#Bruce is much less amused | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nouearth · 5 months

Text

my favorite scent is you.

bruce wayne x male reader.

summary: bruce needs to be taken care of too (in which reader believes it's through the form of sex).

wc: 3.5k. genre: smut, angst (kinda?). warnings: top!bruce, consensual!somnophilia, blowjobs, slow mouth-fucking, fondling, reader is asleep, bruce and reader are the same age, reader also grew up with bruce, mentions of parental death, trauma-bonding.

notes: it's been a while since i've done a brucey smut (and also fulfilled a request), so here ya go! actually my first time writing about somnophilia, so be easy on me, lmao. it was harder than i thought! also i'm trying a new layout,,, kinda, don't mind me.

“Do you remember that night? When my parents… you know.”

It had been a little less than a decade, but the uneasiness you felt when mentioning your parents’ death was akin to hovering your palm above an open flame. The flicker of the heat frightened you. Though, you couldn’t help but feel magnetic towards it—closer and closer—until you felt a strike to your calloused hand.

Just a little more, and you’ll break free.

It was striking how your wounds maintained their novelty. Years of skin hardening, scabbing and layering over the memory of Bruce breaking the news to you on that night, and the slightest mention of your parents tore it open with little defiance.

“Yeah…” Bruce whispered, and a sudden impulse to hold you prevailed over him. He turned over on his side, slipping his arms over and under your frame, and pulled your back flushed to his chest. You eased with a melting squirm, a physical gratitude, and then another when you pressed a kiss to his forearm. “It was supposed to be Alfred telling you, but I insisted.”

“Really?” Your curiosity was piqued and you felt Bruce nod into the crown of your head, breathing you in deep like his favourite cologne. A scent he’d never wear himself because it matched you perfectly. “How come?”

“Well, I had no one other than Alfred when my parents died. He tried his best, but we barely had time to grieve. A bunch of responsibilities were bestowed upon him overnight; my parents’ estate, numerous paperworks, the press and media, not to mention the funeral service. It was… a lot for him.”

Bruce sighed, squeezing you tighter for support as he continued. “I remember reading—signing off things that I knew nothing about the very next day.” He then laughed, a bitterness surfing for air in the bass of his voice. “I didn’t even have a signature yet.”

“I’m sorry…” A heaviness sank you and Bruce deeper into the mattress. You latched onto Bruce’s arm for support, held him gently, and found levity through the brush of his lips, as if he was saying—consoling you through the black void: I’m here, I’m here.

“Is that why you guys hired my parents?”

“Mm-hm, we needed help around the manor while Alfred had bigger duties to tend to. And I’m glad he suggested the idea as much as I was apprehensive about it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met such an incredible family. A year became two, then another two, then another, and…” Bruce recalled the sounds, the visions of red and blue flashing—blaring into the sky. “Which was why I thought it would be best if it came from me. So I could be that someone that I desperately needed during my grieving.”

“You shouldn’t have been thinking about that though… I mean, what—we were only fifteen? Coming from your background, you should’ve been… cocky, annoying, emo, selfish, like every other teenager.

“I guess your personality kind of compensated for that—” He amused himself with some levity.

“Hey!” You choked out a laugh, then lightly elbowed his stomach behind you. “Ass.”

“Ow,” Bruce pressed a smile to the back of your head, inhaling your scent again. “I did have that emo phase though.”

“Oh yeah—” Within his hold, you turned your body to meet Bruce face-to-face as a flood of memories came rushing in. You greeted him with a smile that he was able to single out from within the dark. Then, he made sure your presence was acknowledged with a chaste kiss.

“Your hair came down to your nose and stuff—oh! And you kept wearing the same hoodie too.”

“Yeah, okay—we get it. Not my best look.” He groaned, tearing himself away from you as your descriptions of Bruce suddenly developed into powerfully cringe-inducing memories. As embarrassing as the past was, he was glad it brought you some kind of merriment. He’d been scolded multiple times by numerous people, though namely Alfred, to treat you better.

You and Bruce weren’t always close. In all honesty, it took your parents’ death that empowered you two to stick together more than ever. Where darkness used to storm over the roof of the manor, you and Bruce managed to conjure a light that illuminated a path to find sanctuary within each other.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me.” The moonlight reflecting through the bedroom window casted shadows across Bruce’s profile. Wrinkles you’ve never noticed before were accentuated; eye-bags that you’ve been nagging at him to take care of deepened; glimpses of a boy who was forced to grow up.

He turned when you reached over to trace over the spotlighted features. A single digit caressed the bumpy bridge of his nose; the stubble that tickled you whenever you kissed; the cut over his broad chin that was your favorite spot to kiss,; the scar over his left cheek that had been healing for months, only to restart the process again after Bruce’s late night endeavors.

“Let me take care of you now.”

You weren’t sure how Bruce took your proposal. Recalling the moment had you adding unnecessary details that all-the-more exploded the situation into a narrative you couldn’t exactly trust.

Wait… he made a weird face when I told him. I remember a face! No, idiot—he just had an itch on his cheek. Oh.

I don’t remember his phone ringing… You think he was trying to get out of the conversation? Maybe? He usually has his phone set on the loudest volume possible…

Oh god, he probably thinks I’m some kind of sex-crazed addict. Well, aren’t you— No?! I just—wanted to take care of him… We rarely see each other these days and I doubt the lunches I’d make for him add much to that narrative. I needed something more. Wow, I’ve been talking to myself for this long?

You probably look crazed, especially if someone were to walk in the bedroom at this moment, but you’d be too deep into your thoughts to hardly notice. If you did notice, you’d probably go on a tangent about how Bruce was probably disgusted by how you could even suggest a thing like that.

Your toes and fingers curled at the recollection you were certain happened.

“So… I know you’ve been out late at night—” “(M/N), it’s not what you—” “Shh, I’m too good of a catch for you to cheat on me.” “I mean, keep that cockiness up and maybe—” “Excuse me?!” “I’m joking.” “Uh-huh, well, keep joking and I might have to rescind my offer.” “Your offer?” “Look, I haven’t seen you much lately. It’s not your fault. You’re busy.” “I know—I just need to deal with this…” “Bruce, you look—you are tired. You’re overworked and whenever we do spend time together, you’re asleep!” “I’m trying my b—” “You’re trying your best, I know! And I don’t know what you do at night, not sure if I do want to know, but… two-three hours of sleep is not enough. You’re killing your body.” “Hm…” “And one day, you’re going to crack and I just…” “Just..?” “I’m not sure how to… put it.” “What is it?” “If you want to… and it’s entirely up to you, but…” “Jesus, spit it out—” “I— if I’m still asleep, and you want to somehow… relieve your stress..?” “Oh—” “I’m all yours.”

The second hand on the clock cycled slower, almost as if it was mocking you for being so desperate, impatient, and doubting. Yet, at the same time—if clocks could have a personality—there was a dormant kindness in the rhythm of the minute hand striking every corner of the wheel. Gentle and soothing, the lids of your eyes grew heavier with every passing second as the sound of the clock counted sheeps for you.

Forty, forty-one… fourty-two… Forty… three…

The floor creaked despite Bruce’s best efforts to remain light on his feet. You’ve always been a light sleeper, even at the sound of wind whistling you’d jolt up to, but surprisingly—nothing.

As he approached his side of the bed, his eyes settled on you like always. To Bruce, it was a sweet sigh of relief to come back home to you again. Sometimes, a miracle depending on the crimes of that night. Nightly patrols have taken a toll on him; on his body, on his mentality; but being in your presence always—no matter what—brought him back to the solitude his life was at before being laboured by vengeance.

Coldly, he sat on the edge, careful to not wake you, as he dried off the damp strands of his washed hair with a towel. Then, he chased after the tremors off his bare body with several rubs of the coarse towel, gathering water molecules into the material until he was somewhat dry. It was the typical nightly routine of Bruce Wayne, in which he was guilty of vacating you of.

Bruce witnessed—took part in—how you ended your night. A late night snack, a book, a tv show—and he’d stroke your hair to the sound of his heartbeat until you were out like a light. He’d never forget to kiss your forehead as if it was an enchantment that would guard him for the rest of the night. Naively, Bruce was apprehensive of the subtle chance of reducing his survival rate if he were to miss a night of seeing you—touching you. Even if you had the biggest argument with him, even if you were in the wrong, he’d make sure to see you one last time before escaping into the shadows, saving the city—saving you.

After dressing himself in a fresh set of briefs, the soft cushions of his bed and pillows enticed him back into sanctuary. He crawled back into bed and instinctively found his arms around your body, warm and full against the recovering bruises against his own flesh. Skipping dinner was a norm, but he felt satiated when he could hear you breathe, feel your pulse, and watch you writhe within his doting affection.

“Goodnight.” Bruce muttered as he nestled his nose into your hair, another deep inhale of your scent to ground him that you were still present in his life. And then another as his head turned towards your neck, a familiar smell that taunted him to lean closer until his nose pressed softly into the crook of your skin.

White musk.

The top note of his favourite cologne on you. It lingered delightfully in Bruce’s nostrils, and there was a reason why he always urged you to spray it on date nights. It was intoxicating.

Come to think of it, Bruce’s night routine hadn’t completely checked off all of his tasks for the night. After he would come home, it was a no-brainer to shower off the sweat, dirt, and sometimes blood, from his patrols. He would scrape his hair clean with the shampoo suds, mint and cooling on his scalp. Then he’d move onto his body. The suds would trickle down his torso, gather in his muscles, and he’d add onto the bubbles with his body wash, lathering himself from head to toe. And almost always, the slightest brush of his length would break the restraints the night had locked his sanity behind. It was always you that managed to free him. As he would squeeze himself, fondle his sack while the suds dribbled down his leg and feet, he’d think of you—miss you in ways he wouldn’t dare to ignore, ways in which he was ashamed to desert you of.

“I’m all yours.” Your proclamation echoed, ran marathons in Bruce’s mind as the white musk led him astray. The simple thought of him taking advantage of you guilted him, churned his stomach until it was bundled into thick knots, but it made his heart race.

“(M/N)?” He whispered. The bed creaked when Bruce peered over you, and he was met by silence. A few soft snores joined the ticking of the clock, but for the most part, silence.

I shouldn’t… Bruce convinced himself. It was… shameful to even think of taking advantage of you like that—in your unconscious state, in your vulnerability. You looked peaceful in your slumber and knowing how hard you worked, he wouldn’t dare to ruin it because of his own selfish desires.

He sighed, rolling flat onto his back again, hoping the uncomfortable ache in his briefs would settle down in a minute or so. When it didn’t, Bruce tended to it with a brief re-adjustment of the way his length stood. Then again as he twitched in defiance.

Again, as he throbbed.

And again, when his briefs couldn’t support his throbbing erection anymore.

Bruce turned his head to the side, scanning your unconscious state. His eyes traced the languid form of your body as it sank deep into the mattress, hugging the air to your body while he slowly pulled the blanket off of you.

The bed creaked as inch by inch, Bruce scooted closer to you, turning back to lie on his side and nearly spooning you again. His movements were sluggish, apprehensive to wake you, but at the same time, there was an adrenaline rush surging through him knowing he could be caught any second (despite your permission).

His hand felt it as it caressed your arm in singular, docile strokes. Then his breath, as he leaned closer, pressing himself against you again, and slipped a hand under your shirt. Your bare stomach rested warmly against his calloused palm, and he felt your breath hitch, your stomach tensed, every evidence of your presence, as Bruce ran a palm upwards to touch your chest once, then back down to bravely slither under the waistband of your boxers.

“Fuck…” Bruce’s breath unevened, struggling to keep a steady rhythm, when his palm gently groped a handful of your flaccid cock, a complete opposite of the shameful erection he was prodding near your bottom. You writhed once, and he quickly paused with a shudder as you suddenly turned to lie on your back, smacking the dryness in your throat away as you drove yourself into deeper slumber.

He found it unusual how you haven’t awakened by now, but the cynical part of him pleaded for you to remain asleep—until he had his way with you.

Gently, Bruce lifted your hips to pull down the remainder of your boxers off until you were bare in all of your glory before him. Your balls lay briefly in between your legs before they were back to being fondled in his warm palms. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this…”

Droplets of sweat formed over Bruce’s hairline as he sluggishly maneuvered himself to kneel over your unconscious state. His thighs hardened, flexed as he maintained his balance over you. He stroked his cock with his free-hand; to the gentle snores you poured out, to your slightly parted lips that he could easily spread open with his girth, and to his surprise, to the stiffness of your cock as it stirred awake from his constant fondling.

