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cadavercowboy · 2 years

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Resolute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Everyone’s got a creepy, skeevy ex that they’d rather not see again. Not everyone has a beefy super-soldier at their disposal to protect them from that.

Word Count: 7.3k+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, sexual assault, & past trauma. Violence. Me trying to write fluff.

A/N: I would love to say that this was a piece I had put together and didn’t get around to posting, but as per usual...my monkey brain is late to the party and decided to come up with a New Year’s themed story 10 days after the fact.

You don’t know whose grand and gaudy house this is, but you hope to someday make even a fraction of their income if this is among the riches that come with it. Based on the sheer size of their home, this person must be a millionaire. Maybe even a billionaire. That’s something you could only ever dream of.

Not that you can really complain about the decent money you make working at Stark Industries, however. Being a data analyst is the closest you’ll ever come to being an Avenger; on account of the unfortunate lack of superpowers, inhuman strength, or otherwise useful physical assets.

But you’re smart. You’re really, really smart. You’re the driving force behind each and every mission, spending hours poring over notes and data and conducting the extensive research to provide the requisite intel for all the upcoming assignments. Taking part in a role that makes you an absolute necessity is enough of an asset to make you feel like part of the team.

Being involved in get-togethers and gatherings also helps as far as making you feel included. You’ve grown quite close with almost everyone on the team — some more than others, for sure — but Tony is easily your favorite. He’d texted you on relatively short notice early this evening, apologizing for his usual forgetfulness and inviting you to attend some haughty New Year’s Eve party with him. When he’d asked you to come as his date, a second message immediately followed to clarify that you would be doing so strictly as a friend.

The clarification had earned a chuckle from you; Tony is more like a father figure than anything else, and though you’ve given him the nickname of ‘Playboy’, you both know you’ll never cross that line. Of course you’re going to say yes to the invitation — you’re willing to do almost anything for Tony — but the added bonus that everyone else is attending as well really solidified the decision.

It’s only been a little over a week since you’ve seen the team, on account of the recent holiday, but you’re still excited to get together with them. Without much of a family of your own, they’ve been a more than welcoming substitute; a little band of misfits that have each carved out a special place in your heart. You’ve kept in contact with Steve, Natasha, and Bruce; exchanging brief messages to wish one another a Merry Christmas. Thor had received your well wishes, too, though he mostly keeps to himself so you never really expect him to answer your texts. And Bucky? Well, you’ve barely said more than a few words to that particular grumpy Avenger since joining forces with Stark Industries.

You direct the luxurious town car Tony had lent to you — after a long-winded argument where he insisted on simply sending a limo for you — in front of a ridiculously lavish mansion; standing out from the darkened sky with it’s warm glowing lights and minimal decoration. Careful to keep your knees together, you thank the valet who opens your door and takes your hand to assist you as you climb from the vehicle.

From the vast stone staircase comes Tony, striding determinedly in your direction to meet you in the driveway. Dressed in a spiffy designer suit, Tony looks spectacular; he normally does, though. But with his beard trimmed just so and his hair slicked back in a tight, black coif, you can’t help noticing just how regal the man appears tonight.

“There she is,” he drawls, arms spread wide in greeting. “You look incredible, my dear.”

You duck your head in mock embarrassment, waving Tony’s compliment away with a dismissive hand and a demure giggle. When he repeats the compliment even louder so that anyone within earshot can hear it, you can’t help relenting and striking a playfully seductive pose. Your reaction prompts a dramatic round of applause from Tony as he takes you in.

The dress draped over your body is glitzy and glamorous, something much different than your usual professional skirts and sedate dresses. It’s blood-red and slathered in a layer of shimmering sequins that catch the light with every movement. Your breasts are tastefully on display with the deep sweetheart neckline and the slit along the side shows off one shapely leg. The thin-strapped dress is clingy, offering the necessary support to give you the dreamiest silhouette. Paired with your favorite pair of black pumps, you look ready to walk a red carpet.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Playboy,” you remark, leaning in to accept Tony’s hug and his chaste kiss against your soft cheek.

“We make a pretty snazzy pair,” he announces proudly as he takes your arm in his. “Every man here tonight is gonna be so jealous.”

You can’t help laughing at Tony’s cocky observation. “Oh, stop it. They’re all already jealous of you.”

Tony chuckles at your joking tone, reaching across with his free hand to lightly tickle your side. You playfully swat at his chest, demanding that he behave himself as he helps you up the steps, escorting you to the front door. You pass several faces that you don’t recognize, though you still greet them each with a warm smile. As you make your way into the foyer, you can’t help but marvel at the interior of the beautiful home; astoundingly tall ceilings, pristinely waxed marble floors, grand decorations in shiny shades of silver and gold. If not for Tony’s steadfast hold on your arm, you may have tripped over your own feet taking it all in.

A suited man meets you near the entrance, sweeping his arm in a wide arc to lead you down a long hallway illuminated with decorative strings of lights. He walks the pair of you towards a set of double oak doors and swings them open to permit you entrance into an expansive room. A waiter approaches, silently offering fluted glasses from his silver tray. Music pumps from high-quality speakers, filling the room with a thrum low enough to still hold a conversation over. Voices mingle, adding to the din in the throng of party-goers.

The first person you spot is Natasha, her gorgeous red locks pinned effortlessly atop her head and her lithe body swaddled in a metallic gray gown that complements her skin tone perfectly. She catches sight of you as well, smiling sweetly with a wave and a tip of her champagne glass. You and Tony return the gesture in kind before Bruce comes over to get your attention.

“Hey, kid…you look great,” he comments with a warm smile. “You too, Tone.”

You slip gently from Tony’s hold then, knowing that once he and Bruce get started on their tech-centric science-y talk, it would take an atomic bomb to separate them. With a whispered word to Tony letting him know that you’re off to go mingle, you delve into the crowded room. After only a few sips of alcohol, you place your glass on an empty table. You’ll have a drink when the clock strikes midnight, otherwise you need to refrain if you have any hope of driving home safely.

You’re surprised when you find Thor seated in a plush armchair, engaged deeply in conversation with a beautiful brunette woman. It’s rare to see him at parties like this and even more rare to see him quite so dressed up. His black button-down fits him snugly on account of his bulging arms and chest, and you can’t help worrying that one wrong move may send the straining buttons flying across the room. Thor’s blue eyes meet yours and he nods in acknowledgment when you wave shyly at him.

As you make your way around the room, you realize you don’t recognize most of the guests here. You stop here and there, engaging in polite conversation with several men and women who you find standing alone. Eventually, your feet begin to protest the uncomfortable choice of footwear you’ve made and you move to the center of the room where you settle on a buttery leather couch.

Before long, a young woman joins you, sharing with you her misery of not knowing a single person here aside from her boyfriend who has already had far too much to drink. You commiserate for a moment and share a pleasant conversation until the sound of the heavy wooden doors catches your attention and you instinctively turn your head to see the guest who is entering.

You recognize the spiky and obviously dyed black hair immediately. Hawke Devins. A man whose pretentious name perfectly suits his horrendous, douchebag personality. He’s someone you’d had a brief fling with last year; a relationship spanning only a few months before it died its ferocious, fiery death. The very sight of him has bile rising in your throat and panic constricting your chest. Beside you, your young companion prattles on, though you can’t hear a word she says over the thunderous buzzing in your ears as you try not to have a full-blown anxiety attack.

Things with Hawke had started off nice enough, but very quickly it got weird. Boundaries had been crossed, your wishes flagrantly ignored as you were pressured into things far outside your comfort zone. To say the least, Hawke’s treatment had left you with enough physical and emotional damage to consider filing a restraining order. The only reason you haven't yet is because of who he is. A rich and powerful businessman; a trust fund baby whose daddy would bury you alive if you ever even considered coming forward about what transpired or dared to besmirch his son’s impeccable reputation. Plus, you know it’s hard enough for women to be believed and someone like Hawke would never allow his lucrative career to be ruined by allegations of sexual assault, especially not from someone as insignificant as you.

So you were forced to swallow the memories of your trauma, keeping them buried deep inside. You’d hoped to keep it all to yourself…something you’d take to the grave, but — ever the perceptive protector — Tony had caught on that something wasn’t quite right with you. After much prodding, he’d finally convinced you to entrust him with the truth. The misplaced shame you felt had kept you from confiding in anyone, but you have to admit how good it felt to get it off your chest after the months you spent letting it eat away at you.

Still, no matter how much he implored you to reveal your tormentor’s identity, you refused to give that up. You’d hold onto that information with a deathly grip if it meant saving Tony from doing something incredibly stupid with it, like finding the man or killing him. Tony’s reputation isn’t worth losing over some entitled billionaire asshole.

As Hawke glides further into the room, you become dizzy with fear. Your hands shake and your heart races. You don’t want him to recognize you or speak to you, so you excuse yourself from the conversation — one which you mentally checked out of minutes ago — and rise from the couch to circle the perimeter of the room. Making sure to keep your back turned towards him, you obscure yourself behind the larger groups in the room in order to stay out of Hawke’s line of sight. Eyes scan the crowded room for a place to hide that won’t bring anyone’s attention to your shaken state.

In the corner of the room is an ornately carved bar and you’re surprised to find Bucky stood behind it. You had no idea he would even be here tonight, let alone playing barkeep. His outfit is much more casual than the rest of the fancily-clad people in the room. He wears a white polo shirt, the collar just barely peeking over the sleek black blazer that hugs his wide shoulders. His hair is much shorter than it was when you last saw him; swept back and looking soft as ever.

When you spot a young man with a sour look on his face, dressed similarly to the other waiters in the room, you can guess that Bucky had relieved him of his duties for his own purposes. Knowing Barnes isn’t much of a social guy or a mingler, you figure that’s why he’s chosen to assign himself the job of bartender; mixing drinks and whipping up cocktails is an easier task than talking, you suppose. It’s interesting to you to learn Bucky even has the skills to do so, but you can’t really say you’re shocked; the reclusive man possesses a wide range of well-honed skills that most people wouldn’t expect.

“Keeping yourself busy back here, huh?” you say as a means of greeting, tucking your body behind the bar with Bucky.

“Uh…yeah, I guess,” he stutters, not expecting your presence or your words.

Bucky knows something is up. You rarely ever speak to him and it’s out of character for you to be doing anything other than avoiding him. He’s used to people being intimidated by him, on account of his dark, quiet demeanor and the sheer size of him, however it’s been obvious since the day you met that you don’t particularly like him. Admittedly, you’re not exactly his favorite person either. Not that he wants or expects to be friends with everyone, but you could stand to at least be more civil with him.

The tension in Bucky’s broad shoulders gives away his discomfort. He’s not shy by any means, just reserved and solitary, but his body language is conveying the apprehension he feels as you stand behind him. You watch as he pours drink after drink, the steel of his left hand rattling against the metal cocktail shaker. Desperately attempting to appear cool, calm, and collected, you hope it’s not obvious that you’re distracted by the man across the room.

Bucky makes no effort to converse with you, though that suits you just fine. You’re not here to make friends with him. You can’t deny your typical coldness towards him makes this interaction a bit awkward, but you’re aware of his imposing and threatening appearance so you’re here because — as much as you may not care for him — something about Bucky makes you feel safe. You know he can protect you should the need arise.

As you watch on in silence while he works, Bucky confirms to himself that you’re not here to socialize. He thought maybe you were drunk and the alcohol had loosened you up enough to be affable, but he knows you’re not intoxicated; he hasn’t seen you drink more than a few sips of champagne and he hasn’t made you a single drink tonight. Not that he’s paying attention or anything. Running his fingers through his recently cut hair, he leans against the back of the bar and waits for the next guest to order a drink.

When he spots movement from the corner of his eye, he looks your way as subtly as possible. He sees the nervous way you wring your hands and when he turns to look more directly at you, he notes how your eyes flick frantically around the room like a trapped animal. Now he’s fully on alert. You look so small and timid, something that’s extremely unusual for you. It seems like you’re about to burst into tears and that twists something unfamiliar in his chest. Remembering his instinct from earlier, Bucky realizes something isn’t just “up”, something is wrong.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he wonders softly, trying to keep his voice calm and casual so as to distract you from whatever has you so worked up.

The sound of Bucky’s voice spooks you and you unleash a tiny, frightened gasp as you turn towards him. He wonders why you’re so jumpy, but he fears if he outright asks, you will actually start crying. Instead, he offers a kind smile and waits patiently for your response, taking notice of the way your widened eyes repeatedly drift towards one specific party-goer.

“Oh, yeah sure. I’m fine. I mean, it’s good…yeah,” you stutter. “Sorry. I’m having a g-good time.”

His heart clenches at the panicky sound of your words. He wants to help you, to take away whatever is scaring you, but he fears bringing attention to it will only make things worse.

“How much you wanna bet Tony gets shit-faced and makes an ass of himself before midnight?” Bucky jokes.

The words feel strained and awkward, but he’s positive you don’t even notice. Bucky slowly scoots closer to you — playing it off as if he’s just readjusting his stance — hoping his proximity will calm you a bit. You don’t even notice the slight movement, your eyes busy sweeping rapidly through the room, looking for anything else to focus on.

Suddenly, you wish you had taken Tony up on his offer for a chauffeur. At least that way you could also be getting shit-faced instead of standing here, well on your way to shivering right out of your own shoes. But no, of course you had to be your stubborn self and turn him down. Now you’re having to intentionally not imbibe just so you can drive later. Perhaps you can find someone to give you a ride home, but at this point you don’t even care about getting drunk; you just want to leave. As much as you wish you could stay and welcome the new year with your friends and coworkers, if you remain in this room a moment longer, you’re liable to spiral straight into a meltdown.

When Hawke joins in on a raucous game of beer pong with Bruce and Steve, you decide it’s the perfect opportunity to make your escape. Except you can’t seem to get your body to cooperate. Your feet remain rooted to the spot and your quaking legs refuse to move. Unable to control yourself, you begin breathing heavily as panic takes over. Bucky spots your distress and gently touches your elbow, leaning in to get your attention.

“Hey,” he coos with worry.

You flinch at the contact and the warmth of his whispered words drifting over your neck. “I’m...uh, I’m pretty tired. I think I’m gonna head out,” you announce, trying to laugh off the alarm coursing through you and the moisture glistening in your eyes. “Happy New Year, Buck.”

“Yeah, you too,” he mutters as you brush past him, stumbling towards the exit.

Bucky feels the overwhelming urge to come along and make sure you’re safe, but he doesn’t want to be intrusive or overbearing. It’s not as if you’re unsafe here anyway, so he allows you to leave on your own, his cerulean eyes glued to your back as you slip away out of the room. If you needed help, you’d have asked, wouldn’t you? He doesn’t have much time to think about it when a pair of women sidle up to order a long list of beverages for their group of friends. His mind lingers on you as he prepares a line of cocktails.

When another swarm of guests approach the bar, Bucky is no longer paying attention to anything around him. But as he glances up to read the red lips of the drunken woman who requests her fourth martini of the evening, his eyes snap to the man you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of. He watches as the suspicious man excuses himself from the beer pong game he’s in the middle of and heads for the doors you left through only minutes ago.

His veins prickle with inexplicable hostility; he can’t determine the reason for your preoccupation or why this man rubs him the wrong way, all he knows is that he doesn’t care for him one bit. Every protective instinct he has kicks in. He’s on the move in an instant, ignoring the slurring woman who calls after him. Bucky’s long legs take swift and aggressive strides as he fights the crowd and struggles to keep eyes on the man who he suspects is following you.

The clicking of your heels echoes in the empty foyer as you head towards the front door, which is swung open by the suited man from earlier. You offer a forced smile, willing your legs not to give out in front of the unsuspecting man.

“Goodnight, miss,” he drawls.

“‘Night.”

You wrap your arms around yourself to fight the slight chill that has seeped into the late-night air. The sound of your steps is quieter out here, swallowed up by the openness of the broad landscape. As you approach the valet, he greets you and asks for your name in order to fetch your vehicle. You provide him that information, but request the keys and insist that you’ll find your own car. He tries to argue, though you push the matter and assure him that you could use the fresh air.

With your keys in hand, you focus on each step you take, counting every stride to fend off the wave of panic that still fights to take over. In your head, you keep reminding yourself to listen to the sounds of your clacking shoes, to pay attention to your breaths as you try to calm them. Reaching the fleet of sleek black vehicles and boldly painted sports cars, you begin searching for the one with the Stark Industries plate. Thankfully, you remember the plate number too, in case more than one car here belongs to Tony.

You locate your car after a few minutes and click the fob, relieved when the headlights blink twice and confirm that it’s yours. Before you can reach for the handle of the door, you hear footsteps approaching. Assuming it’s the valet coming to check on you or perhaps Tony wondering why you’ve left the party early, you turn around. All you’re met with is the sharp, pointed features of Hawke’s distressing face.

Inside, Bucky practically sprints down an empty hallway in search of the man who has escaped him. He finds no signs of him anywhere, not even in the bathroom or any of the other empty rooms he passes. As he skids to a halt at the front door, he inquires with the man there to see if the person he’s after has left the party. After receiving that confirmation, Bucky wrenches the door open and heads outside. He asks the valet the same question, his heart beating wildly with anger as he closes in on the mystery man’s location.

Jogging jauntily down the steps, Bucky spots two people amongst the sea of cars parked in the driveway. His gut tells him that it’s you and he picks up speed. The first thing he notices is the way the man has you cornered where you stand against the door of a vehicle — clearly upset and shaken; a hand wrapped around one of your small wrists. Something about the way he holds you — in a grip that is so obviously painful — tells Bucky it’s not the first time he’s put his hands on you. That fact alone has Bucky seeing red. He’s already far beyond displeased with whoever this man is, but the fact that he dares to touch you is too much for him to handle; at least not calmly.

Bucky doesn’t say a word or do much of anything to announce his arrival, he merely approaches stealthily and punches Hawke in the face with incredible force, sending him sprawling across the stone drive. You’re astonished by Bucky’s display of violence, though you feel no sympathy for the man who writhes on the ground; he deserves much worse. Regardless, you’re relieved that Bucky had used the less deadly of his fists to hit Hawke rather than the vibranium one which surely would have killed the man. A murder charge is a terrible way to end a year.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, holding his palms towards you in a non-threatening gesture.

“I-I don’t know, I think so,” you whisper tearfully.

Just then, Tony appears from nowhere. He looks from your crying face, to Bucky’s enraged one, and then down to the man groaning in pain on the ground. You sniffle as you choke back a sob and Bucky turns to Tony, not an ounce of guilt or remorse in his expression.

“What the hell is going on here?” Tony demands.

“I was taking care of this fucking creep,” Bucky barks with agitation dripping from his words. “I don’t know who he is or what he did, but he’s got her scared to death.”

Tony lifts his gentle eyes to yours when Bucky gestures in your direction. You see the question shining in his eyes before he even asks it, hoping he sees the answer in yours and doesn’t. With tears trickling down your cheeks, you shake your head so slightly he almost doesn’t see it. As ever, Tony is too observant and intelligent for his own good, though it works out in your favor this time. He easily puts the pieces together, seeing your reaction and remembering how you’d described the man who assaulted you; you’d assured Tony whoever it was would be far too indomitable for you to ever get the justice you deserve.

“Oh, honey,” he breathes, lifting a hand to offer some sort of comfort before letting it drop unsurely back to his side.

“Give me your keys,” Bucky demands. “I’m taking you home.”

The words are rough and demanding, but you’re too emotionally exhausted to argue with him. Tony walks you to the passenger’s side of the car, a soothing hand along your spine. He opens the door and lets you climb inside before bracing an arm against the frame of the vehicle to lean in and squeeze your hand reassuringly.

“We’ll talk soon,” he offers kindly with a soft smile.

Tony slams your door shut moments before Bucky climbs behind the steering wheel and closes his own. He fiddles with the seat, aggressively sliding it back to accommodate his long legs and massive body. The tires squeal as he races out of the driveway and onto the dimly lit street, your body shifting limply as he takes the turn with more speed than necessary.

The first few minutes are tense and uncomfortably hushed, but you don’t have the energy to hold a conversation anyway. As the adrenaline wears off and the emotions of the night set in, you begin to shiver where you sit. Tears fill your eyes, though you try your best to fight them off as you wrap your arms protectively around your stiff body. Bucky seems to notice and with only his knees controlling the wheel, he wrenches the jacket from his body and holds it out to you. With the tiniest little peep, you thank him and take the proffered coat. You wrap the garment around your own shoulders, basking in the warmth and the comforting scent of Bucky’s cologne.

“Who was that guy? Did he do something to you?”

The seething rage in his voice frightens you and you’re terrified to answer. You know Bucky is trying to help, but his anger is doing the opposite. Though it isn’t directed at you, you can’t help feeling like it’s your fault. The more you blame yourself for this whole thing and Bucky’s rage, the more you begin to work yourself up again. Bucky’s head whips around in your direction when you remain silent, but when he sees the fresh tears that stream down your cheeks, it soothes the beast seething inside of him.

“Did he hurt you?”

His words are calmer now, but the wrath behind them still remains. The small sob you emit answers Bucky’s question for you and he knows he doesn’t need to pry any further; he doesn’t need a single detail more. He would hate to make you uncomfortable and it’s obvious you don’t want to discuss the upsetting subject. A weary hand drags over his pinched features as he carefully considers his next words.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Bucky murmurs, his hands holding the steering wheel with crushing force.

Aside from the few softly-spoken directions you give, the rest of the ride home is completely silent. When Bucky pulls into your driveway you’re quick to exit the car and take a deep, cleansing inhale of the cool air outside. You steady yourself as he climbs out as well, meeting you at the fender to walk you to the door. It’s not necessary, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless. You reach your front door and you fumble with your keys; not because your hands are shaking, but because you’re stalling. Because you’re not sure how to proceed with the words that hover on your tongue.

