trouble! If your feelings weren't in the way, you'd be just as sly as Gemini. Dual energy. You guys are mistreated so often & it pisses me off. Be the villain!! Responsibly, lol.

⋆.ೃ࿔* taurus women are such princesses and material girls. It comes to you guys so easy too! Usually financially sound in life. Venusian energy also attracts earthly gifts. As a 2H stellium, I relate but am so jelly.

⋆.ೃ࿔* pluto in the 1st is so potent. My scorpio mars just burns for them🥰 They are always mistaken for a Scorpio. The EYES. They often wear dark palettes as well and the winter spectrum is chef's kiss on them.

⋆.ೃ࿔* virgos are so polished and coordinated. I admire the clean look. No matter what their aesthetic is. I feel like this is bc they master the arts of femininity and their personal style at a very young age. Virgo loves routines & Mercury increases craving for intelligence! the skin! 😍

⋆.ೃ࿔* capricorn men and the pragmatic bit in conversations like ugh. PLEASE be open to what can’t be proven in the physical or isn't "legitimized" science lol. Honorable mention: Pisces sun men lol. they HATE astrology?

⋆.ೃ࿔* aries can literally throw together so many looks. They just know how to put ish on. They are usually average height, if not short and curvy. So, a lot of things work on them. i.e. De'arra Taylor, Toni Olaoye

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⋆.ೃ࿔* sagittarius have such a seductive but edgy sense of style. Jupiter energy expands their tastes, allowing them to try eclectic fashion looks easily sort of like Pisces. Mikaria Janae, Vanessa Hudgens, and IMO Samantha Jones SATC.

⋆.ೃ࿔* leo women are so on trend! They can put their own style on this, but they know how to work the trends.

⋆.ೃ࿔* scorpio too! Like ugh, they are always looking so attractive and coordinated but in unique styles! Like, they are the dramatic beauty type for sure. The type to pull off leopard pants to any occasion🤣 i.e. Karin Jinsui

⋆.ೃ࿔* earth signs are usually blessed materially in some way from childhood. Not saying it was easy.. (not knocking emotional or spiritual tribulations or bad aspects)

⋆.ೃ࿔* scorpio women 🫱🏾‍🫲🏽 sitting in the pitch black darkness for their "Me Time". Evil lair vibes lol But, this genuinely recharges their energy.

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⋆.ೃ࿔* what's up with aries, libra, pisces, and virgo women being so beautiful but SO blind in love! There's literally no changing someone or waiting on them to mature. If he's not the one now, he won't be the one later. Men are like buses! Miss one and 10 minutes later...

⋆.ೃ࿔* aquarius women really nail the best first impressions that makes others want to be their best friend. As an aqua stellium, I used to legit collect besties and create friend groups.

⋆.ೃ࿔* Speaking of… anyone with Lilith in the 11th house experience literally creating their friend group/ clique and then being kicked out of them?? LOL

⋆.ೃ࿔* virgo men can very calmly destroy one’s confidence. The type to point out the one flaw you HATE.

⋆.ೃ࿔* aqua 🫱🏾‍🫲🏽 scorpio friendships. ✨

⋆.ೃ࿔* gemini suns can be the villains 100%. I hate to add to the endless slander.. sorry not sorry. Unevolved Geminis are not above ruining your rep with blatant lies, copying you, and even familial betrayal out of envy…FOR FUN. (Not ALL Geminis.. these are shadow traits)

⋆.ೃ࿔* capricorn stellium men are a rare and delicious type. Daddy energy all the way😍

⋆.ೃ࿔* cancer women are so curvy & naturally pretty. But.. how do you guys stay so cool with toxic exes from years ago, tho? lol

Thank you for reading! ⋆.ೃ࿔*

@thesirenisles | masterlist | If you enjoyed, leave a tip!

All rights reserved. © 2024 The Siren Isles

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[dalekofchaos]

Doctor Doom gets ruined AND WHITEWASHED AGAIN!

4 attempts to get Doctor Doom right

4

And we STILL can’t get this right

A master of magic and science. A man who rivals Doctor Strange and Reed Richards as the most powerful sorcerer and the smartest man alive. He rules an entire country with an army of Doombots. Considered to be one of the greatest Marvel villains. And they still can't get him right. They have to make him a fucking Tony Stark variant. Tony Stark is not Victor Von Doom and Doom is above Tony Stark.

Victor wearing the mask always is integral to his appeal and aura like Vader's mask. It not only hides his vain scars he caused due to his failures, but it closes him off from humanity and makes him believe he’s beyond it.

As far as I'm concerned Marvel Ultimate Alliance and EMH are the only good adaptations of Doom

Doctor Doom being a romani man with a background CENTERING his family's racial persecution. with his ethnicity at the forefront of his motivations and his tragedy. and they really just brought back Robert Downey Jr.

Being romani is INTEGRAL to doom’s character and without that he’s not doom. he NEEDS to be romani and played by a romani character. full stop, don't believe me? Read Book Of Dooms.

Since 1964 Victor von Doom has been established as a Romani character. His childhood was filled with antiziganism and his parents deaths were caused by it. This later led him to become Doctor Doom and overthrow the Latverian government to protect his people

I am so fucking sick and tired of this whitewashing bullshit and the ethnoerasure of Marvel characters.

The Maximoff Twins, The Ancient One, Moon Knight and now fucking Doom.

God fucking forbid an actual Romani actor PLAYS A ROMANI CHARACTER.

But no they pulled another fucking multiverse shit all so RDJ could return and it all feels like blackface from Tropic Thunder

I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT ABOUT ANTHONY STARK FROM EARTH-11029 OR INFAMOUS IRON MAN

If you wanted evil Iron Man so fucking bad, why didn't you just do Superior Iron Man?

The LAZIEST, DUMBEST, most CONTRIVED BULLSHIT casting ever, Marvel continues to not beat the whitewashing allegations. Doctor Doom deserved better.

Romani actor Charlie Clapman was right fucking there AND HE ENDORSED IT!

I'd even suggest Romani actor Óscar Jaenada as Doom. Again another Roma actor who's actively interested in playing Doom

And you know what? As bad as the 1994 movie was, Joseph Culp the first actor to play Doom in the Fantastic Four (1994) movie by Oley Sassone & Richard Corman. Culp was also white but he very clearly cared for the comics background of Victor von Doom

and you also know damn well they're going to erase everything about Magneto too that makes him who he is… which is his entire fucking background. how horrible of a person do you have to be to repeatedly disrespect the minorities who created these stories?

Doctor Doom is Roma Romani. He is not white. The MCU loves to whitewash its Roma and Jewish characters and it’s time we called them out for it. Dr Doom is not a white man, he is Roma!

They will never nail down the complexity of Victor Von Doom

Every year Doom goes to hell to fight Mephisto to rescue the soul of his mother. He finally won her soul with the help of Doctor Strange only for her to reject him.

No evil Stark replicant will ever fucking match the complexity of Victor Von Doom.

I don't care if this is a one time thing for RDJ. They specifically chose to do this when the fans were begging for a fucking Romani actor. It also doesn't fucking help that Marvel has erased nearly EVERY fucking ethnic character has been whitewashed.

Scarlet Witch & Quicksilver: Erased Romani heritage and whitewashed. Moon Knight & Wiccan: Casted non-Jewish actors. Sabra: Featured in anything at all, and actress is an IDF soldier to make matters worse.

The MCU is full of ethnic erasure, military propaganda & racism. it’s disgusting this is continuing with Dr Doom’s casting. remember to continue to boycott marvel, because of the genocide they support by casting an iof solider to play a character from the zionist terrorist occupation

Dr Doom is one of those villains that it should be IMPOSSIBLE to fuck up but wasting him on a cheap Iron Man nostalgia casting pop might be the way

[shamelessfaceless]

Navigation | Marvel Masterlist | Series Masterlist

1. The one and only Spider-Woman.

Pairings: WandaNat x F!Spidey!Polish!Reader, OC x Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: When your girlfriend cheated on you, you decided to finally accept Tony Stark's offer.

Warnings: Cheating with man, sad R, Homophobia

Wc: 1.2k

A/n: I will put my whole heart in this series😭 Next parts are gonna be longer.

You promised yourself you would always smile  while wearing your mask. For this reason your mask was showing the bottom of your face. It was your own project and it had a special place in your heart. You wanted to show people that nitatter what you are doing, and who you fight with, you will always smile, just be happy that you can protect innocent people. Another reason why you projected your mask like that, was the fact that you have fangs. It's not like you use them often, but they can be really helpful. One little bite, and can paralysis villains for a while. S.H.I.E.L.D knew about your existence, and wanted you to join avengers. They even send to you the one and only Tony Stark with Nick Fury. You decided to wait. It was your last month of school, and you had a girlfriend you didn’t want to leave alone.

You graduated with not so bad grades, and you passed all your exams with almost the best scores in your class. You hoped your girlfriend would be with you, but she texted you at the last minute that she needed to take care of her sick mother. You believed her. How could you not? She was almost the most important person in your life. So in the evening you decided to visit her, her mother knew you really well, and was happy her daughter had someone like you. Well, she didn’t know you were a couple, she was a typical homophobic christian, just like most people in your country. 

Only thing in her room you could see was how deep she was in kissing a guy. She didn’t even notice you opened the door to her room. Looking in her cold eyes made your stomach flip. You don't even know how... no, when this happened. You don't know when she met him, when he started being the reason she's smiling everyday, when she stopped caring about you. Only thing you can look at are her sky blue eyes you loved looking at. You were always finding your safe space in her, now the only thing you see in her eyes is how much she is disgusted in you. Her words were something you were expecting. You weren't enough. He is a man, of course she would want to be with him, how could she love a girl? You were just stupid thinking he was just her friend.You tried so much to not end up like before. But everything is always the same. You are trying your best, but they are always choosing someone else, someone who isn't so complicated, someone who is.. pure. The most important, they always will choose someone who will fuck with them after a week of dating. They don't understand why you care about romantic things, when you could just let them fuck you. They are animals chasing their own pleasure, don't giving fuck about true love. 

It was the first time when you put on your mask and did wear your bright smile. 

There was no reason for you to stay. Your friend moved out a long time ago, and for you, your online friends were enough. Your parents were dead. At least for you. Just like you were dead for them. They didn’t want a Lesbian daughter, and you hated them for all the traumas they gave you. You half lived on the street. Most of the time you were spending in school or saving your country. You showed up in your home only if you needed to take a shower or books for school. 

“What are you thinking about kiddo?” Tony asked, putting hand on your back.

“You know, just how my girlfriend cheated on me few hours ago, and now Im part of fucking Avengers” You didn’t even looked at him. You only look at changing numbers signaling that you were higher every second. 

After running away from your girlfriend's house, you called Tony. Only thing  you wanted was to leave as far away and as fast as you could. Break ups were always hard for you. You just wanted to feel loved, feel important for someone. Looking at the sunset on top of one of the buildings was your way to say goodbye to the country you truly love. You promised yourself, you will start a new and better life. No thinking about the past. You need to let it go, and life looking at the future. You knew it would be hard, but you also knew you needed to do this. There's too many open wounds, just because you couldn’t let go thinking about the past every night. 

Pretending to smile while meeting everyone was the hardest part. Pretending to be happy while in the back of your mind the only thing you could think of was your exs, and how you couldn’t be enough for them. Tony left you just when you walked out of the elevator. Steve introduced himself and his friend Bucky. You gave them a polite smile and mumbled your name. You just wanted to go to your room and sleep the rest of the day. Next people that introduced themselves were Clint, Bruce and Sam. Last person was Natasha Romanoff. You learned from her that her wife Wanda is on the mission with Thor. 

“I hear slavic accent.”

“Oh, yeah…  I'm Polish.”

“Tony was one hundred percent sure you're from Russia.” You hate when people mistake you for Russian. It's not even like your languages sound super alike. 

“Chuj.” You said to yourself. “Uhm, nevermind.”You looked at the floor when she looked at you. Natasha just laughed it off and you smiled. 

(Chuj - Dick)

“I'm guessing you don’t know where your room is?” When your eyes met her forest green ones, you felt like you couldn’t look away, but you needed to. You didn't want her to take you for a freak. 

“Yeah… Stark just left me here, and didn’t show me anything.” You rolled your eyes.

“Come with me. Tony decides that you will take Wanda's old room. We have lived together for the past few years, so her room stood empty. It's next to ours.” She said pointing at one of the doors. “So if you need something you can always knock.”

“So… It was nice to meet the famous black widow.” You opened the door to your room. 

“It was nice to meet another spider.” After you closed the door you looked around the room. You didn’t take many things with you, so there wasn’t a lot to unpack. Just some clothes and books. Just a few minutes and everything was in their places. You looked out the window and a few seconds later at mask in your hands. 

After a while you were jumping between buildings. It's late at night, so one would rather see you. When you get tired of jumping, running and half flying, you sit at the top of a skyscraper.

“So It will be my new life. The spider-woman saving the world.” You laughed to yourself. “It's almost unbelievable."

TAGLIST:

@marvelwomen-simp @andersonsprincess @leenasayeed @sapphic-simp4015 @taliiiaasteria

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Angela Lansbury (The Harvey Girls, The Court Jester, The Manchurian Candidate)—The babe, the myth, the legend. In her own words her early hollywood roles were "a series of venal bitches" and they were all glorious. Half of them wanted to kill you and you probably would have thanked them. She even goes toe to toe with Judy Garland in The Harvey Girls! That said, she was chronically underused and misused during this era - she was just 36 when she was cast as Elvis Presley's mother in Blue Hawaii and a few years later commented that she'd played so many 'old hags' that most people thought she was in her 60s. She thought she was "all talent, no looks" but she was the full package! Post-1970 I hope we all know what an incredibly talented and compassionate badass she was, but I feel like not enough people know her early roles as a hot (often villainous) young thing.

Angie Dickinson (Rio Bravo, Point Blank, Ocean's Eleven)—Though it could be argued that overall her career leans more to TV, during this time period she was splitting movie title credits with the very top names in the business.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Propaganda for Angie Dickinson:

Propaganda for Angela Lansbury:

"Angela Lansbury might not be where your mind goes first when you think of hot leading women, because she had a later career revival. But she began acting in the early 1940s after leaving London due to the Blitz. In the first couple decades of her film career she has an openness about her. She said she never really fit in with the Hollywood crowd and to me she gives off a friendly, untarnished vibe."

"Most of us know Angela Lansbury as old lady sleuth Jessica Fletcher, but it's important to know that she was smoking hot in her younger days as well as a damned fine actress. Although she didn't get lead roles until her early 40s, at 17 she was a supporting actress in films such as Gaslight (1944), National Velvet (1944), and The Picture of Dorian Grey, for which she won the Golden Globe for best supporting actress and was nominated for the Oscar. Even in her memorable performance as the manipulative mother in The Manchurian Candidate, she is listed as a supporting actress as she does not play the love interest. She was successful both on stage and screen, and won the Tony for her lead role in the musical Mame on Broadway in 1966. TL;DR While Angela Lansbury mostly played supporting roles in films before 1970, she had what it takes to be a leading actress, which we know from her success on stage and tv from the mid 60s onward"

"She looked like a princess but bit like a viper"

"Is there anything this woman couldn't do? Act in comedy and drama, sing, dance, be a wonderful human being - quite simply a true and wonderful lady."