What are you dreaming about? Are you dreaming of me? Are you dreaming of being fucked by me? Bruce groaned as he witnessed the once softened features of your face stiffened into diffident lust. Your breath unknowingly quickened when Bruce began stroking your cock together with his in one grasp. Your body writhed with uncomfortable pleasure as if you wanted whatever was happening to you to stop, yet the throbbing veins of your cock begged Bruce for more—to hold you for longer, to keep doing as he pleased.

Bruce forgot what it was like to have you like this; to have you squirming beautifully beneath him, dripping in heavy pre-cum while simultaneously having your cock lathered in his own fluid. He was enticed by your every movement, squirming and writhing confined by the state of slumber as you couldn’t stop him. You couldn’t stop the uncomfortable pleasure that was happening to you because you were dreaming a dream that refrained you from resisting your boyfriend.

I know you want it. Fuck… I know you want my cum, (M/N). He paused briefly to press his forehead into yours, sweat dripping off his face and onto your body in his maneuver, and breathed languidly against your lips to find the parting in order to breathe his lewd thoughts into you. Bruce was careless, dangerously brave as he slipped a tongue inside of you to spread your mouth open further. You made a sound, but he muted it with a swallow as he ravished you like honey on a spoon. Remnants of mint lingered on his tongue, and as much as he wanted to continue tasting you, he needed to relieve himself.

He was close.

Carefully, he dragged himself over your chest and kneeled over your chest. Bruce’s cock hung heavy above your slumber, dripping in thick strings of pre-cum from the plump tip—a shameful exhibit of how much this had turned him on, how much he had been deprived of this act for so long.

Open wide. It was morbid. Bruce never thought himself of ever once doing this obscene act, but the guilt that had been the cause of his apprehension was only fleeting the moment he pushed his cock into your sleeping mouth.

“Oh, fuck…” He was careful with you. Careful enough to not stir you awake, but courageous enough to fulfill his sense of greed. Bruce pushed deeper, and deeper until he couldn’t anymore. His thick cock steadied your breathing and in favor, your saliva warmed him with complete gratitude.

Come on, I know you can take it… His eyes darkened at your inability to take his girth. As much as it sounded like a threat, it drove him delirious knowing you couldn’t. Even in your waking moments, it fueled a sense of pride when you gagged on his cock, covered him in bubbly thick spittle, and looked like an absolute mess while attempting to swallow him again.

Fuck, (M/N)... You’d pull him out when you had enough of gagging on his cock and jerk him off instead, catching your breath in the midst of it all. He never told you, but it was Bruce’s favourite part whenever you two did this together. The pure lust in your eyes, craving for a fill that you and him both know that he would deliver upon greatly. And somehow, as lewd as the act was, you both knew it was more than sex. You and Bruce were making love, fucking with a craving that you only have for each other because it was only you two that could bring this type of pleasure to one another.

“Fuck—” Bruce paced himself, biting back an adamant moan, thrusting slow yet filling into your mouth as he held onto the headboard. The scrape of your teeth made him hiss, but the pleasure of your warm mouth was so fulfilling that it overwhelmed any painful feeling you’ve prescribed him to.

I’m close, (M/N)... Fuck, let me cum on you… On your body, on your face, I want it everywhere on you.

He released his cock from your mouth and took the heavy girth into his own palm, pumping the muscle with a sudden vigor that had been motivated to see you covered in his fluids. Bruce’s eyes rolled back into his lids, panting heavy and harder because he was so close—so fucking close. He could see you sticking your tongue out for him, on your knees, playing with your cum-covered cock as you would wait patiently for his reward. You would begin begging for it—his cum, his cock, him. You’d worship his body, mouthing at his toned thighs, then his abdominal muscles, licking the sweat off the gutters to briefly satiate your appetite for Bruce.

Until you were gifted with his indulgent desire for you and only you in the form of thick and creamy white ropes. “I’m comin—” Bruce’s stomach sucked in hard, his abs contracting while his thighs vibrated with tremors, then with a guttural push, he released himself with a strong grunt. His grasp directed his thick and heavy loads towards your chest and stomach, stroking his throbbing cock through the glorious sprays. He sucked in his teeth to control the sounds that were threatening to burst out of his throat and whimpered with a shudder when it was unmanageable, continuing to empty his balls until he could smell the heavy sex and musk off your body.

Scanning you from head to toe, Bruce was breathless. Despite his delirious stint, it was impressive to see you drifting off to sleep like nothing had happened. Or rather, it was impressive that he had a certain amount of control to not completely make love to you like a wild mammal, rousing you from sleep.

Nonetheless, he powered through the overwhelming need to sleep to clean you up, even if you hadn’t mind the mess. And like always, he never forgot to end his night with a kiss, pressing a chaste yet breathless pant to your lips.

“Think your way of ‘taking care of me’ needs more time in the workshop , but we’ll talk about it later.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

1K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

Text

‘Damian.’ You called over your shoulder, eyes firmly locked on the thing that currently held your undivided attention.

‘Yeah?’ You heard him call back from another room.

‘Why the fuck is there a cow in your kitchen?’ Damian’s brow was immediately raised upon hearing this. Cow? There’s no way Bat-Cow could’ve- Damian then closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths before joining you in the kitchen, where he could clearly see that the white and brown Bovine cow was indeed in the kitchen, just like you had said.

Now the question of how the cow had gotten into the manor -undetected no less- was a mystery entirely because surly someone would’ve noticed a 610kg, white and brown cow mindlessly clopping down the corridor from rooms away. But none of that mattered anymore as it was irrelevant to the current situation you and Damian both found yourselves in.

‘This day was bound to happen sooner or later, y/n this is Bat-Cow, the family…well cow.’ Damian said as though it were nothing new but for you, everything was made even more confusing. ‘And why do you have a pet cow? is Wayne Enterprises expanding into the farming business is it?’ You asked and Damian felt a headache about to come on.

‘Tt. No, me and father saved Bat-Cow from going to a slaughterhouse and have kept them ever since.’ He explained as he then moved past you to gently pet the cow on the muzzle, smiling softly when Bat-Cow made a noise of content. ‘Besides, this is nothing in comparison to Goliath.’

You made a face at this. ‘I’m sorry but Goliath who?’ You asked and Damian only continued to amuse himself as he petted Bat-Cow. ‘Exactly.’ He couldn’t wait to see your reaction firsthand.

Bruce tends to overwork himself to death most of the time, much to yours and Alfred’s disappointment.

You understood why he does what he does but did he necessarily have to neglect his own health and well-being to do so?

Gotham was a piece of work that is always under continuous construction, never in the hopes of being made better, but instead to be pushed to the side and left to slowly corrode and rot. Gotham was an ever developing plot hole that was bound to become even more than an issue then first assumed.

Gotham wasn’t a place worth saving for it always found a way to relapse back into old harmful habits, much so to the point where it’s own civilians didn’t care whether the city would survive another day, with all the chaos and destruction that seemed to be happening on the daily.

In Gotham it was easy as piss for one to lose all sense of empathy, humility and humanity.

Expect for one man. Bruce Wayne aka Batman. A shining beacon of hope for the future of Gotham in your eyes, a person who looked at the piss, shit and grime that flooded the streets and thought; I could help make this a better place, not by much, but just enough so that the civilians could rest easy knowing they’re looked out for. No matter if I get beaten down again and again, I’ll always get back up because if I don’t, then who will if not me? And you loved him for that and loved even more when he first brought Dick home, followed shortly by Jason, Tim and Damian with the inclusions of Stephenie, Cassandra and Duke respectively.

So nowadays whenever you wanted Bruce to rest, you’d call upon the help of the kids -now grown ass adults with lives of their own- and Alfred to help you drag Bruce away from the screens of the bat-computer.

‘You could’ve just asked nicely.’ Bruce said as he walked with the likes of you, Tim, Dick, Jason and Barbra out of the bat cave after successfully getting Bruce to join you and the remainder of the family- whom were waiting for you all in the dinner room- for dinner that Alfred made.

‘We did, multiple times.’ Jason replied.

‘Well if you consider pulling back his chair from under him asking then yes, yes we did.’ Tim then said as Dick butted himself in the conversation. ‘I mean, it did work in our favour in getting the old man out of the bat cave.’ Murmurs of agreement followed as you leaned against Bruce, staring at your gaggle of kids with nostalgia, chuckling.

‘What’re you laughing to yourself about?’ Bruce asks and you shrug.

‘Nothing, it’s just nice to see that your soft spot for them hasn’t changed after all this time.’ You replied, holding onto his arm as he pressed a small kiss to your head and hums in agreement.

‘They happen to take after you, and you’re hard to say no to in any capacity.’ Bruce answers and you couldn’t help but squint your eyes at him. ‘Liar.’ You tell him with a grin. ‘You just don’t want to admit that I’m right.’

Bruce chuckles and kisses your cheek. ‘Okay, maybe you’re right about one thing.’ He concedes and allows you to drag him down the hallway, happy to be able to see his family all in one place.

Jason who might as well make his apartment a makeshift animal shelter because of how many strays he brings in from off of the street and dangerous living situations.

The pattern in this being that the strays he brings in were dogs that were heavily stereotyped as dangerous and aggressive, hurt, or missing a limb in some capacity. So there would be days where you’d come home to find Jason bathing an XL bully and a Pit bull, whom had some scarring left from when they were used as an illegal fighting dog, and you wouldn’t even bat an eye as you discarded your coat and went to help Jason in drying them off.

‘Where’d you find this one then Jason?’ You asked as you ran a hand through the Pit bulls short fur as it fell asleep on his lap while the XL bully fell asleep in yours.

‘In an alleyway where I was just about finishing up my patrol, tucked away in a darkened corner in a rotting cardboard box where I could heard them whimpering as clear as day.’ He responded. You could hear the anger in his voice towards the mistreatment of the poor dogs and reached over to hold his hand, stroking the back of it with your thumb.

‘You saved them Jason. You’ve given them much more than what their previous owner did tenfold.’ You reassured him, letting him know that the good he’s done will stick with the dogs for a long, long time. ‘Are you planning to give them to Damian to look after before finding them a good home?’ You then asked, having dawn to terms a long time ago that you nor Jason would have the time to properly take care of them yourselves, no matter how much you wanted to but you knew in this instance you couldn’t be selfish.

‘I would but Damian already has his hands full with the Doberman and Staffy we found last time,’ Jason sifted in his seat to look at you, ‘apparently Titus, Alfred and Ace have grown attached to them and refuse to the idea of them leaving. So Bruce is in the process of legally having the dogs be put under his care.’

You visibly perk up as you cuddled the XL bully to your chest. ‘Does that mean?’ Jason couldn’t help but laugh at your inherent cuteness as he pecked your lips. ‘Yes, we get to shelter them a little while longer chipmunk.’ He murmurs against your lips and you couldn’t help but steal a kiss from his lips out of happiness.

‘Have I told you how much I love you lately?’ You asked.

Jason hums. ‘You have but once more couldn’t hurt now would it?’ He teases.

Not even a week later and you and Jason decided to keep Riley the XL bully and Roy the Pit bull and you both love them dearly.

652 notes · View notes

disillusioneddanny · 5 months

Text

Tim watched with an amused smile as Danny stomped around their apartment, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. He had made an agreement with Bruce and was now spending a week going on patrol with the Bats of Gotham and the halfa was not happy about it. In Tim’s opinion, though, Danny should have known better than to make an agreement with the Batman of all people.

It didn’t make it any less funny watching his boyfriend pout and mope about the fact that he was going to be coming out of retirement for a week.

“Do I absolutely have to do this?” Danny asked with a sigh as he flopped onto the couch that Tim was currently lying on, his head now pillowed in the vigilante’s lap as he stared up at him with the most adorable pout on his lips. It was taking everything in Tim’s power to not kiss those beautiful pink lips. How the hell did he get so lucky to have such a beautiful boyfriend?

“Yes,” Tim murmured, brushing his fingers through Danny’s hair. “You made an agreement and if you don’t, Bruce isn’t going to give you his blessing to marry me and you know, I kinda want that.”

Danny let out a loud groan, rubbing his hands against his face. “Why does his opinion have to matter so much?” he bemoaned, rubbing at his eyes.

Tim let out a hum. “I mean if we really want to get into it, it’s probably because I spent most of my adolescence trying to get the approval of Jack and Janet and then Batman and while I never got it with my biological parents, I eventually got it with my adoptive father. And now I just have an unhealthy desire to constantly have his approval,” he said with a cheeky smile.

Danny let out a huff. “I hate you,” he said. Tim smiled, leaned down and gave him a soft kiss

“You love me and you want to marry me,” Tim sang, combing his fingers through Danny’s hair lightly. “Now, are you going to go out as Phantom or do you want to go out as something else?”