“I can stay…if you want,” Bucky suggests.

You’re nervous to ask that of him, especially considering your somewhat rocky history of general unfriendliness, but you want to feel safe. You need to. And you know without a doubt that Bucky can and will provide. There’s no real threat to your safety as far as you know, however, the dredging up of your traumatic past has you feeling a bit cagey and on edge.

“You can stay,” you affirm before correcting yourself. “I mean…can you? Please.”

Not wanting Bucky to feel as though he’s intruding, you make sure he knows that you’re asking. You’re not just letting him stay, you want him to. So you ask that of him, requesting his presence and not even knowing that he’s never going to leave.

You toss and turn under your silky sheets, too wired to even think about falling asleep. Glancing at the little silver antique clock on your bedside table, you see that it’s just past 11:30. You suppose you may as well stay up, anyway; at least you can welcome the new year, not that you care much about it anymore. Your phone vibrates beside you and you squint to see Tony’s name across the screen.

Make it home safely?

Quickly you tap out a response, letting Tony know that you’re okay and thanking him for his concern. As a follow up, you send a second message letting him know that you’re aware you need to speak to him the next time you’re in the office. You don’t want him to think you’re avoiding him, especially since there’s no getting away from the man’s relentless concern over your well-being.

Between the jarring events of the night and the thought that Bucky is just outside your room, asleep on your couch, you can’t imagine you’ll be getting any rest tonight. Wondering if Bucky is having just as much trouble finding slumber, you climb out from under your blankets and fix your rumpled tank top and sleep shorts to go check on him.

The floor creaks beneath your bare feet, but Bucky’s eyes are already fixed on the empty doorway before you even make a sound or step into his line of sight. You should have figured he heard you the second you stepped foot out of your bed. It shouldn’t be a surprise that you find him sitting up in the dark room; the serum pumping through his body makes it so he doesn’t need much rest and even if that weren’t the case, he’d be up all night anyway, keeping watch over you.

You feel safe with Bucky being here, but you know you’ll feel even safer if you’re closer to him. With that in mind, you cross the living room to join him on the couch. You don’t tell him you can’t sleep and he doesn’t ask. A long, comfortable silence stretches between you as you shift at his side, tucking your legs under yourself until you’re settled into an agreeable position. Pulling a blanket over your bent legs, you shove your arm beneath it too and wordlessly offer a bit of the corner to Bucky, though he declines.

“Tony texted. Wanted to make sure you’re doing okay,” Bucky murmurs, breaking the quietude between you.

“Yeah, I know,” you respond with a soft exhale over the man’s heartwarming worry. “He texted me too. I told him we’re good.”

Bucky doesn’t miss the way you say “we” and his lips lift in a secret smile. He lets the room fall silent again, enjoying the stillness that surrounds you both.

“Wanna watch the ball drop?” you suggest.

Bucky turns your way, the beginnings of a smirk lifting his plush lips. “Might as well, right?” he laughs.

Locating the remote, you switch the television on and bathe the room in a bright, blue light. It reflects hauntingly in Bucky’s clear eyes, though you do your best not to stare at him for too long. The way you reposition yourself is subtle, but it’s obvious to Bucky when he starts to feel the pleasant warmth that radiates off of your swaddled body. You watch on as the announcer on the screen interviews various members of the crowd; all clad in their hats and gloves, their smiling cheeks exposed to the biting cold and their eyes shining with excitement.

As the countdown grows near, it’s Bucky who moves closer this time. Your shoulders brush, the length of your forearms just barely touching. The heat of his body is nice, so comforting in fact that you find your eyes fluttering with the creeping tiredness that’s suddenly taking over. The energy in the crowd is growing and the anticipation is palpable. When the chorus of voices begins chanting the ever-dwindling numbers, you feel the urge to do something you never thought you’d dare to do.

Three…

Your eyes turn to Bucky, taking in his beautiful profile. His sculpted features softened in the colorful glow emitting from the television.

Two…

Your hand moves of its own accord, reaching for the edge of Bucky’s jaw as your fingers wrap gently up and around his stubbled cheek.

One…

You’re leaning over, craning your neck to reach him as you pull his face towards yours. Bucky’s soft lips meet yours eagerly, pressing with gentle force against your mouth. You remain still for a lengthy moment before easing away, though Bucky won’t allow it. His hand comes up to brace against the back of your head, holding you in place as he peppers your mouth with several slow, sensual kisses. His tongue sweeps along your lower lip and then he’s gone, pulling away to look down at you.

“Happy New Year, doll,” he purrs with a smile that could set you on fire.

“Happy New Year, Buck,” you respond breathlessly.

When you wake, it’s with a stiff neck and upon an extremely warm pillow. Given that Bucky’s normal temperature is that of a furnace, you’d discarded your blanket at some point during the night. The heat of the heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders is starting to make you sweat and the awkward half-prone position you’re in is killing your back.

With a groan, you shift in Bucky’s hold, suddenly remembering that you’d fallen asleep sitting up, with your head leaning on his shoulder. At some point, he’d tipped slightly to the side and you ended up in some sort of vertical-horizontal limbo. As you jostle Bucky awake, he unleashes an equally pained sound. His blue eyes ease open slowly, seemingly taking a moment to figure out his surroundings.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you rasp, scooting away to give the large man room to stretch his bulky limbs.

“Is it?” he questions, squinting one eye at the watch around his wrist. “Shit, I guess it is.”

Bucky sits up slowly, his chestnut hair an adorable mess, sticking up in all directions. You can’t help laughing at him and he rolls his eyes, bashfully running his hands through the short tresses to tame it a bit. Before you have a chance to say another word, the sound of your doorbell chimes, breaking the early morning silence. Bucky’s muscles bunch when he tenses at the sound and he immediately rises from the couch with a scowl on his face before you stop him and assure him you can get it.

Making your way to the door you hear Bucky treading close behind, just like you expected he would be. You have no idea who would come calling at this hour. As you turn the deadbolt and open the door, your stomach drops. Before you stands Hawke, looking roughed-up and disheveled with the shadow of a purple bruise circling his badly swollen eye. Even with Bucky standing just out of sight of the open doorway, you can’t help the urge to flee that wracks your body.

Swallowing the customary rising bile that accompanies the sight of him, you step forward to slam the door in Hawke’s face before he can say a word. Only he prevents that when he enters the threshold to wedge a loafer-clad foot in the way as he slaps an open palm on the surface of the door. That’s all it takes for Bucky to spring into action. He moves you gently aside, safely out of his way so that he can grab hold of Hawke’s rumpled suit. He easily lifts the man clear off his feet and gives him a violent shake.

“Bucky…neighbors,” you warn before he can do anything unsavory.

It won’t do anyone any good for Nosey Nancy across the street to get an eyeful of Bucky’s brutality first thing in the morning. He heeds your warning, dragging Hawke’s body through the doorway to smash him against the nearest wall.

“I am going to tell you this once…and you should consider yourself lucky that you’re getting that much,” Bucky growls. “Do not come here again. Don’t come near her. Don’t try to contact her. Don't even think about her. Or I will fucking end you. Now get out of here before I give you a matching black eye.”

With that, Bucky kicks the door open and shoves Hawke out, sending him tumbling to the ground. The door slams shut so hard that your whole house rattles. A shaky sigh parts your lips and Bucky gives you a sympathetic smile, gathering you into his arms. You return his hug, thanking him and squeezing him with all your strength.

It’s been a year since you’ve seen or heard from Hawke. Though with Bucky around all the time, you’ve hardly thought of him even once. Your time has been filled with the beefy super-soldier; between work and leisure, you can’t seem to get enough of each other. Much to everyone’s surprise — and joy — you’re getting along better than they ever thought possible and they couldn’t be happier for you. Or for Bucky. There isn’t a single person at Stark Industries who isn’t elated to see him finally have what he deserves. Not to mention how relieved they all are that his grumpy and brooding moods have improved, if not disappeared altogether.

“Never seen that boy smile so much in his whole life,” Steve mutters over your shoulder one day as he watches you work on a research project.

“Me neither,” you agree.

“You’ve never seen him smile so much or you’ve never smiled so much?” he implores.

“Both,” you assure with a smile, spinning in your chair to see Steve’s inevitable disgust.

He doesn’t disappoint, crossing his eyes and imitating a stomach-churning heave as he holds his chest with feigned agony. Natasha glides past, loudly slapping the buff blonde on the back with a demand to grow up and “leave the lovebirds alone”. You smile even more brightly at her words. Love.

You kept your involvement a secret as long as you could, but Bucky hated having to sneak around all the time. He has an insatiable need to be near you, to touch you, to hold you, to be affectionate. You’d managed about one whole month of privacy before he could stand it no longer and begged you to tell everyone about your relationship. The revelation had made things much easier, admittedly; the stress of hiding things is something you don’t miss one bit.

As you finish up your work and reorganize a stack of folders, you hear the muffled sound of Bucky’s voice as Natasha stops him to speak just outside your office. When he peeks his head in the doorway, you can’t help the excited smirk that lifts your lips. He matches the thrilled expression on your face as he struts over, leaning over your desk to lay a loving kiss on your lips.

“Hi, doll,” he greets warmly. “You ready to get outta here?”

Nodding in agreement, you gather your belongings and take Bucky’s hand, allowing him to lead you down the hall to the elevator. He asks about your day, listening to you rattle off each and every detail on the drive home, eating up the stories you tell with rapt interest. When you reach your house and ease the front door open, you’re reminded of how much more it feels like a home. With little touches of Bucky here and there since he’s moved in, the space just feels so much warmer and more cozy. Like he was the missing piece all along.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?” Bucky asks, dropping heavily onto the couch.

“Hmm, well Tony invited us to his party,” you remind him. “New Year’s is always a big thing with him.”

Bucky laughs, knowing that Tony tends to go over the top with all of his celebrations simply because he can. He taps a single finger against his lower lip as if he’s deeply considering something. You watch him for a long moment, wondering what he’s up to before you have to ask.

“What if we celebrate here tonight? Just us,” he offers shyly.

You smile to yourself, knowing the motive behind his suggestion. Bucky has been bugging you for days about this night; insisting that it isn’t just a holiday, but your anniversary as well. Though it had taken a few weeks of hanging out and spending time together for Bucky to officially ask you to be his girlfriend, he assures you he had considered you his since the moment you kissed.

“Which makes New Year’s our anniversary,” he had whined petulantly. And who are you to argue with the adorably persistent man? You find it nearly impossible to not give him everything he wants. Besides, you’ll take a night with your man over a swanky party any day.

The glass of wine you cradle sloshes slightly as you bring it to your lips. You stand in the dark living room, dressed only in one of Bucky’s oversized t-shirts as you watch this year’s ball drop ceremony. Bucky rustles around in the kitchen, getting his own drink so you can toast to the new year in exactly 47 seconds. Taking another sip, you hear Bucky enter the room finally. He comes up behind you, wrapping a cold, steel arm around your waist as he cradles you against his hard body. His warmth seeps into you and you hum contentedly. Bucky’s hold gets tighter and tighter as midnight swiftly approaches, less than ten seconds away.

You hear Bucky’s deep, shaky inhale moment’s before the ball drops. When the crowd shouts “one!” in unison, he shifts behind you, pulling away just slightly and leaving an emptiness when he robs you of his heat. At the raucous utterance of “Happy New Year!” you notice something out of the corner of your eye. You completely miss what’s happening with the shiny ball on the screen in front of you because you’re too distracted by the glittering diamond ring Bucky holds out for you. The magnificent jewel sits nestled in a velvet box, shining grandly in the low-light and begging to be admired.

Had Bucky’s vibranium arm not still been curled around your midsection, your knees surely would have given out. You sway slightly, your back bumping his chest as he chuckles nervously and pulls you in close again. Lifting a hand to your face, you cover your gaping mouth as joyous tears drip from your lashes. Bucky presses a long, soft kiss to the side of your neck before his lips drift to the shell of your ear where his whispered words are hot and sweet.

“Happy New Year, my love. Whaddya say we make it the best one yet?”

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#this fic was not supposed to be such a monster but i got carried away #i've never written so much at once #literally knocked this out in one sitting #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky #marvel fanfiction

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

ways to say i love you without saying “i love you”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: you and steve explore love languages

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, a little angst because of miscommunications, reader & steve being idiots, good intentions but terrible delivery, mentions of other characters

author’s note: this fic has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for so long. this fic is like, ancient. this fic was almost destroyed because it was briefly in the library of alexandria. when i reopened the document with this fic, there were mold spores growing on it. (p.s. steve’s love langauge is acts of service, and the reader’s is quality time)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Prologue

Steve was a multitasker. You knew this well. Perhaps too well.

That never seemed to bother you before, but if the man who was supposed to be taking a serene nature walk with you checked his goddamn flip phone one more time, you were completely sure that you’d lose it.

You paused your story about your obnoxious coworkers for a moment, stopping in the middle of the gravelly trail you two were making your way down.

“Steve, seriously, are you even listening?” you griped, ushering him towards the side of the pavement as a man on a bike flew by.

He guffawed a bit at this, “of course I am. You just said something about…” he paused, and you gestured with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, sorry,” the blush on his face was becoming more and more apparent.

You involuntarily scoffed, rolling your eyes as you did so, “I’m glad to know that whatever you’re waiting for on there,” you gestured to his pocket, “is more important than spending quality time with your girlfriend, who, must I remind you, took time off to be here with you.”

“Nothing is more important to me than you, I’m just on call. I’m probably going to get called to go on a mission any moment now.”

“Steve!” you huffed, “you literally just got back, like, two hours ago. Can’t someone else go? Tony? Vision? Anyone?”

“I might’ve volunteered myself-“

“You’re unbelievable, Steve. Are you getting tired of me or something? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague ever since I moved in with you. If I upset you, or you’re gonna propose to me or something, can you just tell me?”

“I promise you it’s not personal at all,” he reached for your hand and gently held it. “Everything’s just been crazy. I mean, these Hydra bases have been popping up left and right. Just give me a little grace, okay? I don’t get upset with you when SHIELD starts making you work those ungodly hours.”

You opened your mouth to debate him, but surely enough, the canny and familiar ringtone of Steve’s work phone interrupted you before you could even begin.

“Okay… Yeah. I’ll be there in thirty.”

You frowned at Steve as he spoke on the phone and shook your head disapprovingly, “unbelievable,” you muttered, storming in the direction of your home.

——

Steve was no fool, he knew when he messed up, and he was more than willing to take responsibility for such. Now was one of those times. He knew that he should’ve been making more time for you. He was well aware that he shouldn’t have gotten defensive when you pointed this out.

He just had no idea how to apologize.

You weren’t exactly making it easy for him either, taking much longer hours in an attempt to avoid him. While he could understand your frustrations, it became a little more difficult everyday for him to properly apologize to you in a way he felt was meaningful.

Eventually figuring to use your avoidance as a tool, Steve devised a plot to make an apology for you so considerate, so superb, that you could never be angry with him again. A plot that included a several course meal, all concocted by himself.

He could imagine the look on your face as you came home from work, shocked, but the good kind of shock. Pleasantly surprised that your sweet boyfriend had put in such a huge amount of effort to say sorry.

He couldn’t help but imagine the scenario: you would relax into your seat at the table after Steve pulled out the chair for you, hum in content as he poured your favorite wine. Moan happily at the taste of a homemade and rarely prepared salad dressing, before complimenting the melt-in-your-mouth entree he had spent an unknown amount of time laboring over. Finally, you’d gush over the dessert that Steve hadn’t had the chance to cook in years, tell him that he worked far too hard putting everything together, especially for a little argument. Steve would scoff, tell you you’re being too kind, and you would pull him in for a red wine and dark chocolate flavored kiss.

The thought of you, your genuine and warm smile after a long day at work, and an even longer week worth of unspoken tension between you both, was enough to keep Steve motivated through the hours he spent preparing your meal.

He greeted you at the door like an excited puppy as soon as he heard your keys jingle. Sure, work had kept you a bit longer than he’d expected, and your food was likely a little cool by now, but he was excited to make amends.

However, you did not seem to share the same enthusiasm as Steve.

“Welcome home, gorgeous. Come sit,” Steve nudged you into the dining area, and you sluggishly followed, exhausted from a tiring day of training new agents.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, pulling out a chair that you didn’t even attempt to sit down on.

“I had a really long day. I kinda just wanna get to bed,” you shrugged before rubbing your creased temple.

Steve internally cringed at the thought of all of his hard work going to waste. For some reason, he’d not envisioned this less pleasant outcome before. “Sweetheart,” he began in a nearly whiny tone, but you weren’t in much of a mood to be persuaded.

“I’m sorry. Weird things were happening at work that I don’t care to get into now, and honestly, I’m not even that hungry,” you reached out and gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “But it all looks and smells so good! I Promise I’ll warm some up tomorrow for lunch.”

“I-,” he paused, “please. Maybe you could just take a few bites of everything. It took me a really long time to get everything prepped and ready.”

You frowned at the plea, feeling a bit guilty but almost… satisfied at the same time. Steve struggled to make time for you because of his work, and now he was getting a little taste of his own medicine.

“I really am sorry. But hey, now we’re even?” you offered with a playful wink, slipping away before you gave your partner a chance to respond. You truly didn’t have the energy for a four course meal that night, let alone another argument.

——

Wanda was silent for a moment as she sipped from a mug of coffee, watching you with a suspiciously focused look on her face.

“Wanda?” you prompted, seemingly snapping her out of whatever trance she had found herself in.

“Oh my God, I know exactly what you guys need,” she just about blurted, reaching across the café table to grab your hand.

“Were you reading my mind?”

Your friend didn’t respond, but the devious smirk on her face was enough of an answer.

“What happened to telling me before reading me?”

“You just looked like there was a lot on your mind. And absolutely no way that you’d tell me,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Of course I was gonna tell you! Why else would I ask my friend in a cute relationship to meet me for coffee?”

“Because you like me?”

“No, never that. I just needed advice,” the two of you shared a laugh for a moment.

“Well don’t waste your breath. When Vis and I had a rough patch, we just had to learn each other’s love languages. You’d be surprised just how much that synthezoid values those acts of services.”

“And you?”

“I’m a words of affirmation girl myself,” she shrugged. “You should find out yours, and try to figure out Steve’s. I guarantee it’ll be helpful in the long run. I can send you guys a test, if you want?”

“Oh god no, please don’t tell him that I told you about us. Actually, I didn’t even tell you! You were digging around in my brain, and I don’t appreciate that. Just do me a favor, and don’t share this with anyone, okay?” You paused dramatically, then leaned in to speak to your friend in a whisper, “but send me that test when you get the chance.”

Gift Giving

“A little reality-warping birdie told me you’ve been having some relationship problems,” Tony said teasingly once Bruce left the conference room, leaving him and Steve alone.

Steve paused for a moment, trying to decide whether he should lie or fess up to the allegation. “How did she know?” Steve finally responded, standing up and pushing the chair he was sitting on behind him.

Tony shrugged dismissively, “I don’t ask these kinds of things. I just hear in passing that the geriatric is having a hard time and tune in.”

Steve shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes to mask his clear embarrassment.

“Well, is it true?”

“We’ve just been having the occasional… rift. A little more than occasionally.”

Tony nodded, fake pondering the situation, “well, I always know what I do for Pep, at least after I tell her I’m getting rid of the suit. Go buy her something nice. Really nice, like jewelry, or a purse if she’s into that kind of thing. I would say a car, but I know that Social Security check isn’t getting you too far. You know what? Put it on the company card. My treat.”

Steve wanted to scoff, turn his nose up at the offer like it was a terrible idea, but it really wasn’t. Maybe a material surprise was the way to win you back. He made a soft ‘hmph,’ noise as he mulled it over. “That’s definitely not your worst idea. Thanks,” he gave his teammate a soft smile before collecting himself and heading out of the conference room.

His first stop after work was some local jeweler. Steve threw on a (not very) inconspicuous outfit before entering the building, where he browsed for a good hour, searching for something that he believed you’d like. After looking at more jewelry than he had ever cared to see in his life, he decided on a necklace with a thin golden chain with a decent sized diamond hanging off of it. It was a little pricier, and you’d be able to tell— but he hoped it would help the gift mean more to you.

——

When you arrived home late that night, Steve was sitting in the living room waiting for you. It was almost daunting, the sight of him sitting alone on the couch mostly in the dark, only the television illuminating his face. He kind of reminded you of a parent waiting to confront their child who just snuck out, or a concerned friend seconds away from staging an intervention with you.

Walking past the room, you peeked your head through the doorway, and observed the flat, small box in front of him on the coffee table.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greeted, standing up so he could greet you with a hug and grabbing the little box as he did so.

“Is everything okay?” you probed, speaking into Steve’s shoulder.

“Of course. I just wanted you to know how much I love you, and that I’m sorry for not having as much time for you as I should,” he pulled away before holding the box out for you.

You hesitantly took the box and opened it, letting out a gasp when you viewed the delicate looking gold necklace.

You were having mixed emotions, because it was clearly beautiful and you were grateful to the gesture. But you knew that this must’ve been expensive, and that it was so unlike Steve to have done something like this. Your frugal, Great Depression era guy wasn’t exactly the most material.

“I love it,” you gushed, admiring the jewelry.

“Can I put it on you?” Steve asked, and received a nod in return.

Steve set the box down on the table and lifted up the necklace, bringing it up to your neck and focusing on clasping it in the back.

“Babe, how much was this?” you blurted, not even being able to filter the words before they left your mouth.

“Hmm? That doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, then stepped away from you to admire your clavicle.

“It just feels weird letting you spend so much on me.”