"god she had such an incredible career all throughout her life really but as a young lady she was just as incredible as she was in her later years. enchanting voice, amazing personality, and absolutely GORGEOUS. she lamented not having the looks to play leads in romance but that idea is so batshit because look at her??? she's one of the most terrific women of all time. also she's my grandmother's favorite actress and i truly get it"

"she is the fairytale princess of my dreams in court jester"

[puppetdaily]

Sexy Puppet Tournament Round 1 SKEKSIS vs TONY THE TALKING CLOCK

Skeksis (entire species, The Dark Crystal)

Gluttonous, nasty, cruel, the Skeksis represent all the worst impulses of humanity. Their spindly, reptilian forms hide surprising power and capability, and an odd sort of beauty lurks in their haunting features. A monster-fucker's dream? Or are they far too ugly to have a chance?

Tony the Talking Clock (Don't Hug Me I'm Scared)

Tony seems to be a perfect archetype of a Tumblr sexyman, and is in fact one of the originals: villainous, theatrical, put-together, with limbs like overcooked noodles. He inspired hundreds of humanizations and a plethora of ship art, a shockingly low percentage of which involved moustaches. Well, it's 2024, and staches are back in fashion. Can Tony return to his former sexy glory?

[fullybooked]

What Are My Other Options?

Title: What are my other options? Pairing: Insomniac!PeterParker x Reader Word count: 9.6k Warnings: mentions of cheating (but Peter would never) Notes: F/T = favorite topping Summary: The reader has come to the conclusion that Peter is cheating on them. What else are they supposed to think when he’s always running off and constantly canceling their plans? That he’s Spider-Man?

It wasn’t often that you got a chance to dress up anymore. As a grad student, there was very little spare time to spend on your appearance, and when that kind of rare opportunity arose, you jumped at it. So you didn’t feel bad about spending the last hour in front of a mirror, tossing around outfits, and destroying the closet in the process.

The occasion? The New York Times Gala. You’d been working for the biggest news outlet in the state for your graduate program for investigative journalism, a spot you had fought tooth and nail for. Every News Outlet and invited celebrity would be there, the Daily Bugle, The Wallstreet Journal, USA Today, and you’d heard whispers of Tony Stark attending. You hadn’t even learned until last week that you would be allowed the attend as well. As nothing more than an intern, you hadn’t seen there being a reason.

But your boss had given you the news last Friday, and you’d practically skipped home to tell your boyfriend, Peter, about it. And that you had a plus one. He’d been almost as excited as you.

Which is why you were finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t home right now. He wasn’t getting ready with you, he wasn’t even answering your calls or texts. So while you were excited, there was a bubble of worry hiding underneath.

“Where is he?” You’re muttering to no one but yourself. The last touches of your outfit were going on, and the last train you could take would be at the station in 20 minutes. Your window was closing.

Looking down at your phone while adjusting your choice of red accessories, you start to wonder if something bad had happened to him. After all, New York was crawling with supervillains and regular villains alike. And Peter was equipped for any kind of fight he might’ve run into. Ever since you met him in your first year of college, he had been one of the most peaceful people you’d ever met.

Your red shoes rest by the door, and while pacing your living room, you decide to call his Aunt May. She would surely know if anything, bad or good, had stopped Peter from coming home on such an important night. You click on her contact, resisting the urge to bite your nails from nerves.

It’s only two rings before she answers, “(Y/N)!” she answers happily, “I’m a little shocked to be hearing from you so late, is everything alright? Isn’t tonight your Gala for work?”

Aunt May was nothing short of a saint. Kind and caring, traits she’d taught Peter as she raised him. You adored her, the two of you always got along great when you and Peter volunteered at FEAST or went over for dinner. You weren’t sure if the lack of concern in her voice should make you more worried or not.

“It is,” you tell her as you watch the clock tick on, “but I haven’t been able to get ahold of Peter all night. I’m starting to worry. Have you heard from him?”

There’s a hum of confusion on her end, “I’m afraid not, dear,” she says, “but I wouldn't start worrying just you. We both know how bad he is at keeping time.”

It was true. Peter was chronically late. Normally, it was funny, except for the few times he was an hour late to your date nights. But this was different. He knew how important this night was for you and your career as an investigative journalist. 

“I know…” you agree with May, “It’s just…I can’t be late for this, and the last train is leaving in 15 minutes.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand as you speak to her, and you bring it away from your ear to glance at the screen. A photo of you and Peter in front of the Ferris wheel at Coney Island is on screen, his name appearing with heart emojis next to it. Relief floods your system.

“Oh!” you gasp and return to speaking with May, “that’s him! I’m so sorry for bugging you May!”

She chuckles, “don’t be, dear. You two have a good time!”

You hang up, immediately answering Peter’s call, “Pete! Where are you!? I’ve been calling you all night!”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” his voice sounds winded and tired, like he was running, “I just…got wrapped up in something at work, me and Doc were talking about his lab and…I’m really sorry!”

“Well, where are you?” You ask. There was no point in telling him it was okay, because it didn’t feel okay, “the last train is about to leave and we can’t be late–”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” his voice cuts you off before you can continue your nervous ramble, “Me and Doc are still wrapped up in this lab project and I won’t be able to make it back in time for the gala. I know how important this was to you and I promise I will make up for this tenfold for the next 20 years–”

You could hear the rushing wind of New York behind the phone as he continued on an apology that you didn’t feel in your chest. He sounded sorry, sure, but you could only feel disappointment in his words. Your shoes are on your feet, and you’re looking at the clock hanging next to a vacation photo of the two of you on the beach. Your lack of response is response enough to him, but you’re too busy deciding if you should be angry or not.

“(Y/N),” he says your name, “I can’t say I’m sorry enough, but you’ll do fantastic even if I’m not there.”

“Seriously?! Of all nights, Peter, you have to pick tonight to flake out on me? You know how important this is and you can’t even look at a clock for two hours?!”

You had 10 minutes to get to the train station from your apartment, a task that would surely try and ruin your hour of work on how you looked.

“I know, babe, I’m so–”

You click the end call button before he can finish. Fumbling with your keys, can feel your cheeks warming up in a rush of emotions. First, embarrassment. A couple of people in your office had been excited to meet Peter, and now you would show up alone. Stood up by your boyfriend of 4 years. The gala would go on without him, and you would have to put on a pretty smile to go along with it. 

Which is exactly what you did, barely making it on time to walk with your boss into the decorated hall. Telling your coworkers that your boyfriend had eaten some bad takeout for dinner and was at home nursing himself back to health. Hoping nobody saw how your eye twitched whenever Peter texted you before turning your phone on do not disturb. 

That night, you locked the bedroom door and left a pillow and blanket on the couch.

★★★★★★

Something you and Peter had in common was your love of pizza. Both of you had differing opinions on the best pizza place in New York, but you did agree that any pizza was better than no pizza. So when you two moved in together, it was an unspoken rule that at least one night a week, you scaped whatever money you had together and ordered a large pizza.

“It’s my week to pick,” you remind him as you sit cross-legged on the couch in your studio apartment, holding the phone of power in your hand, “and I say Benny’s.”

Peter is standing in the kitchen, pulling a can of soda from the fridge, “aw man,” he says, “but they don’t have the good pepperoni.”

“But they have the Italian sausage,” you remind him, already pulling up Doordash on your phone, “and it’s my night.”

Peter looks over his shoulder, a smile on his face that always makes you blush and look away like a teenager, “you’re lucky I love you,” he says, “and I’m willing to part with the good pepperoni.”

You giggle back, “Aren’t I the luckiest? So half sausage half (F/T)?”

“It’s your world, babe,” he says as he walks around the couch to sit beside you, “I’m just living in it.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for,” you look over at him with a grin.

These nights were the ones you loved the most. The two of you in pajamas, ordering your favorite food, waiting for the newest episode of Game of Thrones to air, in the quiet of the apartment. Where the noise and air of New York felt like it was miles away, and your little bubble couldn’t be disturbed.

Peter leans down, his eyes soft when he looks at you, and he kisses you slowly. Every kiss with him, deep or small, left you with fire in your veins. Whether it was innocent or lewd, at home or in the park, an apology kiss or a hello kiss, you always felt like you were walking on the hot air of a volcanic eruption. He pulls away, smiling like he was looking at the sun for the first time.

“Hm,” you gaze back at him, “I don’t care how much you kiss me, I won’t be swayed into Lenny’s.”

He gives a dramatically fake sigh, “There went the plan of seducing you into mushroom on half.”

“Well, I didn’t say that…” you roll your eyes, still smiling. You were always smiling with Peter. Or, most of the time you were.

His phone dings on the coffee table in front of you, the screen face down but illuminating the light-colored wood around it. It caught you off guard for a moment, that his screen is face down. And that he picked it up immediately. But you didn’t let it bother you for long, deciding to order the pizza while he checked whatever notification he had. 

Just as you hit delivery, Peter stands up from the couch in too quick of a motion to be reassuring. You jump slightly at his speed, looking back at him in confusion. Tilting your head, you look as he shoves his phone into his back pocket.

“Pete?” you say in an unsure voice, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” he says. The slight rise at the end of his sentence makes you narrow your eyes, “It’s just uh…Doc texted me and uh he says he’s had a breakthrough on this project, but he needs my help with it..”

You can’t hide the disappointment in your expression as he makes a reach for his keys hanging by the door, and for his bag by the couch. 

“Oh…” you say, trying to mask the sound of defeat in your voice, “right now? It’s almost nine pm.”

“Yeah, it’s just…a really important project,” he insists as he pulls his shoes on hurriedly. You would think he’d just gotten a call from the police with how quickly he was moving, “and you know Doc, he’s always rushing through the numbers, so I should just make sure he’s got them all right before moving on.”

He was rambling. His voice was rising and falling. Every tell he had that he was lying, but you didn’t want to jump to that conclusion. What was there for him to lie about? What would have him running from the apartment so late? He did care a lot about the projects he and Doc had going at the lab, he was always doing some kind of numbers crunch for his boss.

Peter slows his pace when he takes note of your expression, avoiding his eyes, “I swear I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks back towards the couch where you sat, “30 minutes tops, I’ll be here before the pizza guy, I promise.”

So it wouldn’t be a long late night call by Doc, then. That makes you feel the tiniest bit better, and you give him a small half-hearted smile. What were you supposed to say? No, don’t go to your job that you’re so crazy passionate about? Don’t go help your boss on a project that could potentially change lives? You make no move to stop him.

“I promise,” Peter repeats when he doesn’t see a lift in your spirits. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again, lighting you on fire from the inside, “don’t start the episode without me!”

You tried to take that as a sign that he meant it. Half an hour and he would be back with the pizza still hot in the box. So you kissed him goodbye and sat on the couch by yourself in the apartment. As soon as the episode started, you hit pause and texted Peter that you had done so, letting him know that every second you were away from Jon Snow would be counted towards your next pizza night.

20 minutes passed, and the pizza showed up with steam rising from the box. His half with sausage and mushroom was untouched as you grabbed a slice from your side. Just because he said to wait on the show didn’t mean you had to wait for dinner.

30 minutes, and you figured he was fighting the night rush on the train. He didn’t answer your text message, but he probably needed all of his attention on his work right now. You don’t make a fuss, keeping the show paused.

After an hour of no response, you get fed up of sitting with just your phone and decide to unpause the show. If he came in and mentioned it, you would tell him to watch it tomorrow night while you were at work. But he doesn’t come back. Even when the episode is over, you haven’t heard the jingle of the keys in the lock. 

Two hours late, as you decide to pack it up for bed, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. From the kitchen, putting the box of pizza in the fridge, you heavily roll your eyes. Your disappointment was riddled with hints of anger, but there was also confusion. Peter had always been flakey, he’d always been late, he’d always been absent-minded and forgetful, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d put his phone face time when around you lately.

It could mean nothing. In fact, it probably did mean nothing, but there was a sense of dread in your gut. You weren’t sure you wanted to face the idea that was forming in the back of your head. Because you loved Peter, you loved him so much you weren’t sure what life had been like before you started loving him. He made you feel safe and seen and understood, he made you feel like someone important in a city where nobody mattered unless they were on the front page of a magazine.

And if there was one thing you were sure of anymore, it was that Peter Parker loved you too. Nothing had shaken that fact over the last four years, and you weren’t sure anything ever would. 

But you could still be upset with him when he did things like this. Like bailing on your traditional date night, like standing you up on one of the most important nights of your rising career. You picked up your phone, reading the text from Peter that had come in two minutes ago. All the lights in the apartment were off, and you were ready to tuck yourself into bed.

His message read, “Baby I’m so sorry. I’m gonna be a little while still, please don’t be too mad at me.”

The words “I’m so sorry” were starting to grow old to you. You lock your phone and leave it in the living room with the screen facing up, no response, and your chest getting heavier and heavier as you sit in the empty apartment by yourself.

★★★★★★

He’s just late, you tell yourself, like always. He’s always late.

You couldn’t even tell yourself that he’d never been two hours late befor because he had. Sitting in the corner booth of Leo’s pizza, more dressed up than you should be for a place like this, you try to convince yourself that Peter was late for a good reason.

The train broke down, he’d had his phone stolen, sandman was on the loose again and he had to take the long way here.

But the news was mostly quiet, with no attacks, and he hadn’t even texted you. Again. 

You stir the straw in your soda, watching the melting ice bump into the sides of the glass as your mind runs rampant. After Peter had bailed on your pizza and Game of Thrones night, you had been angry and hurt and unable to hide that from him. His apology? Take you out to Leo’s for dinner, your favorite pizza place of all time.

There was no way Peter would stand you up for your apology date. Not even he was the absent-minded, you were sure. You’d been talking about it just this morning over breakfast in the kitchen. He’d given you free rein of the toppings, and he would meet you here after work.

Looking at the clock, two hours had become three, and Leo’s would close in one more. Sitting back in your booth seat, you swallow the lump of emotions that wanted to burst out.

“That boy still not here?” Leo, the man behind the counter, asks you.

The burly Italian man had been witness to your guys’ relationship grow. From your first date to your anniversary dates to your celebration dates. He’d seen it all from behind the counter, and you were sure he would be witness to every other milestone. At least, you had been. 

Sitting in the booth alone, you were beginning to wonder if there was anything beyond these four years with Pete.

“I wish I knew, Leo,” you admit and look down at your phone.

It buzzes as you’re looking at it. But when you see Pete’s name pop up, you don’t feel any sense of relief or anger or even sadness. Maybe you just didn’t want to feel it all at once in front of poor Leo. He didn’t need to witness that part of your relationship. 

Pete had said, “Where are you at? Working late?”

You couldn’t help the scoff, “he forgot about me,” you say more to yourself than anyone else.

“What was that?” Leo asks when he catches a hint of your mumbling.

You look up from the phone, tucking it away into your pocket, and give the man a tight smile, “nothing, Leo. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Pushing yourself out of the booth, you wonder how you would go about this. Peter had been bailing on you more and more these past few months. With date the gala, with date night, and not to mention the countless nights he comes home so late you think he’s an intruder half the time. Had he always been like this and you were only noticing now that you lived together? Or had you just ignored it because of how much you loved him?