Danny let out a huff of a sigh. “Phantom, I’m not subjecting myself to being a fucking bat or a bird,” he said with a grumble.

Tim just gave him a small grin. “If you say so, Boo,” he said before kissing Danny once more. “Have I mentioned how much I love you and how excited I am to go on patrols with you for a week?”

Danny let out a grunt and buried his face in Tim’s stomach as he continued to comb through the halfa’s hair. Danny had gone to Bruce to ask for his blessing in marrying Tim and Bruce had said he would only agree on the contingent that Danny had to prove that he could handle the life of being married to a vigilante. And not only that but Tim could rely on him if he was ever in trouble. Tim was pretty sure there was a comment or two about the vigilante being a trouble magnet and needing to be bailed out of situations. Tim was also pretty certain that Bruce was worried that Ra’s would find out about Tim getting married and get extremely pissed off. Which was… fair.

Danny would probably have to fight off the Demon’s head for Tim’s hand in marriage and if he spent a week on patrols in Gotham it would likely make Bruce feel a little better about siccing Danny to the wolves.

So far, Ra’s hadn’t done anything about the fact that Tim was in a relationship but he had a feeling that would change as soon as he learned about the marriage.

Eventually, the sun set, and the couple made their way down to the basement of the building where Tim shoved his boyfriend into the Nest.

“Alright, I’m almost ready so you know, change forms whenever,” Tim said as he pulled on one of his boots. Danny let out a huff and a bright ring of light wrapped around the halfa. Once Tim blinked the spots out of his vision, he smiled at the man in front of him.

Danny was beautiful when he was in his Phantom form. His white hair floated around his head in a beautiful halo, and his green eyes seemed to shine like the brightest of stars. He was magnificent and he was all Tim’s.

“I’m so excited,” Tim said, pulling his bot all the way on and tying the laces. Danny just gave him a less-than-impressed look as he crossed his arms. He watched Tim as the vigilante made his way towards his bike before he clicked his tongue.

“Nope, not using that tonight, Timmers,” he said with a small smile. Tim scowled and turned to face the man.

“One, don’t call me that. Two, what do you mean not tonight? I always use my bike on patrols,” Tim said with a sigh, he rested one hand on his hip as he looked over his boyfriend. “You’re not trying to get out of this, are you?”

Danny just gave him a shit-eating grin. “Because we’re not going to drive or grapple to do your patrols, Birdie. We’re going to fly,” he said before waving his hand. Tim felt himself get shoved into Danny’s arms before the halfa turned them both intangible and flew straight out of the nest and building.

“Phantom!” He screeched, holding onto Danny’s middle for dear life as Danny soared through the skies. “You have to at least warn me before you do this! I keep telling you that, you asshole!”

Phantom just let out a soft chuckle and spun them around in the air, his arm wrapped solidly around Tim’s waist. “Sorry, sorry,” he said before he pressed a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Now, where does your patrol route start?” he asked.

Tim just heaved out a sigh before he pointed Danny in the right direction before he patched into the comms.

“Finally! We’ve got the wonder duo with us!” Nightwing cheered. “How’s the night looking for you two?”

“We literally just started,” Red Robin said with a laugh. “Phantom, what do you hear?”

Danny let out a hum. “Mugging three streets away,” he said before he started flying in that direction.

“This is amazing,” Tim swooned as Danny landed in front of the mugger and immediately hopped into action, leaving Tim to simply watch his boyfriend take the guy down with relative ease. “He’s so hot like this, B, I think I owe you one. I mean getting to see Phantom in action? Amazing. He just took down a guy three times his size with his fists. I mean he’s not even using his powers. Oh my Ancients, now he’s comforting the victim. How is he so perfect? I might have to force him out of retirement permanently.”

“What have you done?” Red Hood hissed through the comms. “We’re going to be stuck listening to the Replacement simp over Phantom for the rest of the night and it’s your fault B.”

“I am starting to realize that now,” Batman said with a forlorn sigh. “I highly doubt that they will do this all night.”

Tim just let out a happy sigh as Phantom came over and took his hand before they started to fly together once more. This was actually heaven on earth if Tim was going to be completely honest. He smiled over at his boyfriend and future husband as they soared through the skies, Danny using his powers to keep an ear out for any possible crimes or issues on their patrol route.

“You know, this is so much different from when I was a vigilante in Amity Park,” Danny said as they landed on the top of Wayne Enterprises and looked out over the city that Tim loved so dearly. “In Amity, I was scared constantly, I had ghosts that I thought were trying to destroy me, parents who were trying to catch me and experiment on me, and the people in the town pretty much hated me. Hell, there was a whole ass hero who was dedicated to hunting me down. I felt like a villain more often than a hero,” he said with a soft sigh as he looked out over the city. Tim squeezed his hand lightly as Danny gave him a small, haunted smile.

“It’s different here,” Tim said softly, asking a question but also stating a fact.

The halfa hummed in agreement. “It is,” he said, the green in his eyes shimmered and glistened, glowing in a way that eyes didn’t naturally do. “People have been thanking me when I save them. They aren’t scared of me, they don’t run away. It’s so different.”

“I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been for you, Phantom,” Tim said softly. “I’m sorry it was such a bad experience. I don’t fully understand but I do get it in a sense. There’s been times where it just feels like the most thankless job in the world.”

Danny nodded. “It does,” he murmured. “I don’t think I want to patrol every single night like you do. But I don’t think I’d mind helping out if things get bad. Like an Arkham breakout or if there’s a big mission that you all need my expertise,” he said, giving Tim a wry grin. “Maybe we can get an Arkham breakout during my week on patrols and I can really prove to Batman that I can handle myself. Or, maybe Ra’s can come and attack me or something and I can prove to him that way.”

Tim let out a laugh and wrapped his arm around Danny’s waist. “Please don’t jinx us,” he said, pressing a kiss to Danny’s cheek.

“I’ll try my best,” Danny said with a chuckle.

“Red Robin, Phantom, there’s some movement around one of the Joker’s old bases, I need you two to check it out for me. I don’t know if we’re gearing up towards another breakout and they’re preparing for their boss or what. But I’d like to be as ahead of it as possible.”

“On it Oracle!” Phantom said before he gave Tim one more deep, loving kiss before the two took off in the sky to go see what was going on.

————

Bruce Wayne stared down the man that his son, his baby boy had been dating for the last handful of years, his arms crossed tight over his chest.

“I did what you asked, Bruce!” Danny said petulantly as he stood across from him, his arms crossed over his chest in a mirror to Bruce’s. “I fought the Joker and I didn’t even kill him like Jason asked me to. I think I proved that I can hold my own against Tim’s enemies and I’ve been proving the last few years that I can take care of him. So, can I please marry your son?”

The World’s Greatest Detective gave him a steely look. To his right, Dick let out a soft chuckle.

“You do realize that Tim’s his favorite right?” Dick asked, shaking his head. “He’s not going to just let anyone marry his sweet little Timmy.”

“Hn,” Bruce said in response. He was not going to confirm or deny that Tim was in fact his favorite child. It would only start arguments between the rest of his children. Besides, Dick was correct in his assumptions. Tim was, indeed, Bruce’s favorite child. And he needed to be absolutely sure that Danny truly was worthy of his son’s hand in marriage.

Danny simply let out a groan. “What else do I have to do to prove myself!” He whined, stomping his foot in frustration. “Because I’ll fight Batman himself if it means I get to marry Tim.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Bruce said with a smug smirk.

“Bruce!” Tim exclaimed. “Will you please quit being mean to my boyfriend and just give him your blessing?”

Bruce made a face and looked between the two men before he let out a sigh. “I suppose. Danny, I give you my blessing, you can marry Tim.”

Danny’s shoulders drooped in relief. “Thank the ancients, I didn’t think Tim would appreciate me beating up his dad,” he said before he wrapped his arm around Tim’s shoulders and kissed the top of Tim’s head softly.

Tim just let out a soft laugh. “He’s right, B, he would eviscerate you,” he said with a snort.

Bruce simply scowled at the couple. “I’m going to the cave,” he grumbled before stomping away. He couldn’t believe this, his precious little boy was getting married. To a boy who could fly.

Because it was always the metas, every damn time.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dis writes #dis dreams #batman #danny fenton #dc x dp crossover

817 notes · View notes

angelcqre · 6 months

Text

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

The car accident least of all. His gaze is on you, intense and scathing, watching you as you struggle to not break down in tears. He knows you can’t afford the damage to your own car, much less his, and for a moment, he simply.. watches, lips twisted in wry amusement as he approaches you.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I didn’t see you, I’m so sorry I’m-;”

He cuts you off before you can blubber any further onto him, his voice soft and low and amused.

“Sweetheart, relax,” His lips quirk up, and it’s then that you realize that this is Bruce *fucking* Wayne, billionaire recluse who’s hand in philanthropy is beginning to show in the recovering ashes of the riddler’s attack on Gotham. “I’ll take care of it. Are you hurt?”

His hands are steady as they tilt your chin upwards, his eyes searching and intense and dark even now, but the smile that he offers you is comforting enough, thumb shifting to brush a stray tear off your cheek.

Your skin is soft.

It’s the first thing he notices - sure, it had looked soft enough from afar, but under his calloused fingertips, your hands are like silk, sheer heaven and for a moment, he considers keeping you, considers taking you home right here and now, but instead, he sets his gaze on the car behind you, already battered and the accident hasn’t helped. It was your fault, he knows this, and just as much, he knows you won’t be able to fix it.

“What’s your name?”

You babble out your name, trembling hands moving to cup his wrists, the stability that he exudes enough to be infectious, and when he hears it, it’s like music to his ears, his heart lurching in a sensation of simple

There you are.

“It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Bruce,”

You know. Of course you know, however reclusive he is, his face is plastered over the news constantly, especially now that he’s got his finger in the pie that is Gotham’s premier charities, bankrolled almost entirely by the Wayne foundation.

He decides, then and there, that you’ll do nicely as a pet project. Still wiping at your tears, he leans in, tall frame curling in to meet yours, shifting his expression to be as reassuring as possible. He’s not.. socially adept, not as much as he should be, but he knows this one, awkward as it is.

“I’ll get this taken care of. Don’t worry. Why don’t you get lunch with me in the meantime?,”

Already, he’s got Alfred sending tow trucks, scheduling mechanics, ordering parts. It’s not difficult for him to recognize the make of your car, the model, the year, and that’s sent off too, a flick of his wrist and a murmur into his earpiece.

You nod - of course you do, it’s not like you have any choice in the matter, and you’re whisked off to The Ocelot, corner table, assured that the ratty jeans and top he’s sure was ordered off of Amazon or SHEIN or whatever the fuck else are fine for the restaurant, love, you’re with him and it’s not like The Ocelot serves lunch anyways.

They do. Any reservations have been rescheduled, so it’s just you and him in there anyways, and it’s hardly like you’d know the difference either way.

So he sits, and he listens, watches the way your lips part to form each lovely syllable, growing more animated and less despondent when you realize that no, this isn’t a trick, that he really is going to take care of it and not sue you.

All in all, he really seems like a nice guy. Quiet, but he’s got a good sense of humor, and you like the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. At least, you tell him so, a little tipsy on the most expensive bottle of wine you’ve ever had the privilege to drink, full of food that he insisted on ordering for you if only to let you try the best things on the menu.

So when he offers to drop you off at your apartment, you enthusiastically agree to it, not realizing that he’s taking note of the building, the door number, the sound your lock makes as the key slots into the mechanism.

From then, you.. begin to date Billionaire Philanthropist Bruce Wayne. He’s perfectly nice, respectful and polite and honestly more than a little old fashioned, and maybe you like that, the way he insists on opening car doors for you, the way that he sends you clothing and jewelry and purses to bring along any time he invites you out.

Every invitation to a gala or charity ball is extended to you, if only for the opportunity to dress you up like a little doll, put you in expensive clothing and jewelry and coo at you, murmuring praise against the curve of your neck every time he ducks from the view of the cameras that always seem to follow him.

Nothing is too expensive for him, and though you do attempt to protest, he seems gleeful in his gifts to you, the urge to shower you with presents to endear himself to you only hampered by Alfred’s firm guidance on ‘proper courting’.

He.. rarely calls you by your name.

Always pet names, with him, always terms of endearment and suggestions of possession that you end up finding yourself flushing at, the nigh reverence in his tone enough to leave you leaning into him and pressing sweet, loving kisses to his cheek and jawline.