“It’s a gift, though. You’re not supposed to think about those things,” he hummed, pressing a chaste peck to your nose.

“Steve, I got you a Nespresso for Christmas and you wouldn’t stop complaining about how expensive it was. I love it, I really do. It’s beautiful and I’ll always think of you when I wear it. I just think that maybe we should have the same standards for each other,” you stood up from your seat and sidestepped him. “I need a shower.”

Steve watched you walk off, letting your words simmer in his thoughts.

That was the last time he would take relationship advice from Tony.

Words of Affirmation

This conclusion probably shouldn’t have taken you this long, but you were almost completely sure that this would be the love language to win Steve back over. You felt bad for some of the occurrences between the two of you lately, with sour exchanges and sweet moments that turned bitter on a whim.

In all honesty, you were concerned that Steve doubted your love for him. And if his love language really was words of affirmation, this would certainly convince him otherwise.

You sat at your desk the night before Steve departed for a two-week mission, trying to write a nice message for him. You tapped your pen on the stock paper in deep thought as you tried to figure out the best thing to say.

I’m sorry for arguing so much with you lately. You and everything that you do mean the world to me, even when you get on my nerves. I love you more than anything and that will never change.

The words looked cramped and unkempt on the little note. Your handwriting got messier as you went. You groaned at it, crumpled the paper, and tossed it in your trash bin. Time to start over again.

I’m sorry for arguing with you. I love you a lot. Can you stop picking up your phone when we’re spending time together?

You groaned at the passive aggressive tone of your message. That certainly wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Straight to the bin it goes.

I love you so much so don’t die on your mission or I’ll be pretty upset. Be safe out there xx.

The tone was even more off now. You needed to think of something that would really make Steve remember you while he was gone. For a second, you considered snapping a nude with a polaroid and attaching it to the letter.

I’m sorry that things have been so bad nasty for us lately. I promise that I love you, despite our ups and downs. Nothing will ever change that. I’ll miss you more than you know while you’re gone. Make sure you call me every day, my love.

A little cheesy, but you signed off with your name regardless, and contentedly looked at your work. The spacing looked correct, the tone wasn’t harsh, and you knew for a fact that Steve would appreciate it.

You stayed up a little later than normal, waiting for Steve to get home and change out of his ‘work clothes’ so that you could slip the note into his utility belt.

You folded the note to a small little square and set it beside an granola bar in a pocket you’d assumed he frequently used. Content with your work, you laid back in bed until your partner slipped in bed beside you, and sleepily cuddled into you until you were both unconscious.

—

Around two weeks had passed since Steve had seen you last, and he had decided to stop by the office and finish up paperwork before coming to see you. It had been radio silence on his end, despite the note in his clothing that clearly requested daily contact. Part of you wondered if Steve had seen it at all.

Steve had just finished signing the documents when he finally noticed it, reaching into a sparsely used part of his belt to have a quick snack. His hand landed on a folded piece of paper, and he cringed as he unfolded it, the letter becoming clearer and clearer as he did so. He wondered just how long the message had been waiting for him.

He read your sweet words with a frown on his face, the guilt from not opening it sooner overriding the sweet feelings that he would otherwise have. He grabbed his phone and considered texting you, but abandoned that thought altogether.

“FRIDAY, any idea where Y/N is right now?”

“I was told not to share any information about Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers.”

“Whose orders?” Steve pressed.

“Hers,” the bot quipped back.

Steve groaned aloud. He was really in for it tonight.

Physical Touch

“Have you tried touching her more?” Thor casually queried. The water that Steve had just consumed nearly flew out of his nose, and his cheeks reddened instantly.

“Pardon?” he asked, looking away from his friend instantly.

“I understand that you and Y/N have been having troubles lately. Perhaps she does not feel held by you. Maybe she wants you to show her off in public, to hold her hand, hug her,” he suggested.

Could Steve even be blamed for going there? He was having a chat with a god of fertility. Who wouldn’t think the same?

“Stark’s gala tonight. Show the world that she’s yours, and I guarantee that she’ll love every moment of it.”

——

You were confused. Really confused.

The night began with some simple touches, hand holding as you entered the building, a casual arm around your waist as you chatted with donors and politicians you hadn’t seen in months, a playful match of footsie under the table while waiting for food. But it came to a head when Steve had decided to rest his hand on your ass and grope you in the midst of a conversation.

Now, in any other situation, you would welcome this affection. But both you and Steve had never been a fan of PDA, and this was a bit too far.

As subtle as you could manage, you pushed his hand away, offering him a sour look as you did so.

“Excuse us,” you told some rich old man in an artificially sweet tone before ushering Steve off to his office for a bit more privacy.

“What was that about?” you questioned, sitting down in the padded chair behind Steve’s desk, and running your fingers over your necklace in a bit of a nervous tick.

“What do you mean?” he retorted, standing across from you at the desk and setting his hands on top of the clear table.

“Why were you groping me in front of people? That’s really... unlike you. And it made me uncomfortable.”

Steve frowned genuinely, looking down at the table in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. For making you uncomfortable. It sounds ridiculous but I was just trying something new.”

“Apology accepted, but are you sure? You weren’t like, jealous of those guys or something? You know you’re the only hundred year old I have eyes for,” you set your hands atop of his and squeezed.

Steve chuckled at this, the flush of his cheeks only highlighted more by the laughter, “it’s just that, uh, Thor told me I should try showing you off more. Or something like that.”

“So you groped me in front of our guests? That’s silly. And a little unprofessional,” you glanced over at the cork board on his desk sitting next to his desktop, and amongst the neatly arranged scratched out to-do lists and random reminders, you couldn’t help but notice the creased paper of the note you’d left for his mission. Your chest warmed when your eyes fell upon it.

“When did you find this thing?” you asked, pointing to the note.

“I meant to say something, but when I found it, FRIDAY said you didn’t want to talk to me. SO I was going to bring it up when I got home, but you were still working. After that, I kinda… you know-”

“Forgot?” you finished with a hearty laugh, “It’s fine. You’re such a dork. C’mere so I can get my own groping in,” you chided, grinning to yourself when Steve wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace.

Acts of Service

Steve was quietly folding your laundry in your bedroom when it finally occurred to you, but when it did, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Steve’s love language was acts of service!

Things suddenly began to make sense to you, the way that he initially attempted to apologize by spending hours cooking one meal, how he consistently worked to make your life as comfortable as possible, and his great insistence to do house chores, despite you being more than capable.

Steve set down a stack of folded sweatshirts by your calf, snapping you away from your brief retrospective daze. If that really was the case, and Steve’s love language truly was acts of kindness, you had to come up with some sort of plan to communicate to him just how much you cared about him in a way that he really appreciated.

Luckily for you, you were a quick thinker. Before you even knew it, a week filled with random acts of kindness before he was off on yet another mission was quickly hatched.

——

You were up at the ass-crack of dawn. Really. Steve liked to get up earlier than the sun in order to run, or train, or whatever the hell it was that superheroes did. You were seriously regretting your decision to wake up around the same time as him in order to do some favors for him in the morning.

By the time Steve was back from his run, his favorite coffee was brewed and cooling, and you were in the laundry room at the dryer, preparing to give Steve a warm towel after his shower.

Despite the three mugs of coffee you’d just downed, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. It didn’t help that your eyelids felt like they weighed fifty pounds each, and the warmth of the dryer next to you was providing you with just enough comfort to drift off.

And drift you did. In fact, half an hour later, you’d missed the frantic calling out for you from your boyfriend as he searched for you around the apartment.

You finally awoke when he shook your shoulders, his amused voice bringing you back to consciousness.

“What’s going on here?” Steve grinned, pushing some hair out of your face.

“Mmm,” you began, “Iwantedtogetawarmtowel,” you slurred sleepily and incoherently.

“Even with super hearing I couldn’t decipher that. Let’s get you a mattress, okay?” Steve hoisted you up like you were nothing, and carried your half asleep body all the way up to your bedroom.

The next thing you knew, you were buried under your favorite comforter and propped against a mountain of feathery pillows. A gentle forehead kiss and an incomprehensible sentence about calling off of work for you later, you were back in a deep sleep.

So much for warm towels.

—

You were going to do better this time. That’s what you told yourself as you strolled through the grocery store, the same store that you hadn’t shopped in since moving in with Steve, as he preferred to do the shopping himself.

Equipped with a short paper list and sheer determination to make the trip as short and accurate as possible, you gathered all of the groceries that you believed were necessary— just enough to restock the fridge, and fill some gaps left in the cupboard.

Your time at the store was indeed brief, as you found yourself in the checkout lane after just twenty minutes (you definitely weren’t going to brag about that to Steve later. Definitely not), and back home with just enough time to unload the groceries, and further prep yourself to go to work.

You’d honestly forgotten about your trip to the store by the time that you arrived home, up until you found your boyfriend arm deep in your pantry, hellbent on finding… something.

“Can I help you?” you poked with a laugh, coming up beside Steve and peeking over his shoulder.

“I’m just… Did you happen to grab any protein bars while you were at the store?” he asked, pausing his search to look back at you.

“I don’t think so. Why? It’s not like you need any more protein,” you teased, squeezing a bicep to demonstrate your words.

“They’re pretty convenient when I’m out in the field. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll just swing by the store and grab some before my mission tomorrow. Actually, I should probably go now. Y’know, before I forget,” Steve was already grabbing his car keys from the counter by the time his sentence was finished, leaving you to fight off your disappointment at your minor grocery store failure.

You looked at what you now knew was an insufficiently filled pantry and pinched the bridge of your nose. You had seriously underestimated the ins and outs of shopping for a super soldier.

Well, third time’s the charm?

—

After this week, you would never complain about waking up early again. You were now up at an absolutely ungodly hour, scrambling eggs, flipping pancakes, and spreading jam on toast for a sleeping, unsuspecting Steve.

You placed the plate on a sturdy wooden tray, poured orange juice and an extra glass of water, and set a nicely folded napkin, along with utensils, next to the items.

You hoped that the scent of bacon wafting up to your bedroom would eventually pull him out of his slumber, and seeing how bacon was the only thing left to finish cooking, you took a little break.

A round of Candy Crush turned into two, then three, and goddamnit, why can’t you beat this fourth level! You got so wrapped up in your mobile game that you didn’t even notice when the scent from your kitchen became slightly rancid, and when you rushed over to the oven to check on your now extremely burnt bacon, the smoke detector wailed.

You grabbed a kitchen towel and waved your arms like a madwoman near the smoke detector, the shrieking eventually stopping, but not before Steve was halfway down the stairs.

“Y/N, where are you? Is everything okay?” he nearly shouted, racing down the stairs and barreling through the smoky kitchen to find you. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and began to pull you out of the kitchen.

“Steve, relax. Everything is okay. Except those pieces of bacon,” you rubbed your now sweaty palms on your pajama pants before breaking away from him to crack open the kitchen window.

“Christ, what happened? And why are you up so early?”

“I was trying to make you breakfast in bed,” you admitted, rather embarrassed by the dramatic scene you’d accidentally created. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Steve wrapped his arms around you once more, this time in a reassuring bear hug that left your cheeks pressed to his chest. “Don’t be. I really appreciate this, and everything else you’ve done this week. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I guess,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Besides, everything else looks delicious. And you tried your best for me while trying something new. I think that’s really sweet of you.”

“Really?” you pried, looking up at him.

“Really,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, I think it would be really sweet of you if you went back to bed and got all cozy so I can take care of you.”

Steve chuckled softly, pressed a little kiss to your nose, then nodded, “yes ma’am.”

Quality Time

Steve had been in a bubbly mood since getting back from his mission, and for no particular reason. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy that your partner was happy, but feeling like you were out of the loop was slightly concerning.

Before you could let your thoughts run too wild, you decided to pop the question during one of your evening walks.

“Okay Steve, what is going on with you?” you asked, veering to the side of the trail when a biker rode past you.

“Nothing big. Nothing too important. I’m just out of service for the next three months,” Steve said casually, playing it cool.

“What?!” you paused, your brows raising and eyes widening in surprise as you searched his face for sincerity. “You’re serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Steve!” you gasped happily, nearly roaring out his name in excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was going to tell you before wining and dining you, but you beat me to it. So…?”

“…So I’m happy to have you back. I may need you to negotiate some time away from work for me in the next few months, then. I don’t wanna miss this preview of stay-at-home-dad-Steve.”

“Hey, don’t push it.”

“Oh, I’m planning on pushing it.”

Epilogue

The sun was beating down on you, but the soothing breeze that flowed past your checked blanket every so often provided a pleasant antidote to the summer heat.

You’d truly picked the best day for a picnic.

Despite spending a good amount of time with your partner, the last month and a half had truly felt like a whirlwind. You casually started looking for a forever home, found yourselves making plans for an early retirement, and you had a new, sneaking suspicion that a proposal was on the horizon.

In the midst of it all, Steve had suggested that the two of you take a midday tryst at your local park and throw yourselves a little picnic. Of course you obliged, because when your greek god of a boyfriend suggests going on a spur of the moment date, you agree.

You now watched the nearly cloudless sky with pure, unadulterated feelings of content and joy while Steve set a slice of cheese on a cracker, leaning over your body to feed you. As you opened your mouth, Steve paused abruptly at the soft vibration coming from his pocket.

Steve resumed as if nothing had changed, popping the cracker into your open mouth and letting his phone continue to ring.

“Don’t you wanna get that?” you questioned.

“It can wait,” Steve stated nonchalantly, slipping his phone out of his pocket and pressing decline with absolutely no hesitation before tossing the device to the edge of your blanket.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been waiting to hear those three words.

-------

a/n: this could’ve been solved in like 20 minutes by sitting down and taking a love language quiz together

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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obsessivelycapricious · 3 years

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18+ Jason Todd x fem!reader fic ramble.

Hey, so this is a idea i've had in my head for a while, but it won't leave me alone. I've kinda written the first part of it already? But idk if I'll finish it. I haven't worked out the ending yet either but a couple of lovely people were interested in hearing it so here goes! Thanks for the support! I'll tag you all separately.

Warnings: excessive torture, manipulation, gaslighting, rape, violence. kidnapping, interrogation, Stockholm syndrome, abuse. I dont specifically mention how old the characters are, but B-Man likes to pick them young so use your imagination to age them up a bit if you like. It's dark folks, and a super slow burn, though it might not be so bad written in brief here, but if those bother you it might not be a good idea to read it. (its hidden under the cut - PS it got super long - 2.5k words.)

You are Robin. Or, you were at least.

Batman picked you up out of crime alley, gave you a home and a purpose and trained you up to be one of the best deterrents to the crime in Gotham. You lived in the manor, and thought of Bruce and Alfred (even Dick) as your family. It's awesome and you love it!

Almost two years after donning the cape, something goes wrong. You get split up from Batman and taken by Jokers men. That night is the last night you see the sky for years.

Over the next three years, you are systematically abused, manipulated, gaslighted and tortured until you are a shell of your former self. Conditioned to obey his every whim, you micro dose of the small crumbs of affection Joker has to offer you. He gives you test after test, pushing you to your limit always in new and horrific ways. You don't hesitate when he asks you to shoot someone in the head or to beat someone to death. The consequences of fighting against him aren't worth it, you have learned that the hard way. He even doesn't always lock the door behind him and yet you don't try to escape.

You hate batman with a passion now, you regret ever having met the man, he has ruined your life and it's his fault that you are where you are now. He abandoned you. Used you for his games and then replaced you like you were nothing to him. It broke your heart when Joker showed you the footage of another Robin running along the rooftops. Your replacement. Heartbreak boiled over to fury and rage.

He passes you around his acquaintances, particularly Johnathan Crane who is eager to test his new strain of fear gas out. Under the gas you see the Bat sacrificing you again and again to get what he wants. If Scarecrow takes advantage of you while he has you in a vulnerable state, no one cares enough to stop him. He wants to know who the Bat is, but you know that telling him will put Alfred in danger and you'll do anything to avoid that

(Thankfully the joker doesn't want to know who the bat is, you're not sure you could defy him like that anymore.)

Then one day, a body gets thrown into the small cell you are kept in when joker doesn't want to play. Its a Robin. You panic, fear and anger confusing you while joker laughs in your face. You know it's another test but you can't figure out what the rules are.

This is where the fic starts. It's about Jason Todd's slow descent from a vibrant punk who loves being Robin to the dejected, abused shell of a boy who hates the caped crusader and will do anything Joker tells him. You know it'll happen, because that's what happened to you.

Only, Joker never does the same thing twice. Even if it works. You don't want to get attached to the boy, but birds of a feather and all that jazz.

Highlights (or lowlights) include:

Having to share a small confined cell with Jason.

Arguing about the Joker and escaping

"Don't you want to leave? Crazy bitch."

Finding out that Batman didn't even tell Jason about you:

“Why would he come for you anyway, huh? What makes you so special?” “I’m Robin. We’re partners. We’ve been through all kinds of shit together. We’re like this.” “Pah. You really believe it too, don’t you? Ya poor sap.” “What do you mean?” “Why go to the bother of finding a dumb punk like you when he can just make a new shiny Robin instead?” “He wouldn’t do that.” “He’s already done it. You ain’t the first.” “That Robin moved away, he’s doing his own thing now.” “I wasn’t talking about him. I meant the other one.” “What other one?” “The other one.” “There aren’t any other ones – I’m the only other Robin that there’s ever been.” “You motherfucker!”

Beating the shit out of Jason in a blind rage because he won't stop talking about how Batman will come for him.

“How long have you known Batsy for huh? If you know him so well.” “Nearly three years. How long have you known him huh? Oh that’s right – you don’t” “What? Three – Three years?” “That’s what I said. Look, I know this is scary, but I trust B-Man. He’ll come for me, we’ll kick all these guy’s asses, take Joker back to Arkham and get you out of here too. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” “B-Man?” “Yeah, Batman.” “Shut up.” “What? Why?” “I don’t want to talk about him anymore so shut up!”

Jason finally figuring out who you are when Joker comes to punish you for denting his new toy.

Joker calling you pet names while manipulates you and you being terrified the Joker is going to replace you too

“Oh. Pumpkin, it’s alright. I thought we agreed we were over this, no? Batsy kicked you to the curb a long time ago. It’s old news! This shiny new toy of ours is your replacement.”. “What? You’re replacing me too?” “No, no no. I’d never dream of doing something so barbaric, Sweetheart. That’s the Bats’ M.O. You’re mine for keeps. I would never be that cruel, would I?”

Jason taking his anger out on you:

“Why do you hate B and not the Joker? He’s the one that’s doing this to you. He shipped you off to Crane and you didn’t even fight back.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” “No, I know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re screwed in the head. You’re a joke, you’ve given up. Some Robin you are. A real Robin fights back. You don’t deserve the title.”

Joker making you put your Robin suit back on to fight Jason for his amusement. Jason hesitates in the beginning but kicks your ass every time.

Jason trying to comfort you but being bad at it.

Joker asking your opinion on you what you think will break the boy:

"When he gets replaced. Show him."

Weeks of being beaten then long stretches of being left alone with Jason with no instructions.

Catching Jason staring at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.

Joker being caught and taken to Arkham so you both get knocked out and transported there too.

Joker ignores you the entire time he's there as he's being watched to closely, the separation sets you off into a panic when you think about it too much.

Most of Arkham is in on you being kept there. The prisoners who know about it are paid off by being able to play with you - and now Jason too.

Jason thinking in Arkham he would have more chance of being able to escape.

You being subjected to more of Crane's abuse and different types of gas.

Jason being brought back to your cell after being tortured by calendar man and offering him comfort for the first time.

Being cut open and tortured by Zsaz.

Huddling up in the abandoned wing of Arkham for warmth and comfort.

Remembering that you had met before, years ago in the Narrows before Batman took you to be his adopted daughter.

Jason taking care of you while you recover.

Giving Jason advice on how to cope and get through the different villains taking revenge on you.

Jason being hurt and tired and snapping at you, causing an argument where you lash out at him:

"I had to go through this all on my own, dickweed. I didn't have anyone to hold my hand and tell me I wasn't going to die. So fuck you! God forbid I try and help your sorry ass."

Jason being tortured by two-face and seeing Batman and a new Robin visiting Arkham. They don't hear him scream for them to help. It breaks his heart and his will to fight.

You knew it would happen, but seeing it first hand makes your heart break for him. You didn't want to be right. You hate Batman more for what he's done to Jason than what he's done to you.

"I was right there (y/n)! Right there and he didn't even look at me."

Talking about Alfred and how much he means to you both.

Thinking you might actually have feelings for Jason after all.

Being transported back to the compound when Joker finally breaks out of Arkham again only to be in separate cells.

Having major separation anxiety from not being able to tell if Jason is okay.

Joker being jealous of your attachment to Jason and doubling down on his control over you.

He tries to take you outside and you panic so badly you beg him to take you back because you're terrified of what being free will mean.

Joker telling you that you failed his test by getting attached to the boy. He tells you that he's going to kill Jason to teach you a lesson.

Being put back in a cell with Jason to find his face has been branded and he's just so utterly void of any hope or any life.

Sitting next to Jason in the cell with your head on his shoulder.

Jason knowing he's going to die without you having to tell him. His voice is quiet and resigned, almost with a shred of relief when he says:

"He's going to kill me soon, isn't he?" "I'm going to miss you, Jason Todd." "I'm glad I got to know you, (Y/N). I'm sorry I couldn't get us out." "It's okay."

You kissing his cheek as you drift off huddled together for the last time.

Joker forcing you to watch as he beats Jason repeatedly with a crowbar, ignoring your defiant cries and struggles for him to stop.

"Which hurts more Little Red? Hmm? Forehand? Or Backhand? I think (Y/N) would like to know!"