“Not a waste of time,” Leo assures you as you walk towards the door, “you and Peter will come back soon, I’m sure.”

He sounded confident. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to politely agree. You thanked him again. You texted Peter back while taking your time walking towards the train station.

“Well, I was at Leo’s,” you reply, “waiting for your amazing apology date.”

Not even a full minute goes by before his caller ID appears on your phone. You answer it out of pure curiosity, too tired to be angry at him anymore or even upset with him. He’s speaking before the phone can even fully reach your ear. Pete’s voice sounds frantic.

“I'm on my way!” He insists, “just give me two minutes and I’ll be there, I swear, (Y/N)!”

“Forget it, Peter,” you hope your voice doesn’t sound as strained as it feels, “I already left. Go back to work.”

“I wasn’t at work, I was…” He doesn’t seem to have a good answer for her, “Just give me two minutes, (Y/N) and I can still make this date happen, I promise!”

“Peter…” You weren’t sure you wanted to go back to the apartment and face the conclusion you were drawing, “all I’ve heard the past month are apologies and promises you don’t keep. It’s exhausting.”

“I know, I know, I’ve been a shit boyfriend but I’ll get it together, I know I will.”

“Even your apologies need apologies,” you sigh, rocks sitting in your chest and making you walk slower, “how many more nights are you going to stand me up this month alone?”

“None!” He insists, “It’s not gonna happen again, ever.”

“Why has it already happened six times then?” You shake your head as you reach the train station, your stomach rumbling as you regret not getting a slice of pizza to go, “and yes, I’ve counted. That’s just this month!”

There’s no immediate response on his end, and the silence makes the rocks in your chest grow to fill your stomach as well. It was like every conversation you had was giving you more reason to believe that suspicion that you wanted to forget about because it made no sense.

In the night air of New York, you can smell pizza and trash trucks littering the street. And somewhere in the distance, the sirens that were always going in this city. You weren’t sure if it was from your end or Peter’s

“(Y/N), when you get home I swear we’ll talk this out,” he finally breaks his stretch of silence, “I’ll be waiting for you, and you can yell at me for however long you need but–”

You close your eyes for a moment and grip the phone, “do not say you need to go.”

“I have to go…dammit,” he mutters the last word to himself, “I’ll meet you at home, (Y/N), I’ll be there and we can work this out.”

You shake your head, watching as a train approaches the boarding area. One that wouldn’t lead you to the apartment but to somewhere else. You step onto the nearly empty car, watching a few people shuffle out and pay you no mind.

“Don’t bother, Peter,” you say, “I’m staying with my parents tonight, okay? So just go back to whatever work is more important than I am.”

★★★★★★

A very common task given to you at work was getting coffee. Usually, it was the first thing you did in the mornings when your boss handed you a company card and a piece of paper with everyone's order on it. Sometimes throughout the day, you would be sent on other various food and drink runs, but only around meal times.

Sitting at your desk, you were looking over the files on your computer that contained a few of the articles being pitched to your boss that afternoon. Your task was the weed out the “boring” ones by trying to decide what he would deem boring in the first place. You weren’t expecting any kind of task before the meeting, so all of your attention was on the article on your screen.

“(Y/N)!” You jump nearly out of your desk chair when your boss yells your name from across the room, “We need a coffee run before this meeting!”

Your boss was not a man of patience, so you had a few seconds before he got annoyed with your lack of movement. Closing the tab on your computer, you grab a piece of loose paper and a pen and start across the room of office cubicles towards him.

“Your usual, sir?” You ask him in the fake professional voice you’d taken to using with him.

He nods his head and holds up the silver credit card for office expenses, “Yes, and an iced chai for Martha when she gets here, and a vanilla latte with soy for Marcus.”

You scribble down the other orders as you nod your head and take the card, “I’m on it, back in a jiff.”

“(Y/N)!” here it came, “can I get a lavender mocha?!”

Everyone would shout orders at you as you left when they heard a coffee run was being called. Normally, you tried to get out of there as quickly as possible before too many orders piled up. Because no one would offer to come with you to help carry them, and you could only carry so many steaming cups before you were destined to spill them on yourself. 

The paper is filled before you’re in the elevator anyway, leaving you with 8 orders of coffee. You liked being at work because you hardly had time to think for yourself. Unless you were doing some kind of food or drink run, and then you had entirely too much time to yourself. And right now, you didn’t want to spend too much time in your head.

For the past three days, you had been staying overnight at your parent's place in Queens. During the day you would be at your apartment, getting ready for work or making your meals, because you knew Peter would be gone at the lab. You hadn’t come face to face with him since the morning he stood you up for his apology date, and it’s because you couldn't bear to look at him. Just the thought of confronting him with the truth made you nauseous. You weren’t sure you wanted him to say it out loud or not.

Your parents hadn’t minded when you showed up, near tears, telling them that you were at least 80% sure that Peter was cheating on you. They’d offered you their guest room and told you to think about things with a clear head. Your mother had been very adamant that you talk to him first.

But you’d been ignoring his calls and texts like the plague. Partly because you wanted him to know what it felt like to be ignored, and partly because you weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him yet. You knew you would talk to him when you were damn well ready, and you weren’t ready. Not this morning when he sent his usual “good morning” message and asked if you wanted to meet for lunch. 

Maybe tonight you would talk to him. You would bite the bullet and get the truth, even if you didn’t like what it was.

As you stand and wait for your two coffee carriers, you look down at your phone and all of Peter’s unanswered texts and voicemails. He was persistent, especially when it came to your relationship. You love that about him. 

Peter Parker didn’t do anything half-assed. Everything he did from school to work was 100%, and relationships had never been different. At least not until now. He’d loved you as much as you loved him, you had been sure of that until now. You just didn’t understand when that had changed. What had made him back away from you to the point of forgetting about you multiple times a month?

“(Y/N)!” You hear it called from up ahead. You look up from your phone, wondering if your order was done already. But you see a familiar face walking towards you in a grey sweater vest and a head of thinning brown hair with small glasses.

You smile and turn your body to face him, “Doctor Octavius!” You greet, “it’s been a while!”

“It has,” he agrees as he reaches out to shake your hand, “it’s so funny running into you here. I’m here every day for lunch but we’ve never run into each other.”

You shake your head politely, “this is an odd time for a coffee run for me,” you assure him, “so how are you? Things at the lab doing okay? Peter is so excited to be working with you.”

“And I’m happy to have him,” Dr. Octavius says, “he’s passionate about helping people, that boy,” he then waves a hand through the air to laugh, “if only he could be on time for once in his life! But I’m sure you know all about that.”

You give a pained smile, hoping it looked more real than it felt, “You have no idea,” you agree and then try to forget about the sore subject in your relationship, “but I’m sure he’s making up for it with all the late nights, he’s always thinking about your guys’ projects.”

Dr. Octavius laughs while pushing up his glasses, “Oh, I wish we could do late nights,” he tells you, and your heart begins to pound, “I’m afraid I don’t have the funding to keep workers past normal hours. But that’s not an issue for now, I’m glad Peter has some spare time to spend with you. You two remind me so much of me and my wife when were young…”

His word became muffled. No late nights. He didn’t have the funding for late nights. But Peter had been telling you that he was at work, with Dr. Octavius. He’d been telling you that for months. If he wasn’t there…where had he been going? Why had he been lying to you? What was the point of lying to you?

You’d never been the kind of person to tell Peter what he could and couldn’t do. It was his life, his choices, his spare time. Why did he feel the need to tell he was somewhere when he wasn’t? The weight in your chest stretched down to your stomach, and you wondered if anxiety-vomiting was a real thing. It felt like you were about to find out.

“Order for (Y/N)!” Your name breaks your trance as well as the conversation with Dr. Octavius, who was still speaking despite you not hearing it. You look up at the barista counter, where your 8 drinks are waiting for you to grab them.

“Oh, I’ll let you get back to work,” the doctor says as he hears your name as well, “I hope we run into each other again, (Y/N).”

“Me too, Doctor,” you tell him, hoping it sounded scincere, “good luck with your research, I can’t wait to hear about it!”

The doctor smiles, and he’s about to turn away when he looks back at you, “Oh, and (Y/N), great work on that Oscorp piece last week!”

Any other day, you would be ecstatic that someone had read you piece in the back of the paper and at the bottom of the website. Especially after all the work you put into gathering information on Oscorp’s underhanded carbon emissions from half of their facilities. But you didn’t feel that excitement, you hardly felt anything about it. But you thanked Dr. Octavius and grabbed your row of drinks off the counter.

Your brain was in another world entirely as you balanced everything on your hands. Peter had been lying to you for months. Maybe even longer than that. He was bailing on your dates, leaving you alone in the apartment at night to “work.” Still, you tied to put half of your focus on getting back to work in time for the meeting without spilling anything. You only took your eyes off the coffee to check your footing.

But the streets of New York were never kind, not even to those having a month full of bad days. With your eyes on the coffee, you fail to notice an incoming biker barreling down the sidewalk. There’s a ding of a bell that makes you look up, but it was to late to get out of his way without spilling anything.

What’s one more bad day, You think when you realize your situation, on top of all the others?

Still, you yelp as he barely swerves around you, your foot caught under his thin tire. When you jump from pain, your hands instinctually let go of the coffee trays. The smell of lavender and espresso douse your nice work clothes, and hot liquid burning the exposed skin it touches. You jump back from the biker, who was already whizzing past you and disappearing into the city. The edge of the sidewalk was right there, and your heel is already too close to the edge.

“Whoa! Watch out!” You hear someone calling down at you, but what were you supposed to do? You were already slipping into the road and watching as cars didn't bother to slow down.

There’s a burst of air at your side, a hand on your hip, and your feet are barely picked up off the ground before being sat back down a few feet further into the walkway. You saw the red and blue before you could process the entirety of what had just happened. Spider-Man, the walking legend of the New York streets. He was the small time hero whs ometimes got into big-time fights. Your boss absolutely loved him.

You’d never had a personal enounter with the hero before, and you didn’t think you would ever need to. But you’d heard plenty of stories from other people while working. He was a good man, someone who cared about the people of New York, even the small people like you who didn’t have their names on billboards. 

“Are you okay?” He aks you.

His voice was a little distorted when you heard it, robitcally. It must be another way for him to protect his identity, you assume. Maybe his suit was more high tech than people realized. You look over at him, wide eyes, coffee all over you, your skin tinted red from the heat, and you say nothing at first. Taking in the situation. Taking in the information Octavius had given you, and the only conclusion you could draw from it.

Spider-Man tilts his head as he lets go of your waist, “Miss…are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Besides the burning coffee your arms an your throbbing foot, you shake your head. But you could feel the emotions you were pushing down starting to bubble over. A month of ignoring signs that the person you loved more than anything was cheating on you, hoping it was all some big misunderstanding. Your job piling more tasks on you because you could take it, with no breaks and hardly time to eat lunch. You just wanted a pizza night with Peter, with your favorite show and your favorite person right next to you. But he was, clearly, with someone else when he was supposed to be with you.

Your eyes start to burn.

“Okay, good,” Spider-Man says with a nod of hs red and blue mask, “that was almost bad. Do you need smeone to uh…walk you back to wherever you’re going?”

Why did he care? You were fine, just getting more upset by the second. Any minute the dams would burst and you didn’t need a superhero seeing you cry over spilled coffee. So you shake your head again, trying to wipe the coffee from your skin.

“That looks like it hurts,” Spider-Man comments when he sees the light burn on your arms, “we should get some ice on that. That coffee shop should have some,” he points to where you had just come from.

You shake your head again, “I’m fine.”

But even to you your voice sounded thick with emotions he woudln’t understand. Hell, you didn’t even fully understand them. What you understand is that Peter wasn’t going to be who you call anymore after a bad day. You wouldn’t go home to him tonight  because he would be gone, tell you it was for work, and then turn his phone upside downwhen he got back.

“Alright miss, if you’re sure,” he says, “but some ice water might make it feel better. I’ve had few coffee burns before too.”

You weren’t sure what the final straw was, but you couldn't stop it anymore. The tears fell, and you drop your head into your hands to block it from anyone who walked by. But nobody in New York cared about people who cried in the street, you knew that. You just didn’t want to be the weirdo on this day who broke down in front of a coffee shop. Keeping you cries as internal as possible, you begin to turn towards the coffee shop once more.

“Whoa,” Spider-Man stops you, “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? It’s just a few cups of coffee, we can order more.”

This stranger sounded so much like Peter in his words that it made you cry a little bit harder. Peter was the go to for any kind of comfort. He spoke so calmly when you were loosing it that if made you feel more in control. You hated it right now because you weren’t in control of anything anymore. 

Spider-Man places a covered hand on your shoulder that you’re too upset to brush away. 

“It’s everything!” You sniffle on the street, people pushing around you without sparing your emotional break a glance, “I’m gonna be late to the meeting because i have to chage clothes, and now I have to get more coffee, and I think my boyfriend is cheating on me!”

Hearing the words out loud, you cries become harder to muffle and tears begin to fall onto your palms. Peter was cheating on you, you were sure of that. There was nothing else that explained his behavior and lies. Normally you wouldn’t wail about your problem to a stranger, but what could it hurt? It’s not like he knew you or Peter, and he would forget about this in an hour when he was pulling a kitten from a tree.

“Wait, why would you…” his voice sounded hurried at first before he stopped and corrected himself, “um why do you think that, Miss? That your boyfriend is cheating on you? I really doubt that’s the case, I mean I don’t know him but I think that’s way out there to assume, not that I know anything about your relationship–”

“What do you care?” You turn from the super hero and back towards the coffee shop, where you try to swallow down your cries and sniffles long enough to order your coffee for a second time.

★★★★★★

Your boss had not been happy to see you appear in coffee covered clothes with a slight limp. He’d been the slightest bit concerned when he also took note of your red eyes and ruined hair, but then told you to go home and change as quick as humanly possible.

But you didn’t move like you were in a rush. Actually, you drug your feet back to your apartment hoping that Peter would really be at work. You didn’t even want to walk into the home you shared with him knowing that he had been running around with someone else while you were there alone. But you had no where else to go and change that was within a one-train-ride distance.

You unlock the door, eyes still stinging at the corners, your clothes sticking to your body. And there was a slight sting in your skin where the coffee had hit. Maybe Spider-Man had been right about icing it. Maybe a cold shower would make you feel better physically and emotionally, but you doubted it. 

You open the front door, dropping your keys in the tray by the door.

“(Y/N)! You’re home!” You nearly jumped out of your skin when Peter’s voice came from the living area, “please, we need to talk!”

You look at him as you shut the door behind you, and you wanted to start crying just seeing him. But you held it in and turned away from him.

“I don’t have time for this, Peter,” you tell him, “I’m late for a meeting and I have to shower before I go back.”

“Please, (Y/N) even just a two minute conversation, I swear,” he pushed, walking after you as you went towards the bedroom where you had a bathroom connected, “you don’t even have to talk, just listen.”

“I don’t have time for this!” You repeat, starting to get irritated in the sadness you felt when he spoke your name. You reach the bedroom and make a beeline for the bathroom, wondering if he would disappear before you got out. He follows you up until you close the bathroom door in his face. Your tears fall again under the cold water, and you hope he can’t hear it.