You’re untouched by the corruption that seems to seep into every crevice that Gotham’s foundations. Pure, in a way, so sweet and kind and good that he can’t help but want to protect you, finds himself going out of his way as the bat to ensure you get home safely from work.

Fuck, and maybe he breaks into your apartment once or twice, purely investigative, nothing perverse, he tells himself, inspecting a pair of panties that he really has no business touching. The sense of growing discomfort in his nether regions are enough of an excuse that he strips then and there, pumps his cock on your bed surrounded by the scent of you, imagining you on top of him, under him, gasping his name and begging to be filled and looking at him with dewy, glazed over, lust filled eyes.

He swears it’s not perverse.

Swears to *god* as he cums into another pair of panties, a pair he knows for sure he’s bought for you, and tucks them neatly back into your underwear drawer, shoving the first pair into a pouch in his belt.

Absolutely justifiable losses.

You’re so oblivious to it.

That’s what gets him more than anything else - how oblivious you are, how clueless you are to how many robberies he stops in their tracks, each interception before you’re targeted enough that you genuinely think that the city is getting safer, better.

You tell him about it over lunch, pointing at him with your fork, mouth half full of salad, and your manners are atrocious but he can’t help the way it makes him chuckle, dark eyes crinkling with warmth.

“I’m serious! I don’t - okay, look, vigilantes are bad, but like..,” A pause, for you to actually swallow, outrage flashing in your eyes as he delves into straight up laughter. “I don’t know! Maybe this guy - Batman, or whatever - maybe he’s doing something good for the city,”

He can only shrug in response - keeping his fantasies of you private and locked down.

And, really, the stalking keeping an eye on you comes in handy, inevitably, especially with how you tend to prefer walking home to anything actually sensical. He’d offered you a car to borrow while yours is being repaired, but you’d seemed hesitant with the expensive make, had smiled and said that your job wasn’t that far away, really, and it’s not as if you aren’t familiar with gotham - you’ve lived here for years, and you’ve been just fine.

It’s just a joyboy - nobody especially powerful, but his heart still wrenches all the same when he sees the gun aimed at your head, and he can’t stop himself from dropping on top of the aggressor, beating him to a bloody pulp and then some, his vision white with with rage and a level of possessiveness that he can’t quite comprehend.

All that’s running through his head is a pervasive sense of drive, a need to keep himself from losing anybody else, so when the man under him finally collapses, and he leans back to look at you, it takes a moment for his senses to settle back in, for the blood rushing through his ears to lower from the roar.

He realizes you’re speaking, babbling in the same way you did when he first met you, and the memory is enough to bring a wry twist of his lips, amusement flashing in those dark, masked eyes.

“And I was just walking - I’m sorry, are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Oh my god, are you bleeding?,”

There isn’t any fear in your eyes, but your eyes are glued to the gun in the perp’s hand, the smoke rising off of it, and he idly realizes that he must have fired it in the fall.

The bat rises, that twist of his lips compelling and familiar, and strides towards you, assessing you with a familiar sort of scrutiny.

You’re bleeding.

“Relax, I’ll take care of it. Are you hurt?”

He sees the recognition in your eyes the second it lights up and knows he’s made a mistake. Sure, you’re not as smart as he is, very few people are, but you’re not stupid, and that mistake causes his breath to catch in his throat as your lips part, a strangled sort of bark of laughter coming from you.

“That’s funny - you sounded just like my boyfriend just then. Isn’t that.. funny..?,”

You look like you’re about to bolt. The bat sees the tensing of your muscles and takes a step forward before you can, his hand stabbing out to grasp at your arm. He’s erred, he’s erred *bad*, and the little gasp of pain that you make is just another tally in the ever increasing lineup.

“Bruce?,”

And now you’ve gone and done it, and the fear you’re experiencing is genuine, the wobble in your voice and the suddenly glassy eyes evidence enough that there’s no going back from this.

The strike to the side of your throat is an instinctual one, the edge of his hand snapping out quick enough that you don’t even flinch, falling unconscious and right into his awaiting arms. It’s reverent, how he carries you, though he doubts you’ll ever notice with how hard you’re out.

That deep, deep sleep is a gift for Bruce. He hasn’t - he won’t - take you, but that refusal doesn’t extend to certain other courtesies. You’re ignorant of the way his hands slide up the skin of your torso, ignorant of the cold sensation of his fingertips against your warm body, ignorant of how he pulls off the worn tee first.

It’s reverence, the way his tongue laves over the hollow of your throat, the way each kiss is pressed onto the edge of your jaw, his eyes half lidded and his gaze glued to you. Careful, so careful - you’re delicate, after all - but still, his fingers press into your hips, savoring the plush yield of your curves.

Already, he’s fantasizing it, breeding you and filling you with heirs,

You wake up slowly, at first, and then all at once, unaware of your surroundings and clearly more than a little out of it. Bruce has deigned to leave you alone, for this part, and he watches you through one of the cameras he’s embedded in the room you’re in, studies the way your eyes seem glued shut, the way you almost turn over and fall back asleep.

And then you realize that you’re not in your own bed, and you’re a bit more dedicate to getting up.

It’s a lot more luxurious than you’re used to, and it’s also definitely *not* your bedroom. The sheets aren’t yours, don’t smell familiar, the walls and the curtains are a different color, and the room in and of itself is too damn big - you could probably fit your entire apartment in the square footage, to say nothing of the en-suite that you’re already peering at.

No, focus.

You strip off the comforters, realizing with horror that you’re not even wearing your own clothing, some designer loungewear and nothing underneath. You fight the urge to scream, running your hand through your hair, and stride towards the closed door, heavy oak and thick.

Locked. Doesn’t budge no matter how you wiggle it, not even under the entirety of your weight. No matter what you do, pounding, shouting, slamming, it doesn’t open. You even try running at it, like they do on TV, and that mostly just gives you a sore shoulder and knocks the wind out of you.

So… you investigate the room. Maybe you should’ve done that first, but the panic rushing through your veins has subsided, led to a sort of clarity that has you checking the windows, realizing they’re reinforced - definitely not glass, you realize after you’ve attempted to shatter it. Not like it’d matter, there’s wrought iron bars over each of them, way too thinly placed for you to even think of slipping out.

The room is.. nice, even if there’s a genuine discomfort in being locked in them. Plush carpet under your bare feet, a television, an en-suite bathroom.. you can almost imagine that you’re in some swanky hotel with Bruce, almost fool yourself into the perception that you’re definitely not on the verge of, like, death or disembowelment or whatever the plans for you are. There’s even a bookshelf, stacked high with classics and.. quite a few raunchy romance novels, all almost thirty years old and scrawled with the name ‘Martha’.

You end up settling on a book of old myths, curling up in the bed, and by the time that you’ve read a good couple, you’ve suitably calmed down, and that’s when he makes his entrance.

“Sweetheart,”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice isn’t quite comforting enough that you don’t throw the book in your hand at his head, and when he catches it, you wince, shrinking back into the pile of pillows as he carefully, carefully moves towards you.

“Bruce? I don’t - where *am* I? What’s going on?,”

He hushes you, draws you into those deceptively strong arms and holds you, pressing his lips to the top of your head, and instinctively, you relax into his grasp, muscle memory powerful enough to override the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears. You huff, and lean into him, soothed for a moment. He speaks, then, always so patient, so tender, his hand reaching up to pet at your hair.

“It was always a risk, letting you run around gotham like I did, but I thought I could protect you.”

You stiffen.

He continues to pet you, his voice soft against the crown of your head, low and worn in the way it always is.

“This city is corrupt, sweetheart, and I need to know you’ll be safe,”

You try to draw back, but the cage of his arms is steel, and he holds you close to him, chest to chest, his hands cold.

“So I’ll keep you here. With me.”

#Bruce Wayne x reader #yandere bruce Wayne #yandere Batman #yandere Batman x reader

630 notes · View notes

thesuperiorrobin · 1 year

Text

“He lost his virginity?!?”

❥pairing: Damian Wayne x fem!Reader

❥word count: 695

Summery: the batfamily notice Damian acting off these past couple of months and come up with weird ideas as to why

Warning: mentions of the loss of virginity. Slightly cursing’

No one really paid much attention to Damian at first. It was normal every night. Everyone would hang out in the batcave, Bruce by the computer doing nightly Batman work and the others either sparring in the middle or doing their own separate thing. Damian would come late as usual. He normally takes on the “night shift” as one would call it—glancing at the city's dangerous streets before he switches off with Jason. It was the same.

Jason and Dick were sparring while Tim watched, having been beaten by Jason early—Dick challenged him. Both men Holden had a fight and both of them paid no mind when Damian came back from his patrol. Until he walked right past them and Jason got a whiff of his scent. It was his body Odor no, it didn’t smell bad at all. It actually smells like perfume. Not cologne because there’s a distinct difference between the two.

Damian Wayne smelt like Ariana Grande god is a woman's perfume.

Now how Jason knew that was a mystery. But now he was taken aback by the smell; it left an opening for Dick to land a blow. And he did. A very hard one at that which nicked the air out of Jason and he fell to the ground.

“Ha!” Dick laughed out in victory “got your ass!”

Jason mumbles something under his breath as he rubs the pain away from his side harshly. Tim’s chuckles could be heard from afar and Jason glared at him. Dick out stretches his arm and hand. A gesture that helps Jason off the ground and onto his feet.

“Somethings off about the demon spawn” Jason groans out as he bends back and a slight crack can be heard from behind.

“Little D? I haven’t seen anything strange coming from him”

Jason rolls his eyes “yeah because you’re too busy ogoaling kory to notice that the spawn of satan smells like Ariana grande's God is a women perfume”

“I-“

“How do you know what Ariana’s perfume smells like Jason?” Tim asked. An amused grin plays on his lips as he stares at the older man.

“Barbra uses it a lot”

“Mhm sure”

“It’s true!” Jason yells “to be honest I’m more of a Lady Gaga fan. Ariana’s alright I guess”

Dick lets out a dramatic gasp, catching the other two men’s attention. “What if he has a girlfriend?!”

“Doubt it. Have you personally met him? That boy need to fix his attitude before he can get with a girl”

“Good point”

“Don’t be rude you two”

That’s when they decided they were going to break their boundaries. Only by a little, not a lot. They all kept a close ear and eye on him. Every night they would watch him. A little creepy sure but they notice that something would be off about it. One day he came back from patrol with messy hair—it was more messy than usual. The next day came back with his mask slightly crooked. And then the day after that day he comes back smelling like women's perfume, his hair is messy and his mask is crooked. Not to mention his skin was glowing. Dick was the first to say something.

“ oh my god he’s turning into Bruce!” He was more dramatic than the other two were. “He lost his Virginity!”

“How do you know he lost it!?”

“That boy was glowing Todd! He was glowing!”

“Okay what if he’s been taking good care of his skin? I’ve noticed a lot less bumps on his face”Jason taps his cheek. Dick still believes Damian is turning out to be like Bruce. Which is honestly far from it considering the fact that Damian has mentioned a few times that he doesn’t want to be like his father at all. It was decided whether or not he should tell Bruce but it wasn’t any of his business and it would just seem like Dick was sticking his nose somewhere he shouldn’t have in the first place. Meanwhile Jason and Tim were beating money in the corner.

“I bet forty he does his skin care routine at barbas house”

____________________________________________

Jason Todd is a lady Gaga fan he told me that himself 😋

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #batfamily #batman x fem!reader #robin x reader #batfamily x reader #damian x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian scenarios

2K notes · View notes

nelkcats · 10 months

Text

Halves company

Danny had a big problem: since a couple of days ago he had discovered that he didn't look good in pictures. He wasn't a vampire so he was actually in them but his eyes always looked bright green, and the photos left an eerie feeling.

His friends didn't mind, and his family much less (they had gotten along much better after revealing the whole secret), the problem was that he was due to take a trip to Gotham soon and he just knew he would have some pictures taken.

A couple of years ago Danny had accepted Vlad's request to "start over" and together they had formed a research company that specialized in several fields, among them: the technological field, advanced engineering, space engineering, and different ecto-related projects, although the latter was not revealed to the public.

Few months later "Wayne Enterprises" seemed very interested in their inventions for everyday life so they wanted to negotiate some deal and dig into their technology. Danny was fine with that, he had created those things to make people's lives easier.

The problem came when Bruce Wayne invited them to a gala, he told them that the "founders" of the company were very elusive about their identity (neither Vlad nor Danny liked cameras much in those days) and joked that it was a shell company for some illegal activities and it was better to check, Danny was not amused about it.

He accepted Bruce's invitation knowing full well that Vlad couldn't meet the challenge (or be polite about it), but once he got to the gala he saw all the reporters and knew he was screwed.