Joker blaming you for having to kill Jason:

"And all because of your silly school girl crush. What a waste. I'm very disappointed in you, Dolly."

Being dragged away screaming from his lifeless body and thrown into the back of a van just in time before the building explodes.

That's the first half. For the second half to the ending, I haven't quite figured out yet. I've got a few ideas, but I can't decide what would fit better, feel free to help me out here.

Batman could find her after all this time, new evidence being uncovered during the explosion and in his grief about finding Jason's body he could question that he never actually found yours. Of course then you'd be homicidal and try to kill him, resulting in you being locked in another cell, this time in the Batcave. You'd get to scream at him about all his failings and what a terrible person he is though so that could be cathartic. Alfred (And Dick a little) manages to talk you back to some kind of sanity but you are forever changed by this. You meet Red Hood at a later date: on your way to find an egg and cheese sandwich when someone pulls a gun on you. Seeing you again jars him out of his own homicidal rage long enough to care about the girl who he couldn't save, giving the BatFam an opening to reason with him some.

-Or-

Joker keeps you hidden away and the Bat still has no idea you even exist. It stays that way for two more years where you eventually become completely numb to everything he or his acquaintances do to you. Joker eventually gets bored at the lack of reaction and in his boredom he gets careless. A new vigilante takes it upon himself to blow up to compound and best all Joker's men, he escapes but the vigilante doesn't chase after him and instead he finds you. You resist his attempts to save you, knowing how angry Joker will be so instead, Red Hood punches you in the face, knocking you out. He carries out into the night and you wake up somewhere new and he tries to help unravel the fuck ton of issues you've got while dealing with his own. He'll probably enlist the BatFam to help once he's done wanting to kill them, unless you can talk him into killing the Bat together, after the Joker dies of course.

-Or-

One day, maybe a year after Jason dies, Joker decides he's bored of you and gives you one last curveball. After more than 6 years of being isolated and abused, you wake up in an alley on the streets of Gotham, alone. Abandoned again. After several panic attacks and not knowing if it was a test and that you should run back to the Joker or going to find Alfred because he's the only person in the world left that you trust, you decide to leave Gotham altogether. You make it out and somehow navigate your way to having an apartment, a job and even a quiet life in Bludhaven, away from the Bat and the Clown and the nightmares. Except that one day, while you're drinking your morning coffee in a café, Dick Grayson sits down opposite you. You're stable enough not to react immediately, and Dick seems to really care that you're alive and well. Turns out that the Bat found out about you and decided to leave you alone this whole time (which only serves to double down on your feelings of abandonment) Only the joker is out of control and they think that you could help them by giving them an insight into how the joker works. They've got a new Vigilante to deal with too so they're stretched pretty thin. You flat out refuse which is when it turns out it really wasn't a request. You are taken back to Gotham and confronted with the BatFam, helping them reluctantly when Red Hood breaks into your new apartment, demanding information. You argue, and it feels too familiar, setting off a panic attack when he ribs you about your complicated relationship with the Joker. Identities are revealed and you work together to take down the Joker.

The epilogue to this saga would be some time after any of those options.

Both you and Jason finally in a healthier place where you can actually acknowledge what has been growing between you two since you were paired together all those years ago. It's not a neat and tidy happily ever after, it's messy and full of arguments, fears and misunderstandings but it's also full of tenderness, softness and love. And the sex is really good too.

If you got this far, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think? Come chat to me anytime!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd #dc comics #dark fic #18+#joker #TW

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baticorngirl · 3 years

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Okay but all of Talia-hater's arguments get so much funnier when you take them as in Tallant's universe.

Like whenever they say "her son" you're just like, "oh right, yeah, Tallant, the first child she ever mothered that wasn't a fetus from that alternate universe".

Because, like..... it's just such obvious proof that all their arguments boil down to "I only read Grant Morrison's stuff". Tallant was created over 10 years before Damian. The stuff in Brotherhood of the Bat/League of Batmen is the only comic that ever portrayed Talia as a mother (excluding Son of the Demon since we didn't really see her interact with the child once it was born) 100% Pre-Morrison.

Edit: Soooo I forgot about the World’s Finest thing where Clark and her had a child named Kara (because the superfam needs another Kara lol). So I guess it’s only one of the few 100% pre-Morrison interpretations of her parenting. Really, what I meant to say was that Tallant was Talia and Bruce’s first non-fetus child, and the only child she had with him that we saw her parent before her character assassination. I included some accusations that directly link to Bruce so it kind of had to be that, you know? Besides, Kara is her daughter, so the “her son” thing doesn’t work.

So... let's just start with some basic examples.

"She abused her son!"

Since when???

Like I get she did shelter him a lot and kind of held him back from going out in the world, but in her defense that 'outside world' was a little bit... idk...apocalyptic? Seriously, there was an extremely deadly virus just spreading EVERYWHERE, if you don't blame parents for making sure their child is being safe with covid precautions, you really can't blame her for keeping him at home for most of his childhood when a much, much, worse pandemic was devouring the world.

And yeah, I also get that she did put a lot of pressure on him, but it's not like she even forced him into any specific ideas of what she expected him to do. Even when presenting who his father was, she still only described it "another way of viewing the world", letting him study and learn about his father on his own to develop an opinion on his own.

Actually, she was very into making sure he developed his own opinions and not forcing any ideals on him. She asked him what his own opinion was often..... which was probably due to her own desire to be a better parent than her father, who constantly pushed his own ideals and 'way of viewing the world' on to her.

Actually, I didn't even realize that connection before now! Anyhow, I think it's pretty obvious she basically was just saying he was amazing and he was going to accomplish great things.

Not gonna lie, it does seem a little iffy that she says "must be great" but like... may I remind you yet again that it's the apocalypse, it's sure gonna need to be a great destiny if it'll do ANYTHING to save the world now! For goodness sake's she just didn't want him to die.

That being said, she's definitely a flawed parent. Yet, literally every parent is flawed, and she definitely did loved him and try her best. Despite him already being a full-grown adult when the story starts, she worries about him SO dang much throughout it.

Abused is a very strong word, and she never tried to take advantage of him, so seriously. The story was constantly highlighting how much she loved him, why would you think that???

"She killed her own son"

Wut

To make her suffer..... Ra's commanded that Talia's last sight be Tallant's dead body.... because his death would devastate her......

Yeah no. Also Tallant never even died, lol.

What, you think she was just going undercover as Bruce's wife for the last FIFTY YEARS just so she could kill the son that DIDN'T EVEN EXIST BEFORE SHE WENT UNDERCOVER???

"Talia r*ped Bruce"

Huh?

Tallant was literally just conceived by his parents being married.... and them loving each other.... where did you even get this idea

This is very weird wording but they.... "Together they conspired against [Ra's] to birth a son named Tallant" doesn't really sound very unconsensual.

"She never truly loved Bruce"

Yeah, that's why she betrayed her own father for him.

(Not that she hasn't betrayed her father for her own reasons and personal morals before, but gosh..... in this universe, it canonically had sooooo much to do with him)

"She doesn't love her own son"

Yeah, that's why (as I already stated) she's constantly worrying about him and also is only sure she made the right choice of changing to Bruce's side on Bruce and Ra's' constant battle because it resulted in his birth.

That's all I can think of right now, but if you have any ideas yourself, feel free to add on!

#talia al ghul #anti grant morrison #tallant wayne #brotherhood of the bat #league of batmen #tw mentions of rape #tw mentions of child abuse #ra's al ghul #good mom talia #batman #dc #character analysis #meta #kinda???#baticorn talks

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dailydaydreamings · 3 years

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Best in the Worst Way, Chapter 10

Okay, I might have taken out some inner rage on this one. It mentions some pretty heavy stuff, like trauma and violence. There’s a big argument about sexuality. This one flips back and forth between the night the reader sleeps with the boys (chapter 5) and their mission. I’m seriously gonna try to lighten things up, pinky swear. Please enjoy ;) —K

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

1 Year Ago

“What the hell happened last night,” you demanded, pacing back and forth in Steve’s room.

After waking up beside a very naked Steve and Bucky after last nights party, you sprung from bed, starling both boys awake. Bucky was now sitting on the lounge next to Steve bed, his head in his hands. Steve laid against his headboard looking perplexed.

“I’m pretty sure you asked us to have sex with you,” Bucky said, running his hand down his face. He looked like he had the world worst hangover. “I remember thinking, yeah that’s a great idea. But I don’t remember when it turned into a threesome.”

You frowned, “I thought you couldn’t get drunk.”

Steve shook his head, “We were drinking that stuff that Thor brings. I think we drank a lot of it.”

Bucky suddenly lurched forward, looking very green, “This is my first hangover since the 40s’, I might hurl. Don’t bring that stuff up again.”

You closed your eyes, they were useless. “Just to confirm, we had sex? I don’t remember anything after the gala.”

Steve nodded, “Yeah we definitely did...”

You groaned, “For shit’s sake, I’ve wanted to have sex with the two of you for a year and I can’t even remember it! Was it good?”

Bucky turned his head to look at you sideways, “First of all, how are you not hungover? You were pounding them back faster than us without enhancements. Second, YOU wanted to have sex with BOTH of US?”

You purged your lips, poor choice of words, but you would stand behind it. “I have excellent genes, first of all. To your second question, I really didn’t apcare which of you I had sex with last night, as long as it was one of you. I really wasn’t expecting sex with TWO of you!” And honestly, it was relieving to know you had had sex with both of them and you still didn’t have to choose.

Bucky nodded, almost like he respected what you were saying. Like he too had had a couple of nights waking up in a predicament like this. But now that you thought about it, for all of the male Avengers, there were only four you had never had to get their one nightstands to sign non-disclosure: Tony, Bruce, Scott, and Bucky. You’d even had to escort out one of Steve’s flings three months ago. You remembered a particular feeling of joy watching her sign the document, knowing she would never be returning.

But not Bucky, everyone else was having sex or had a reason not to be. There was no way he was a virgin, was there?

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Bucky interrupted your musing, directing his comment at Steve. “Nothing to say?”

Steve was looking both confused and pissed. Totally conflicted as to which emotion should take precedent. You watched his hands twisting in the sheets uncomfortably, “Its just that I’d never...you know...”

You and and Bucky exchanged a quick glance. “No,” you said. “We don’t?”

Steve rolled his eyes, and then whispered, “Never had sex with...” and then he coughed pointedly.

Frowning you asked, “More than one person at a time?”

Steve started to say something when Bucky stood, crossed his arms, and said, “No, he means he’s never had sex with a guy before.”

Steve’s sheepish look downward said enough.

Attempting to resolve some of the tension, you waved a hand, “It’s so not big deal, Steve. I’ve had sex with women. Sometimes it just happens, you know?”

Steve’s eyes snapped up to you, his jaw locking, “I’m not that guy. I’m not gay.”

“You weren’t exactly straight last night either,” Bucky snapped. You looked between the two of them, what happened last night. There was history here too, something you were missing.

You held up your hands defensively, “I never called you gay, Steve. I mean, there was still a woman involved last night, I’m assuming.” You looked at Bucky for clarity, he nodded. “I’m just saying, it’s okay. You don’t need to feel ashamed.”

Steve glared at the two of you, “Yeah, well, it’s never happening again.”

———

Bucky hated to admit it, but going on a mission with Steve was easy.

After the plane ride north, very far north, full of glares and silence, it was like slipping into a glove. No matter how angry they were with each other, they still worked well together. They had to when danger was involved. They were professional, afterall.

Even spare time in the safe house, at first it was cold and awkward, but the very first night, Bucky had a nightmare. He woke screaming to find Steve upstanding over him, shaking him gently. Before Bucky could say anything, Steve climbed into bed beside him, and wrapped an arm around Bucky, like how Bucky needed after a bad nightmare.

And so, things went back to how they used to be, slowly. Bucky made breakfast in the morning and Steve said, “Did you really love Bridgerton or was it just me?”

Bucky smirked, crisping up the bacon, and said, “We watched the whole season in one weekend.”

The thing about this mission, it was boring. There wasn’t a lot of action, just waiting in case it happened on the basis of a really good tip, apparently. Bucky was seriously beginning to think it was a load of crap.

So, during the days they did recon, and when they could, they hung out and caught up at the safe house. At first, it was like old times, pre-relationship. Your name didn’t come up once, they didn’t talk about the babies. Bucky terrified to bring it up and burst whatever bubble they had created.

Then, Bucky was making dinner one night, and Steve walked up behind him and kissed the back of his neck...one thing led to another and they found themselves wrapped in sheets, lazing a couple of hours later. Bucky had an arm over his head, watching the still ceiling fan and he muttered, “What the hell, Steve?”

Steve propped himself up on his elbow to observe Bucky, “What do you mean?”

Bucky glared at him, “You know what I mean. Y/n tells us she’s pregnant. You go awol. You ask her to leave me and get an abortion. You see the babies, you want back into our lives. You spend weeks wooing her and ignoring me. And now what?”

Steve sighed, “I just, I can’t see her being part of my life any more, Buck. She doesn’t want me. And I don’t want to lose you, you’re my best friend and I love you. And I want these babies, and I don’t know, I guess the last couple of days, playing house...I just got thinking, we could raise these kids, together.”

Bucky sat up in bed, quickly at that. Was Steve really asking what Bucky was thinking, for him to leave you and raise the twins without you?

“First of all, that’s never going to fucking happen,” Bucky snapped, reaching for his shirt on the floor. “I’d never leave her and you’d never play the part of the gay guy, I know you. You can’t be who you are.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And you’d be okay playing the throuple game? You really think people would be okay with that? Captain America and the Winter Soldier in, what did y/n call it? The super secret super soldier threesome?”

Bucky shook his head, reaching for his pants now. “Captain America,” he mused. “How far you’ve come, huh? Rather by the gay guy than a throuple? Do you know how shitty that would make y/n feel? Or how that makes me feel? You only wanted her back so you two could be the good American couple and you could have the babies in peace. Am I right?”

Bucky stood and saw Steve lowering his eyes. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Steve’s eyes snapped up to meet Bucky’s. “The two of you were always preaching to me it was my journey with how I wanted to come out as bi. Or if I wanted to come out. Maybe I don’t want to. It’s not up to you to shame me for my choices.”

Bucky just shook his head, “I’m just disappointed you don’t love us enough to try.”

———

1 Year Ago

The compound had a Starbucks, it was honestly a godsend. You got coffee there most of the time and it was the best place to get someone talking. Which is why, when you got a text from Bucky asking you to talk, you suggested it.

“What did you want to talk about?” You broached, sipping at your chai tea latte.

Bucky looked down at his plain, black coffee. “You’re the only one who knows what happened with Steve...and I just figured you might be the person to talk about...sex with?” He looked up at that, an eyebrow quirked slightly.

Steve had been avoiding the two of you in the week since the gala. It was just awesome, you loved the silent treatment.

To Bucky, you answered, “I’m more than comfortable talking about sex.” And you were probably a little too comfortable, if you were being honest with yourself, but Bucky didn’t need your detailed kill list.

Bucky nodded, “I figured, no offence.” You shrugged it off. “It’s just, I wanted to have sex with you ever since I met you. Honestly, I wanted more than sex, but this is where we are. Sex is not an easy thing for me...ever since, you know..everything.”

You reached across the table and gently took his hand. He cleared his throat, pointedly looking around. “The thing is, I’ve been in love with Steve since we were kids.”

Oh, you thought. That wasn’t what you were expecting him to say at all. You were totally expecting some speak about being a virgin.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say aloud too, apparently. You kicked yourself internally for your awkwardness. “Okay...Bucky, I’m so sorry then.” You suddenly started to remember Steve’s reaction. He was pissed about having sex with another guy when he’d woken up beside them.

Bucky ducked his head, “I wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction from him. I hoped, that maybe, finally, he would...”

You placed a hand on your breaking heart, “He would feel the same,” you finished and Bucky nodded.

You looked down at your own drink, trying to think of the best thing to say. “I don’t know anything about being in love with another girl. I’m attracted to both but I’ve always loved men. I do know what it’s like to love someone so much it hurts, and to desperately want them to see you. I once kissed a guy I loved so much in front of everyone we knew, thinking it was some big romantic gesture, only to find out he had a girlfriend and I was the last to know.”

Bucky cracked a smile at that.

“Love sucks,” you concluded.

Bucky leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I hate feeling like I’m losing my best friend.”

You nodded, “He’ll come around. Either to accept you as first friend again, or to see things from your point of view.”

Bucky fiddled with his fingers slightly as he said, “Steve’s always been the more proper one. He follows the rules. I think he can accept me, but I can’t see him ever loving me like I love him.”

You reached across the table, one more time to wrap both your hands around his, “How do you know if you don’t talk to him?”

———

“Fuck you, Bucky!” Steve shouted, following Bucky out of the bedroom. “I’m offering you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Bucky stormed into the kitchen, he wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but it couldn’t involve Steve. He started searching for his cost as he snapped, “What I want has changed. I want her and you, this isn’t an either or situation.”

Steve slammed a hand into the counter, “You just want her because she’s having your baby. Admit it, if I’d offered you this before she got pregnant you would have jumped ship in a heartbeat.”

Bucky paused, sending a death glare at Steve. “What the fuck. I love her, Steve,” he said it almost calmly now. “Baby or not, I love her. She is the best part of my day, my biggest supporter, and takes my breath away every time I see her. I wouldn’t have jumped ship because the terms of our relationship involved three of us, not just you and me. She wasn’t my way to get to you, she as an independent part of this relationship.”

Steve’s face crumpled, as he leaned forward to press his face against the counter. “I don’t know how to do this, Buck. I thought I had everything when I went back to Peggy. I thought this life was over. I didn’t expect everything to just get harder.”

Bucky placed his hands in his hips. “Why do you make it so much harder than it has to be? My god, Steve, you were the skinny kid dying to go to war. You fought Hydra almost singlehandedly. You stood up to Tony Stark for me. And you’re afraid to let the world know you’re in a relationship with a man and a woman.” Steve flinched at those words. “Steve, babe, do you know how much joy you are keeping from yourself by being so afraid?”

Steve looked up, there were tears shinning in his eyes.

But Bucky wasn’t done, “You’re right Steve, this is your journey. If you don’t want to come out, that’s fine. You can be the cool uncle who hangs out all the time, or you can have shared custody and we’ll tell everyone I started sleeping with her later. But we could have a truly amazing life together, if you were just willing to give this thing a try.”

Steve clapped his hand together, a pained look on his face as he said, “Do you know what keeps me up at night, Buck? Any and every single story on the news about people getting beat to death for being gay or trans or different. It keeps me awake, I can see their faces. I can see their pain. Big old Captain America doesn’t have nightmares about Thanos or Ultron, but that. We as a species are so terrible to each other that we kill people because they choose to love.”

Bucky had tears running down his face. Steve’s jaw was clenched so tight he thought it might shatter. Bucky finally said quietly, “I didn’t know that, Steve.”

Steve reached up and aggressively wiped a tear away. “I just want to hide away and be happy together. I know we’re safe at the compound, I know we can defend ourselves. But what if some guy just decided to shoot you or y/n because you’re in some “abnormal” relationship?

Bucky reached for him then, “Babe, we can’t stop any of that from happening. But we can trust that we are well equipped to handle ourselves and take care of y/n and the babies. We can be okay. We can have a happy life, I promise.”

Steve let loose a long sigh and reached for Bucky. Their embrace was short lived, but for a second it was everything they needed. It said more than a thousand words could. It healed.

And then the explosion rocked the house.

———

After what could only be described as the world’s longest day of work, you hobbled towards your bedroom. You were so ready to get out of this stupid work dress and put on some sweats.

In your closet, you stripped down to nothing, and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. At 18 weeks, with twin super soldiers babies, you looked huge. You remembered when your friends had started getting pregnant, they hadn’t been nearly as big, and you were only going to get bigger.

You flattened your hand against your stomach, bringing it to cradle your bump. “Hello, little ones,” you mused, “you’ll be here soon enough. I guess that means mommy needs to stop waiting for daddy to make up your nursery, huh?”

You looked yourself in the mirror, suddenly feeling rediculous. It wasn’t like you were really expecting an answer, were you? You were getting way too used to silence.

As you were pulling on your seats though, you felt a slight flutter. You paused. You’d felt some movement, but this was definitely a kick.

Shaking in disbelief, you hobbled towards your bed, sitting down on the white bedspread, spreading your hands on either side of your belly.

“Okay, guys, I know you can hear me. Give mommy another kick, please.”

Nothing.

You gave your stomach a poke, “Come on, guys. Just one little kick for your mommy.”

Then you felt a nice, sharp kick by your ribs. Letting go a sharp breath, you smiled, “Nice one. Oh my god, your daddy is going to be so upset he missed this.”

You laughed. Because your babies were kicking, and they were kicking hard. And suddenly your bedroom seemed so much bigger and lonelier. And it wasn’t just Bucky who was missing this, it was also Steve. Who had just as much a right to feel these babies kick.

You wrapped an arm around your middle, solemnly, “When your daddies get home,” you emphasized the plural, “you’re gonna kick up a storm for them, okay? No matter how mad mommy is.”

So you started your nightly routine, you made dinner and watched a show and read your book. You were washing your face when your phone rang. Tony’s name flashed across the top.

You answered it on speaker, “Hey, what’s up?” You reached for your serum and started rubbing it in.

“You’re gonna need to come into the compound, right now.” Tony said from the other end.

You raised an eyebrow. No fucking way. You were going to bed, you were dressed for bed. You had a rough day already, anything else could wait till morning.

“Tony, you have given me scrap about taking it easy and sleeping and nothing working rediculous hours. It is ten o’clock on a Wednesday. I am going to bed.”

“Y/n,” Tony’s voice softened and you paused. “I need you to come in right now.”