You showered, changed, and blow dried your hair. Not as quickly as you could’ve, but quick enough for your boss to think you moved as fast as you could. Part of you didn’t even want to go back in, but the other option was staying here and facing the music with your boyfriend.

Who was still there when you opened the bathroom door. Sitting on the bed you two shared. His side was strewn about from sleeping, his pillow crooked, the blanks tossed aside. But your side was untouched, even your half of the blankets pulled up. You were always the one to make the bed. He immediately stands up when he hears the door open, turning towards you.

His normally put together hair was frazzed. He ran his hands through it when he was upset. It was one of his tells when he was nervous and tried to hide it. 

“Peter…” you sigh as he gets up to follow you from the bedroom, “please, not now. I have a lot to do at work, and I don’t need to be thinking about this while I’m there.”

“You won’t come home at night,” Peter says behind you as you reach for your shoes by the door. They still had coffee marks on them, “you only come back when you know I’m at work, I don’t know when we’ll be able to talk aside from showing up at your work. Which I have thought about, believe me.”

“Then just wait until I’m ready to talk,” you tell him, “what’s wrong with that option?”

“Because I really want us to go back to normal, (Y/N). I want you to come home, and I want to see you next to me in the mornings, and I want to hear about your day–”

“We can’t go back to normal, Peter,” it looks like you were doing this now. There was no way around it anymore. Part of you was relieved, “not after this. I don’t even think there can be an us to go back to.”

“Please don’t do this, (Y/N),” he pleas, approaching you but keeping enough distance between you that you didn’t feel trapped here, “I know…that…I know you think that I’ve been doing something, I know what you think and you have to know–”

“How would you know what I think, Peter?” You ask him, your throat threatening to close, “you’re not around to hear what I think anymore! You’re never here, you’re running out in the middle of the night, you’re lying about where you are!”

“I know that I’ve made some stupid mistakes this past month,” he insists, “but I can fix it all, I swear, and you’ll never have to deal with those problems again.”

Fix it all. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t fix the fact that you didn’t believe a single word he said now. Or that you would always wonder if he was looking at someone else when you went out on dates. But you still looked at him and you loved him because you knew what it felt like to be loved by him at one point. When had that changed? When had he stopped loving you? Was it so quick you only noticed now, or had it been so slowly you hadn’t noticed at all?

“Just…” you inhale deeply and try to keep your breathing steady, “tell me the truth…please. Are you cheating–” 

“No,” he shakes his head before the question is even out.

“--on me? Are you seeing someone else?”

“No,” he repeats, “I am not, have never, and will never cheat on you, (Y/N), I promise.”

“I don’t believe your promises anymore, Peter.”

“I love you,” he takes a few steps to close to distance between you two so he’s standing directly in front of you. He reaches down for your shaking hands, like he wanted to steady to flurry of emotions you were feeling, “I love you so much, and that is a promise I have never broken. Why do you think that? Why would you ever think I would chose someone over you?”

You pull your hands away from his, sick at how at ease he could still make you feel when he spoke with such a calm voice. You didn’t want to be calm or sad. You wanted to be angry. But his brown eyes only left you feeling small and defeated.

“What else am I supposed to think?” you shake your head and take a step away from him, “what are my other options? Of course there’s someone else–”

“There’s no one,” he presses, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this.”

“So you leave me at a table by myself at Leos?” You ask with a disbelieving headshake, “and tell me you’re at work when Dr. Octavius says he can’t keep you after hours? If you’re not cheating, Peter, then why all the lies? Give me the truth, or I don’t think I can handle being loved like this anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything. Your shoe are on, youre reaching for the doorhandle, and you don’t think he’s going to stop you. That hurts more than anything. Or mayb all of the hurt was piling up and you didn’t know what was the most painful anymore. You couldn’t look back at him for fear you would crack and beg for an answer. 

Your hands on the door handle, you want him to stop you, but you refuse to beg him to choose you.

There’s a thwipp sound behind you, and then something cold has your hand pinned to the doorknob. Unable to turn it. You look down at it, and a pile of white spiderwebs is covered your hand entirely. Looking back at Peter, his hand is out and pointed in your direction. His eyes are wide, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing either.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says and takes his hands through his hair in distress, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I couldn’t let you walk away thinking that I had cheated on you.”

Your head was going a mile a minute, probably not even on Earth anymore, and you were staring down at the webs covering your hand. Your first coherent thought was that it was Peter you had cried in front of an hour ago, crying about your cheating boyfriend. The second thought was that this also made sense for all the lies and the leaving. 

“I’m not gonna stop you from leaving me,” He’s rambling behind you, “even though I’m ready to get down on my hands and knees and grovel for one more chance, but if you need to walk away from me then please just know the truth when you do it. I love you, (Y/N), and that is the only thing I’m sure is true anymore.”

You sniffle, your tears having run dry, “Peter,” you say in a dull and emotionless voice, “can you come get this shit off my hand so I can go back to work?”

★★★★★★

Needless to say, you didn’t get anything productive done after that encounter with Peter. It wasn’t hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t cheating on you. You’d been looking for a reason to do that for a month now. But the fact that he was Spider-Man?

Your Peter, who hated violence, who was as peaceful as a butterfly, who didn’t even like watching MMA fights, was a crime fighting superhero? With powers? And you’d been living under the same room as him for a year and had never noticed?

Your brain was connecting the pieces of every time thing that had happened. Like when the sink handle had broken off one morning in Peter’s hand when you’d first moved into the apartment. You’d laughed about it, thinking about what a funny stroke of bad luck he’d had. Or when he’d come home bruises along his back and say he’d fallen while trying to get work on time. It had sounded true at the time, but Peter wasn’t the clumsy type. Now you knew why. He was coordinated enough to fight super villains.

None of what you needed to get done happened at work. You could hardly process any words you read, and any conversations went in one ear and out the other. Your boyfriend was Spider-Man, you were still grappling with that revelation by the time you got off. 

You decided to go home. Now that you knew Peter wasn’t cheating on you, it felt like you could at least see the place again. However, on your walk to the train station, you were hyper aware of every se of sirens that went off somewhere in the distance. Which was every three seconds in New York, and the worry you felt knowing he could be at any crime scene was arguably as bad as the anxiety you’d felt all day.

Of course you could text him. But after ignoring him for three days, it felt only right to talk in person. You hoped you would be home when you arrived, but if not, you would have to wait. It would give you time to think of what you were going to say. Of how you wanted to go about things now that you knew the truth.

You unlocked the front door with anxiety running through your veins. On the other side, the remains of his webs from earlier were still hanging from the doorknob. He’d cut you free with his house keys, and you’d left before you could see the webs closely. When he wasn’t inside, you looked at them a little closer. They were as thin as real spider webs, but you’d felt how strong they were when holding your hand down. Peter was genius enough to make these himself, that’s for sure.

The apartment was empty. You didn’t hear any sign of Peter. So you place your keys in the tray by the door and take a seat on the couch, letting things slowly settle in your head. 

You sent Peter a text, “I’m at home. We should talk.”

You honestly weren’t expecting a reply, so you set your phone down and decide to find something to eat. As you silently open the fridge, your options are slim. There’s one can of Dr. Pepper, left over pasta, and a container of uncooked mushrooms in the drawer. Peter clearly hadn’t been shopping while you were gone. You reach for the left over pasta, figuring it was your only option that required minimal cooking tonight.

“(Y/N),” your name makes you jump a mile in the air, a yelp leaving you. Spinning around, you see Peter.

He’s sitting on the edge of a newly opened window that led to your fire escape. In a familiar red and blue suit with a web design on it. The mask is crumpled in his hand, like he didn’t want you to panic when you saw him. His hair is a frizzed mess, and his eyes are staring at you like he was shocked to find you standing in the kitchen.

“You’re here,” he says as you place a hand on your chest to feel how hard your heart is hammering.

He steps into the living area, and you can see the suit in clear lighting. He came in so easily and with skill. Like he’d done it a million times before.

“That’s how you get in without setting off the alarm?!” You ask him in disbelief.

He looks back at the window for a second, and then back at you, “Yeah,” he confirms, “It doesn’t wake you up, and it’s less stairs.”

“Less stairs,” you repeat and nod your head, setting your cold pasta on the counter, “yeah, makes sense, sure.”

Peter puts the mask on the coffee table beside your phone, “you want to talk?” he asks, as if confirming it was you who sent the text message, “I wasn’t sure you were ever coming back, if I’m honest.”

“Well I did ask for the truth,” you tell him, leaning back against the, “I can’t be mad that I got it.”

There’s silence on his end. Like he wasn’t sure what to say next. But you weren’t either. A few things came to mind, but you didn’t know where to start. So you decided on the first thing that came up when you opened your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you land on, “for thinking you were cheating.”

Peter looks up, eyes wide, clearly not having expected that, “what? Don’t apologize, I’m supposed to be apologzing.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I owe you one too.”

The space between you two felt like miles, but it was only feet. And the apartment felt cold, like you were both avoiding making the first move. You wanted him back at your side, as close to you as he could be. You wanted to sit on the couch with Peter as your peasonal heated blanket, listening to his heartbeat as you fell asleep. 

“I owe you about a million more,” Peter shakes his head and finally breaks the distance separating you two, “I never should’ve even let you begin to think that I would pick someone else over you. I should’ve told you the truth years ago, I should’ve told you the moment I realized I loved you, I’m sorry.”

He’s maybe a foot away. He’d closed the distance up until now, and you decide to close the rest. Your hands reach out, the feeling of the suit alien under your fingers, but his warmth reminds you that its him. Pulling him forward, he practically melts into you as you wrap your arms around him. Burying your face into his neck, feeling his hair between your fingers. It was Peter, your loyal and loving Peter.

Peter holds you back. Now you know that the strength he’s holding back is because he doesn’t want to hurt you. How could Peter ever hurt you? He loved you, and you loved him. After too long thinking that that was a lie, it was a relief to know it was still true. Keeping this kind of secret couldn’t have been easy for him, just as it hadn’t been easy for you to think he was being unfaithful. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask him as he leans his body against yours, his face buried in your hair in relief, “it’s been years, Pete, you could’ve trusted me with this…”

He lifts his head, only enough so he could press his forehead to yours, “I do trust you,” he says, “but I also love you more than life itself, so I have to protect you above anything else. There’s a lot of people out there who wanna hurt me, and I will not let them use you to do it. I can’t do that to you.”

“Pete trusting me with something like this isn’t damning me to being a damsel in distress,” you inform him carefully, using your hands to gently swipe his messy hair from his eyes.

The apartment was dimly lit, something you’d always complained about, but you could see his face clear as day as he clung to you in the kitchen light. His brown eyes glossy with tears, the freckles dotting his cheeks that you counted when you couldn’t sleep. You though your knew everything about him, every part of him, but he had been hiding an entirely differen life from you. A life that couldn’t have been easy to shoulder all on his own. You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for hiding from you only to protect you.

“I couldn’t risk it,” he admits, his voice as soft as the light above you, “but I also couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking that I didn’t love you with every cell in my body. I needed you to know the truth even if you still left.”

You shake your head against his, “this isn’t going to drive me away, Pete,” you assure him, palms coming to a rest on his cheeks, “what’ll drive me away is the lies. Promise me no more lies, Pete, please.”

He’s nodding his head before you can even finish the sentence, “No more,” he says, “no more lies or secrets, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You believed him. Not just because you wanted to, but because you could feel that me meant it. Every doubt that you’d had in your head is flooded away as you make the first move to kiss him. His lips were as soft as they always were, his movements just as gentle. He was still your Peter, the same guy you fell in love with over Leo’s pizza. He leans forward, pinning you against the counter so he get a solid grip on your waist. 

He hoists you up with one hand, and you can’t help but gasp as he lands your butt on the counter without blinking. He chuckles at your reaction, settling himself between your knees in your shock.

“You’ve been hiding this the whole time?” you ask, now more interested than anything else. You lock your legs around his hips, “Pete, we could’ve been having some real fun with this.”

Peter grins, “Trust me, I know, I’ve had a few dreams about it.”

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (LET ME GET WHAT I WANT)

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SUMMARY ↳ ;) Damian and Jon are easy to spot, standing together near a large decorative display. Jon's bright smile is a beacon, and Damian's more reserved demeanor contrasts starkly with his friend. They’re standing in front of a window. It paints the image of being surrounded by snowfall as they chat away. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: threats of bodily harm wc: 4.3k

Nothing quite says party like a Tony Stark party. You distinctly remember your first one. You weren’t even planning to come, but when Tony saw you in bed with pajamas he bullied you into getting dressed. He said that you ‘needed to get out more’, which was bull, but whatever. As payback you drank as much alcohol as you could sneak. The scolding from Steve you got was worth it seeing Tony’s appalled stare.

This time, you intend to stay in bed.

Bruce Wayne has decided to throw a New Year’s Gala, for whatever reason. You think it doubles as a charity, but you don’t know why else he would throw it, nor do you care enough to find out. He did invite you, but you’re not too keen on being perceived by society.

“You look nice,” you muse, seeing Damian in his little formal wear. He’s made a quick stop in your room, for whatever reason. He’s a cute sight, so you’re not complaining.

Damian adjusts the cufflinks on his formal wear. "Thank you," he mutters, glancing away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "You should come.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Nice try, hun. But I’m really not in the mood to be around a bunch of snooty elites."

He sighs, looking slightly disappointed. "It would be more bearable with you there."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you tease, reaching out to straighten his tie. "Besides, someone has to stay and hold down the fort. Unless, of course, you’re asking me to be your date?”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t dignify your comment with a response. Finishing fiddling with his tie, you step back from him. You see his hands twitch just a tad.

“Hi, [Name].” You turn to see Jon poking his head through your doorway, smiling cutely. He steps in, letting you see that he too is dressed up for the party.

“Well shit, look at you,” you grin, eyes roaming his figure.

He spreads his arms out, bashful. “Look at me,” he says, hands coming up to fidget with his tie. “I wasn’t sure about the tie, though. Damian said it was too flashy.”

You chuckle softly. “He’s just jealous he can’t pull it off like you.”

Jon laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you glance between Jon and Damian, both looking unexpectedly nervous in their formal wear. It’s a stark contrast to their usual confident selves when they're out on patrol or facing down villains.

“So,” Jon starts, his tone casual, “are you coming with us?”

“Absolutely not,” you grin. “I do not have the energy to deal with people right now.

Damian huffs softly, exchanging a knowing glance with Jon before turning back to you. "You're missing out on Father's attempt at social philanthropy," he remarks dryly, clearly not a fan of the gala idea either.

Jon nods in agreement, his smile widening. "True, but I guess we'll have to suffer through it together."

You chuckle at their banter, appreciating their effort despite your reluctance. "Well, make sure to bring me back a good story or two. Preferably involving Bruce embarrassing himself on the dance floor."

Jon grins mischievously. "Deal. We'll keep you posted."

As they leave your room, Damian pauses at the door, looking back with a faint smile. "If you change your mind," he offers quietly, "you know where to find us."

You nod, blowing them kisses as they leave. You settle back into your cozy spot, grateful for the quiet evening ahead. From here, you can hear the chatter and glasses clinking from partygoers downstairs. You sigh and sink into your bed with no further plans for the night. Just as you start to drift into a more relaxed state, your thoughts briefly return to Damian and Jon.