Would it be better to be unsettling or not appear in the photos at all?, he supposed it would be best to avoid all the cameras and say hello to Bruce or Lucius, talk a bit and then leave.

It was supposed to be easy: walk in, say hello, walk out; Of course, his plans had never been perfect, so before he knew it he was seeing the Wayne "kids", and a reporter from the Daily Planet looking extremely nervous.

#dpxdc #immortal danny #Vlad and Danny have a truce #they formed a company together #Danny had brains #Vlad had money #and both had experience #Danny had no problem with photos before #but the cameras were updated to pick up more spectrums of light and that screwed it up #Danny found out because his mom bought a new camera #and she wanted a family photo #after that he just started avoiding the cameras #Vlad avoids them out of habit #dp x dc #dc x dp #Bruce is interested in the company's technology and how advanced it seems #but don't trust them #he has suspicions that it is a shell company #or something worse like the birth of a second Lex Corp #Vlad masters doesn't have the best track record after all #and no one has seen the co-owner of the company #maybe he doesn't exist #that's why he invited them to the gala #Clark was instantly uncomfortable when Bruce's new “business partner” showed up #It was disturbing

641 notes · View notes

k2ntoss · 4 months

Text

YO QUISIERA - JASON TODD

tw ⭒ jason todd x fem!reader, john constantine's sidekick!reader, swearing, jealousy and that's it, this is mostly fluff with best friend jason based on guess what??? ANOTHER SONG, yo quisiera by reik

a/n ⭒ do you have an idea of how of a sucker i am for jay????? this is just, i need this please show some love. reblogs and comments are appreciated and each one gets you a kiss on your forehead and a warm hug and yeah, i mentioned mbv because it has jensen ackles and he's my man <3

have you ever heard about not being able to decide who you love? well, jason has heard enough of that bullshit and he was sick of it.

it all started the day bruce brought back with him the man that the bat-kids could consider their weird uncle, john constantine and he showed up with a girl that was about jason's age. she walked swaying her hips a little too much and wore a smirk on her lips that made him a mix between upset and fascinated, there was also that white button-up shirt with the black trousers which made her look like a mini-me of the obnoxious sorcerer if only she wore also a trenchcoat and a red tie.

his first claim, after your first meeting, was that he didn't liked you "she speaks like she has all the right in the world" he said, voice gruffy and body a little too tense when dick asked him what he thought about you "she thinks she's funny but she's fucking annoying" and that makes dick chuckle.

"i think she's funny and smart, maybe you should try and spend some more time with y/n" dick tells him with a shrug before he leaves jason with his thoughts. there was no way on earth he'll get along with you.

but thruth be told, you were a little more giddy and nice that anyone could ever say constantine was and that made jason a bit less avoidant when it came to the times you were around the batcave and let's say that he just happened to get used to you, that's how he finds a new friend that he never thought would really understand him but he was mistaken.

since all of this it's been two years, it took jason a while to open himself up to you while you were maybe a bit of an oversharer but jason enjoys listening to your rambles, it's been so easy for him to accept you into his space in a way that's been noticeable to everyone around, not that they say anything because there are things that need to happen.

but what makes everyone tease him when they notice is how he seems to turn into a giddy kid whenever you're close, there's always a nice aura around you both but there are times he would be walking behind you like an overexcited puppy, following you from a corner to another because he needs to know what you need even if it's just a hug.

for dick that's just so funny, because he does remembers how annoying jason said you were and now he barely accepts going on patrol with anyone but you as his partner "thought you said y/n was annoying, you spend too much time with her for someone who you can't stand" he starts as soon as he steps next to jason and it causes him to grunt.

"she's annoying but she's my friend" jason says, shrugging it off before walking away to start his shift with dick as his partner "and what if i spend too much time with her? that's what friends do" the way he gets all defensive amuses dick and makes him giggle.

"sure thing, birdie boy" the nickname earns him a death stare from jason because that's just one of the ways you call him and if jason has to be honest he loves it but only when it comes from you "friends are running behind their friends like a lost puppy and looking at their friend like they hung the moon and the stars on the night sky"

"shut your mouth, grayson, she's my friend"

and yes, you're best friends but that doesn't mean he's not dealing with a big crush on you and he tries hard to hide it. maybe it works with you because you've never been wise enough with those things but there are things you can't hide from a family of damn detectives and the way he looked at you, how he spoke about you and the big amount of time he spent with you, yeah even bruce was aware.

jason had to deal with their knowing looks, the not so subtle glances they gave him as soon as you stood next to him because he was afraid that you could notice and that his feelings could ruin your friendship. it was sad having you so close yet not being able to do anything about it, he could hold his love if it meant you would be by his side even if he would have to see you around anyone else.

he wanted to be the one for you; he wanted to be reason of your nerves and smiles, he wanted to be the guy who would keep you awake until late just to talk a little bit more so then you could wake up feeling so eager to see him. jason wanted to be the guy you loved the most.

but instead he was your best friend, a shoulder to cry on and the first person you would always ask for advice before a date, which was the situation today. three days before valentine's day.

"and how am i supposed to know if he really likes me? i mean, he's nice but that can't be all" you start once you sit by his side, looking at jason with a small frown and your tone sounds so frustrated he sighs.

the question itself makes his breath catch because if he's not careful he could be giving himself away, letting you know how he feels about you and that is something he can't let happen.

"how am i supposed to know? i don't even know the guy" he replies with a low scoff, but truth be told he knows who the guy is and he also knows that he isn't worthy for you and it had been proven when he cancelled your date "but if he cancelled your date he might not be really interested"

"jay, i'm being serious! it's there something wrong with me?" you sink a little into the couch, arms crossed and a small pool of tears now forming on your eyes "why can't i have one single chance? why isn't there a single guy that really likes me?"

the only thing left for him on these situations is to lean in and drap one of his arms around your shoulder and he does, pulling you closer so you can cuddle yourself up into his side while he kisses the top of your head and bites his tongue so he holds back his words.

"life is pretty shitty, isn't it? i'm pretty sure the right person will show up eventually" he says softly, jason caresses your side while he coos you and there's a second when he swears he has a chance because you look up at him in a way that sends his stomach to do backflips.

he feels so damn jealous, you've been telling him about your dates and the guys that you hang out with and he wishes it was him instead. that he could be able to call you his, to kiss you and hold you, call you his girlfriend and have you all for him. he knows that's not even possible, he knows he can't indulge himself such a pleasure.

"i wish all guys were half as nice as you are, jaybirdie" your words are enough to make his face go as red as his helmet but he just pushes his feelings away again.

she's just being nice, you stupid asshole he tells himself as a dry chuckle leaves his chest mixed with an annoyed grunt "you don't want a guy like me, sweetheart, i'm sure as hell" he says in a whisper that you seem to ignore and he knows that it's better that way.

"now... i have no valentine's date so" he listens to your words and there's a voice on his head that tells him that this is his opportunity to get you a nice gift, to win you over but that's only possible on his dreams "would you be my valentine?" you asks, eyes still teary but there's a small smile on your lips and he wants to scream yes, he's about to answer when cass comes into the room.

funny enough to tell that cass is the only one of his sibblings that really knows from the source that jason is into you and they've both tried to find out if you have feelings for him and you do, cass knows and she has told him but he refuses to believe it. life isn't that good for him.

"ew, no" he says, his hand nudding your head lightly and he misses the quick glint of sadness on your eyes but cass doesn't and she coughs while giving jason a knowing look as soon as his eyes meet hers "why would i date my loser best friend for valentine's?"

rejection hurts and even when it felt like you were asking him as your second option thruth was that you've been scared enough to make any move. because this was special enough for you to want to be the one to actually court him, making him feel wanted and needed because he was important for you way beyond the friendship.

"yeah, no" you nod as you sit straight, clearing your throat to get rid of the knot that was starting to mess your voice up "it would be really lame, sorry. you must have plans already just for me to ruin them"

the sudden change on your attitude weirds jason out and it also scares him, did he messed up? yeah, he did he manages to think with the glare he receives from cass. sitting straight too, reaching her arm again to pull her back into his embrace.

"i hate valentine's, you know i have no plans at all" he says softly, trying to get you to look at him "but i can make an exception for you, what were you thinking for us to do?" jason asks, leaning in to kiss your temple.

"i was thinking we could watch a movie, you know..." you start, maybe a little less excited that he would wanted you to be and he nods with a small smile, his mind running with possible ideas until he remembers one of those movies with one of your favorite actors.

"my bloody valentine?" jason suggests, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his lips that made your heart jump. this was exactly the kind of things jason never gave himself credit for, he may not be perfect but even with every flaw he could possibly have he was there, trying to be better for those who deserved to be loved.

it was set, you left after a few minutes of discussion on what to bring to your valentine's movie night. as soon as you were gone cass came up to him and the way she stood right in front with her hands on her hips made him guess what she was about to say.

"i know i almost fucked up" jason starts, hands on his face as he grunts "but i just- how do you expect me to believe she really likes me?" he asks on the edge of losing it.

"jason, she's being so transparent about it" cass says, she sounds tired and maybe she is, this isn't the first time she's said this to her little brother "you're not the only one that's chasing after her all the time, she's also doing the same and you're just too hard headed to accept it"

those words play on his head on repeat until the time you're out of his room, hands holding a couple of bags with food and also a small gift you brought him. it doesn't matter how the night ends, you wanted to give him something special. jason opens the door of his room, a big and warm smile as he sees your face and his heartbeat grows faster.

he lets you into his dorm, letting you sit on his bed with your back leaned against the headboard and he drops to the matress, his head resting on your lap while you play the movie and everything is nice, you both laugh at the cranky 3D effects that are just so weird on a common screen, he teases you whenever tom hanniger appears on the screen and chuckles when you giggle.

he eats a little distracted, feeling so at ease when your fingers brush through his hair and he stops watching the movie to look up at you, all the happiness he felt being replaced by a wave of doubt, he wanted to accept the idea of you liking him back but his mind was always ready to mess it up.

jason isn't aware of the low grunt he lets out, sound that brings you to pause the movie to look down at him with a worried expression because you wouldn't want him to be wasting his time on something he didn't wanted to do. he feels your gaze on him, eyes fixed on his face and he turns to watch the screen.

"what's going on, red?" the nickname slips, it isn't so often you call him like that but right now it just seemed fair when his cheeks blush a little "is there something wrong?" and the soft voice you use makes jason want to cry.

if only you knew how bad he wanted to tell you, he was dying to let you know how much he wanted to kiss you and have you all for him.

"if i tell you something you promise me we will continue to be friends?" jason asks, it slipped and he wants to tell you to forget it but he knows it's too late when you tilt your head before nodding "i just... is it weird if i told you i wish i was the reason you wake up all giddy? is it bad if i told you i wanted to be the guy you cry over? that you really felt something else for me? i'm just dying to tell you so many things but i'm afraid you don't feel the same, i'm afraid to tell you i want you to be in love with me and lose you, that the only way to see you then is on my dreams"

with each word he says your cheeks burn a little more, your heart is about to burst when he stops speaking. jason is looking at you, waiting for a response and he grows anxious when you don't speak right away, he shifts about to stand up when you stop him.

"who says you're not already the guy i've cried for?" your voice is soft and he can't bring himself to believe his ears "i mean... i can believe you don't think about it but how couldn't i? when i told you i wished any other guy was like you i meant it... i thought you didn't felt anything else for me"

you want to keep talking, keep on telling him everything you've felt for him but your words are hushed by his lips on your.

jason is kissing your lips, his touch so tender on your face while his hands cup your face like you could break or vanish at any second. the movie was still paused and who could care about a hot masked killer when jason was reciprocating your feelings?

"do you mean it?" his voice is low, almost a whisper as he speaks after breaking the kiss without putting much distance between your faces, lips still brushing as he looks into your eyes.

"i mean it, red" and your words, mixed with that cute giggle of yours made his heart melt "i like you. i love you" you whisper with your eyes closed and jason feels like he's in heaven.

"i love you too, sweetheart"

202 notes · View notes

creative-caramel-coffee · 1 year

Text

Wheezy Winters

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: you had always kept your asthma a secret… until you couldn’t.

TW: asthma, fainting, hospitals (at the compound), swear word (just the one)

A/N This is so true for me. I know I shouldn’t be but I’m low key so embarrassed to use my puffer in-front of other people, even if I need it.

You’d had asthma long before you had joined the avengers. But when they had you fill out the medical forms you left out your condition in fear of placing your job in jeopardy. Who knows what they would have done. Less missions maybe? Less training? Less work? No. You loved your job. Over the first few months you found yourself under the two resident red heads wings. Slowly the three of you painstakingly became girlfriends. Joining the red headed relationship. They were sometimes overbearing but that was ok and justified by their traumatic pasts. All was going well until one winter morning.