You picked up your phone, pressing the FaceTime button. Suddenly you were face to face with a sheepish looking Tony Stark. You took a second to observe his face before saying, “Which one of them is dead?”

Tony let out a long breath and your heart constricted.

No, no, no. This could not be happening. Not on such a good night.

Tony finally said, “They’re not dead. Either of them.”

Suddenly you were on the floor, on a sob bubbling in your throat. Oh, thank god. Nothing else matter, they weren’t dead.

“Y/n, they’re in bad shape though,” Tony’s voice now sounded very, very far away. You tried to focus in on what’s he was saying, but all you could think was, they’re not fucking dead. “Y/n, they’re hurt and being transferred here and they’re asking for you.”

Tags

@booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark

#steve x pregnant!reader #bucky x steve x reader #steve x reader #bucky x pregnant!reader #bucky x reader #stucky x pregnant!reader #stucky x reader #stucky #pregnant reader

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

PRETTY EYES D.W.

Summary: Being the daughter of Superman had it’s perks, being human, did not. Being best friends with Damian Wayne, that had its ups and downs too.

Warning: mentions of blood,

A/N: I just recently starting loving Jon Kent, I couldn’t resist

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.7k

Being Superman's daughter had it's ups and downs.

For example, you could fly around the world in a matter of minutes and return as if nothing had happened or uproot the largest trees. It was incredible how powerful you were. You loved having these powers and you loved being able to save people along side your dad... and your brother.

Jon was the baby of the family, even if it only was by a few minutes. The two of you got along as much as any other sibling. You had your arguments, your fights, screaming matches, but you also knew you could always rely on him. Whether it was out fighting crime as a family or you were feeling unwell and wanted someone to confide in.

Jon, as much as a pain in the ass that he was, could be an amazing brother and you truly appreciated everything that he did for you. That included, introducing you to Damian Wayne - Robin. The two of them had been friends for a while and each time that they had a team up, you always felt a little bit left out.

It was easy to notice your disappointment each time he said that he was going to see Damian until he finally asked if you wanted to join him the one day. He would never forget the smile that was on your face.

The three of you slowly became inseparable. Damian was weary of you at first just as he was of Jon. He would never admit it, but the two of you were his best friends. Yours and Jon's bond grew even more. The three amigos - at least that was what your dad called you guys.

You would wander the streets of Gotham at night with Damian and sometimes he would come to visit the farm. There were very seldom times that you would get to see Damian without Jon. Damian could be very uptight at times, and Jon always seemed to be able to ease him back to normal - you were still struggling to find out how to do that yourself.

While Damian liked to train as a hang out, you and Jon often opted for something more fun - like getting ice cream at the park or flying so high up that neither of you could see the people anymore. Of course, Damian hated when you did that, especially when you dragged him up with you as well.

That afternoon, you guys had decided to train. At least - you and Damian did. Jon watched the two of you with very little interest. It was the same thing every time - Damian doing all these extensive moves, slashing you with his sword - that never did any damage anyways - and you would use your brute strength to try and take him down.

You weren't sure why Damian always liked to spar with you, you felt as if you could never be enough to help him learn anything. He needed someone who was a fighter, not a Kryptonian.

However, the nice thing about being able to spar with Damian, was that you had an excuse to watch how graceful he was. No matter how violent he was with his actions, you always found that there was a delicacy to his movements. It was entrancing to watch him work, it always was.

You never told Jon that you gained a little crush on Damian. He would only tease you about it or with your luck, blab about it with his big mouth. So, you kept your feelings silent to everyone. It was just a harmless crush and you were sure it was just because Damian was the only boy your age that even looked at you.

"Jon, when did dad say we had to be home by?" You asked, mid-fight. Damian just got frustrated that you were so nonchalant about the battle. You floated just barely about the ground, making it easier to dodge all of his attempts to hit you.

Jon perked up at the sound of his name. The worst part about the three of you hanging out together, it meant that one person always felt left out - this time it was him. "Dinner time, I think," he answered. He paid more attention to the fight going on before him.

"Awe, I was hoping we could stay here for supper, I miss Alfred's cooking," You whined. Jon silently agreed with you. "I bet Bruce could ask if we can stay. What do you think Dames?"

"I think that you should focus on the task at hand," Damian snapped. You rolled your eyes but did as he wished. The two of you became even more engrossed in the spar and this time, you were going on offense. Damian was quick on his toes and managed to dodge a few of your punches, but was caught off guard with your left cross.

Your fist collided with his cheek and if you had been using your full strength, you would have been worried for him. Damian's head flipped to the side with the force of the punch and he turned back to you with narrowed eyes. You knew this look - he was angry.

Damian came at you with full force, his sword clashing with the ground as he missed your body. With each dodge, he seemed to be getting more and more angered with you until final he managed to jab the sword right at your abdomen. You didn't have time to dodge it, but normally you wouldn't have needed to worried.

This time, you felt a pain in your stomach that you had never felt before and a sudden lack of air in your lungs. Damian hadn't picked up on what he had done until the sight of blood dripped down your shirt.

Being the child of Superman was awesome - you were impenetrable, bullet proof. However, being the child of Lois Lane? Your powers were not always reliable - just the same as Jon. They were so unpredictable that sometimes you could bounce a bullet of your chest while other days you could bruise from bumping into something.

Within the last year, you thought that you had grown out of this. You never had problems with your powers being out of whack. You thought that your genes had finally settled on the Kryptonian side of things rather than the human side. You were wrong.

"Dames?" You trembled. Your hands went to the fresh wound that he had just created. The sword that was covered in your blood dropped to the ground, the echo of it ricocheting off the walls. Damian caught you as your knees buckled from under you and fear like never before grew on his face.

What had he done?

"Jon!" Damian yelled. Your brother stood there in shock about what was going on before him. Tears rolled down his face as he saw your lifeless body dangle in Damian's arms. Pain ached through your entire body and you felt like you couldn't breath. Was this was being human felt like? "Kent, get Bruce, your father! Jon!"

Jon finally snapped out of his daze. He wiped his face and ran out of the room to go find anyone that was near. Damian cautiously lowered you to the ground. His hands were tightly pressed against your wound. "(Y/N), stay with me. You're going to be fine," Damian tried to keep you awake.

"Dames..." You weakly called out. He always hated when you called him that. Nicknames were stupid to him, yet you continued to call him it. You placed your bloody hand over top of his.

"Stay awake," Damian told you. He was still in shock over what he had just done. The two of you had fought like that dozens of times and each time he had ever pulled that move, your body protected itself and you were imperishable. He forgot sometimes that you weren't like your father - you weren't fully Kryptonian.

He should have known better. Damian had seen Jon scrap his knees while falling and you get a concussion when you were tossed to the ground during gym at school. He knew that neither of you were as strong as your father and yet he assumed just as you had, that you were going to be just fine.

Blackness slowly started to take over your vision. You tried your best to stay awake but it was too hard. Damian's beautiful green eyes bore down at you. They were filled with concern. You could see his lips move and that he was talking but no sound reached your ears. Was this it? Your final moments?

Damian looked away from you, the sound of footsteps catching his attention. Bruce, Jon, and Clark were all coming towards you. Damian looked back down at you just before blackness finally won.

"Pretty eyes..."

You woke up to bright lights staring down at you. Pain raked over your abs and you felt paralyzed in your place. With a groan, you managed to be able to shuffle around enough to know that you hadn't truly lost feeling in your body.

After a few moments of being able to grasp your surroundings, you remembered what had happened to you. Damian stabbed you. His sword drove itself right into your torso as if you were fully human. The pain that erupted through your whole body put a chill down your spine at the thought of it.

"(Y/N)!"

You were in Bruce's home in an unfamiliar room. A heart monitor beeped beside you. After all, Bruce Wayne was just human, he needed medical supplies within his home when things went wrong.

The bright lights were replaced with your brother's face peering over you. Without thinking, he nearly pounced on you to give you a hug. His body weight caused you to wince in pain. "Kent," Damian scolded. Jon got off of you with a sheepish look on his face and a string of apologies coming out. "How are you feeling?" Damian questioned you.

"Sore," You muttered. The hoarseness of your voice started you and you attempted to clear your throat. It wasn't until a glass of water was handed over to you did you finally feel normally again. As you thanked Damian, you could see how upset he was about the situation. There were very few times that he ever felt bad about something he did.

So, just like you had before when you were bleeding out in the training mat, you placed your hand over top of his. He nearly jumped at the touched but relaxed as you dragged the pad of your thumb across his skin. "It's not your fault, Damian. We've trained like that dozens of times and we've never had an issue. Besides, speed healing, right? I'm going to be fine."

"You didn't look fine, earlier. I thought I killed you," Damian harshly spoke. He ripped his hand away from you and furrowed his eyebrows. With a sigh you turned your attention to Jon, there was no point in trying to argue with Damian when he was in a mood. It was like talking to a brick wall.

"Where's dad?" You asked.

"I'm pretty sure he's currently trying not to rip Bruce's head from his body," Jon told you. He sat on the opposite side of Damian. There was a tension between the two and you were sure your brother was piping mad at the boy wonder. "I'm glad you're okay. I'll go get dad." Jon patted your shoulder before leaving you and Damian alone.

"I should leave you to rest, too," Damian tried to stand up and follow Jon out the door. He had trouble looking you in the eye with the guilt he was feeling. You were his friend, you trusted him, and he had nearly killed you because he was frustrated that you were effortlessly winning a fight against him. That wasn't something that friends did.

"Sit down," you nearly snapped at him. The tone in your voice took him by surprise and he immediately did as he was told. You peeled the bandage back from your stomach to see only a deep scratch rather than the gaping wound it once was. You were healing and everything was going to be okay.

"Damian this wasn't your fault, okay? I'm serious. I'm not letting you blame yourself for this. It's no one's fault - not mine, not yours, not Jon's and certainly not Bruce's. I'm half-Kryptonian, things like this happen. Just be glad it was within the safety of your home and not out in the field."

"I'm sorry," Damian still apologized. You were pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever spoken those two words to you. The feeling was foreign. "You are a respectable opponent, I never intended to do this."

"I know," you assured. You weren't mad at him, not at all. "We all make mistakes in life, gods knows I've made a lot. As long as you accept that you've done something wrong and learn from it, that's all that matters. We all do things that we regret, it's just a matter of what kind of person you become afterwards."

"You're much wiser than your brother," Damian spoke - you swore you could see him try to hide a smile.

"I get it from my mother," You weakly chuckled. "I know you're not a hugger, but I am going to pull the guilt trip card on you and say that I deserve one, so come here." You sat up straight and opened your arms for him to hug you. Damian reluctantly followed your order once more and awkwardly embraced you in a hug.

"I meant what I said," you whispered to him while enjoyed the short lasting hug. He was warm, and smelled nice. Damian pulled away from you with confusion written on his face. He stayed close to you, now leaning against the bed you were on rather than all the way in his chair. "When I said that you have pretty eyes. I could look at them all day."

Damian wasn't used to getting compliments. He was told by his mother where his mistakes were made and that he needed improvement. Bruce had told him that he was doing well in training, but never had he received a compliment like that before. So, when the truthful words left your mouth, his cheeks became red.

He heard them when you had passed out, though hadn't thought of what you had said. Damian was more worried about your safety than some compliment that you surely couldn't have meant. While waiting for you to wake up, he hadn't thought about them again. To be honest, he hadn't thought that he heard you properly.

You liked seeing him flustered, it was a rare occasion. You were always so jealous that Damian was always able to maintain his cool when in tough situations. Seeing him like this just reminded you that he was human too.

"I liked training with you more than Jon because I never knew how to approach you otherwise. Grayson - Dick, he's helped me become less like a League member and more like you guys, it's hard though. Feelings, these feelings that I'm having right now, I never was allowed to act upon them growing up, I don't know how to act upon them now."

You smiled at his words. Jon and yourself grew up in such a loving household that you never really thought about how hard it must have been for Damian. Even know, with Bruce as his father, it must have still been difficult for him to express his feelings. You were always open about how you felt, your parents instilled that upon you.

Damian was close enough to you that you could easily reach over to him. Your hands ever so delicately cupped the side of his face. He felt the need to flinch at your touch, but restrained himself. This wasn't the League that he was in company with, it was you - the person that he knew he could rely on.

The soft touch of your hand was a foreign feeling to him. His mother was never affectionate and any kind of hand that was placed on him, was often meant as a punishment for doing wrong. Bruce was better than his mother, but Damian didn't get the same feeling in his chest with his father as he did with you.

Damian wanted to lean into you hand. He wanted to embrace the feelings that you gave him, no matter the fear that he had to do it. However, your hand dropped down to rest over his and he felt an instant chill without your warmth. This time, he didn't flinch away as you placed his hand between both of yours.

"Well, Damian Wayne, if you'd let me, I'd like to help you with that too."

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne oneshot #damian wayne x reader #jon kent #dc #dc imagine #fluff #batfam #batfam imagine

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daringyounggrayson · 3 years

Link

written for the lovely @aeligsido as part of a gift exchange!

Summary: After an argument with Bruce, Dick retaliates by running off to a not-so-safe part of Gotham. During his misadventure, he drinks a slushie, stops an attempted robbery, and lands himself in someone else’s trunk. He can’t exactly say that his current situation is a surprise, but that doesn’t mean getting out of it is going to be a piece of cake. Especially when he has a head injury working against him.

oOo

In retrospect, Dick made a lot of stupid decisions tonight.

The first stupid decision had been starting up the concert argument again which, at this point, is a losing battle that isn’t really about a concert anymore. Dick still doesn’t understand how going on a mission in space isn’t a big deal but going to a concert with a few friends who happen to be in college is. Especially since Dick met the “college kids” when they were all still in high school together. And, besides, a couple of the people he went on the space mission with are the same age as the aforementioned college kids.

Dick didn’t—doesn’t—even care about the concert that much; he’s annoyed that Bruce is being a controlling hypocrite and treating Dick like a child. He’s annoyed that after all these years of continuously proving himself to Bruce, the man still doesn’t trust him.

So what did Dick do to show Bruce why he should trust him? A series of stupid, stupid things that served the sole purpose of making Bruce angry. And to make it worse, Dick knew how stupid they were and chose to do them anyway. He knew he was being stupid when he left his phone at home, and he knew he was being stupid when he ignored Bruce’s use of Dick’s full name as he left the grounds. He knew he was being stupid when he immediately drove to a not-so-safe part of Gotham just so he could rub it in Bruce’s face later.

The point is, Dick knows it won’t be fun when he eventually has to face Bruce’s wrath and whatever punishment is waiting for him the second he gets home—but Dick doesn’t care. Right now, Bruce is an ass and Dick finally has some space to think, to breathe. Plus, just by sitting outside this gas station and drinking a cherry slushie at eleven o’clock at night, in perfect view of a security camera no less, he knows he’s making Bruce furious. That part’s fun. So is thinking about how Bruce is probably watching him from said security camera, fuming and trying to figure out how to handle the situation he’s found himself in. It’s almost worth the inevitable grounding. (Almost.)

It stays fun right up until Dick notices two guys walking into the gas station, hiding their faces. Dick watches them carefully, still sipping his slushie and doing his best to seem innocuous. The second they pull out guns, Dick runs in, wishing he’d brought his phone with him so he could’ve called the police first. Wishing he’d brought a mask so he could’ve had more options.

But, stupid mistakes already made, he only has one option: get their attention and disarm them.

What happens after entering the gas station is kind of a blur. He remembers getting their attention, and he remembers emptying bullets onto the floor, so he must have disarmed them. But he’s not sure how quickly or efficiently he’d done that; he’d heard gunshots, he’s sure of that much, but he doesn’t remember if anyone had been hit.

He also remembers that he’d been recognized as Bruce Wayne’s kid at some point, and the situation had quickly shifted from a robbery/mugging to a kidnapping. Dick remembers trying to resist, and he’s pretty sure he broke someone’s nose in the process. The last thing he’s sure about is being pinned to the ground. He can’t remember which goon had done that, but before Dick could so much as think about getting out of the hold, they’d slammed his head against the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious for a second, hard enough to disorient him long enough to shove him in a trunk.

Now, in the trunk, Dick realizes another stupid decision he’d made: he didn’t bring his Robin belt with him and now getting out of this isn’t going to be a piece of cake.

What feels like fifteen minutes later, Dick’s tied to a chair in some car repair shop with a skull-splitting headache. His situation isn’t exactly ideal, but he knows that if it comes down to it, he’ll be able to get out of this—he’s Robin the Boy Wonder after all. It just won’t be easy, and his odds of coming out of it unscathed aren’t exactly low. Especially since the two men have guns again and Dick’s pretty sure his head is already bleeding.

The more Dick thinks about it, the more he hopes that Bruce had been watching him on that security camera.

“Alright, kid, what’s daddy’s number?”

Dick tilts his head up to look at the guy holding the phone, trying to figure out why he wants a dead man’s phone num—oh. Bruce. He means Bruce.

Dick doesn’t usually have to type Bruce’s number. It’s not often that he calls Bruce, and when he does, it’s almost always on his cellphone, so Dick just dials from his contacts. He knows the number by heart anyway though. It’s just that the pounding in his head—the one that’s getting worse the more he tries to focus—is making it hard to think; it’s making it take longer to access the information Dick knows is there.

“Uh,” Dick starts, trying to recall the numbers and what order they go in. But then again, is it even worth it? Will Bruce answer a call from an unknown number? And what time is it? The odds of him answering drop significantly if he’s already on patrol. Maybe Dick should call Alfred instead.

Impatient, phone-guy kicks Dick’s chair, sending him back a few inches with a screech. Dick blinks as the world spins and his stomach threatens to give up his slushie.

“Come on! I’m not asking again.”

“Chill, man,” the other guy cuts in, voice sounding slightly off and distorted. He has dried blood on his face and his nose looks crooked.

Huh, Dick thinks, guess I did break someone’s nose.

“You chill.”

Another kick to the chair, and this time it forces a mouthful of cherry slushie into his mouth. Dick grimaces as he forces it back down, squeezing his eyes shut as someone yells at him and tugs his head back by his hair.

Dick rattles off Bruce’s number, hoping that he’ll answer so Dick can go home and forget about all of his stupid, stupid decisions. Maybe Bruce will even take pity on him and forgo the lecture and grounding—not that Dick will be leaving the house any time soon if this headache is an indication of anything.

A phone is shoved against his ear and Dick flinches at the contact, snapping his eyes open and looking around.

“Dick? Are you alright?” Bruce is asking, voice controlled but urgent.

“Where are you?” Dick asks.

“I’m on my way,” Bruce says. “Everything will be alright, I promise.”

Dick doesn’t feel alright; maybe Bruce hadn’t been watching the cameras. “Did you see me?”

“Wha—”

The phone is gone and the lights shut off.

“Shit, shit, shit,” nose-guy rambles, voice higher than before as he slaps his hand over Dick’s mouth. Dick twists his head to try to get out of the man’s grip but it doesn’t work.

“Shut up,” phone-guy hisses. “Do you want to get caught?”

“Come out with your hands up!”

Dick’s first thought is a sarcastic guess the GCPD isn’t completely useless, and his second is one of relief. The third is that he should probably help them out, so he starts shouting behind the hand covering his mouth and kicking his legs against the chair, trying to create as much noise as possible.

“Shit, shit, shit,” nose-guy repeats, working himself into a conniption. “What do we do?”

“Would you pull it together,” phone-guy hisses, simultaneously slapping his hand over nose-guy and trying to still Dick’s legs. “Kid, if you don’t chill out, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

Dick knows a bluff when he hears one, and Dick also knows this guy knows he’s about to get caught and doesn’t want to add murder to his list of charges. So Dick keeps yelling, and—shocker—his head stays bullet-free.

Not even a minute later, a flashlight dances across Dick’s face, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he can make out two police officers, both wielding guns and flashlights.

The one yells, “Hands up—now!”

The hand is gone from Dick’s mouth and his legs are no longer being held down.

“Okay. Keep them up and step away from the kid. Nice and slow.”

The other officer moves to Dick’s side, immediately going to untie the ropes. “You alright, kid?”

“Yeah,” Dick says, moving his arms in front of him and rubbing at his wrist once the ropes are gone. The officer presses something—gauze, probably—against Dick’s still bleeding head. He winces, holding back a hiss. “Aside from my head.”

“Sorry about that. EMTs are on their way,” the officer assures, keeping a straight face and not giving any indication of how bad the injury is. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Richard Grayson,” Dick says. Instead of looking at the officer, Dick watches as the wanna-be kidnappers are led out of the car repair shop in handcuffs.

“Alright, Richard, while we wait for medical to get down here, how about we call your parents and let them know you’re okay, yeah?”

Dick nods and rattles off Bruce’s number.

oOo

Dick’s would-be kidnappers were some of the worst he’s ever seen, and as Robin, he’s seen quite a few. They barely had him for thirty minutes, and that includes the time spent at the gas station. Their license plates got called in twice: once from the store clerk who found their license plate by checking the security footage, and a second time when Dick kicked out one of the car’s taillights and someone behind them saw Dick’s hand sticking out. And then—this part still makes Dick laugh—they just parked the car right in front of their so-called hideout. The hideout belonged to a friend, but they forgot about the silent alarm, so when they tripped it and didn’t key in the code to turn it off, the police were alerted a third time.

Bruce was probably tracking their call, too, but it wasn’t necessary because the police showed up at the car repair shop five minutes after Dick and his kidnappers did. Dick was almost embarrassed about getting knocked in the head by one of them, but he felt a little better when he found out that both of them were on their high school’s wrestling team—or at least, the EMT who apparently went to high school with them had been pretty sure.

“Richard’s right over here.”