Damian. Damian is so complex. So rich in character. He carries an air of absoluteness around him. Every now and again you have that realization that everybody around you is living their own complex lives. You guess that realization hits harder, since you had never entertained the thought of him being real. Foolish on your pat, with what you know.

Jon, Jon exudes a warmth that contrasts with Damian's reserved nature. His easy going manner and quick smile charm you so. Only he, who gets his powers from the sun, could shine so bright. He's the kind of person who can brighten any room he enters.

The sounds of the party drift up faintly, a reminder of the world outside your cozy sanctuary. For now, you're content to enjoy this peaceful moment to yourself, letting your eyes drift close.

.

.

.

“Hello?” a voice echoes out. It’s yours. An amalgamation of bright lights closes in on itself behind you. Footsteps echo as you walk down the alley. You don’t hear any civilians walking and talking or any cars going down the roads. New York is quiet tonight.

Swinging up onto a building, you began making your way across the city. The eerie silence is unnerving you. The usual hustle and bustle is conspicuously absent, replaced by an unsettling calm. In fact, New York is… completely dark. Not one apartment light is on.

Avengers tower looms over the city. It’s the only building with—some—light. The building… isn’t really a building. Half of it is gone, jagged and broken edges pointing skyward. Cracks litter the walls, glass broken.

Your footsteps echo softly as you approach the tower. The air feels heavy with a sense of desolation. There’s pieces of broken armor and weapons. Flickering lights casting eerie shadows.

As you move through the ruins, a faint voice calls out—a whisper carried on the wind. You turn, but there's no one there. The silence intensifies, punctuated only by the distant sound of your own breathing.

Suddenly, a figure appears before you—a spectral image of Tony Stark, his armor battered and glowing faintly. His eyes meet yours with a mixture of sorrow and determination.

"You were supposed to be here," he murmurs, his voice echoing in the empty chamber. "Where were you?”

You reach out, but your hand passes through his ethereal form. He fades slowly, leaving you alone. You see a broken red, white and blue shield in the distance. 

“No, no, nononono. This wasn’t supposed to happen–”

There’s a woman behind you. She seems familiar. “You left us.”

You left them. All to die.

There’s a piercing scream as you're sucked into an explosion of colors below you. You try to reach out, to grab onto something, but there’s no one there.

You sit up with a gasp, suddenly at a loss for breath. Your body is tense and sweaty and you’re breathing heavily. Your heartbeat is booming in your ears. It feels like it’s going to burst from your chest. The sensation of falling fades as you orient yourself to the familiar surroundings of your room.

You glance around, reassuring yourself with the reality of your peaceful sanctuary. The sounds of the party downstairs continue to drift up faintly, a distant reminder of the world outside your door. You rub your temples, trying to dispel the last traces of the unsettling dream.

Taking a deep breath, you reach for a glass of water on your bedside table, sipping slowly to calm your nerves. “Karen, how long was I asleep?”

“Only an hour.”

You bury your face in your hands, breathing. Sometimes you think your mind is your biggest enemy. You should’ve figured, really. You haven’t had a proper nightmare since you’ve gotten here. It was only a matter of time.

“Might I suggest heading to the Den to take your mind off things?” Karen's voice is soft, achingly so. It’s comforting.

You don’t respond verbally, only nodding your head. You throw off the covers sluggishly, still trying to ground yourself. You put on the first clothes you find. They’re definitely not gala material, but that’s fine. You’ll only pop in to tell someone where you’re going.

Titus is loitering the halls, but he comes to you when he sees you out and about. He sniffs you, gruffing like he’s disturbed by something. Maybe he can sense that you’re a little unnerved right now. You give him good pets before moving on past him.

The grandeur of the gala spills out into the hallway, the lights casting a warm, inviting glow. Chatter floods your ears as you arrive just outside the entrance to the grand room. The place is perfectly lit up and shiny. The sounds of laughter and conversation form a stark contrast to the silence of your dream, grounding you.

Damian and Jon are easy to spot, standing together near a large decorative display. Jon's bright smile is a beacon, and Damian's more reserved demeanor contrasts starkly with his friend. They’re standing in front of a window. It paints the image of being surrounded by snowfall as they chat away.

You hesitate at the entrance, your eyes drawn to Jon and Damian standing together. The way Jon's eyes light up when he looks at Damian, and the small, almost imperceptible smile that tugs at Damian's lips in response, speaks volumes. They stand close, their bodies angled toward each other.

Damian reaches out to brush away a curl from Jon's face. Jon smiles, mouthing something. He talks animatedly, eyes bright. Damian watches. Fondly, you realize, he’s watching. There’s even a little small smile on his face. It puts a matching one on your face. It reminds you of Pepper and Tony, the way they look at each other.

Like they’re in love.

…

Oh.

Oh.

Holy shit, they’re in love, aren’t they? Holy shit. How did you not notice? Well… you’re not often hanging out with both of them at the same time, are you? You know they hang out on their own without you. They were friends before they knew you of course. Since they were children. Oh God, you hope they aren’t, like, secretly dating or anything. You’ve been flirting with them, but it was playful! You swear!

.

.

.

God, what have you been doing?

You need to get home. You’re not supposed to be here. You should be at the tower, playing darts with Clint, or looking for colleges you want to go to. Not here, not pretending like everything is fine, everything is normal, everything is how it’s supposed to be. You’ve forgotten yourself, gotten too comfortable. You feel a sudden detachment, like a thread just snapped. This is a borrowed fantasy.

Like clockwork, you put on a grin, baring your teeth. You take a step back, the sounds of the party fading into the background. It's as if everything is moving in slow motion, every sound is distant and every breath is drawn out. The party fades away as you turn, making your way towards the exit. Each step feels heavy, like you're carrying a weight you can't quite name.

All you hear is a constant ringing in your ear as you swing from building to building. There are people in the streets, no doubt celebrating the incoming new year. The city seems especially alive, lights twinkling. You’re grateful you can’t feel the biting cold air thanks to your suit. You fear you’re already feeling too much right now.

By the time you reach the familiar tunnel, your stomach is in knots. You’re on autopilot as you move the rubble, climbing in. The cute fairy lights feel too bright now. Your mask retracts, letting you breathe in.

You grab a screwdriver, not yet knowing what you’re going to do. “You might be able to finish before midnight,” chimes Karen.

Really? Had you been that far along in your progress? Oh. Maybe you knew and just forgot. You don’t really know right now. Your legs feel stiff as you approach the particle accelerator, screwing in a part tight. You work methodically, hands steady despite the turmoil in your mind. Each screw, each connection, each calibration is a step closer to completion, closer to... what? A return to your old life?

Karen's voice interrupts your thoughts gently, "You're almost done. Just a few more adjustments."

You nod absently, tightening another screw. The particle accelerator is nearly ready. Your mind drifts to the dream again—Tony, the absence of life, your home that you don’t recognize. "You left us," echoes in your mind.

Finally, the last screw is in place. You step back, wiping a hand down your face, and take a deep breath. The machine hums with a soft, steady power. It's ready. You're ready. Or at least, the machine is.

You stand back, staring at the particle accelerator with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The steady hum of the machine fills the air, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. It's a portal, a bridge to another reality (the start of one, at least) another chance to set things right—or at least, to find some semblance of peace.

You insert a prism into it, making sure it’s secure. “Initializing…” hums Karen. The particle accelerator hums, lights flickering on and running down it. Sound whirls as you grab the little wheel you attached to it. “Approaching maximum power.”

The machine shakes as you turn the wheel. The prism turns, guiding a light. The light cuts through the space, producing fire and sparks where it hits. It cuts an old pipe in half. Whoops.

In front of you, lies an object akin to that of Tony Stark's arc reactor. Of course, it’s not actually an arc reactor, it’s just there to hold the new element. The light pierces and cuts until finally, it reaches its target. You think you hear the prism chime as the light hits the little triangle in the holder. You know that that’s the case when the chime gets louder as the light gets brighter. Brighter, brighter, brighter—oh.

You turn the machine off, looking at the glowing creation. The light fades, showing you the bright glowing triangle that is the new element. You sigh in content.

You duck under the particle accelerator, approaching the mimic arc reactor. Your fingers flex in anticipation, reaching out. The claws of your suit clink against the tiny triangle as you pick it up.

“Congratulations, [Name]. You’ve successfully recreated Tony Stark’s new element.”

You hum. “Well, couldn’t have done it without you and your awesome know-it-all abilities, my dear.”

A symphony of crackles, pops, and booms that fill your ears. Each pop rattles off as it fades. Oh, the fireworks. Is it…

“What time is it, K?”

“It is currently twelve AM, on the dot. I think this was an appropriate way to start the new year, don’t you?”

You chuckle, bowing your head. “Happy New Year.” You wonder if Damian and Jon… no. Probably shouldn’t think about that.

“Happy New Year, [Name].”

“...Happy New Year…”

You whirl around, fist tightly curling around the badassium. There’s no one there. Um. Were you imagining things? Oh, you see now, a figure there in the corner. A figure, somebody. Somebody that looks like…

Looks like…

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now…”

How did your senses not pick up on them?

“I… don’t know what I’m doing here myself.”

They’re stepping closer to you.

“I guess… well. I don’t know.”

It’s… it’s…

“But I do know… that I’m sorry. I was… I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

It’s the spider… the one from the warehouse. The reason why you’re here.

“You…” Suddenly, you can’t breathe.

They clasp their hands behind their back, looking around the room. Then they look at you. Stare at you. The eyes of their suit squint as they take in your face. “Pretty cozy place. More cozy than mine, that’s for sure.”

You put down the badassium, afraid you’ll break it in your fist. They turn to look at it, then at the particle accelerator. “You work fast. Faster than me. It took me way too long to make that big stupid thing. I didn’t have any blueprints or even confirmation that it would work, but–”

A scratchy yell erupts from your mouth as you pounce at them. They dodge, fucking spidey senses.

They hold out their hands. “Woah woah woah, wait–”

You don’t wait. You lunge at them again, claws swiping out to them. It lands, leaving behind red. They don’t have an armored suit like yours. You have the advantage.

They scramble out of your way, knocking over things as they go. “Please–”

You grab their suit at their collarbone, pulling them to you. “You!”

“Me?” they squeak.

“You’re the reason I’m fucking stuck here!”

“I know I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I was being stupid! I just–”

“I don’t care,” you growl, showing your fangs. Your shoulders flex, releasing the nano spider legs. They emerge hauntingly, their sharpened points glinting, poised and ready to strike.

“You know, I’m not really like the other spiders. Most of ‘em anyways,” you drawl. “Apart from being the only [Name] I know, my moral compass is a roulette wheel. I’m a hero of course, I save who need saving, and punish who needs punishing.”

“Truth is,” you lean in, eyes wide and flickering with hot pink, “I am much more keen to violence than the others. I’ve killed people. A couple of people, actually,” you admit, voice low and intense. “Doesn’t make me a true good person, of course, but it does make the world a bit safer for those that are.”

They try to struggle free, but you hold them firm. "I'm going to figure out what you need. So tell me, what the fuck are you doing?”

They sniff, taking in a deep breath. “I never wanted to hurt you. I don’t hurt people.” Their hands quiver as they latch onto yours. “I just wanted to go home, and I thought you were gonna stop me–”

You growl and they yelp. “It’s not an excuse! I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s my explanation. I just.. I felt bad. I was…” they pause.

“I was working on this machine. A particle accelerator,” they sigh, oblivious to the way your ears start ringing. “I was messing around, and I got stuck in your universe. I tried to go back home. I tried for so long, acting like everything was normal, like I belonged but I… I had to go back home.” Their voice gets wobbly. “I spent so long there, I got desperate.”

They start sniffling, and you know they’re crying. “I thought, if I could find where you went… I could help you get back to your universe. So what happened to me won’t happen to you.” They take a step back. Oh, did you let them go? “I can’t take you with me. Other things can't pass through my portal without turning to dust, but…”

They reach into a pocket, pulling out a small, intricate device. It glows softly in their hand, emitting a faint, steady pulse.

“...What is it?” you croak.

"It's a catalyst," they explain, their voice still shaky. "It’s what I used to stabilize the rift. You know, so my atoms wouldn’t get scattered across space.”

Your gaze narrows, skeptical of the device in their hand. "Why should I trust you?" you demand, voice edged with exhaustion and anger.

They take a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a mix of desperation and sincerity. "You shouldn’t,” they admit. "But I know what it's like. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone."

You stare at the catalyst, the faint pulse mesmerizing. "And if this doesn't work? If you're lying?"

You feel their eyes on you through their mask, voice filled with regret and determination. "Then you can do whatever you think is necessary. But I promise you, I'm not lying."

Your silence hangs heavy between you. The sounds of the fireworks outside are distant echoes, reminding you of the world outside this tense moment. Finally, you reach out and take the catalyst from their hand, feeling its weight and the subtle hum of energy within.

“You really want to help?” you whisper, fist curling around the catalyst. “Find Miguel O'Hara from Earth-928.” Your grip tightens around the catalyst as you step back, letting the weight of the moment settle in. The stranger stands still, their eyes fixed on you through their mask. You can see the weariness in their posture, the heaviness of their own burdens reflected in their stance.

“Find him, and tell him where I am.”

They nod slowly. “I’ll find him. I promise.” Their voice holds a note of determination.

You step back and wave an arm. “Just go.” You’re well and truly done with everything at the moment.

They stand for a moment, looking at you. Looking through you. Then they turn away, and all you see is an eruption of bright and colorful light, before it’s gone just as fast as it came. The Den feels unfamiliar to you now.

You sink to the floor, mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted. Sound is distant, the only thing you hear is a loud ringing. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, chest heaving. Your face feels wet. Ah, it’s tears. You’re crying. Why are you crying?

“–me]! [Name]! Come on, come back. I’m here, it’s okay–”

“Jon?” Is that your voice?

An arm curls around your shoulder and crowds you into his embrace. His warmth contrasts starkly with the cold dread that had settled in your chest. He holds you tightly, his presence grounding you. You cling to Jon like a lifeline, his warmth grounding you in the present.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hand smoothing down your back.

Sniffling, you sink into his embrace. “What are you doing here?” you mutter.

“Where else should I be?” With Damian. “I stuck my ear out, heard your heart beating fast. And the sound of you… well.”

You sigh heavily, cheek against his chest, listening to his own heartbeat. It's strong and steady, everything you want to be. “My heartbeat?”

He nods against your head. “Your heartbeat.”

You sigh again, a mixture of exhaustion and relief. “Oh, Jon...”

"Shh," he soothes, his hand still moving gently along your back. "You don't have to say anything right now."

"I don't deserve you," you murmur into his chest, your voice barely audible.

Jon tightens his hold on you, his voice firm yet gentle. "Don't say that. Please don’t say that."

You take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the night’s events settling over you. Jon’s presence is a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I just… I don’t know what to do, Jon.”

He tilts your chin up gently, his blue eyes filled with concern and determination. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. We’ll take it one step at a time, together.”

You don’t say anything, simply resting your head against him. His lips press against your forehead, gently and warm.

“In other news,” you sniffle, moving to get out of his embrace. He holds on to your for a moment, uncertain. But a persistent tug from you makes his arms drop. You reach up, grabbing the small glowing triangle. “Look what I made.”