You woke late. The clock read fifteen minutes until 6. Steve’s morning jogs were the bane of your existence and in your haste to be ready you forgot to take your preventer. The little purple puffer was a must in the winter. With the cold air and exercise being your main triggers, you had to take it each morning of the cold months. However in case needed you always carried around the blue puffer, to be taken if you had an attack. Shouldering your mini backpack you kept with you always, much to the amusement of the team, you ran down to the compound foyer.

The team grinned at the sight of the small bag. Clint and your girls often teasing you for your attachment to the bag. But pride and shyness kept you from telling them the real reason you kept the small black pouch on you always. Tony smiled at the sight.

“Got your bag of secrets?” He asked, poking fun. You smiled along not taking it to heart, they didn’t know.

“Come on love, you can leave it with Bruce if it makes you feel better.” Natasha smiled, kissing your knuckles lightly. You blushed slightly, embarrassed by the attention.

“Uh, no. It’s fine. Let’s just go.” You choked out, not missing Wanda’s raised eyebrow.

“Alright.” Nat sighed, pulling you out into the cold. Starting off slow, you broke into a jog, falling slightly behind the team a bit, matching pace with tony. You cringed at the slight jiggling sounds coming from your backpack. Not missing Tony’s feral grin. He made some snide remark, which you ignored. Focused more on the slight tightness in your chest as you realised you forgot the most impact the part of getting ready. You quickened you pace, wanting to be near Wanda in case of an attack. Your girls always made you feel safe. Nat was too far away to catch up to. Realising your mistake when your chest began to tighten more. Wanda noticed the discomfort, slowing to run beside you. You sent her an appreciative grimace and huffed a small ‘thank you’.

“It’s alright darling… are you feeling ok? You look a little puffed?” Wanda’s worry was justified, normally you ran circles around her without so much as a strained breath. But your chest was too tight to respond. Your breathes becoming shorter and shorter. Wanda slowed again. Dizziness overtook you as you sat down heavily.

“Baby? Are you ok?” She crouched beside you as you laid on the cool concrete. Her brow furrowed at your lack of response. Your arms reaching for something you couldn’t find.

“What do you need?” Wanda asked again.

“Wands? What’s going on?” Nat asked, having come back to see whats was happening.

“Im not sure, but Y/n/n’s breathing doesn’t sound too good.” Nat placed an ear to your chest, frowning at the raspy short breathes.

“Sweetheart, whats happening? use your words baby.” Wanda cooed, stroking your knuckles with her thumb.

“Need… backpack… front… pocket.” You wheezed between short breathes. Your lungs felt like they were being popped.

Nat grabbed the bag you had dropped. Neither of them had seen what was inside before. Pulling out the small blue device Nat frowned. Wanda quickly snatched it off her.

“Y/n/n I need you to open your mouth.” Wands said softly. Your vision began to blur as you lost consciousness. Opening your mouth before passing out.

“Shit.” Wanda swore. “Nat hold her mouth open and support her head.” Wanda shook the puffer a few times before removing the cap as Nat pulled your head into her lap.

Carefully Wanda tilted the puffer up slightly, angling it down your throat as she gave two puffs into your mouth.

“Now shut her mouth and pinch her nose.” Wanda instructed

“Why?” Nat asked not moving.

“Just do it.” Wanda responded. Nat moved and did as she was asked. “We need the medicine to stay in her lungs for a bit for it to work properly” she explained.

Wanda counted to five before telling Nat to let go. Repeating the process, she administered another two puffs before placing her ear to your chest again. Satisfied with the less raspy breathes you drew.

Wanda nodded to Nat, who scooped you into her arms and the two lightly jogged back to the compound.

When the made it to the lab, they placed you on the bed. Explaining to Bruce what happened, he placed you on a low flow of oxygen through a mask.

Coming out of the blackness was hazy. You felt a warm hand brushing the hair from your face, stroking it backwards softly. Eyes flickering, you drew both girls attention.

“Oh sweetheart.” Wanda cooed at the sight of your teary eyes. “Its ok. We understand.” She read you loud thoughts of your fears. “Honey, do you know how I knew what to do?”

You slowly shook you head, peeling back the mask to respond. “No.” You rasped. Nat’s hand placed over yours as she guided the mask back to your face.

“Honey, Pietro had asthma. It did nothing to stop his place on the team. But we needed to know. We’re sorry you felt you couldn’t tell us.” She whispered, her lips grazing your knuckles again.

“Love, don’t worry about anything. I’ll be beating Clint and Tony’s asses if they give you anymore grief about the backpack. Im glad you carried it with you despite their teasing.” Nat smiled, placing a kiss on your cheek.

After a few hours of rest. Life returned to normal. The only difference, now your two girls both check each morning to make sure you had taken your puffer, before they let you out of their sight. It warmed your heart in the cold months to know they cared.

|| PART 2 ||

Master list

786 notes · View notes

writershapeholeonthedoor · 5 months

Text

Take Care

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Everyone tries to warn Wanda what a bad idea it is to fall in love with the big, bad, scary spy.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language.

READ ON AO3 | MASTERLIST

When Wanda joined the Avengers she was sure she had just walked herself into some type of military team so strict and uptight that she was half expecting their fancy airplane to land in the middle of the desert surrounded by barbed wire and heavily armed men. They were, after all, the main ones responsible for keeping Earth safe from every type of villain that might come to them. Aliens, humans, and anything in between. Their team, formed by a literal God, a super soldier, a man who could turn himself into a green monster, a man whose big ego could barely fit inside his iron suit, and two humans - who, really, were probably better than all the other four combined - should live and breath for training, follow routines and focus on getting better and better every time.

Wanda realized pretty quickly that she had been wrong - very wrong - about her assumption.

Tony Stark was a kid stuck in a man’s body. He could barely keep a serious conversation with anyone and spent most of his time making jokes and provoking his colleagues. Bruce was one of the gentlest souls Wanda ever met - though, admittedly, she hadn’t met many of those during her lifetime - but he was a bit like an erudite and lived inside a lab. Thor assembled Wanda as that overly excited kid who got dropped at the amusement park with too much money. Steve was probably the only one among all of them who took this “hero” job as seriously as they should, though it was a bit wasted on him since he didn’t need to train to keep his shape and he was almost unmatchable. And Clint, well, Clint had so many dad jokes in his pockets that Wanda was as impressed by it as she was by his archery skills.

Less than a month of living with them and Wanda already realized that the men who were the most powerful and skilled people on Earth were just like every other man - but with powers and skills no one else had.

It did wonderful things for her because, for once, she didn’t walk into a military base camp like she thought she was going to when Steve and Clint convinced her to tag along after Sokovia, but also because the grief after losing Pietro was very consuming and it was good to have people around her who made her laugh or roll her eyes. It was good to feel things other than sorrow. She got closer to Steve more than anyone else since he was the calmest of them - centered and sweet - but, after a rough start when Wanda could barely get out of bed, she managed to form a bond with the entire team.

The point is that Wanda was aware that those people sometimes acted like the teenagers she often saw on the sitcoms she used to watch with her family. That, of course, did not prepare her to find out that, above all of that, their team also seemed to be keen on keeping updates to their comrades' private lives. In other words, they were gossipmongers.

“So…” The first one to bring it up had been Thor, surprisingly so because the God of Thunder was spending less and less time around nowadays. “I noticed you have a thing for the widow.”

Wanda was not at all surprised that the team picked up on the little signs that she might have taken a different liking to Natasha - of all people, really, and her heart had decided to beat a bit faster to the woman who could kill on two hundred and God knows how many different ways. There were spies on the team and most of them could, somehow, hear better than everyone else too. Also, they would never have gotten that far in battling the bad guys if they had been oblivious to things around them.

What did surprise her, however, was that someone decided to point it out. To her face. While they were trying to choose the movie for that night - Tony’s idea because he was insisting they should pretend to be some type of dysfunctional family who had movie nights or something like that.

With her eyes wide and heart beating fast inside her chest, Wanda glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone in the communal area where the largest TV known by man was. She could hear Tony and Clint bickering in the kitchen because they both had different ideas of what the night snack should be, and she knew Steve, Natasha and Sam must still be in the training room, so obviously Bruce was in his lab yet probably talking with Vision. Even so, Wanda didn’t look even a bit relaxed when she looked back at Thor.

“What?” She breathed out and then, because the nerves were eating her inside, she let out an awkward chuckle while shaking her head.

Wanda really thought the tall muscular man would let it go. He didn’t, of course. “No need to lie to me, shorty,” he said with a large smile that would’ve been charming if he wasn’t so damn daunting. Wanda also wanted to point out that everyone next to Thor would be short and that she was taller than most, but he didn’t give her a chance. “I can see the way you stare at her.”

Oh, God.

Wanda opened her mouth to try and come up with something to say but there was nothing her brain could use to get out of that situation. She wasn’t surprised people noticed but she was surprised Thor noticed. Because, if he did, so did everyone else. And, God, it was terrifying to have people knowing the things she felt.

She had a very complicated life until that point - and it still was, honestly - and Wanda learned when she was still a kid inside an orphanage that anything people knew about you could be used to hurt you. When Hydra started to make experiments on her, it became even more evident. Wanda proved it herself when she invaded the minds of the same people she now shared a roof with and used their worst memories and fears against them. And, after going through training with Natasha, Clint and Steve, Wanda could immediately panic thinking someone knew her deepest secrets.

Thor must have seen the panic on her face because his teasing smile turned more soft and he actually lowered his voice a bit - not that it would make such a difference since his timbre was so deep. “Hey, I’m not going to judge. Humans have so many rules and what they think is moral or not is based on things I can’t understand.”

It took Wanda a few seconds to understand what he was talking about. Thor thought she was afraid he would have a problem with Wanda having feelings for a woman when, in reality, she was scared that he knew she had feelings at all. If she wasn’t so tense, Wanda would’ve laughed.

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, though,” Thor kept talking and Wanda was amazed he had a plan on what he wanted to talk with her about. Thor was not the type of guy who planned those things. Still holding the remote in her hand, Wanda waited for him to continue. “Look, Natasha is… very brave.” He made it sound like that was the most important quality someone could have. “And scary.” Wanda raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I mean, she’s a good woman. Very beautiful too.”

Okay, he didn’t have a plan.

Wanda slowly nodded. “Sure,” she mumbled, unsure what else she could say.

“She’s also not the woman who do dating,” Thor finally declared, suddenly looking proud of himself. “If you want, I’m pretty sure she would be down to sex, but take care, okay?” Wanda felt her face heating up in a way it had never done before and her eyes glued to the TV in front of her with renewed interest. There was no way that conversation was real. “If you do the sex, don’t get attached,” he warned her gently. “You might end up getting hurt. So, maybe, the best idea is to not have sex. Unless you want to.”

Wanda thought she wanted to disappear, maybe be swallowed whole by a portal or something that would take her away. She had magic and she certainly could make it happen if she tried hard enough but Wanda felt so shell-shocked that she couldn’t move. “Thor…”

The God interrupted her, though, which was good because Wanda wasn’t sure what she could even say. “I just mean that having feelings for someone like Natasha can be very tricky. But, if you ever get your heart broken and need someone to talk to, just come to find me. Unless I’m in Asgard, of course.”

Thor then used one of his ridiculously big hands to pat her on the back, a friendly gesture, but Wanda almost got thrown out of the couch because of how strong the man was. Wanda grimaced and moved away a few inches so he couldn’t reach her again if he tried, and she was about to finally snap and tell him to mind his own business when Tony and Clint entered the space with several popcorn bowls.

“Where is everyone else?” Tony asked and, just like that, the conversation was over.

Wanda couldn’t say she had forgotten all about it after it happened because it was hard to forget that Thor, the God of Thunder, decided to give her love advice, but she was sure it would never happen again. Sadly, Wanda didn’t have superspeed like Pietro to run away if it ever did but she could think about a few other things to escape if she had to.

That said, she didn’t expect that conversation to happen with someone else instead on the very next day. And with Tony of all people.

He had called her inside his lab to help him make some tests on his suit - he was trying to make it strong enough to support Wanda’s magic - and then allowed Wanda to use one of the robotic arms to blow one of the training dummies. Wanda had laughed after that, feeling like a kid playing with things she wasn’t supposed to, before telling him she still preferred the red flow that came from her own hand and giving him the suit piece back.

“Yes, not all of us can shoot explosive balls from our palms,” Tony replied with a scoff while pulling away his things.