Dick peels his arm off his face and opens his eyes when he hears the nurse. The curtain is pulled back and Bruce is standing there. The amount of relief Dick feels just by seeing Bruce is something he won’t admit to. It almost feels like that time he’d lost his mom at a craft store as a kid, specifically the moment when they’d found each other again and she’d pulled him into her arms. She’d been just as relieved as Dick, so much that she hadn’t berated him at all for running off. She’d just held him close and whispered Dick, thank god while pressing kisses into his hair.

“Dick, thank god.” Bruce looks like he’s experiencing a similar feeling, albeit the flipped version, the one his mom had felt. Or something close to it. Then, to the nurse, “Thank you.”

“Hey,” Dick says, quirking his lips into a small, brief smile.

Bruce’s brows furrow, looking Dick over and lingering on the bandage over his head where he’d needed stitches. Bruce is rigid, uncertain. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, Bruce, honest,” Dick tries to assure. He sits up, moving his hand to reach for Bruce. Before he can complete the action, Bruce tugs him into a tight hug and it’s not until that moment that something in Dick’s chest unravels and he realizes he’s okay.

Bruce pulls back for a moment, scanning Dick’s face and looking like he wants to say something. He doesn’t. Just brushes Dick’s hair back before pressing a kiss against his forehead. Then he pulls Dick back into the hug, resting his cheek against the side of Dick’s head that’s still intact.

“Are you mad?” The evening started with a fight, one that hadn’t really been finished, and if Dick hadn’t left just to piss Bruce off, none of this would have happened. Though, the look on Bruce’s face and the heaviness on his shoulders tells Dick that he doesn’t care about that right now.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Dick holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable addendum. “We can talk about this when you’re feeling better.”

So, no punishment, but the conversation—the argument—isn’t over.

Dick scowls but, for whatever reason, he doesn’t pull away from Bruce’s hold.

Bruce shifts to sit beside Dick on the bed, keeping one arm wrapped around Dick’s shoulder in a side hug. Dick rests his head against Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce presses a kiss into Dick’s hair. Dick doesn’t mind.

“Tired?” Bruce asks after a while.

Dick nods.

“Get some sleep. We’ll likely be here for a few hours.”

Dick groans. “Why can’t we just go home? I feel fine.” Well, relatively.

Bruce squeezes Dick’s shoulder. “According to your doctor, you have a concussion and likely a linear skull fracture. I doubt they will be discharging you anytime soon.”

“Yeah, but can’t you Brucie Wayne us out of this?”

“Not this time, chum.” Dick can’t see Bruce’s face from this angle, but his voice sounds like he’s frowning.

As much as Dick wants to argue his way out of the ER, he also wants to lie down again. His headache is getting worse and so is the nausea. He already threw up once and it’s not exactly something he wants to have happen again. Especially since Dick’s cherry slushie turned the vomit red, which understandably concerned the medical staff.

Dick sighs and lifts his head, and Bruce mirrors the action by pulling away and standing up. Dick lies down and Bruce hesitates before moving to a chair. Dick reaches to grab Bruce’s hand, which Bruce accepts immediately.

They’re quiet, Dick dozing for a while until the doctor comes back with the CT results, confirming both the concussion and the linear skull fracture. The good news is that Dick will live, the bad news is that he has to stay put for a few hours so they can observe him and make sure nothing goes wrong. He supposes it could’ve been worse, though; Bruce reminds him that they could’ve admitted Dick and kept him overnight.

Bruce calls Alfred to give him the update after the doctor leaves. Alfred didn’t come along because Barbara had already left for patrol and he didn’t like the idea of her being on her own and not having anyone to assist her via comms as needed. It had been the right decision, but when Bruce hands Dick the phone to talk to Alfred, Dick hears concern and worry and guilt in the man’s voice. It hadn’t been easy for Alfred to refrain from running to Dick’s bedside tonight, and he’s sure Alfred will hover for the next few days, but Dick won’t mind.

The phone call ends with Alfred passing on well-wishes from Babs and an exchange of I love yous between Alfred and Dick. Alfred lets Dick hang up first, and then it’s just Dick and Bruce once more.

Bruce not exactly being the best conversationalist and Dick being very much concussed, Dick decides to sleep some more. But before Dick falls asleep, Bruce’s chair shifts.

Leaning closer to Dick, Bruce murmurs, “I’m … I do trust you, Dick. And I’m proud of you—every day.”

They had exchanged a lot of hurtful words during their argument, but right now, none of them feel true. Not what Dick had said, and not what Bruce had said or hadn’t said. Funny how a crisis can make everything else feel so small and insignificant, if even for a moment.

“I know, B.” Dick reaches blindly for Bruce’s hand, squeezing it when he finds it. “Love you too.”

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #batfamily #batfam #elizabeth writes

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greycappedjester · 3 years

Note

If it’s ok, could we get a small clip of the next chapter?

Sure!....which story?

Um, here’s one for all of them. It’s long (very, very long) so I’m putting it under “Read More”

(All story segments are not fully edited and may change)

Tooru Oikawa and the Triwizard Tournament

Yamaguchi squinted towards the other side of the Great Hall. “So have they….made up now?”

A few tables down, Kageyama and Hinata seemed to be in the middle of a very loud and very spirited argument on whether condiments could ever count as side dishes. Grievous insults to intelligence had been made and threats of murder were likewise issued.

“I think so.” Ennoshita didn’t sound confident.

Hinata attempted to tackle Kageyama off of his bench.

“But, they’re still not playing together for Quidditch,” Yamaguchi confirmed

Kageyama shoved an apple in Hinata’s face.

Asahi watched wide-eyed. “They said they couldn’t yet.”

A resulting debate over the term 'breakfast fruit’ emerged. It was somehow even more heated.

“But, they’re not fighting?” Yamaguchi had to confirm.

“Suga says they aren’t,” Daichi said.

They had now decided to share the apple. Yachi beamed from beside them. Lev booed.

Yamaguchi decided there and then. “I’m never going to understand their relationship.”

“They’re idiots,’ Tsukishima concluded.

And, thus, the most watched and highly contentious fight of the entire school year--Tournament included--finally came to its baffling end.

--------

After the Fall of Olympus

(Sorry, it’s a depressing one--partly because I can’t take out much from the chapter without giving away a really major spoiler that’s revealed in the first scene)

Dick and Donna have this thing they do.

It started maybe three years after the invasion, before Kory’s ship landed, and when everything was still raw but finally slowly trying to get better.

They’d been in the tower alone, both on monitor duty, when Donna had turned to him and out of the blue asked, “Dick, tell me about Wally West?”

“What,” Dick had asked, too surprised even to feel the pain that sharply.

“You and Roy mention him every now and then. He was your best friend, right? I want to know more about him.”

Dick had just stared. Stared until Donna had admitted in a too quiet voice. “I’m tired of not being able to talk about them.”

So Dick had talked. At the start, it wasn’t even about anything important. Just about what a huge chemistry nerd Wally was. How he flirted with girls non-stop. The time he’d tried to phase through a wall and got half way through before panicking. And then, slowly, Dick moved on to important things. When Dick first told him his secret identity. How Wally had wanted to grow up to be just like his uncle. What Dick had felt when he saw his body.

Donna talked, too. About her sister. About growing up with Diana, about the numb shock watching her death on the news, about wondering if her sister would be proud of her and the a million and one times she was scared of living up to the reputation.

It became a routine. Not every day. Not even every few months. But, now and again, one of them would seek the other out and Donna would talk about Diana or some of her other Amazonian teachers lost in the invasion and Dick would talk about Wally and M’gann and Artemis and Connor and Kaldur and….and Bruce. One time, Dick even talked about Superman.

They talked and the pain didn’t go away--not fully, not ever--but eased until they felt like they could breathe again, until they could remember a past that was colored by more than just the pain of their deaths.

-------

Walking With My Eyes Open

Gen wasn’t a kind man; he was pragmatic. And he’d long decided he’d do absolutely anything, sink to any kind of low, be however ruthless he needed if it meant saving Senkuu’s life.

So….

Decisions, decisions.

He shredded a petal under his nails and tossed it down.

“Gen?” A blonde head popped up beside him. “What are you doing?”

He smiled, making sure it was a soft one despite his mood. Because he absolutely believed in playing favorites and when it came to the village--to his entire life, actually--it wasn’t hard to guess the people that rested on top.

Suika smiled back, a glimpse of bright blue eyes shining through the shadows of her mask. Then, she tilted her head and lowered her voice. “Are you hiding from work?”

Gen laughed, pressing a finger to his lips. “Maybe a bit. Don’t tell on me, okay?” He winked. “Besides, I was considering some options. Thinking counts as work, too, doesn’t it?”

Suika nodded, glancing down at the growing pile of mangled petals then to the daisy Gen was still steadily demolishing. “And the flowers are helping you think?”

Actually, Gen had just been feeling murderous towards flowers lately. Call it enacting justice vicariously.

“Not particularly.” He picked up another flower from beside him and instead of shredding it, started to fold. “You’re right. I think there’s a better use for these.”

A few more quick movements and he wove a flower bracelet, just small enough to slip over Suika’s wrist.

Her grin brightened, looking at it like it was the next great marvel--so, at least Gen had accomplished one thing today.

“It’s so pretty,” Suika said, looking up to see it closer. “And the flowers are so close together. Can you teach me?”

“Sure, once we get some more flowers.” He picked up the last one, winding his fingers around the stem. “You know, now that you mention it. There is an old game about flowers and decisions. Want to hear it?”

Suika sat patiently in front of him, eyes fixed on the daisy because of course, she wanted to learn. What other village could this be?

“It’s very simple.” Gen counted off with one hand, flower in the other. “Two phrases, you pick a petal on each and the one you land on is your answer.” Gen picked a petal. “He loves me.” Another petal. “He loves me not….”

Suika gave a small gasp. “Flowers can tell you if someone’s in love?”

Gen didn’t laugh because he knew it would be bitter.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s just a game. Back before--ah, before even me and Senkuu, that is--ladies would play it to see if their beloved would ever return their affections. It’s silly.”

“So…,” Suika thought a bit, “it’s like a wish, then?”

“I think I’m using it more as a hex,” Gen muttered as he got to the last petal and glared.

He loves me.

Well, fuck.

Gen supposed that’s what he deserved for trusting flowers.

He gave his largest, most theatrical sigh for Suika’s sake. “Ahhh, Suika-chan, look at that! It seems like I lost. More’s the pity for me!”

Suika grinned up at him, hopping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his hips. “It’s okay! I still love you.”

Gen patted her head, smiling despite himself.

“Maybe you were using the wrong flower,” Suika told him.

“Could be.”

“I’ll go get more,” Suika promised. “Then, you can find one that’ll work.”

“More flowers is a good idea,” Gen agreed. “But, I think I’m tired of this game. Why don’t I teach you how to make the best flower crowns in the entire stone world? Then, we’ll both have to be the most beloved people in the whole village, won’t we?”

Immediately, Suika ran off to the woods and Gen watched her go.

At least, flowers could do good somewhere.

He looked down at the mangled flowers. A daisy, purity and innocence.

With a shift of his heel, he ground them a little further into the ground..

Flowers were an awfully pointless thing to blame; but, Gen was petty and they were easier than the alternative.

Still. He taught Suika how to make flower crowns and when she pressed one last bloom into his hand, so excited to find the last one of the season, he took it like his heart hadn’t plunged to his feet.

It was hard to look at black nightshade and forget it was a poison.

-------

Call Me Your Home At Night

(Note: very, very subject to edit. Part of the reason this one has taken awhile is rewrites while I work on tone)

Atsumu was shouting--voice tinny over the phone speakers--and Hinata’s blender was doing its best impressions of death throes while Hinata frantically tried to keep both the chord at the one angle it worked and hold the blender’s lid down so the entire kitchen didn’t end up coated in a weird grey mix of protein shake and bananas. Again. For the fifth time.

In other words, it was a normal morning.

From the part of his mind that noticed these things, Hinata thought it was kinda funny that Atsumu had learned to time his complaining to coordinate with the aggressive disaster that was Hinata’s morning routine.

Like the world’s weirdest symphony, the opposite of harmonizing. A disharmony! That was it!

“Seriously, what the fuck is a ward court and how is it different than a family court? Why do we even need two courts for divorce? Huh? Why not just shove a paper at us and have it done!” Atsumu’s voice got increasingly petulant. “Shouyou, it’s like the entire country is trying to keep good, decent people married! Why does it hate us?”

It was a close call; but, in a competition between one aggravated setter on speaker phone and the relentless whirring of the cheapest blender Hinata could find on the internet, Atsumu still managed to fight his way through.

Hinata gave the phone a sympathetic look even if he knew Atsumu couldn’t see it. He turned off the defeated foe and mentally crowned Atsumu the winner of Disharmony 2016: Blender vs. Atsumu edition. Not that he had much doubt.

“Find anything you like with grounds for divorce?”

Atsumu grumbled which meant no.

Then, Atsumu huffed which meant no and the world wasn’t fair!

So, apparently, divorce was harder than it looked. Actually, a lot of things about this “being married” thing were more complicated than they thought and, in the month since they’d been technically married, Hinata had frequently and strongly fantasized about grabbing his past self by the shoulders and shaking him while screaming ‘WHY?!’ right at his face.

Like taxes!

Who knew how to do taxes? Who knew that taxes were apparently due this month? Including married people taxes which apparently were more complicated and had things like joint filing or separate and dependants and a bunch of other words that Hinata still didn’t understand completely. It wasn’t like he could ask his Mom for help after everything or even beg Yachi or Kenma like usual because that would bring up the whole marriage thing and, ugh, no, no, no, no.

Hinata was pretty sure he and Atsumu had figured it out. Enough, at least. Getting arrested for tax evasion seemed like something that only happened on the news so it was probably fine.

Uh, so, yeah, between the whole moving to Brazil thing and figuring out stuff like rent and utilities and meeting the indoor volleyball team he’d be working with plus some of the beach volleyball players and trying to get his new roommate Pedro to talk to him about things other than laundry and groceries and trying to remember the difference between bolo and bola and finding a job and Atsumu dealing with MSBY promotion stuff and interviews and getting ready for pro-volleyball next season and then them both having to deal with stuff like taxes and still being weirded out about all the accidental wedding stuff in general, they…..well, they hadn’t gotten much done about the whole divorce thing.

Okay, more like they’d gotten exactly one thing done and that was figuring out a time to freak out about all the things they hadn’t gotten done. The good news was that the exactly twelve hour time difference was sorta perfect since it meant Hinata got back from his morning jog about the same time Atsumu came home for dinner, which meant that quickly became their agreed time to call with updates.

….which usually tailed off into both of them talking about volleyball instead because volleyball was a whole lot more fun.

Hinata very carefully pushed aside the resulting mental montage of sand scraping along his arms on a missed receive and feet sinking into the ground and landing face first in burning sand that was happening way more than he’d expected.

Hinata shook his head, scraping the not-very-blended protein shake out of his blender. “I’ll try to look some stuff up this afternoon.”

“Isn’t your laptop still being screwy?”

“...Maybe.” It was more like Hinata’s ancient laptop had given a sudden death kneel--complete with hisses and the screen flashing--and Hinata was sorta scared he’d get electrocuted if he even touched it. “I’ll use my phone.”

“I could just buy you a laptop, you know,” Atsumu muttered. It wasn’t the first time; Hinata even knew his next line.

Hinata grinned. “That’s really sweet, Atsumu. Absolutely not, you’re already doing enough of the research anyway.”

“Shut up,” Atsumu grumbled. “I am not sweet, this is a trade. Your laptop’s a piece of crap, like actually the worst and I--like any normal human being--am doing my part in putting it out of its misery. Basic compassion right here.”

“But, I don’t need a new laptop,” Hinata insisted like he always did. “I’ve got my phone. That’ll work until I get a job.”

Which he was totally going to get. Soon, too. It was just a little harder than he thought when he didn’t really have a great grip on the language yet.

“Hinata, I’m begging you as a friend here, please don’t resort to selling your organs on the black market.”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “I would never do that. I need them for volleyball.”

“Is that seriously the only reason?”

“Think about how long surgery recovery would take,” Hinata teased. “I only have two years here.”

“I worry about you. Like fundamentally.”

Hinata tilted his head. “But what if I could get like super organs instead.”

“Like Terminator?”

“Yeah! I’m pretty sure I read a manga where that happened once.” He paused. “Oh my gosh, Atsumu, imagine how amazing volleyball would be with superpowers!”

“There’s no way the V.League would approve that.” Atsumu breathed in. “But, what if…”

“I’d get super speed,” Hinata broke in excitedly, “or maybe flying. Oh, or super strength! Imagine hitting a spike with super strength!”

“Awesome!” Atsumu’s voice was speeding up. “What if I had one of those specialty powers like super precision or something! It could get around so many blockers; Suna would be so pissed off! I could set the ball anywhere!”

Hinata huffed. “You already do that.”

Atsumu broke off, sounding pleased. “Really?”

“Of course,” Hinata said. “Hey, wait, how was practice? You got to meet the new libero, right?”

“Yeah, Inunaki--he’s pretty cool. He was mainly working with--” Atsumu cut off, “Fuck, Shou, I gotta tell you about this thing Barnes and I did!”

Atsumu started rambling--words choppy and quick as he got deeper into the retelling of practice in a way that had Hinata hanging off every word. In an abstract sense, Hinata knew that he himself was a people person; he’d always been good at making friends and deeply appreciated every single one he was able to hang onto.

He’d never had a friend like Atsumu.

-------

Shuffling the Deck

(Since it’s late, have an entire opening scene)

ooooooo- 30 Years Prior -ooooooo

Once there was a girl who grew up with her grandmother in a barely patched house, closed in by cliffs.

She was a quiet girl, a pretty face and delicate hands always kept clean despite the threadbare clothes that hung more like rags. The girl did not like to play with the other children which was fitting as they didn’t much like to play with her either.

Instead, she liked to read.

And, more than that, she liked to watch the garden.

Which is what she chose to do, one day at eight years old on the same morning a prominent merchant staggered in to see her grandmother--a terrible illness spreading through his veins and blood in his cough.

The girl was fine with blood but didn’t care for coughing so she stayed exactly where she was, laying on her stomach with head propped in hands while she took in the delicate threads of a spider web.

She always thought the webs were the prettiest part of the garden. They were so very thin and frail that one could barely notice them until they got up close. And, then, once they saw them, they could see the patterns and shapes so carefully woven as if by an artisan.

Sometimes, she even saw the spider.

Sometimes, she tried to get it to crawl to her hand.

It never did though. No matter what she did. The spider was too cautious, too scared of what it believed had power over it.

That was how spiders worked, really. They spun their masterpieces with so much care and precision and, then, they waited patiently for the art to be observed.

The girl was not the only one who found the spider web this morning.

A fly had come across the threads first--likely by accident but the girl liked to imagine that it was the beauty that had drawn the fly in the same as it had done her.

She wondered if the fly still appreciated the art of the web.

It was still alive.

She watched it struggle. Its wings beat uselessly, its many legs trapped in the delicate threads, and a buzzing cry sounding so frantic for such a small creature.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

But, that would mean tearing down the gorgeous web that she adored.

But, that would mean the spider may starve and there would be no new web tomorrow.

And, besides, why did she care about dirtying her hands for the sake of a dying fly.

The door of the cottage opened and the girl glanced up idly.

The merchant was stumbling out, gratitude and lavish promises on his breath and a healthy glow back in his cheeks. Her grandmother was smiling kindly, accepting the praise yet turning down the offers same as she always did until eventually the merchant went away.

The girl looked back to the web.

The fly was dead, quickly being wrapped up by the spider to save for later.

She turned back to her grandmother. “He was rich, you know? I heard the other kids talking about him in town. His shipping business goes all the way up to the wealthy islands in the north. If you let him do even half the things he offered, we could live in a mansion and you wouldn’t have to hurt your fingers so much mending clothes.” The tone wasn’t accusing, merely curious. “Why did you say no?”

“Oh, my dear,” Her grandmother leaned down to kiss her hair and the girl allowed it, “because our powers are a gift. They’re not meant to be hoarded and offered for a price. They’re meant to be shared. Besides,” the woman sighed as she watched the road, “what kind of price would that be? Who would I be to demand it? Those who are desperate--for their lives, for those they love--would pay anything. They’d do anything. Who could ever put a price on such a weight? It’s beyond human measure.”

She smiled down at her granddaughter. “Do you understand, my darling Mimi?”

Maemi frowned before nodding, looking down at the spider web.

“Yes, I understand.”

There was no way to know what would have happened if the old woman took up the merchant’s offer. Likely she never would have. She was not that type of person. All that there was to know is that the grandmother and the little girl remained at the patched up cottage, just like they had the girl’s whole life and her grandmother’s life before hers.

They were there six months later when the oceans swelled and brought the waves into shore.

They were not both there after.

Six months later, a man and a girl waded through water as they searched a broken down cottage for survivors.

Well, the man searched at least.

The girl had stopped beside a tree, tall and strong enough to survive a tsunami.

On the bottom branch, at the lowest hanging twig, was a spider’s web just barely managing not to be swept into the water.

The spider was still alive.

But, it wouldn’t be for long.

It struggled, trying to climb up faster even as the bottom of its beautiful web was destroyed by the current.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

So, she did.

She snapped a twig from another branch and held it out for the spider to crawl, too. It did willingly, anything to avoid the water below.

It had never crawled to her hand before.

Not like it did now when it was desperate for life.

Maemi watched her dear spider crawl into her open hand.

And, then, she plunged her hand into the water and watched her dear spider drown.

“Yes, grandmother, I understand completely.”