He eyes the small thing in your claws. “What is it?”

“The badassium. The new element that I’ve created.” You rock it around gently. “I did it.”

Jon's eyes widen with surprise and admiration as he gazes at the glowing triangle in your hand. "That's incredible," he says, reaching out to gently touch the shimmering surface.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the lingering heaviness in your chest.

He looks up at you, his expression softening with concern. "Are you... okay?"

You hesitate, unsure how to answer. Instead of words, you hand him the glowing badassium, letting him examine it closely. The warmth of his touch is grounding. He studies it, turning it this way and that, before looking at you again. He puts it down where it was, coming back to you to hold your hand.

“You’re incredible,” he breathes. You don’t have any words, so you keep your mouth shut. 

“...Wanna go home?” he asks tentatively. You nod. He slowly steps forward, kneeling down and hooking his arms under your legs and back when you show no sign of hesitance. Jon lifts you effortlessly, cradling you close as he stands. You rest your head against his shoulder, eyes feeling heavy.

“I'm not invalid, Jon.”

“Just let me take care of you.” He shouldn't say things like that.

He makes sure that the Den is properly blocked and hidden by the rubble. After that, all you feel in the cold air biting at your cheeks as he flies you across the city. The lights below blur into streaks of color as you soar through the night sky. You cling to him, feeling the steady rhythm of his flight beneath you.

People are still at Wayne Manor as you approach, lights shining bright. Jon serves around the side, pulling up to your room's window. You sigh in relief as he gently sets you down in your room.

You see Damian rush over to you both, suit jacket forgotten. Was he waiting here for you?”

“Where were you?” he demands, hands coming up to rest on your arms. His concern is evident, his eyes searching yours for answers.

Jon steps forward, his hand resting on Damian's shoulder. "It doesn’t matter now. They’re okay," he reassures Damian, who nods slightly, though the crease in his brow doesn’t go away.

"Sorry," you say sincerely, looking at both of them, "for worrying you." You gently push Damian’s hands off you and go to your bed. Your clothes are comfortable enough, you decide. The soft pillow feels heavenly as you sink into the mattress. Hands come up the pull your blanket over you, lightly caressing your forehead before leaving.

Hushed voices bickering are the last thing you hear before darkness pulls you in.

notes: so... how we feeling? LOL

ngl i feel like the reasoning is cheap but how y'all liking the parallel? it'll make more sense later on, i promise ;)

also am i evil for using the "oh. oh." in that context? yes. yes i am

[yelenaslyubov]

A New Frontier: Part 1

a new frontier // part 1 // part 2

main masterlist || yelena belova || requests

a/n: welcome to the first part of my first series! like i said in my announcement, i’m not sure how many parts this series will have, but as i see it now, definitely over 6 so get excited about that!! this first part is definitely a build up to everything will be contained going further, so there’s not much adventuring in this one. i hope you enjoy!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairing: yelena belova x reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ warnings: language

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ description: you’re granted the opportunity to join the avengers on your first top secret mission together. not only are you navigating your newfound status as an avenger, but you’re also trying to hide your affection for another avenger, yelena. you travel to your location in stealth and soon find out what kind of mess you’ve really gotten into.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 3.2k

Your eyes jolted open when you realized you had fallen asleep accidentally.

“…and we need to act fast in order to make sure we do our part in this mess. And remember, none of you jackasses better make a peep about this, I mean it.”

Shit.

You had fallen asleep during the majority of Tony’s mission announcement. This was the first stakeout call that you had been invited on since you had been recruited. Most jobs were simple and thorough—fighting and taking down a villain and so on. Everything was usually the same, except this time and you missed it.

“Alright, that’s all I got. Be ready and down to the pad in an hour.” Tony dismissed everyone from the room when they all dispersed and you were left disoriented from the meeting.

“AH, I’m so excited!” you heard Kamala squeal. You assumed she had been asked out on the mission as well, making this her first too. “I’ve never seen a horse in person before!”

Now you were even more confused as to what was happening. You decided to be surprised rather than ask too many questions, especially since you were new. You couldn’t be caught slacking on the job already.

You went up to your room to pack whatever you could with the little information you had. You remembered something being said in between your slumber about it being dry and hot, so you kept that in mind.

You packed all the toiletries you had since you did not know when you would return. You didn’t have a permanent suit currently, as it was still being worked on and you didn’t know when it was going to be done. You hoped you could finally break into it on this trip so you wouldn’t have to use one of the hand-me-downs.

You jumped as you heard a knock at your door. “Can I come in?” Kate shouted through the door. Even before you could speak Kate had opened the door and was on a mission.

“Do you have deodorant or a hairbrush? I-I must have lost mine or run out because I don’t know where they went.”

Kate was the first friend you had made since you had been recruited. You both hit it off immediately and she made the transition from normal life to super life much easier.

“How does one not know when they run out of deodorant?” you chuckled.

“I honestly don’t know. I think I kinda just slap it on without looking while I’m halfway out the door,” she stammered.

“Well in that case, yes, I have both deodorant and a hairbrush so you lucked out today.”

“Ugh, thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” Kate sighed. “Oh, by the way! If you’re all good with it I think Kamala was going to bunk with me and it’s three to a room so you wanna join?”

“Uhm, that sounds good,” you responded. You were nervous to be in such close proximity to so many new people, but you were excited to be involved in something this secretive.

“Awesome! Well, I’ll see you down there then.” Kate smiled and then ran out of the room in the same manner she came. It was then you realized you missed your chance to ask her what exactly you all were doing and what you should bring. It added even more mystery.

You had filled your duffel bag to the brim with anything you could think of—a couple books, clothes for all weather conditions, a swimsuit, a coat, etc. You had said goodbye to your room for the time being when you ran into another Avenger in the hallway.

“Oh, uhm hey.” You were face to face with a green-eyed woman looking slightly up at you. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“It’s good,” the woman smiled and shrugged. She walked off without saying a word and you felt an uncomfortable aura blooming.

The butterflies in your stomach slowed their flutter the farther away the woman went. You had learned in your first few days as an Avenger that her name was Yelena. She had short blonde hair and the most captivating eyes you had ever seen. She was nothing short of intimidating so you had exchanged little words between the two of you. This was most inconvenient for you because you were tired of her staring at you as if you were a bit helpless.

You hoped this trip proved otherwise.

You were still awkwardly standing in the hallway after your encounter with Yelena when Kamala came out of her room with what looked like all her belongings balances in her arms. You could make out her eyes peeking between different objects that looked like a fan and a small table.

“I hope I packed enough,” she said through muffled words. “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any problem with that,” you laughed. You watched her carefully walk down the stairs with the rest of her things.

Based on everyone’s timely exit, you assumed that you should probably make your way down to load up. When you made your way down to the pad where everyone else was waiting. Everyone’s packs varied in size so you had no idea how your packing job compared to anyone else’s.

Wanda and Nat had a decent sized suitcase for the both of them to share and others had small duffel bags. You giggled a little to yourself when you saw Peter’s only bag which appeared to be his school bag.

“How did you manage to fit everything in there, Pete?” you asked him.

“Oh uhm all I really need is a few clothes, but the rest is homework.”

“You’re bringing homework on an Avenger’s top secret mission?”

“Uh… yes?”

“That sounds like a sad life, Peter Parker.” You looked to your right where Yelena was standing. “Do you do anything for your own pleasure… like ever?”

You, Yelena, and Peter all stood together staring at one another, waiting for someone to say anything.

“Alright!” Tony yelled. “It’s time to load up.”

Everyone made their way onto their biggest quinjet they had and found their seats. You sat towards the back of the jet as you filed in behind Yelena. Conveniently, you sat directly behind her so you had the perfect view for the duration of the flight. Kamala sat down next to you with her stuffed giraffe in hand.

You heard the echo of the seat buckles clanking together as everyone took their place. You then watched as Yelena twisted her hair up high and put it in a bun. You were mesmerized by the way her blonde highlights caught the glimmer of light shining through the small windows.

Kate looked back at you at the wrong moment because she caught you staring at Yelena. She smirked and winked, signaling that she planned on keeping your secret. Your face was flush with embarrassment. You had not planned to let anyone in on your little crush but there was no going back now. All you had to do was prevent Yelena from finding out.

Tony hopped on last and shut the large door behind him. “As much as I wish I was joining you on this part of the excursion, I’m going to be residing on a small base right outside of the airport we’ll be flying into. I’m working on tracking air transportation as well as focusing on the technical aspects of the issue. I will be checking in regularly.

“As much as I would love to fly everywhere, we have to be more careful.” You looked around at the others to see if they had any clue to what he was talking about. “Once we arrive at the airport, you’ll be assigned vehicles that you must transport in. Using jets gets too risky with the high volume of dust and dirt. You would be noticed too easily that way, so it’s much easier to fit in with the rest of the crowd. Another form of transformation will be provided… promptly.”

Tony sat down in the controller seat without another word, leaving only you at a loss of what could be coming.

You stared at the back of Yelena once again before falling asleep to the sound of her voice and buttons pushing from inside the jet

.

.

.

You jolted awake at the sound of the large compartment door opening. It was abnormally bright and dust seemed to be swarming into the jet. You looked to your right to see Kamala passed out as well.

You stood up to stretch and grab your things, but you were distracted by the look on Yelena’s face as she stared at Kamala. She then turned to you and you were not sure what to do. Yelena looked as if she was trying not to laugh.

“You’ve got something about there…” Yelena gestured around the side of your mouth where you found dried drool from your peaceful sleep.

You frantically wiped it off the best you could and tried to shake the feeling of embarrassment that washed over you. “Oh, I’m sorry, thank you,” you nervously responded.

You proceeded to wipe everything off your face shamefully. You gave Kamala a small tap on the side of her arms in hopes to wake her up. She jolted awake as if she had been screamed at.

“What happened?” she said, groggily.

“You fell asleep…and it looks like we’re here,” you responded. You gathered your things and joined everyone at the front of the quinjet.

“Listen up!” Tony yelled. “This is where I leave you. You’ll be self-escorted from here to the designated vehicles that are waiting outside. I have implemented state of the art trackers and GPS in each of the vehicles. Try to use these vehicles as much as possible. When the time comes, by all means, do whatever is necessary to complete said task, but please, for the love of God, stay hidden. We do not need to be compromised and if I hear about any of you messing around…I will personally handle the situation, and you don’t want that.”

You looked back and forth from Kate to Kamala. You could tell Tony was being serious, which meant this mission was a whole lot harder than you led on in your mind.

As you all unloaded off of the jet the sun pierced through the door making you cover your eyes. Once your eyes adjusted to the brightness, you were met with the vast ground of red clay and trees in the distance. There was not a house or town in sight meaning you were far away from civilization.

“This is my worst nightmare,” Yelena whispered to Natasha.

“No kidding. I can already feel my skin sweltering,” she responded.

Your face recoiled when you saw the rides that were provided to each of you. “They’re joking right?”

“I wish,” Bucky said as he walked by you.

“Ain’t she a beaut, Cap?” Sam said while rubbing his hand back and forth down the side of the truck.

Before you were four rusty, beat-up pickup trucks that were supposed to be your rides for the time being. You weren’t even sure how long they were going to last. They were most definitely older than you.

“Are we sure these are safe to drive…or ride in?” Yelena questioned.

“They’re top of the line, I assure you,” Steve said.

“Maybe when you were born,” she mumbled.

You laughed at her comment and Yelena turned around to look at you and she smirked. Your face couldn’t help but turn a deep shade of pink, but you hoped the heat would disguise your blushing.

“Alright, let’s hit the road. We’re burning daylight here and it’s a two hour drive,” Steve informed everyone which earned a groan from each of them.

Steve, Sam, Bucky, Clint, and Peter took one of the trucks and planned on leading the way to the house. The rest of you assumed you could fit in one truck but there were two left and needed to utilize them both. One truck could seat five and the other could seat three; there were six of you left and you each knew you couldn’t leave someone behind by themselves.

“Race ya!” Kamala yelled. Nat, Wanda, Kate, and Kamala began to run to the five seater truck, while you and Yelena stayed behind. I guess you both assumed that it wasn’t worth fighting over.

You were hesitant to say anything at first but you were curious. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

Yelena shrugged. “My sister and Wanda can get gross when they’re together so I would rather be 100 feet away. But I hope you know I’m driving.”

You nodded in agreement, not wanting to go against her wishes. How could you say no?

You and Yelena put your belongings in the trunk of the car and shut it nice and tight so there was no way it could fly out and escape. Yelena climbed in the driver's seat while you sat next to her in the passenger's seat. The truck started with a sputter and music started blasting through the radio. Tony Keith’s voice rang out, causing you to plug your eyes.

“If this is what the trip has in store,” you gestured to the nature outside and then to the radio, “it’s going to be a long trip.”

“I think my ears are bleeding,” Yelena groaned.

“How about I do this.” You made the executive decision to turn the music completely off. “Better?”

“Much.” Yelena was satisfied with your choice. She followed the kicked up dust trail that led to the truck in front of them. They were farther ahead but you both hoped you hadn’t lost them.

In the meantime, you decided to look around the truck to see what all treasures were held inside. Just by looking at it, it didn’t seem to be anything special. The dash was covered in dirt and dust and old, empty bullet shells rested on top. There were no cup holders for drinks, only a bench seat that could fit another person. You found yourself wondering what would happen if you scooted just a bit closer. You brushed off the thought and continued your scavenger hunt.

There was no backseat, only a small gap that could fit a slender bag. There was a tacklebox that slipped under your seat, so you decided to dig through it. You gasped as you opened it to reveal a pistol made out of vibranium. You could spot it from anywhere.

“Woah!” you admired it. You shifted the small pistol in your hand, observing the craftsmanship.

“Oh shit,” Yelena said. Her eyebrows were raised, telling you she was just as impressed.

“They really did the most.” You took another look at it before you put it back where it belonged and slid it back under the seat. “What we’re to happen if we were stopped somehow and we had that in the car? Wouldn’t they do the math?”

“Look at this thing,” Yelena said plainly.

You looked around at the crusted steering wheel, the patchy seats, and the dirty covered floor. “I suppose you’re right.”

Yelena sighed and continued driving.

You watched the world go by as the clay mesa crowded your vision. It was beautiful in its own way and it was nothing like you had ever seen. The plateau of rock and the arches that presented themselves high off the ground. You may even learn to love it.

You then turned your attention to the driver. Yelena did not go anywhere in public without dressing her best. She was wearing wide cut jeans, a cropped shirt, and high leather boots. The dedication impressed you, especially in this weather. Your eyes wandered from her clothes to her skin and how her olive tone was tanned from the sun. Her eyes twinkled with the reflection of the endless blue sky and you found yourself drowning. Of course until Yelena looked over at you because you had been in a daze for too long.

You turned your attention back out the window with the hope that she wasn’t paying attention to your admiration. The more you stared out the window, the heavier your eyelids were. Eventually, you found yourself drifting to sleep once again with dreams of twinkling green eyes.

.

.

.

You felt a push on your left shoulder but you didn’t move.

There was another push this time, but much harder, causing you to sit all the way up. To your surprise, it was night. You rubbed your eyes and looked to your left to find that Yelena was staring at you.