“No need to be so jealous,” Wanda taunted him. They walked a long way until Wanda felt comfortable enough around the man and it took a little more time to be able to joke around him, but Tony had a place inside her heart as well.

“Jealous, honey?” Tony teased her back, taking a look at her from over his glasses. “I invented a thing that is pretty much the same you can do.”

“Well, yes,” she conceded before turning one of her palms up and letting a small red ball form just above it. “But you have to carry that suit everywhere.”

Tony sighed and didn’t argue back, which made Wanda smile and put her hands back inside her back pockets. She was about to ask him if he needed help with anything else since she had planned on going out with Vision to show him the ducks by the lake when Tony started talking before her.

“So, you wanna do funny business at workspace, huh?” Wanda had no idea what he just said and just kept staring at him with a blank expression on her face. Upon hearing nothing from her, Tony looked up from where he was typing on the computer and rolled his eyes impatiently. “You know, knock boots.” Tony kept looking, Wanda kept staring, and it became clear she was still lost. He sighed and started waving a hand while he came up with other things to say. “Have some horizontal refreshment, get down and dirty, shake the sheets, practice the act of darkness, have some adult naptime, make an assault with a friendly weapon, do the Devil’s dance, feed the kitty, hit a home run, join amorous congress - Steve would like that one - go cave diving.” Wanda felt like the man had just thrown a bunch of words that had no meaning at her and expected the girl to form a sentence. Tony groaned and his head dropped for a moment before he looked up at her again and declared: “Sex, Maximoff. I’m talking about sex.”

Wanda’s eyes widened, her cheeks became as red as the magic that winded around her fingers, and she took a step back out of shock. Yes, that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with Tony Stark of all people. In fact, Wanda would rather stay still as he blasted her with his Iron Man suit instead of having that particular conversation.

Though, as usual, it could get much worse.

“Let me tell you this, you could have chosen someone better to want to do the fun thing,” Tony huffed and shook his head, although he looked quite impressed. “That’s some dangerous place you want to hide your hot dog at.” Wanda wondered if anyone had ever passed out for blushing too hard because she felt a second away from doing it. “Well, guess that’s not the best euphemism for you. Let me think for a second.”

“You don’t need to,” Wanda murmured mostly to herself since, obviously, Tony didn’t pay her any mind.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony called out and Wanda watched with her eyes still wide as the artificial intelligence came to life to wait for what its creator wanted. “Can you tell me some euphemisms for lesbian sex?”

“Of course, Mister Stark,” the robot replied and Wanda reacted before it could get completely out of hand.

“Okay, I’m out of here.” Wanda turned around to walk to the door, eager to escape and be anywhere other than there.

She still heard F.R.I.D.A.Y. declaring: “Play rock, paper, scissors with only the scissors.”

“Come down, kiddo,” Tony called out after her. “I’m just trying to help!” Wanda opened the door and took a step out, ready to flee - run if she had to. “Romanoff is a very dangerous place to try to get funny, especially if you are totally smitten by her.”

Wanda glared at him in surprise. She wondered if Thor said something or if Tony also couldn’t keep his own business - and she knew the answer to that. “Tony, please, don’t ever talk to me again,” she pleaded because, honestly, she would never recover from the conversation they just had.

Tony laughed, though, and gave her a playful wink. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone that you’re head over heels for our most dangerous, and hot, spy.”

“Bye, Tony.”

“Just saying that, if you want to love her with all your heart and soul, you should know Natasha is all about afternoon delights and nothing else.”

Wanda could only pray no one heard the man’s raised voice while she walked away. Thankfully, Tony didn’t follow her but Wanda didn’t go find Vision right away. She needed a few minutes to get over the fact that another person from their team decided to step out of their way to give Wanda a warning about Natasha Romanoff. Gosh, that was a bit humiliating.

However, Tony hadn’t been the first and wouldn’t be the last either, something that made Wanda want to go back to the rubbles of Sokovia. It felt like a better alternative than having her feelings rubbed into her face like they were public domain.

It was definitely better than having that conversation with Bruce Banner for sure.

“I guess I should give you my condolences,” Bruce said out of nowhere about a week after her weird conversation with Tony.

Half of the team was away on some type of mission, to which Wanda and Bruce hadn’t been needed, and both of them had ended up inside the man’s lab while he worked on something while Wanda read a book. She could’ve gone to the back of the Avengers’ compound where she could sit under a tree and enjoy the breeze, but Bruce was interested in some of the Hydra’s experiments and she decided to tag along with him in case he had any questions she could answer. Bruce and her weren’t that close, though they didn’t have problems with each other.

Wanda looked up from her book with a frown. “For what?” She asked. Pietro had died a while ago and Bruce had said he was sorry about it as soon as they landed after it happened, even going as far as giving her a gentle hug and a sad smile.

Bruce’s dark eyes glanced at her in sympathy, though he didn’t stop mixing whatever he was mixing inside a vial. “For falling in love with Natasha Romanoff,” he explained and, above all, he actually sounded sorry for her. “We should start a club for unrequited love or something.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose comically as her jaw dropped in surprise. She had seen inside both Natasha’s and Bruce’s heads and she knew that it had happened, however, they never spoke about it and, as far as Wanda knew, they both preferred to pretend it never happened. So, to have the man address the fact that he had feelings for Natasha at some point in time was a bit disturbing. Especially because, yes, Wanda knew about it too and, all people considered, she was the one who tried the hardest to pretend she didn’t.

It was none of her business, to start with, but to think about it made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

And now Bruce Banner wanted to talk with Wanda as if they had both been cursed by some terrible catastrophe.

Which, Wanda supposed, was understandable yet extremely unfair.

“Surprised I know?” Bruce asked with a hint of humor.

“I’m starting to think the entire world has been watching me,” Wanda groaned as she closed her book but her voice was too low for Bruce to hear it.

“I too once looked at Natasha as if we could have a future together, just like you do now,” Bruce kept talking and, despite the harsh words, he didn’t sound like a jerk while saying it. It was probably his gentle nature saving him. “And that’s the problem, you know? Natasha doesn’t think she deserves to have a future, so she won’t even try to build one,” Bruce sighed and looked back at the vial. “We have that in common. Neither of us thinks we can have what Tony found with Pepper, or build something like Clint has.”

Bruce was fine talking about Natasha but he wasn’t comfortable looking at Wanda while he spoke about himself. The girl felt some rush of anger inside her and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying all the things that ran inside her mind at that moment. She knew Bruce meant well in the end.

“Maybe you’re both too harsh on yourselves,” Wanda pointed out softly.

When Bruce looked at her, it was pretty clear he couldn’t disagree more with what she just said but, maybe to take the spotlight away from him, he nodded. “Perhaps,” he said with a shrug. “I just wanted to warn you. You’re still young and I’m sure one-sided love won’t take you down. Just take care of yourself, okay? Don’t dream too much, keep your feet on the ground.”

It was the most direct way of saying “don’t be in love with Natasha Romanoff” without actually saying it.

Wanda didn’t reply - mostly because that’s not how feelings work, after all - and Bruce dropped the subject right after that. Wanda waited a few more minutes out of respect before excusing herself from his lab, taking her book with her, and that had been it. She would do a lot of things to prevent herself from having that conversation with Bruce again because the last thing she wanted was to hear the man talk about a time when he and Natasha talked about running away together - even if it never happened or if neither of them actually meant it.

The rest of the team returned by the end of the night and Wanda found a seat as far away from Bruce as she could manage when Tony declared they should watch a movie together. Turns out that Wanda realized she would rather hear Tony Stark come up with a thousand different ways to address sex than talk about feelings with Bruce Banner. Who would’ve guessed?

After that, Wanda got a break from the entire “let’s talk about your feelings” thing. Wanda left to join a mission with Steve and Vision, then it was time for Steve to leave with Clint and Natasha for something else. It was some nice good two weeks of not having to talk about how bad she was at hiding her crushes but it didn’t last forever, obviously.

“Hey, Red,” Clint said as soon as he was done eating after returning from his mission. It all went well enough that no one had a bruise or a more serious wound but Clint still had enough adrenaline rushing through his veins that he assured everyone he didn’t want to take a rest like Natasha and Steve wanted to. “You and me, training room. You game?”

It was hard to understand Clint at first when she first met him. Wanda’s first language wasn’t English and it could be hard to keep up when he wasn’t saying all the words. She always thought he would get along with Pietro just fine because of that. As time went by, and the more Wanda had English and accent classes with Natasha, it became easier to follow along, though.

So, she simply nodded and followed him to the training room after changing into something more comfortable. Natasha and Steve had been the ones to give her hand-to-hand combat training when she first joined the team but Wanda now sparred with everyone else since she proved she wouldn’t get herself killed accidentally. Clint was already inside waiting for her and they soon got on the training mattress. Clint wasn’t as good as Natasha but he was still better than Wanda, even more so since she wasn’t allowed to use her powers inside the room, and she quickly started to get her ass kicked.

“You’re still not that good at the whole kicking butt thing,” Clint teased her as he reached out with a hand for her to take it.

She grabbed it and got up with a groan when her muscles protested. “I could throw you across the street with a flick of my finger,” Wanda argued.

Clint simply laughed. “Yeah, right. Come on, try again.”

By the seventh time Wanda landed on the matt, Clint was starting to get tired finally and didn’t try to get her to get up. Wanda lay there, sweaty and out of breath, arms open and staring at the ceiling while cursing herself for never being able to keep up with him. Clint was drinking some water, staring down at her with a smug grin, and Wanda was waiting for him to tease her about it too.

He went to another approach, though. “You know, I thought you would’ve learned more things about it since Natasha was the one teaching you. Thought you would want to impress her or something.”

Wanda groaned because, by now, she knew what was about to happen and she wasn’t thrilled by it. “Not you too,” she complained.

Clint’s smirk told her he had heard her but he didn’t ask any questions about it. “Lemme tell ya,” he paused and pointed at the girl laying on her back, “Natasha would not be impressed.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and grunted as she set down so she wouldn’t feel so damn vulnerable. “You shouldn’t gloat. It’s bad luck.”

The man laughed even harder at that. “Right. Keep that in mind if you ever manage to fulfill your wildest dream to get Natasha to pin you down in a more fun way.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Wanda replied and used one hand to prop herself up. She got to her feet and glared at him. “Do you still want to fight or can I go take a shower?”

“You wish you could share a shower with-”

“Bye, Clint,” Wanda interrupted him so abruptly that he just laughed while she walked away.

Wanda was out of the door before he could say anything else but she had just stepped into the hallway when she walked right against a wall. Well, not a wall, she noticed when she looked up after letting out a small squeak. Steve Rogers.

“Oh, hi, Steve,” she greeted him. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem,” Steve assured her with his sweet smile. “I also wasn’t looking. Are you done training?”

“Yes. Clint is trying to be funny.” Wanda rolled her eyes and heard his deep chuckle. “I thought you were resting.”

“I was but I’m kind of hungry now. Do you want to join me in the kitchen?”

“Yes. You and cap should have a tea party,” Clint said as he walked out of the room as well, not even trying to not hit her with his shoulder.

Wanda frowned and glared at him but the man simply laughed and walked away. Seriously, it was like sharing a house with a bunch of kids.

“I do make some pretty good tea,” Steve commented while giving her a little smile.

And Wanda was hooked.

She went down to the kitchen area with him, happily listening to him tell her about the mission and how it went. Wanda sat on one of the high stools, putting both of her elbows on the kitchen island and her hands clasped together while she watched Steve move around at ease to put some water on the kettle. He then walked to the fridge to find some leftovers he could warm up and Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the scene. A super soldier making some tea and eating old spaghetti.

“How were things while we were gone?” Steve asked after leaning back against the counter so he could eat and look at her at the same time.

“Normal,” Wanda replied, even though nothing had been very normal since the entire team decided to watch her every move because they thought it was so fun to see her little crush on Natasha. “Tony tried to make another movie night and was mad when Bruce fell asleep in the middle of what he called the best movie ever made.”

“Yes, sounds normal.” Steve rolled his eyes although the smile on his lips was fond. “Did you train with someone?”

Wanda shook her head. Ever since her training got less rigid - it happened after Natasha declared she was better in her combat skills enough to hold her own against their usual share of villains and after Steve was confident she could run without having a heart attack - Wanda didn’t go to the training room every day anymore. She liked to run in the mornings because it felt nice to clear her mind for the usual two miles she took and she enjoyed sparring sometimes just to learn some new move she might have missed before, but that was it. She relied a lot on her magic and Wanda was truly fine with it even if she knew Natasha would rather otherwise.