#hq at hogwarts #atfo #cards #walking with my eyes open #call me your home at night #shuffling the deck #triwizard tournament #hq #dcst #dc #atsuhina #wow #okay i think i'm finally done with tags

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sunlightdances · 4 years

Text

Public Relations (Bucky x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Prompt: “I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability” Author’s Note: Written for @captain-kelli’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge! Congrats, Kelli, and thank you for hosting! Takes place post-Endgame, but with some adjustments to canon (Tony and Nat are alive, Steve stayed). This has a lot more dialogue than I initially planned! Hope it’s not too choppy. My love of commas is also evident in this piece. *shrug emoji* Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky, Marvel, or any other related characters or events. The other details of the plot are mine, including the characterization of the “reader”. Please don’t post my work on any other sites without my permission! If you liked what you read, please consider reblogging to help my work be seen. I would love you forever!

Let’s clear one thing up straight away: Bucky Barnes is not an asshole. He has a chip on his shoulder, sure, and it’s also true that he can be grumpy from time to time.

But can you blame him, really?

His life after age 26 has been one giant shit show that he’s just starting to get back on track, so he thinks the world at large could forgive him if he’s not super nice to the reporter hanging around outside the coffee shop or if his resting face sometimes looks like he wants to punch someone.

Still - he’s working on it. Trying to appear a little softer around the edges, trying to remember how to be the person he once was, not because he thinks it’s healthy to try to go back to that time, but because that’s the last time he actually remembers liking himself.

But, again, he’s not an asshole. Or, he tries really hard not to be. A fact he has to keep reminding his friends of (and he uses that word loosely, sometimes), especially when you’re around.

Everything just comes out of his mouth wrong when you’re there.

Probably because you’re around all the time, and you’re smart, and funny, and pretty, and-- nope. He’s not going there. Because reminding himself all the reasons why he likes you just makes him feel more guilty about the way he acts around you. He’s just too chickenshit to admit that he likes you, and ends up being a dick.

As soon as he walks into the Tower, you’re there.

After Thanos, the Avengers returned to New York City. There’s not much left of the Compound upstate to live in right now until the rebuild is done, and he’d been thinking about Brooklyn anyway. Manhattan is different, but he feels better in the city. He thinks the rest of the team likes it here too - it reminds them of the old days, or whatever.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you greet him coolly, matching his stride as he heads towards the elevator. “There’s a meeting in fifteen minutes in the main conference room.”

Bucky makes a noise of acknowledgement, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the tenth floor. “Do I have a choice to attend?”

“No you do not.”

“Great.”

He thinks you’re trying not to smile. He grinds his teeth.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice comes through the overhead speaker. “Captain Rogers requests that you, and I quote, don’t even think about it.”

You snort, and Bucky rolls his eyes. “Punk,” he whispers. “Thanks, FRIDAY. Tell Captain Rogers I said, and I quote, to shove it--”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” you interrupt, “Thank you so much.”

The few remaining minutes in the elevator are in silence, and you push your way out of the elevator before he can even take a step when it stops. Bucky follows you reluctantly to the conference room where some of the rest of the team is waiting.

Nat looks barely awake (she has trouble sleeping after literally coming back from the dead when Steve returned the stones, what a shocker), Sam is spinning in his chair, and Steve is patiently listening to Peter prattle on about some project he’s working on for biology.

“We’re just waiting on Tony, Bruce, and Scott,” you say, heading towards the head of the table. “Wanda is on a mission with Clint, and Thor is off world. No word from Carol in a few days, either.”

Steve waves you off. “Don’t worry about it. We can fill them in later.”

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Wait, this is your meeting?” He asks you. “What was the point of the AI-assisted lecture from you--” he pointedly glares at Steve.

“Because I knew you’d try to get out of it, so I asked for some help.” You smile sweetly at him.

The rest of the team files in over the next few minutes, and Bucky watches as you shuffle through a few papers before turning on the overhead projector. He has to admit, while he absolutely despises public relations, he has a lot of respect for what you do.

He knows it’s not easy wrangling Tony’s ambitions plus whatever manic situations the team get themselves in on a daily basis. Trying to do press for the Avengers is probably akin to wrangling cats, he supposes.

“So,” you clap your hands together, “the event at Children’s Hospital is in two weeks. Can we please, please avoid any earth-threatening situations that might take precedence over this? We missed it the last few years, obviously, so we need to get out there and make some kids happy.”

A murmured agreement goes throughout the room, and Bucky tips back in his chair, counting down the minutes until he can go literally anywhere else. It’s not you, really. It’s the idea of public appearances. He hates them. People still think of him based on who he was, not who he is now. Despite the fact that Steve and the rest of the team have publicly vouched for him and are working on clearing his name, he sees how people look at him.

You’re tied to that feeling, even though he knows that isn’t fair. He has a hard time separating you from your job.

“The next thing -- and I don’t want to hear about it --” You look around, eyes landing on him meaningfully, “-- there’s a magazine feature for the anniversary of the Battle of New York.”

“Well, that’s me off the hook,” Bucky says flippantly, grinning smugly at Sam, who high fives him.

“No, it absolutely doesn’t,” you argue.

“I wasn’t there, in case you forgot.”

You glare. “Thank you for the reminder.”

“Guys--” Steve tries to interrupt.

“You have to participate, because this article is about the team and how it’s grown since the inception of the Avengers.” You say, almost sounding bored. Probably because you and Bucky have this argument at least once a week.

“Bucky, it’s an hour.” Steve says gently, trying to barter.

“Whatever.” Bucky grumbles, “You know what they’re going to ask,” he says, suddenly angry. “Where was the elusive Winter Soldier during the Battle of New York? Do I remember it happening, or was I in the middle of being frozen or wiped for the thousandth time?”

You shift your weight, looking down at the floor. He feels guilty for a half second. “I won’t let them ask.”

His heart thuds weirdly in his chest at how earnest you sound, but he just can’t help himself, apparently. “Because you’re so sure they’re going to listen to you.”

Hurt flashes across your face so quickly he thinks he’s imagined it, but he knows he hasn’t. Again - he’s not usually an asshole. He still hates himself for it, though.

“Alright, we’re done here.” You say quietly, gathering your paperwork. “I’ll email you all the details.”

Sam elbows him, and across the table, Steve is giving Bucky a look that he’s come to associate with a lecture.

He sighs and rolls his eyes before getting up and heading out of the room, his friends at his heels.

“Wow, a five minute meeting,” Sam is saying, sarcastically. “Gotta be a new record, don’t you think, Rogers?”

Bucky’s new plan is to ignore Sam at all costs. It’s not a plan he thinks is going to work out in his favor, but it’s what he’s sticking with.

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

“Are you a mind reader?” Bucky asks, hitting the button in the elevator for the residential floors.

“It’s two events, Buck.” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can handle it.”

“Yeah? Why don’t I let you field the questions I normally get, and we’ll see how you like it.”

“I’m not doubting you. I just don’t understand why you always have to take it out on her.” Steve’s voice is so disappointed, Bucky almost wants to laugh. When his best friend turned into such a mother hen, he’ll never know.

“Don’t be late!” Sam calls as Bucky gets off on his floor, leaving the other men in the elevator.

Flipping him off over his shoulder, he hears Sam’s chuckle and Steve’s sigh before the doors close, and finally he’s alone with his thoughts.

Turns out the interview happens before the hospital visit.

Bucky is in an uncomfortable chair, a reporter across from him, and you behind the reporter, fidgeting slightly. He feels almost relieved that you seem to be as nervous as he is.

“Mr. Barnes,” the reporter begins, a smile Bucky already hates on his face.

“It’s Sergeant.” You say quietly from behind him, and Bucky meets your eyes briefly, seeing the resolve there.

“Of course.” The reporter says smoothly, offering another smile to Bucky. “Sergeant Barnes, you weren’t in New York for the Chitauri invasion, were you.”

“No.”

If the reporter thought he’d elaborate, he doesn’t let on. Bucky saw these questions coming a mile away, and isn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of saying something he’ll regret. Well, he won’t regret it. But it’ll be a pain in the ass for everyone if he can’t keep his cool.

“This was the first official Avengers event. Do you remember hearing about it?”

Bucky wants to laugh. “Do I remember-- no. I don’t think I was awake for much of 2012.” You fidget again, shifting your weight, and Bucky sighs, grinding his teeth. “I’ve been fully briefed on the invasion and know that what the Avengers did that day saved the world.”

The reporter looks at him for a long moment before shifting the papers on his lap around a bit. “The Avengers have changed a lot in all those years since that first mission. Can you tell me a bit more about your role with the team?”

Bucky relaxes a bit. This is the part he prepped for, the part he could recite in his sleep if he had to. Whatever instinct he had back in the day that allowed him to lead a unit and report to his CO is still there, especially for questions like this. “I work mainly with Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson to coordinate missions and do strategic planning. Recon and research are my main areas of focus, but I go on missions too if needed as backup, or if it’s an all hands on deck situation.”

“So you’re not handling any weapons?”

Bucky blinks. Over the reporter’s shoulder, you frown.

“All Avengers team members undergo weapons training.”

“During the War, you were a sniper with the 107th, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you’d say that you’re pretty proficient with a gun?”

Your eyes are flashing now. “I’m sorry - none of this was on the list of pre-approved questions.” You interrupt, and the reporter holds up a hand to stop you, causing you to make an affronted face.

Bucky would laugh if he wasn’t feeling so sick at this turn of questioning. Every time. No matter who they vet, no matter how many times reporters insist they aren’t trying to catch him in a question he can’t or doesn’t want to answer… this is why he hates interviews.

“I’m just saying -- you’re one of the world’s most accomplished assassins. I guess I wanted to know why you’re doing research and recon when you could be on the front lines with the team? Are they worried you’ll have a setback?”

Bucky barks out a laugh.

You start, taking a few steps forward. “That’s enough. We’re done here.”

Bucky’s already standing, pulling out the chair from behind him as you come around to follow him out, until the reporter stops you, a hand firm on your elbow. You freeze, and Bucky’s eyes narrow on the point of contact, an unfamiliar feeling surging through him.

“Do you know who I work for?” The reporter hisses. “You told me I’d have a half hour.”

“That was before I knew you were going to ask questions that have nothing to do with your article.” You reply, face darkening when he still hasn’t let go.

Bucky waits, waits for one more sign that you’re uncomfortable before he steps in.

“If you ever want to get another high profile piece done on your team you’ll let me finish here.” He threatens, hand tightening.

You sigh, almost looking bored, and in one swift move, you’ve shifted enough of your weight to turn, pulled the elbow he was holding out of his grasp, and driven it into his ribs, simultaneously kneeing him in the groin.

Bucky’s eyebrows raise, and you look at him, rolling your eyes. “What?”

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he says, letting a smile slip out so you know he’s kidding.

The reporter is doubled over, still making threats, but neither of you pay him much attention as you walk out the double doors of the conference room in the unfamiliar magazine office, heading towards the lobby.

In the car that’s waiting for you outside, Bucky watches you carefully as you roll your shoulders a bit, clearly smarting from the move you pulled back there.

“If I would have known you could do that, I would have been a little nicer,” he teases, but there’s an undercurrent of truth to his words. Not that he thought he’d ever piss you off enough for you to hurt him, but that he wishes he was nicer to you in general.

You glance at him, face neutral. “It wasn’t that hard. Everyone who works for the Avengers goes through basic self defense training, and I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability.”

Bucky nods. “Still. Thank you, by the way, for putting an end to that.”

You sigh, sitting back in your seat, all the fight leaving you. “It’s nothing.” You dig your phone out of your pocket and he watches as your thumbs fly across the screen before you hold it to your ear. “Hi, Steve.” A pause, “No, that’s cancelled. You’re not doing it. Tell Tony I’m cancelling the rest of the interviews. We’ll find some other place to get it published.”

He knows he’s staring and he knows he should stop before you notice, but he just… can’t take his eyes off you. The way you stood up for him, the way you promised him you would even when he was being a total asshole… he has no idea what he did to deserve it, but he’s damn grateful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, your tone softer than he’s ever heard it.”

He shakes his head, looking down at his feet. “No reason. Just-- sorry I’m such a dick sometimes.”

You laugh, and he immediately wants to hear it again.

“I mean it,” he continues, “I don’t mean to be. You don’t deserve it.”

“Bucky.” Your voice is even softer, quiet, and he struggles to think if you’ve ever called him by his name before. You wait until he meets your eyes. “It’s fine. We’re all-- just trying to get through this.” You shrug. “I know it’s not easy for you. Just… Trust me sometimes, will you?”

“I do trust you.” He replies immediately, absolutely sure of himself for once.

It’s your turn to be a little surprised.

He rubs his hands together, a nervous tick he’s never gotten rid of. “I’ve been trying to distance myself because I like you. And that honestly scares the shit out of me. I don’t know--” He stops, frustrated. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. And all I keep thinking about is what could go wrong.” He takes a chance and glances up at you, and the look in your eyes… it’s more than he expected. He feels his heart take off in his chest.

“We’re both so stupid, Bucky.” You tell him, but your words are light. “You should have said something.”

He rolls his eyes. “People always say that. But when has a conversation like this one ever been one that someone wants to have?”

“Maybe when the other person feels the same way?”

Bucky can’t breathe. He never even considered it. It was always a forgone conclusion in his mind. He thinks you’re beautiful, and you never think about him at all. That was always the truth that he thought he knew. “Go out with me.” He blurts, and then feels his face redden. “I mean-- let me-- will you let me take you to dinner?”

The car stops in front of the tower and you’re opening the door before you say anything, making him panic a little. A look over your shoulder, “I’ll see if I can pencil you in somewhere.” You say, and then with a wink, you’re gone, leaving him scrambling to get out of the car to catch up to you.

Before you can, Steve is there, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Not now--”

“Can’t help it. She called a meeting.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, and laughs. “Did she.”

“She must know how much you love them. Come on.”

Upstairs he finds his usual seat next to Sam and across from Steve, but when you gather your notes and meet his eyes, yours absolutely sparkling, he finds he’s not dreading this one at all. He still wants to take you to dinner though, so he might have to try to break his own record.

A 5 minute meeting so he can convince you to go on a date with him? He thinks he can swing it.

End

#captainkelli500fam #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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supermanshield · 4 years

Text

Started this a couple months ago, finished it in home isolation. Superbat, 3k words.

Summary: The Justice League decides it's time to get to know each other out of costume. Some people are less happy with this than others, but eventually even Batman agrees.

Note: This doesn't comply with any canon, because I made my own. I even have a timeline and everything.

AO3 Link

----------------

“If that is all, I would like to hereby close this meeting,” Superman said.

“Superman, I would like to have a word with everyone.”

“You had your chance, Diana. Meeting’s over,” Batman interjected while getting up from his seat.

“This doesn’t concern League matters, Batman. Barry and I have been talking, and we think it beneficial to share more time together. As friends.”

Barry looked at Batman narrowing his eyes while gripping his chair. He cleared his throat. “Yes. Uhh… It would be good for the team to see each other out of costume, like a dinner party, picnic or game night. Just something not trauma or crisis related.”

“Oh, but game night would end in massive trauma for all of you,” Dinah interjected, laughing. Before Barry could continue his invitation, Batman growled, “And a picnic would end in crisis, so if that’s all, I’ll be on my way.”

“Batman, wait,” Diana started. “On Themyscira, my warrior sisters and I would often spend time together in the bathhouses after training.”

“Now that’s a reason to visit Themyscira. Ow!” Dinah elbowed Oliver in the ribs. Diana shot him a glare, “It also helps with team-building and finding mutual respect for each other.”

Barry was about to consider his efforts a lost cause when Superman came to the rescue. “I think it’s a great idea! It would be nice to get to know each other better outside of hero business. What do you think, Batman?”

“It’s a waste of time. Everyone’s busy enough as it is.” This was it. Lost cause. No approval from Batman meant no picnic. “…But if you really must, you can organize it without me.” With a swoosh of his cape, Batman stalked out of the room.

“His loss. More food for us, right buddy,” Hal laughed while elbowing Barry. “Exactly! Let’s try to come up with an activity and set a date.” It would be fine without Bruce; he would just bring down the mood anyway. Although his manor was probably the most suitable and private location, so now they would have to figure out an alternative.

----------------

As Superman floated into the Batcave later that night, the computers were whirring, Bruce typing quietly. The past couple of weeks had been good to them. No intergalactic missions, no supervillains breaking out. To be honest, there hadn’t been that many league missions at all, which was a good thing. Clark had been able to catch up at work, Bruce had had time to work on new gadgets and actually attend meetings at WE on time for once. They were still busy, still patrolled their own cities and Clark did a sweep around the globe once a day, but life was almost… normal.

When Clark got close to Bruce, he didn’t even look up from his work. Yet somehow, he still heard Clark’s unasked question in the silence.

“They’re right you know, it’s been scientifically proven that teams are more efficient if the members get together outside of work. It helps with trust and communication.”

“So…? Why don’t you want to get together?”

“…I was thinking about proposing something like this myself.”

Clark smiled. “Looks like they beat you to it, then. So… does this mean -“

“That’s not what I was saying, Clark. I don’t need any more prying eyes into my life. Our lives.”

“Just humour them, Bruce. You know they’d want to do it here.”

“Which is exactly what I don’t want. More chaos in this house.” Bruce rubbed his temple.

“Like you would notice any more people or accidents between the kids and the pets.”

A sigh. “I just don’t need to share every part of my life with them. It’s unnecessary.”

Bruce was making lame excuses, trying to discard the scientific proof he’d found. Which of course he couldn’t ignore. But Clark knew him. He had one last trick up his sleeve. “All right. If you don’t want to do it for them, then do it for me? Maybe I want to share my life with my friends.” He looked into Bruce’s eyes with the brightest smile he could muster in the faint lights of the computer screens. Bruce looked down, thinking. After what seemed like an eternity of Bruce probably going through every scenario about the get-together in his mind, he finally looked up at Clark again.

“Hmph. Fine. But,” Bruce said while holding up a finger, holding off the incoming hug, “on one condition. Not here. At Oliver’s.” Then Clark hugged him.

----------------

On Sunday afternoon, Dinah was in the kitchen putting the last of the sauces and dips together. She put everything on a big tray and carried it outside, where Oliver was just firing up the barbecue. Grilling had been his idea as soon as they had decided to do the party at their house. So now Oliver was juggling spatulas, flipping patties and throwing cheese on them, trying to proof her wrong about not being able to make enough burgers for Flash, Green Lantern and Superman.

Dinah hadn’t been in the League for very long yet, and she hadn’t seen everyone together in civvies before. She wondered if it had ever happened. Barry and Hal were friends and spent time together, and she knew Clark and Bruce hung out. There was proof of that in the news often enough. She wondered how much it was just Clark covering Bruce’s galas and fund-raising events, or a façade to gather intel for joint missions, and how much it was them actually being friends. Diana would spend most of her time she wasn’t needed here, back on Themyscira.

So, it was nice having everyone here together in her garden. It was a warm day, the cool tiles of the kitchen welcoming on her bare feet and when she walked outside with her tray the grass tickled her toes. Today there was no pretending. Even Bruce had showed up and was actually making small talk with Hal. Probably judging Oliver’s barbecue skills together.

“You need help with that, Dinah?” Barry said as he rushed over and made enough space on the table for her tray before she even had time to reply. “Thanks, Barry. I could use some help with the veggies too.” “Oh please, let me help,” Diana said, pointing her thumb back at the guys as she walked over. “They are discussing how to make the best burgers and I have no interest in it.” Dinah laughed. Every time Oliver made burgers, she and him would get into an argument over how to shape the patties for the best flavour. Oliver was very defensive of his rather thick burgers.

Vegetables were cut and then grilled on the barbecue, and Oliver had assembled an impressive stack of burgers. He persisted, and Dinah loved him for it. When everyone joined at the table, they sat at the head end. Dinah stood up and said “Thank you all for coming! I hope you will enjoy your meal and each other’s company, especially after that disastrous camping trip Hal keeps telling me vague stories about,” She winked.

“Ha! As long as this doesn’t include sleep overs or making fire, we should be good,” Hal smirked.

Before Clark could start defending himself, Barry already cut in urging everyone to talk about something else and just eat. So they did. And it went well; there was laughter and conversation, the sun slowly setting in the background. They talked about normal things really, the weather, politics. Hal’s plans for the summer. Clark told them he would go back to the farm at the end of summer to help his mother with the harvest, Barry shared stories about his co-workers at the crime lab. It wasn’t that they avoided talking about league stuff, they just didn’t need to. Dinah looked at Bruce. He’d been silently observing, laughing along with the jokes. Sure, batman cracked a joke occasionally, but to see him genuinely laughing and being himself was different. Yet, it was hard to get a read on the man. Like today, he was clearly enjoying himself, but somehow all of it was still shrouded in secrecy; he didn’t share much. On the direct opposite of that was Clark, a man who shared everything he stood for. Except-

As Clark reached across the table for the ketchup, the sunlight hit it. A silver (or was it white gold?) band around his ring finger. How no one had noticed it so far, she wasn’t sure. But now, it was very clear. Barry was the first to speak. “Oooh, who’s the lucky lady, S?”

Clark was visibly shocked, looked at his ring for a moment as if it hadn’t been there before, then around the table. “Huh? Uhh… oh, it’s not important.” Not important?

“Not important?” Oliver voiced her thoughts. “Someone married Superman, and we didn’t even know about it?”

“Scratch that! Who got to take Superman home is the real question here,” Hal snickered. “Does she know you’re… you know, him?”

“Oh, trust me, they know,” Clark said calmly while putting the bottle of ketchup back.

“So, who is it?” Hal prodded.

“Yes, who Clark?”

“Is it Lois? Have you finally tied the knot?”