“Did you know that you snore?” she said outright. Yelena unbuckled and got out of the truck, leaving you stunned all alone.You decided that it would be better not to respond because you wish you could forget it ever happened.

As you slid out of the truck, you looked up at the stars. You had never seen the sky so clear in your life. It was like lightning bugs had hung themselves way up high for everyone to see. You were so distracted by the sky that you didn’t notice where you were.

When you snapped yourself out of your trance you looked around. You were now surrounded by some species of pine tree you couldn’t recall with scarce grass. You were most certainly still in the desert but had traveled farther in the new direction.

In addition, you seemed to be up on a cliff. You looked around once more and there was no sign of a house, let alone anyone else.

“Uh, Yelena,” you questioned. “Where are we?”

Yelena was crouched down ahead of you looking down from the earth when she shushed you. You tried not to take too much offense. You walked to where she was in hopes of figuring out what was going on.

“Yelena, I said, where are-” Yelena covered your mouth quickly. You wanted to resist but all you could do was yell silently into the palm of her hand.

“Be quiet,” Yelena whispered, then held up a finger to her lips as she uncovered her hand from your mouth.

You huffed. “I just want to know what we’re doing out here? Where is everyone?”

“I took a little detour,” she admitted. “I just wanted to scope out the competition and Tony had already wired the GPS with significant locations so I knew where to go.”

“He should’ve known better,” you shook your head. You were already in this mess with her so you might as well finish it.

You focused your eyes to where she was looking to find a small sized building. It was nothing like you pictured it would be in your head. There was a flagpole outside the fence gates with an American flag on it accompanied by another flag that you could not make out. You squinted harder to see what picture was made out on the fabric.

“Is that…” You could spot the unique design of a skull with its six arms recoiled under.

It was Hydra.

//

i hope you enjoyed!

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[softgreengrass]

I’ll Survive

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: happy then sad then happy, requested, supersoldier!r but it’s not relevant to plot

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: death, grief

A/N: thanks for the request!

You and Natasha are in the gym when FRIDAY calls a meeting.

“Come on, is that all you got?” she grins, leaning into the punching bag with all her weight.

You fire a few more jabs, and her feet slip back a little. Sweat rolls down your forehead.

“Attention, all,” FRIDAY’s voice rings out. “Mission briefing in the conference room. 10 minutes.”

You don’t stop your barrage of punches, your eyes locked onto the Avengers logo in the center of the bag.

“You sure you’re ready to get back into it?” Natasha asks.

You’ve been coming off of an injury for a few months now. Bad intel, a trap, a bullet straight through your femur — being on bedrest was your seventh circle of hell.

Instead of answering, you wind your fist back and hit the bag hard enough to send it flying across the room, taking Natasha with it. She slams against the wall and laughs.

You wipe your face with a towel before walking over and kicking the bag away from her. “Sorry.”

“Super soldiers,” she mutters, shaking her head.

You offer her a hand. She takes it, rising to her feet, and leans into your chest. Butterflies shoot through your stomach.

“You sure you’re ready?” she asks softly.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes flick down to your lips, and you pull her into a slow kiss. Her hands find the back of your neck, lace through your hair. It only lasts a few seconds before she swipes her foot behind your leg and shoves your shoulders hard.

You land flat on your back with a groan.

“10 minutes, killer,” she smirks. “And don’t ever do that again.”

You’re the last one in the conference room, and there are no seats left around the table. Cap shoots you a disapproving glance as you close the door behind you.

“Hope no one made any weekend plans,” Cap clears his throat. “Because we’re heading to Russia.”

Tony groans obnoxiously. “Come on, really?”

The holographic screen suspended above the table turns on, showing the floor plans of the Kremlin. Everyone falls silent.

“This isn’t a villain of the week, guys,” Steve sighs. “Hell, it’s not even HYDRA.”

You whistle, and Rhodey glares at you.

“As far as we can tell, the Russian government is doing this entirely of their own accord. The only one pulling the strings is Putin.”

“What are they doing?” Clint asks, leaning back in his chair.

“They want to put nukes in space.” Steve presses his clicker and the screen shows the earth and a dozen orbits around it. “That’s a one-way ticket to world war three.”

“And you want us to, what, eat the nukes?” Tony asks.

Cap clenches his jaw. “The Department of Defense wants us to make sure they don’t launch. My plan makes sure Putin won’t ever get the chance to.”

“You want to assassinate him?” Natasha asks quickly.

Steve faces her. “I want you to.”

Your eyes meet Natasha’s through the projection, and you swallow.

“He’s gotta be the most well-protected guy on the planet,” Bruce says.

“That’s a suicide mission!” Clint cries.

“Which is why we’re all going,” Steve says, in that authoritative old man tone that shuts everyone up. “Banner’s right. It’s going to take all of us just to get a chance.”

“Pretty sure assassinating the Russian president is an act of war,” you say. “Number two in command is just gonna send those nukes up and point them straight at the Pentagon.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment. Then they turn towards Steve.

“Which is why I have a plan,” he says firmly.

You don’t like it one bit. Not one bit. Natasha, undercover for two weeks without comms. Clint posing as a diplomat. The rest of you hunkered underground, waiting for the right moment to invade the Kremlin. It’s almost recklessly risky. And yet, Steve has his full faith in it, which means the rest of you do too.

That night, Natasha holds onto you tightly. She’s terrified to go back there, regardless of what she says. It’s worse than going after one cell, or even the Red Room itself. It’s the man behind the curtain who’s been controlling it all.

“It’s going to go fine,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you further into her.

“It is,” you say. You take her hands and press them into your sternum. You’d only succeeded in being the big spoon a couple times — never when she was stressed. So you stare at the wall. “I mean it.”

“Me too,” her breath fans against the back of your neck. “We’ve done harder things before, haven’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you exhale. “I mean, aliens? AI? Bruce when he’s hungry?”

She laughs, and that eases some of the pressure on your heart. “Worst case, I’ll survive.”

“You always do.”

“I always do,” she smiles. “And best case, I take care of him, you get rid of the cabinet, and Steve slides in his new leader. And we get out of there and go to… I don’t know. The Dominican Republic.”

“The Dominican Republic?”

“Why not?” she kisses your shoulder. “A vacation. Moscow’ll be a pretty intense way to get back into the action. You’ll deserve a break.”

“I’ve been on a break for three months,” you snort.

“Oh come on, you don’t want a piña colada? Palm trees? White sand beaches?”

“Well when you put it like that,” you say, turning around to face her. “I guess we could go to the Dominican Republic.”

She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Promise?”

You could stare into the green of her eyes forever. “Promise.”

Not three weeks later, you sit staring at a computer screen in a bunker a hundred feet below Red Square. Tony sits to your left. There’s no point in watching the feed, since all of the cameras are outside of the Kremlin and Natasha walked in an hour ago, but you can’t help it. You feel powerless.

For ten days, Natasha has been Alina Konstantinovna Petrova, a middle-aged politician who just got back from a stint in Belarus. When she emerged wearing the nanotech mask for the first time, you genuinely didn’t recognize her. Her voice, her gait, her mannerisms — all changed. Sometimes you forget she’s the world’s greatest spy.

But with no comms and no tracker, all you have is your faith in that fact. Just your trust in her.

If she’s on schedule, she should be having tea with the Prime Minister, but really she could be anywhere, doing anything. There’s absolutely no way for you to know.

“You know,” Wanda sighs, tipping back in her office chair and tossing a tennis ball into the air. “I don’t think all of us had to be here.”

“Agreed,” Tony grumbles. “I was supposed to be at a gala right now.”

“Do you think-”

“Quiet!” Steve orders, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “Do you see that? Is that smoke?”

You lean closer. It is smoke, pouring out of a second-floor window, and it makes your stomach drop.

Steve taps into the emergency comms in Clint’s ear. “Is there a fire? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Clint’s voice replies, hushed. “I don’t know, they put us into a ballroom. I don’t know where she is.”

“Shit,” Steve mutters.

“What do we do?” you ask, rising to your feet.

Steve grimaces. “If… if we make contact now, she won’t have a shot. It’ll all be for nothing.”

“The Kremlin isn’t usually on fire,” you snap.

“I’m sure she can handle it,” he glares back. His voice is dangerously quiet when he speaks again. “She knows what’s on the line here.”

But five minutes later, the smoke hasn’t stopped. It’s spread. Clint and the other diplomats are being evacuated.

You keep your eyes glued to the feed, scanning for Alina Petrova’s face among the crowd. She never emerges, but neither do the Prime Minister or cabinet. Maybe there’s a hidden exit.

Just when it seems like the fire is coming under control and the chaos is cooling, the cameras cut out.

You rush for the exit immediately, Tony and Steve right on your heels. Your entire body goes numb as you climb the ladder.

It’s probably fine, you think, hands squeezing the rungs too tight. The fire burned a power line, or the government stopped the footage to protect their image. She’s fine. She’s fine.

You heave the manhole cover out of place with your shoulder, hoisting yourself onto the street and ignoring the pedestrians who stare at you.

It’s absolute pandemonium. There’s a crater where half of the Kremlin used to be, and the other half is engulfed in flames. You sprint towards it.

Steve immediately shouts after you, but all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears.

Maybe there’s a hidden exit. She had to have noticed the fire, she would’ve escaped, she would’ve made it out. She would’ve.

The police that are always stationed around the Kremlin make a border around it, though no one except you is trying to go towards the burning building.

“Ostanavis’!” they yell, but you hurdle their makeshift barricade.

If she was on schedule, she would’ve been on the east side, top floor. The heat doesn’t even register in your mind.

You root through rubble as fast as you can, barely noticing when Wanda and Steve join you in your search. Smoke stings your eyes and fills your lungs until you can barely choke out a breath.

There are heaps of ash that might’ve once been people, might’ve once been Natasha.

You climb trembling supports to get to the second floor: there are bones there, even fragments of medals and jewelry. The farther you get from the crater the less charred the bodies become. But you can only get so close to the live blaze, and none of the bodies are hers. The skin on your hands begins to blister from red-hot ash and metal.

At some point Steve pulls you away, ignores the way you claw at him and scream that you won’t leave her. The three of you (Tony, Bruce, and Rhodey had been wise enough to run away from flaming wreckage) end up in a Russian prison, charged as enemies of the state responsible for the fire and ensuing blast.

By the time the Department of Defense negotiates you out, you’ve convinced yourself that Natasha must’ve escaped. There’s no other option. She couldn’t die. If you didn’t find her, she couldn’t have been there. She must’ve gotten out.

But when you walk into SHIELD’s Moscow base, she isn’t there. It’s only Fury and Clint.

“Where is she?” you ask, rushing towards them. Everyone else seems to slip out of the room.

Fury’s eyes stay trained on you, swimming with something you don’t want to decipher. Your heart pounds against your chest

“Where is she?”

“She’s dead,” Clint says, his voice raw.

“No,” you respond immediately. “No, she isn’t.”

He closes his eyes.

No. You see a flash of her smile, of the jacket she loved. You feel the ghost of her touch on your face.

“I thought she faked it,” Fury says after a moment. “But… we made a deal a few years ago. If one of us faked it again we’d leave something behind so the other would know. A ring.”

You’ve never heard his voice so weak before. Somehow it’s scarier than anything else.

“But there was no ring,” he clears his throat. “Just this.”

He holds out his hand, opens it. The necklace you gave Natasha last year is bunched up on his palm, dark with soot. Your knees almost give out. She never takes it off, not to sleep or train or go undercover. She would never leave it behind.

Reality dawns on you like an awful black wave. Natasha is dead.

“I’m sorry,” Fury says, resting a hand on your shoulder. You can’t feel it. Every breath, every blink is manual now, every movement an act of will.

Worst case, I’ll survive.

You just want to hug her again. Just see her face one more time, knowing it’ll be the last. Suddenly a deep red rage fills your vision, and your muscles twitch to strangle whoever set the fire, whoever planted the bomb.

“There was no body?” you ask hoarsely. You can’t tear your eyes from the necklace.

Fury shakes his head. “Ash.”

A lump forms in your throat that won’t leave for weeks. You feel like you’re looking at everything through frosted glass, frozen in the moments that you just held. It’s like you’ve been caught in a spiderweb.

You don’t cry until you set foot inside her room at the compound. Everything is just how she left it, like she just stepped out. Like she’ll come back any second now.

The covers on her bed are rumpled.

You can’t wrap your kind around the fact that she could be gone, vanished into thin air, reduced to dust. That she’ll never touch anything again. You sit down on the floor and hug your knees.

For a few days you don’t eat; you don’t speak for longer. The gaping hole in your chest churns and twists in an agonizing way. Every night you dream of refusing Steve’s plan, or going up as soon as you saw the smoke, or doing anything except sitting idly while she burned alive.

You’re at Steve’s throat often enough that Tony kicks you both out of the compound. It’s not like either of you are of use, anyways. The others manage to channel their sorrow into work. You don’t.

Clint takes time off, too. Laura manages to convince you it’ll be good.

But with nothing to distract you, you feel the pain of every passing moment. Every minute that you get older and she doesn’t. You don’t want to have to think of a life without her in it.

Weeks or months into your dull gray blur of a life, someone knocks on your door. You hope it’s not Steve. You don’t know if it’s the season, but you could spring for a box of Thin Mints.

It’s not a girl scout. It’s Natasha.

Your eyes go wide; your face pales. Nanotech mask? Clone? “A-Are you real?”

She wheezes out your name, keeps her hands clutched to her side.

“Is it really you?” you ask, your eyes welling with tears and your hands trembling as you reach out to touch her.

“I missed you,” she breathes, her eyes roaming your face.

She has a black eye and a split lip. It’s her. You drink in the green of her eyes and the red of her hair and the softness of her face and you can’t keep the sobs from escaping. She crashes into your arms, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ribs. She smells like sweat and home.

Natasha is crying too, shaking, her face hidden in your chest. You close your eyes and tilt your head down to rest your lips on her head.

“You’re hurt,” you say when you remember how to speak.

She pulls away and kisses you deeply. It feels like God blessing you, even if it tastes like blood. She’s real. You don’t let go of her until she gently pushes you away.

“We should go inside,” she whispers.

You’re in a daze for half an hour, while you wrap her ribs and bandage the gash on her arm. She doesn’t leave your gaze for one second. When you’re finally satisfied that she won’t drop dead, you collapse onto the couch next to her.

She climbs on top of you, pulls you close.

“They were onto me,” she murmurs into your hair. “I had to escape, I couldn’t let them think I was alive.”

Anger roars in your chest. “I’m not losing you again.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill them,” you growl, wrapping your arms around her securely.

“I’ll help,” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “They’re probably coming here.”

“You were followed?”

“I wanted to see you,” she sighs. “I didn’t take all the precautions.”

You laugh and bury your face into the crook of her neck. “You think we can go to the Dominican Republic after?”

“I’ll break up with you if we don’t.”

[navybrat817]

A Hero's Reward

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is a hero and every hero deserves a reward.

Word Count: Almost 500

Warnings: Implied NONCON/DUBCON, kidnapping, dark Avengers, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge Week 5! Character: Bucky Barnes. Length: 200-500 words. Prompt: "Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me." ❤️ @krirebr , thank you for chatting me about this and everyone should check out What You Can Do For Your Country. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Heroes were meant to make the world a better place. They exemplified courage, resilience, and determination while serving as living embodiments of values and ideals that many admired. They offered protection and safety. And you were lucky enough to live in a time with The Avengers, the self-proclaimed world's mightiest heroes who saved the Earth time and time again.