Steve too, though luckily he didn’t give her another long speech about the importance of training. “Well, I’m back now. We could train tomorrow morning.”

Wanda grimaced despite her best tries not to. “Sure,” she replied however because, well, she was a part of the team and people had to trust her. The man seemed amused by that, at least. “Maybe we could do that pair thing again,” Wanda suggested mainly because it was more fun to be paired up with someone while both of you tried to take down the other duo.

“I doubt Clint will be up before noon,” Steve said and finally put the now empty container down on the counter. The water was warm enough by now and he moved to grab two cups from the top cabinet - where Wanda could reach but where Natasha couldn’t, much to her disdain. “You want some too, yes?”

Wanda nodded in agreement. “We could ask Nat and Tony to join us, maybe.” Tony hated those sparring things but Wanda still wanted to make him suffer after making her painfully listen to him talk about sex.

Steve put one of the mugs in front of her, placed his palm on the marble and took a sip of his drink while looking at Wanda with amusement in his eyes. He waited until she drank some of it, watched her small grimace, and then chuckled when he pushed the sugar toward her. Wanda grabbed a cube and dropped it on the hot liquid before taking a spoon to swirl it.

“I once knew someone who put four sugar cubes in her tea,” Steve told her, grabbing her attention again.

Wanda’s eyes moved up when she noticed how much his voice had changed when he said that. Steve’s tone was something between longing and heartache, and his face showed something similar by the way his smile lost all strength. Wanda knew who he was thinking about. She had been inside his head once, she saw the woman’s face, and she felt his sorrow for the life that could have been.

It still took her breath away sometimes because Steve had loved that woman so dearly and then someone decided to transform him into a deadly weapon for the military and he lost it.

Since she didn’t know what to say - and because there was nothing she could come up with that would be truly helpful - Wanda reached out and placed her hand on top of his on the counter, squeezing his fingers tightly. Steve seemed surprised by it but he quickly offered her a small smile and squeezed her hand back.

“Love is a funny thing,” he whispered after a few seconds where he was probably debating with himself if he should keep talking or not. “It can give you the drive to be better, to do better, to fight more, to keep going. But it can also take away all of that,” Steve sighed, looked into her eyes, and tilted his head a little. “It can be a blessing and it can be a curse.”

“I know that,” Wanda replied carefully. “I thought I would never be able to smile again when I lost Pietro.” And there were still days where it was hard, where it was impossible to smile or eat or get out of bed or be reminded that she was still alive and her twin brother wasn’t. But there were days when she would be hit by the sudden wish to live for both of them, to try every milkshake and go to every beach and watch every movie. “I know they’re different situations, but I understand.”

“I know you do,” Steve smiled sadly. “You went through a lot already. More than most people would even be able to take.”

Wanda said nothing because she learned very soon that life wasn’t a competition of who had a more traumatic past, especially when she was part of a team where no one had an easy path to where they currently were. No one there had an easy life.

“Like I said,” Steve kept talking after he realized Wanda wasn’t going to say anything, “love can heal and it can hurt.”

“Steve,” Wanda smiled at him, “if you have something to say, just say it.”

He had the decency to look embarrassed and he averted his eyes for a moment, cheeks flushed and lips curled at the corners. “That was it,” Steve said eventually with a shrug. “That was all I had to say. Love can heal and it can hurt,” he repeated while taking the mug to his mouth again. “We need to be careful about it.”

After saying that, he took a sip of his tea and Wanda copied his movement just to keep herself busy for a while longer. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“It’s not my business, I know,” Steve admitted. “I just worry.”

“That I will break down and screw the team over if Natasha wants nothing to do with me and tells me to shove my feelings somewhere else?” Wanda asked without beating around the bush like Steve was. It was better when people were more direct about it, she decided.

The old man, though, grimaced and pursed his lips. “You’re spending too much time with Tony.”

“You should hear some of the things he said,” Wanda huffed but didn’t explain what she meant.

“I just worry, that’s all,” Steve said. “You went through a lot and… and some people might not be able to know how to deal with it.”

Wanda put her cup down. “That’s what every girl wants to hear, I suppose.”

His eyes went wide open after that. “No, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean like-”

“That’s okay, Steve,” she stopped him and slid out of her seat to go wash the mug on the sink.

“Let me.” Steve approached her to stop Wanda from reaching for the soap. He offered her a smile when she glanced up at him.

She could’ve argued if he hadn’t decided to join the large list of people trying to get their noses on her business. Instead, she let him take the sponge and the mug, thanked him for the tea, and left the kitchen. As she walked to the elevator, Wanda couldn’t help but wonder just how easily people could read her. It appeared like everyone living under the same roof as her could read her like an open book. It was very unsettling, to say the least. She wasn’t a spy like Clint or Natasha but Wanda was sure she should be better at keeping things inside if she wanted to join their hero thing club.

Wanda asked the artificial intelligence to take her to her floor and, seconds before, she was walking down the hallway on the floor she shared with Natasha. It was an entire floor just for them since they were the only women on the team but they barely ever used the small kitchen or the living room area. Wanda remembered being new to the team and seeing Natasha walking that corridor all sweaty after a training session, how her mouth felt dry and how her heart beat fast. She wondered if any of the people who had spoken with her before knew about that.

Tony and Clint would never let her live it down, Bruce might try to form some type of connection with her, Thor would probably give her a high five or something, and Steve would blush for days. How any of those men managed to be superheroes was beyond her.

Wanda sighed as she pushed the door open and then closed it behind her after she walked inside the room. She kicked off her shoes out of habit while debating with herself if she should jump into the shower already or rest for a couple of minutes, though that became an easy decision when her eyes landed on the bed. Wanda fluffed her pillow before her hand found a shoulder to gently push against.

She heard an unhappy groan that made her smile before the body on the bed turned around so Wanda was staring at the muscular back. There was a bruise and a small cut there, probably a memoir from the last mission, and she made a mental note to rub some healing ointment later. With another sigh, Wanda slipped under the covers, wrapping her arms around a slim waist and pressing her body against another one in a big spoon position she knew so well. Her nose immediately found the back of a neck between red locks and she took a deep breath in even if she knew there wouldn’t be any perfume to smell - people remember smells, she had been told once, and the goal is to go unnoticed.

“Where were you?”

Wanda smiled at the husky tone caused by drowsiness. “Your friends were either trying to kick my ass or to give me a shovel talk in reverse.” Tony had taught her what ‘shovel talk’ meant when he was telling a story once and Wanda was proud to finally be able to use it in a conversation. There were many American slang she was still learning about.

“Do I want to know?”

“Maybe later, after you had enough rest. You just came back,” Wanda said and then pressed her lips between shoulder blades.

That made Natasha sigh and grab Wanda’s hand that was resting on her stomach. The redhead pulled her closer, impossibly closer. “I’m awake now. Tell me about it.”

Wanda hesitated for a moment because she really wanted the other woman to be able to rest after returning from a mission but she also knew Natasha wouldn’t drop the subject. “Well, it appears that the entire team seems to think I have a crush on you.”

Natasha’s body shook with a chuckle against her. “Where on Earth did they take that idea from?” She joked while pushing herself back against Wanda’s body.

“I guess I’m an open book or something. Everyone has accused me of being in love with you or wanting to sleep with you.”

“They must be insane,” Natasha replied with a smile clear in her voice.

“They think I’m the insane one,” Wanda huffed a laugh and was about to tell the woman to go to sleep again when Natasha started to move. She removed her arm from around the redhead and patiently waited until Natasha turned around to face her, putting a space between them to be able to talk.

“How come?” Natasha wondered. “Please, don’t tell me these people think I’m literally a black widow or something.” She rolled her eyes at that because she could see it happening way too easily.

Wanda laughed. “No, but they do think you’re going to let me down gently. Or not so gently, I suppose. Bruce is pretty sure you’re going to break my heart in a million pieces, Steve thinks I’m too fragile to handle you, and Tony thinks it’s very likely that you would use me for sex and throw me in the gutter.”

Green eyes closed, which made Wanda pout a little because she loved staring at them. “Are any of them wrong?”

There it was. The self-doubting thing returning full force. They had talked about it many times before and Wanda never liked hearing Natasha put herself short. Bruce had made her a bit nauseous but he hadn’t lied about what Natasha thought of herself and her future. Wanda had only a few months to try to make Natasha see that she was allowed to be happy, that she deserved to be happy, that she shouldn’t punish herself for her past, but it was months against a lifetime of beliefs. Wanda knew she still had a long way before her words started making sense to the other woman.

“All of them, actually,” Wanda pointed out. “They didn’t even think you would ever spare me a look.”

“They’re stupid then. You’re a very nice thing to look at,” Natasha teased with a smile and cracked one eye open, which made Wanda chuckle and lean closer to kiss her nose, before she closed it again.

“We agree your friends lack some sense.”

“They’re your friends. For me, they’re coworkers.”

Wanda scoffed loudly at that. “No one believes that. You have a soft spot for them.”

Natasha sighed. “Just because they can’t figure out how to keep themselves alive without me having to save their asses all the fucking time.”

“Well, whatever is the reason,” Wanda said even if she knew Nat wasn’t serious, “they certainly aren’t my friends. They keep telling me to stop looking at you like you hung the stars or something like that. It didn’t make sense when Tony said it.”

“Maybe they tell you that because they’re your friends and because they care,” the redhead commented and opened her eyes again. “They don’t want to see you hurt. They care about you.”

Wanda didn’t have anything to say about that. She was a part of the team for a while now but it felt different to know those people cared for her, that they liked her, that they wanted her around. It was a strange feeling the whole ‘being wanted’ thing. Pietro used to be the only one to make her feel like that and it was hard to feel anything remotely like that ever since he was gone.

“They act like a gossip magazine,” Wanda said instead.

“They do, don’t they?” Natasha chuckled and silence fell around them for a few moments. Wanda was starting to feel sleep wanting to creep in and she knew she had to get up to take a shower before allowing herself to sleep but she felt so comfortable that it was impossible to move. She was about to ask Natasha to roll over again so they could sleep when the woman started talking. “And they think I don’t deserve you. That’s why they keep warning you to stay away.”

“No one warned me to stay away,” Wanda corrected her gently.

“They did and you should.” Natasha bit her bottom lip, looking too much like she was trying not to get emotional at that moment. “I’m broken. All sharp ends and hard edges. You’re soft, you can bruise and bleed.”

“Natasha, with all due respect, I spent the last few weeks hearing our friends try to say how I should or should not feel, sticking their noses in my business and basically saying I was too naive to make my own decisions.” Wanda paused to look deep into Natasha’s eyes. “I won’t hear it from you too. Not after I set there in silence and listened to them talk because they have no idea that you would be laying here in bed waiting for me to join you after you returned from a trip. We agreed not to tell them a thing, I get it, but you can’t agree with them in something like this. Not when you’re living this with me.”

Natasha’s green eyes filled with tears that never fell before she tilted her chin up to kiss Wanda’s forehead. Her lips lingered against her skin for a few seconds until they formed words. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Wanda whispered back.

“And I’m sorry we hadn’t told them yet,” the redhead added.

They talked about it before - about safety, about how it was better if no one else knew, about how keeping them under wraps was better so no bad guy could use it against them - and Wanda now had more arguments to validate that decision. It would be great to see their reactions to find out how wrong they had been but it was also good to know they could keep living their lives without having them trying to get a say about everything. They all meant well, she knew that, though it was hard to remember that sometimes.

“It’s for the best,” Wanda declared with a shrug.

“Suppose it is. I mean, they all think I’m one step away from breaking your heart.”

“They only think that because I’m too soft,” Wanda told her when she noticed the slight pain in the woman’s voice again. “It’s me, not you.”

“You need to stop talking with Tony,” Natasha scoffed before she started to turn around again, apparently tired of the conversation.

“You just wait until I tell them that you bring me flowers sometimes,” Wanda teased her as she wrapped her arm around Natasha’s waist one more time.

“Don’t you dare,” the spy argued fervently. “I have a reputation to keep.”

“And you’re doing a great job at that because everyone thinks you would use a flower to poke my eye or something.” Wanda chuckled at the thought. “Oh, they will never believe it when I tell them about you taking care of me after a nightmare.”

“I’m warning you, Maximoff.”

“And that you rub my feet every time you kick my ass at training.”

“I’m starting to feel like kicking your ass right now,” Natasha groaned.

Wanda just smiled. “How violent. Maybe they’re right and I should take care.”

“Yes, I’m dangerous.”

As she said that, Natasha hugged Wanda’s arm between her breasts to kiss the back of her hand and Wanda thought how lucky she was to be sharing a bed with the big, bad, scary spy.

131 notes · View notes