But no one liked to talk about the burden placed on their shoulders. Or that they had their own needs outside of the fight. So what did the heroes take for their reward? Whatever they wanted.

Bucky Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier, only wanted one thing.

You.

“Look at me,” he ordered above a whisper.

You brushed a tear away as you lifted your gaze and moved back to the corner of your bed to cower. The cell Tony made was comfortable enough, but the massive size and aura of Bucky made it seem small and dark. It would never be your home. They took you from it the moment the Soldier decided he wanted you as his personal doll. You were told it was an honor and a privilege.

The same thing they told the occupants in the other cells, each one a reward chosen by the various team members.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice hoarse from your earlier screams. You managed to break free from your cell earlier that day, but the relief was temporary since you were quickly caught and dragged back. “I just want to go home, Sir. Please.”

Bucky observed you as he walked toward the bed, his icy blue eyes not leaving your trembling form for a second. “This place is only temporary. Steve and I will move you and his girl into our new home once it's ready,” he told you, brushing his metal hand along your cheek as you tried not to flinch. “Do you remember what I told you your first night here?”

“Yes,” you answered, trying to block out the memory.

You fought him. Well, you tried to. He quickly proved why he was a hero in the physical sense when he overpowered you. He then proved why he was your villain when he split you open with his cock.

“Yet you still tried to run,” he said, his voice laced with hurt and anger. “Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me.”

A shiver of fear and anticipation ran down your spine as he straightened up and unbuckled his belt. You knew what was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. The worst part deep down was how much you liked him owning you. That was why you had to get away.

But he would never let you go.

“So let me remind you how good it feels when I'm inside you,” he said, tugging the sheet away when you tried to cover yourself. “And let's see you try and run from me by the time I'm done with you.”

He can keep me. That's fine! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[pinkiemachine]

How would you do Batman, I'm just wondering because Batman's my favorite character

OH HO HO!! I HAVE WRITTEN SO MUCH ABOUT BATMAN!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

*ahem*

His show is called BATMAN: GOTHAM FILES, and I have the basic outline for each and every one of the seasons! There’s 9 total, plus a movie finale. Here we go!

SEASON ONE:

Most of us should know basically what Bruce’s backstory is, so I’ll keep this part brief. Bruce Wayne was eight years old when his millionaire mother and father were gunned down in front of him in an alleyway in Gotham City. They never found the killer. The family’s loyal butler, Alfred Pennyworth, took care of Bruce from that point onward. Bruce started taking self-defence classes in-between going to the schwanky Gotham Academy and learning how to run his father’s business, Wayne Enterprises (a massive conglomerate that was famous throughout all of America, but especially the East Coast.) The young man had hardly healed from his traumatic experience, though, and after graduating college (something he was practically forced to do by Alfred), he decided not to stay in Gotham. He hated the city. Instead, he took off in a plane… and secretly never intended to come back…

EIGHT YEARS LATER…

It was a welcome surprise when Bruce Wayne turned up in Gotham, seemingly in a much happier headspace and eager to finally, finally take his father’s business seriously. The Prince of Gotham had returned. Months after that, there was a new legend lurking in the streets of the city. Something called “the batman” or “the bat.” Criminals were getting caught and arrested left and right, and half of them were scared out of their minds about this spectre. The police force didn’t know what to make of it… except for one Captain Jim Gordon. He knew that the legend was true… and occasionally, he would sneak into his office and scare the living daylights out of him. He and Batman had been working together for a little while now, (we get an episode later that explores how they first met), but Gordon doesn’t know who he really is under the mask, and no one else in the force thinks that Batman is even real. But Gordon is eager to help him because the police force is falling apart. They’re completely unable to do their job and keep the streets safe, so Gordon agrees to help Batman stop crime in its tracks. He wants to make Gotham safer for his wife and daughter.

Shocking literally no one, the audience discovers that Bruce Wayne is Batman, working out of a massive secret base underneath Wayne Manor—his ancestral home. But, he must balance the life of a vigilante with the life of billionaire Bruce Wayne, which can be difficult at times. We get several episodes just laying the ground work. Who runs the company when Bruce isn’t around? Lucious Fox. Who manages Bruce’s affairs and schedule? Alfred. Who makes all the gadgets and gear that Batman uses? He does. Using plenty of materials and goods he can buy since he’s a billionaire. When did he learn how to make all this stuff? Hmmmmmm….

We meet our first few villains—Penguin, Two-Face, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Riddler, etc—Batman is still trying to track down who murdered his parents, and we’re having a generally good time until THE MID SEASON FINALE. You see, there’s a circus coming to town.

Haley’s Traveling Circus was famous on the East Coast, being one of the oldest circuses in the country, as well as boasting the Fabulous Flying Graysons! A family trapeze act! However, this smiling troop of clowns was actually hiding some pretty dark secrets. When they arrived in Gotham City, they were asked to help out known mob-boss Tony Zucco with some… not-so-nice things. John Grayson, head of the Flying Graysons, had been feeling conflicted about how much behind-the-scenes shady dealings the circus had been involved with over the years. So, he thought that maybe if he just let the tiniest bit of evidence leak to the police, maybe they could handle everything and the Graysons wouldn’t be caught in the cross fire. This is what brings Batman to the scene. He investigates the circus, meets the Graysons, including their son, Richard, aka Dick, and eventually goes on to solve the mysterious crime, pinning it on Tony Zucco and getting certain members of Haley’s Circus arrested. (The ones actually involved in the crime.) However, Zucco manages to avoid jail time. Not only that, but he discovers who snitched on him. That night, after the case has been solved and Bruce shows up to catch the Flying Graysons perform, everything is going great until the unthinkable happens: the lines on the trapeze snap and Mr. and Mrs. Grayson go falling to their deaths.

Dick Grayson is an orphan… and he’s angry. He’s about 11 years old, but he’s smart enough to know what’s going on. He knows why Batman was coming around asking questions, he knows who Tony Zucco is, and he knows that his father made him very unhappy. After the police have arrived, but before social services do, Dick sneaks out and climbs to the top of the building with the Bat-Signal on it (yes, by this point in the story, that’s a thing). He flashes it on and off, rain pelting down, until the caped crusader arrives. He demands to know if this was Zucco’s fault. Batman refuses to say anything, but Dick doesn’t care. He says he’s going to make Zucco pay, whether Batman helps or not, and he tries his hardest to remain true to his word. After that night, Dick runs off through Gotham several times, trying to get in touch with Zucco and attempting to enact revenge, meanwhile Batman has to keep swooping in to keep the kid from getting himself killed. He recognises the pain he’s in—he completely understands his anger—and realises that he needs a teacher—a mentor—a father figure who can lead him through all of this and keep him out of trouble. So, as Bruce Wayne, he decides to adopt Dick. At first, Dick doesn’t want anything to do with this stranger—he’d rather stay with his circus family if he’s going to stay with anyone—but then, in court one day, Bruce says something—something only Batman said to him once—and all of a sudden, it clicks in Dick’s mind. He instantly asks to be placed in Bruce’s care and not a few hours after arriving at Wayne Manor, Dick manages to discover where the Batcave entrance is. Sneaking down there, he plans to become his own kind of vigilante, just like Batman, and get revenge… until Bruce catches him and tries to knock some sense into him.

It’s here that Bruce has to confront his own past. His sense and reason are saying, “Don’t let the kid try to enact revenge!” But then, he has to ask himself, “why am I still hunting down the man who killed my parents?” He has to tell himself, “it can’t be about revenge. Only what is just and fair.” When/if he finds the killer, he will turn him over to the authorities and let him face proper punishment. Zucco… he’s too powerful. There needs to be a lot of incriminating evidence against him before the police can take action, and even then, that’s not what Dick wants. Dick wants Zucco gone. Permanently. THAT is what needs to be dealt with inside of Dick. Bruce refuses to let this boy make himself a killer. Instead, he decides to channel that anger and drive into training him. You see, when Bruce vanished for eight years, it was during that time that he met many teachers and learned many new skills. Through bettering himself and learning these skills, he felt he had grown as a person and had worked through some of his emotions. It was therapeutic. He hopes it will be the same for Dick. He also teaches him about the justice system and detective work so that they can bring down Tony Zucco WITHOUT killing him. Little by little, over the course of the next year, Dick starts to turn into the infamous side-kick Robin, following Batman on small cases and learning about fighting crime… from a distance. (Mostly.) Dick does have a knack for getting into trouble.

On the personal side of things, Dick still needs to adjust to living in Wayne Manor, going to a new school (Gotham Academy) navigating being a wealthy, famous person’s adopted son, etc etc. And then… Ra’s Al Ghul shows up. Now it’s time for Bruce’s past to be revealed. He had traveled the world, and he did have many teachers, but none quite as legendary as the Demon’s Head, leader of the League of Shadows. A secret organisation (cult, really, Bruce later realised) that had mastered martial arts, ninjutsu, and so much more. Each member was a peak specimen of the human race, with no genetic weaknesses or flaws, especially their leader, Ra’s. Bruce had been one of his top students, but then he had revealed his grande scheme for the world. Ra’s wanted to wipe out the rest of humanity (which he deemed as impure and flawed) and then the only people who would be left to inherit the Earth would be his perfect family and his perfect followers! All he was missing was a male heir to his throne. His daughter, Talia, most perfect of his children, had fallen in love with Bruce during his time in the Shadows, but before anything serious could come of it, Bruce had snuck out and left the League, meaning never to come back. Now, though, Ra’s had found him and wanted him to marry his daughter. Bruce refuses. Ra’s tries to take him by force, Robin helps save the day, it’s a big exciting grand finale to the season, and it ends with Ra’s and Talia retreating… because while Bruce was captured, they managed to steal some… “DNA”… and test tube baby Damian would be thus conceived, unbeknownst to Batman and Robin.

(Like, he’s a test tube baby from conception. Talia was never physically pregnant with him.)

Anyway, things are looking up for our main characters. They saved the city, they saved each other, they’re working on their personal growth, and everyone is excited to see Season 2 because—

JOKER TEASE!!!! DUN DUN DUN!!!!

I’mma make more posts, this is a long one, strap in…

I also have a sketch of Talia…

Part 2 👇

[shaampoo]

OMG!?!??! I WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS SONG (and AU), RIGHT NOW!!!

(By Lydia the bard

TINKERBELL VILLAIN SONG - Fall Little Wendy Bird Fall | Song by Lydia the Bard and Tony | Animatic

The title^)

First of all the cover art is AMAZING, Tink is SO pretty, the sparkle and lines on the wings, her grin, HER HAIR, HER EARS, HER DRESS,

Also, "Fall Little Wendy Bird Fall" is a great title

Now the video itself and its lyrics, i really REALLY want to just compliment every single frame of this video, its so beautiful, so well done, its like it was blessed by The Muses of greek mythology,

Okay so the lyrics at 0:45

"You dont seem to quite understand what is at stake,

This messed up little family that i had to make"

Not only is this line so beautiful with the way her voice sounds, its pretty much a nod to the fact Tink and her friends kidnapped peter pan and the lost kids to keep her and her friends alive

(0:55) \/

"If i could let them all go home please know that i would

But it'd do more harm than good"

Just Tink expressing her guilt that she and her friends kidnapped the lost boys so that they could keep existing, but like, JWHSEAJKHWED, she ofc doesn't want her or her friends to die, and since people are slowly not believing in fairies anymore, they're slowly going extinct, ALSO, Fawn and Silvermist are DEAD, so yeah, that messes with someones head

AAAALSOOOO, i LOVE their silhouettes, the height and weight differences instead of them all having the same height and weight like in the movies, plus, i LOVE that despite not looking like how they do in the movies, you can probably still tell who is who,

ALSO

Even if it wasnt intentional, i like how in kinda faraway shots, Tink has a more cuter roundish look, while in closer shots shes more edgy and more intimidating(? if that's the right word), kinda showing how others view her (kinda?) as a cute fairy, maybe underestimated, but yknow, close up, shes plotting to kill a child

(1:15)

I love how Tink is gesturing in this scene, cause 1. It conveys to the audience what she wants from the lost boys and 2. Canonically, when fairies talk, people usually just hear jingling of bells, so shes gesturing because shes also conveying what she wants to the lost boys

1:23

"Swear its nothing personal, its a necessary evil"

I just love this line because it is a necessary evil, she needs the lost boys and peter pan in neverland to believe in fairies so that they exist, and Wendy is pretty much a threat, since she makes the lost boys want to grow up with families,

Also, the lost boys look so cute in here, i cant remember their names tho, one is holding a slingshot, aiming at wendy, one is holding rocks , and one has a stick , so Tink just told these children to assassinate Wendy, or at least attack her.

1:35

I love how the kids explain that Tink make them do it, and Peter Pan just glares at Tink, and i love that I'm pretty sure that Peter isn't mad/doesnt blame the lost boys

As seen in this scene where Pete is smiling and stuff at the Lost Boys and/or at Wendy

1:55

I love how Tink refers to Wendy as a "Nasty little spark" because, a spark can turn into a fire, damaging a lot of stuff and people, pretty much saying that Wendy has to be snuffed out before she causes a fire,

"Setting fires inside my house is just not allowed"

Pretty much referring to the fact that Wendy, the spark, is creating a fire, aka, making the lost boys want to grow up and go back to the real world, making them not believe in fairies anymore, thus, making her and her friends die, which is, not allowed.

Also. the fear in Tink's eyes is so fear, her expression is on point, the mix of concern and fear is just, so beautiful, also i love her pointed ears

2:17

First of all, this screenshot does not do justice to the actual design of the mermaid (siren?), cause they are AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL, GORGEUS.

Also, the fact that Tink is persuasive enough to convince someone to kill Wendy in such a short amount of time is impressive, and the fact that the mermaids agreed so quickly is also impressive,

When it failed, the absolute horror and shock on Tink's face? Shes horrified that another plan of hers failed, and shes scared that her friends might die, like, wow

The despair on her face is just so...asdjwoaijdoiwajd

3:38

The fact that Peter Pan (i cant even give him a nickname cause Pete sounds different and P.P. is just wrong and Pan is just A Thing), first at the gust of wind that blows away the pixie dust (which keeps the ship afloat) he covered his eyes, maybe cause the dust or his hair in his eyes, then he looks at Tink in anger and shock and probably some confusion, then looks at Wendy, in concern and fear,

Theory: Pan knows that, since Tink doesnt want the lost boys to leave, and he knows that gust of wind was from the fairies, and Tink's dislike and hatred to WEndy, that Wendy was probably the only one not going to be saved, which is why he only looks at her and tries to save her (that or he's a SIMPPPPPPP /j)

3:50

The fact that you can see Wendy screaming??? Chills,

And the black screen right after, signalling Wendy's death is just amazing

Anyways, overall, what im saying is

THIS SONG IS AMAZING GO CHECK IT OUT, GO CHECK OUT THIS PERSONS CHANNEL, THEY HAVE GOOD VILLAIN SONGS, THEY EVEN HAVE ENCANTO!!!!