“I haven’t been with her for years, Barry.”

“Someone from Smallville then?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

“Tell us Clark. Don’t keep us in suspense!” By now, Clark looked seriously displeased, stammering excuses.

“How did you meet?” Diana tried. Smart move, narrow down the suspects. “Uh… through work?” Clark offered. Great, there must be over a hundred people working at the Daily Planet. That didn’t help. Or it could be someone he’d interviewed, that made the pool of potential Superman spouses even bigger. Discussion broke out, theories being thrown around and the chaos was complete. Everyone, including Dinah herself, was too busy to notice Clark shooting a mortified look at Bruce, who scowled back.

“Enough.” Clark said in a calm Superman voice, making them all quiet down in an instant. “I’m sure we’ll be ready to share it someday. Let’s please just get back to eating now.” His face was stern.

Everyone quieted down, but the atmosphere wasn’t the same. Diana tried to ask Bruce about his charity work and steer the conversation to a more pleasant topic. The air was full of questions and few words were spoken. Oliver suggested they all just clean up and go inside to share a drink and play some darts. “Come on, you and Bruce would win that by a landslide!” Barry protested, but Bruce politely declined and started saying his goodbyes and thanked Dinah and Oliver for dinner. After that, Clark left quickly. Then Hal, Barry, and finally Diana. “I’m sure they will come around eventually, Dinah. Just give them some time.” And flew away after a quick peck on her cheek.

----------------

Over the next month in the watchtower, whispers and guesses about Superman’s secret spouse were going around. They’d stop as soon as Superman walked into the room, which was stupid of course, because he’d probably already heard them. Clark started looking more cheerless every meeting, until by some miracle, the core members of the justice league all got invited to have dinner at Wayne Manor. Bruce had apologized to Dinah for how the barbecue had ended, and to everyone’s shock proposed a new get-together. So now she and Ollie were pulling up on the driveway to a massive mansion atop a hill in Gotham city. Oliver had been there before, but she had never seen it, aside from pictures. It was intimidating. “I thought we had a pretty big villa…” She whispered to Oliver. He smiled. “Just remember to close your mouth when you see the great hall, babe.”

As they were making their way up the stone stairs to the front door, it was opened by Clark. “Hey guys, welcome! Come in, come in,” he said, reaching out his hands to them. He was wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt, no glasses. Inside, he took their coats and put them away in a little room off to the left. Because of course, the hallway closet was just a separate room. Despite what Oliver had said, Dinah was in awe. The entrance hall opened up to reveal a two-story room, complete with chandeliers, two winding stairs going up to a balcony, and actual armour displays.

“I know, I was kind of starstruck too, the first time I came here,” Clark appeared at her side. At that moment, Bruce appeared from a room behind the grand staircase. He was wearing a turtleneck and slacks. He shook Oliver’s hands, kissed Dinah on the cheek. “Welcome, welcome, do you want a drink? Let’s go to the study.”

“Where are all your kids, Bruce? I half expected an ambush here.”

“Not here, thank god.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen helping Alfred.” Clark declared and disappeared down a hallway.

“How many do you have now, anyway?” Oliver asked.

“Too many- Maybe you can make your burgers for all of them some time,” Bruce teased Oliver.

“Shouldn’t you be the one helping in the kitchen?”

Bruce stared blankly at Dinah. “I haven’t been allowed in there all day.”

Bruce showed them to the study, where they sat down on some very comfortable couches, and poured them some drinks. Soon, the rest of the league arrived. Dinah made her way around the study, inspecting the massive bookcases, until she found the music section. She wondered if there was a library with even more books.

“Oh Bruce, please tell me you have a music room.” This many pieces of sheet music, someone in this house had to be talented. And Bruce would have the means to have a full-blown orchestra hidden somewhere. She picked up a book about saxophones and sat down at the desk. “We do, actually. Damian likes to play a lot.” So Bruce’s youngest was the talent. She didn’t know much about him besides that he was the current Robin. “Ok, you’re going to have to show me that after dinner.”

She flipped open the book, Top tones for Saxophone, and read something about note placement. And then she saw it. Bruce’s desk was large, mahogany, and very organised. There was a laptop – closed, an expensive looking pen set, some paperwork, and glasses. But there were more personal items too, photos. The picture frames were facing Dinah, so the rest of the group couldn’t see them from where they were sitting on the couches. There was a picture of Kara and two other girls, one blonde and one black haired. One with the four Wayne boys, she knew them – had even worked with Red Hood once, and many times with Red Robin – but out of costume they were hard to tell apart. Then there was a picture of a bunch of teens and Alfred with a mickey hat at Disneyland, castle in the background. She knew Bruce was protective of his sidekicks and partners, but never knew they were such a normal… family. So, all of this was a slight surprise, but manageable. At the last picture however, her mind simply stopped. And started up again. And then a lot of things started making sense. Because that was Clark. And Bruce. Their hands on each other’s arms. Clark was smiling at whoever took the picture, and Bruce was looking at Clark in a way Dinah had never seen on Batman. Love.

In the middle of the room, Oliver was telling everyone a story about Kite-man. Hal was picking away tears at the corners of his eyes and Barry was slapping his thighs with laughter. Even Diana was laughing along. Dinah looked at Bruce. Clark had greeted them at the door. Bruce had said ‘we do’ when Dinah asked about the music room. He’d been very quiet last month when they were making fun of Clark’s secret marriage. He was the one that apologized for how the barbecue had ended, even though he had nothing to do with it. But apparently, he had everything to do with it.

While her mind was racing through all this at a 100 miles per hour, Bruce caught her eye, winked, and raised his glass at her. On his ring finger, a white golden band.

As if on cue, Clark then came in the room to tell everyone the starter course was ready to be served. Everyone made their way out of the study towards the dining room and took a seat.

At dinner, they were joined by Alfred, who Dinah had never really met before besides earlier tonight and in the cave downstairs. The table was set decadently, loaded with soup, a stew, bread, vegetables and wine. Bruce was seated at the head of the table, with Clark to his left, and Alfred to his right.

“Oh my, I’m terribly sorry but I seem to have forgotten a ladle for the soup. Excuse me,” Alfred started pushing his chair back, but Clark cut in. “Don’t worry Alfred, I’ll get it.”

When Clark came back with the ladle, he started passing out soup to whoever wanted. It was too easy. Dinah just couldn’t resist saying “So Clark, you know your way around here pretty well it seems.” Clark, ladle halfway towards Barry’s bowl, calmly said “I do, yes. Bruce and I work together a lot and I- “

“Clark.” Bruce cut him off. “She knows.”

“Ah. Hm.” Clark cleared his throat. He had stopped passing out soup and stood up straighter now. Looked at Bruce. “Well, did you want to…?”

“Yes.” Bruce stood up too now.

To her right, Barry leant over and whispered, “What’s happening? What do you know?” Dinah remained silent.

“Um,” Bruce starts. Batman nervous, never thought she’d see that. “Clark and I are both hosting tonight.” Okay… it’s a start. But still-

“What? Clark paid for half of all this food?” Barry wondered out loud. On the other side of the table, Hal was trying hard to contain his laughter.

Diana sighed and put her face in her hand. “Just tell them already.”

What’s going on? Oliver mouthed at Dinah. She shrugged, curious to see how this would play out.

“Superman’s secret spouse. It’s me.” Bruce said curt. And at the same time, “Bruce and I are married.”

Barry’s mouth fell open, Hal finally started laughing but quickly regained control and raised his glass. “Well, congratulations you two!”

“So, to come back to your question from earlier Oliver, we have about 8 now.”

“8 what?” Hal asked, confused.

“Children.” Clark now had his arm around Bruce’s waist, and probably the brightest smile ever on his face.

“Okay, remind me to never babysit here if I need some money.”

Oliver turned to Dinah. “How did you know?” “Figured it out just now. A picture on Bruce’s desk. Very cute by the way.” She smiled. “And he has a wedding ring that matches Clark’s. I don’t think it was that much of a secret.”

To Dinah’s left, Alfred whispered to her, “Mrs. Queen, there are loads more pictures of them. I’ll show you their wedding album after dinner if you are interested.”

Before Bruce could protest, Barry seemed to finally catch up to the situation. “Wait, stop! You’re telling me we missed the wedding of Batman and Superman?! You owe us a do-over.”

Clark laughed at that. “I think it’s time we started dinner. Enjoy!”

----------------

Later that night, Bruce and Clark were seated on one couch in the study, the guests huddled around Alfred with the wedding album on the other. Bruce watched them and couldn’t stop a smile forming around his mouth. Alfred was positively beaming with pride, and the crowd laughed as they were now undoubtedly looking at the cake-cutting pictures. Bruce interlaced his fingers with Clark and leaned into him some more. He felt the other man relax.

“See? Not so bad, was it?” Clark whispered. Bruce hmm-ed back in response.

And indeed, there was something to be said for spending time outside of work with co-workers. With friends.

#superbat #write write

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bookandcover · 3 years

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What I miss most: “the liminal, magical space that is the live concert venue.” ~June 8, 2021

I’m so glad to have finally read this book after it was repeatedly recommended to me by several different friends. Hanif Abdurraqib has an absolute gift for crafting essays that braid his personal experiences with the (sometimes seemingly cosmic, and therefore daunting to explain or conceptualize) forces of racism, sexism, economic inequality, and nationalism in America. He also jumps seamlessly in scale and in scope, summarizing the heart of something hugely complex—a masterpiece album, a regional sound, a decades-long relationship—without reducing the irreducibly complex, without sacrificing specificity, without sounding trite. I don’t think I’ve ever read a book quite like this, although I haven’t read very much Creative Non-Fiction. Regardless, Hanif moves skillfully, masterfully. I love the collection’s confidence in narration, the love of language, the direct confrontation with that which makes us all deeply flawed (deeply human).

Each of these essays could stand alone. It’s a joy to read even one and Abdurraqib’s style shines through in just a couple pages. He crafts his stories with such dexterity. It’s clear that he comes from a background in poetry, as he celebrates language, builds vivid images, and thinks thematically. (I love the moments that are truly experimental—erasures of his own work, pieces without punctuation that flow on and on in one interlinked sequence). At the same time, he relies heavily on facts and content. Part of his conviction is born of research and depth of understanding. He knows his subject; yet, within this knowledge, he expresses personal preferences and sentimental love. I learned a ton from this book about music, about the history of particular musicians, about the relationship between racial inequality and self-expression within the field of music. Together, these essays form of complex tapestry of recent history in America seen through the lens of music. I absolutely loved the experience of coming to understand the interweaving of so many of our lives’ central questions and tensions through the history of music.

Art is inherently political, as many contemporary artists would agree (a viewpoint that counters the modernists before them who argued for the apolitical nature of art—art for art’s sake). Abdurraqib makes a very compelling argument for the deep integration of art with politics, social systems, economics, and trends. These things, however, are also deeply tied to the powerful forces of our choices, our identities, our love, and our compassion. It does not cheapen art of have it be so informed by, so shaped by political and social forces. In Abdurraqib’s worldview, art is the medium by which we reflect ourselves back to ourselves. And it’s also the medium by which we find freedom, by which we challenge ourselves to grow beyond the ways we understand ourselves to be. Race is the most central political and social theme that weaves throughout these essays, starting with the title of the book, which is introduced in the essay on Bruce Springsteen. “They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us” are the words that hang above Michael Brown’s memorial in Ferguson, Missouri. It might be hard to imagine an essay that weaves a Springsteen concert with a trip to Michael Brown’s resting place, a task that would certainly be daunting to any other writer, yet Abdurraqib navigates this with dexterity that seems natural, fundamental to how he thinks about the world.

Within the framework of race in America, some of the themes from these essays that I most appreciated and internalized included: Black joy (when it’s expressed and what it means), the markings of wealth (in the context of a journey out of poverty), and the policing of authenticity (or other forms of self-expression/emotion). Black joy is mentioned repeatedly in these essays, as something to be commented on for its rareness, while also positing the idea that music is a space that more boldly permits Black joy. Awareness of joy seems flow underneath these essays; it’s something not taken for granted, something treasured. I found this awareness of joy in the essay on Nina Simone’s Blackness and in the contrast between how she is portrayal by Hollywood and how she lives on in Abdurraqib’s childhood memories. I found this awareness of joy in the essay “Surviving Punk Rock Long Enough to Find Afropunk,” which focused on the exclusion of Black bodies from punk rock spaces (and the disregard for the handful of Black bodies that dared to enter anyway), while emphasizing the inherent survival in the African American experience that resonants deeply with punk rock’s values. A longing for a space that is joyful for Black people was addressed beautifully in the essay on Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson, in which Abdurraqib wishes for a home in the darkness of the photo of the two of them, where he sees “a small & black eternity.”

One of my favorite essays in the collection was the piece “Burning That Which Will Not Save You: Wipe Me Down and the Ballad of Baton Rouge,” which focuses on the rise of three Baton Rouge rappers—Foxx, Lil Boosie, and Webbie—in the years that followed Hurricane Katrina, which changed the outlook of Baton Rouge and its relationship to loud neighbor New Orleans. The essay breaks down the fundamental pieces of the rapper persona (circa mid-to-late 2000s): shoulders, chest, pants, shoes. For each of these elements, the essential nature of each is discussed, particularly as they relate to signaling both wealth and self-confidence: the dream realized. I loved this essay because it brilliantly articulated something I’ve always sensed (understood in myself in certain ways), but been unable to well-articulate, which is the power of “markings of wealth” in the life of someone who has survived through poverty, or an understanding of the proximity of poverty. For this person, the possession of wealth (things that show wealth, that communicate its presence to others, whether or not there is a real depth of wealth) feels and is different. Someone wears their wealth differently if they are conscious of it. This is a different look than that of the third-generation millionaire’s son for whom a real depth of security is so deeply ingrained as to limit the frame of imagination to always include it. I loved how this essay explained that wealth is not an universally proud/cocky look, but instead braggadocios, something that has a lot of context, a lot of nuance, a lot to do with environment and habit and understanding of temporary/permanent.

Sports, another space in which the economic and political forces of America come head-to-head with the personal and lived experiences of diverse Americans, also center several of these essays. Abdurraqib has a similar appreciation of sports—spaces of fandom, spaces of mass-appeal, spaces where the struggles and triumphs of a few become the struggles and triumphs of many—as he has of music. The social discussion around sports also holds a magnifying class to systemic racism, a process which Abdurraqib unpacks and examines. Serena Williams is discussed as an example of the policing of Black self-expression (policing how she expresses anger, how she expresses confidence, i.e. “too loudly” for the white Western world), topics also addressed in depth in “On Kindness.” “Black Life On Film” tackles the way violence is romanticized and compartmentalized as part of the Black experience, allowing an observation of violence for white viewers that is unhinged from a need to alleviate it, to address it. These same tensions and problems bubble forth in the dialogue around sports, as the eyes of the nation are turned to popular topics, which are filtered through (nearly exclusively, exhaustively) the same biased lenses.

As Abdurraqib develops these complex themes, he relies on a few central tools that are essential to his literary project. To point out these common tools is not to say that Abdurraqib only has a couple tricks up his sleeve. These aren’t “tricks” at all. Instead, these seem important to how he thinks about the world, things that are inseparable from his mode of observation.

His most central tool is the “parallel events” essay structure. With this approach, Abdurraqib details what happened for him personally as events occurred elsewhere that rocked the framework and landscape of America. A collapse of time collapses distance. Abdurraqib seems to have experienced many of these such moments of collapse, as he vividly recalls where he was and what he was doing as particular significant events unfolded. The eeriness of these experiences are not lost on a reader; we’ve all been there. To say that Abdurraqib has experienced many of these is to, perhaps, point out how much current events impact and rock him (as they always do those who belong to the groups that are, time and time again, targeted and destroyed in America). But it’s also, perhaps, to point out the precision of Abdurraqib’s memory. He holds onto details like a vice, capturing for us in painful and poignant specificity the situation in which he personally broke against the tragedy of the news (as the news breaks to us, we break against it, like waves). One of the delicate powers of Abdurraqib’s use of this essay structure is the way that his personal narrative is not cheapened, nor lessened when set up against the national event, the event we all remember. Instead, one is given the right urgency and the other given the right intimacy.

This technique for framing an essay (an experience, a life) begins in the essay “A Night in Bruce Springsteen’s America” in which a white older man at a Springsteen concert tells Abdurraqib he was at another Springsteen show on the evening Lennon was murdered. While this man wishes that “no one gets killed out there during the show this time,” there’s no world in which, for Abdurraqib, someone is not killed out there during this show. The cycle of loss that is stitched into Abdurraqib’s environment, his racial identity, is too great for him to ever hold that same hope. I think that this technique of parallel events (one personal and intimate, one tectonic and tragic) is best maximized in the short piece “August 9, 2014,” a poetic erasure of Abdurraqib’s own writing. In the main text, Abdurraqib recounts something that seems, on the surface, like an every day experience: another passenger complaining on the flight he’s boarding, a mother asking to switch seats so her son can look out the window. With the bulk of the text crossed out, the secondary narrative that emerges from the remaining words is of another mother asking for her son. The date in the title clarifies that this secondary mother-son narrative centers on the shooting of 18-year-old Michael Brown. The longing, the seeking, the asking of both mothers exists in a poignant overly. Perhaps what the mother on the plane asks for is trivial, all things considered, but Abdurraqib never dismisses her impulse to shelter her son, from fear, but, at the same time, to let him see the world beyond the plane’s window. The personal and small that occurs in Abdurraqib’s unique experience takes on the sacredness, the elevation of the cosmic, the tectonic plate shifts of death/life, and also the heralding in of a new/old era in America with the birth of the Black Lives Matter movement.

My favorite, though, of all these essays was “Fall Out Boy Forever,” one of the most personal in the collection. Abdurraqib places the loss of his closest friend to suicide into the context of the rise, fall, and rebirth (as if from the ashes) of the band they both loved. Abdurraqib’s long-term fan following of Fall Out Boy works like pearls on a string, moments in time that span years, yet unite into a collective personal narrative. This narrative rang so, so true to me, as someone for whom the bulk of the past six years has been shaped by my relationship to a specific band. Their narrative contains my narrative; my narrative contains their narrative. Their concerts, their albums, their successes, their growth—these things exist like glowing points on the thread of my experience. I recall my life within this thread, anchored by it. I know the previous time I was able to see my grandparents, down to the exact date three years ago, because it followed on the heels of a particular BTS album that played in my ears over and over that week. I know when and where I traveled within the timeline of their music. I know when my friendships blossomed, pinned to the backdrop that is their musical evolution. I know the ways they challenged and changed me, changed my writing, grew my sense of myself. I know how inseparable I am from BTS, and I saw this so poignantly reflected in Abdurraqib’s journey with Fall Out Boy.

Like any true fan (the fan who is not self-interested, the fan who is there for the ups and downs, the fan who is there for the real story), Abdurraqib observes the members of Fall Out Boy with such astuteness (this made me go and listen to more Fall Out Boy songs than I ever had before). I loved the way he captures the dynamic between the band members. He’s great at this in general (his insights into the intra-band relationships in Fleetwood Mac and the production of the album Rumors was also so engaging), but there’s a different intimacy, a different kind of care with Fall Out Boy. Abdurraqib’s ability to so clearly reveal his own close relationship with Tyler in the context of Fall Out Boy’s inner life is striking and heart-breaking—from Patrick’s frantic internalization of his music (performed for himself, yet in front of a crowd) without Pete’s complimentary/conflicting (necessary) presence when Abdurraqib seems him perform solo in Austin, to Tyler’s DESTROY WHAT DESTROYS YOU patch that Abdurraqib casts into the pit at a concert after wearing it to shows for years. To me, Tyler leapt from these pages, alive in the space where Fall Out Boy and their audience come together, transcending his own life’s timeframe in the liminal, magical space that is the live concert venue. This essay made me feel less alone in my experience of life perceived through the lens of music. This essay was Abdurraqib’s project at its most intimate, where the perception that happens through the lens of music is, most fundamentally, that of one’s self.

#they can't kill us until they kill us #hanif abdurraqib #music criticism #important reading #race in the context of music #art is inherently political #writing about race #writing about music #rap #hip hop #pop music #creative nonfiction #popular culture #black lives matter #fall out boy forever

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endof-theline · 3 years

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Day 22- Tropetember: Age Changes AU

Day 22 of super early Tropetember with Age Changes AU! No one quite knew how old Tony Stark was and he liked it that way, too bad he lives with nosey spies...

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32753695

No one quite knew how old Tony Stark was, as a baby his parents refused to tell people when he was born and constantly said different ages when they were asked and it carried on through the whole of Tony's life up until they died in that car accident. Tony knew why they kept his age a secret and he kept it going, he liked having some small part of him that was just his, he knew his age, he knew his birthday and no one needed to know it but him.

It helped that Tony was a kid genius and went through schooling rapidly which threw everyone off their guesses, no one was sure if the schools were in on throwing off his age as they reported him rushing through school in a few years or if Tony really was just that intelligent.

Of course it was harder when he had friends that wanted to celebrate, Tony trusted them absolutely but this was a secret that no one ever knew about him so he gave them the month and a shorter age range than the public had for him. The public went between twenty five to thirty five which was just guessing from what his parents had said as a kid, Rhodey and Pepper were given twenty one to twenty six and they were stunned at how wrong the public had his age.

It was even harder once Tony became Iron Man, Shield hated not knowing his age and had to use the rough guesses of the public as Tony denied them at every turn and constantly said different ages or dates of birth. When Tony joined The Avengers, the team also hated not knowing how old he was and it had been a long-term argument over it and the lack of trust he showed to them, there had been threats of throwing Tony off the team but no one could deny that Tony was good at what he did.

He juggled Iron Man, Shield Consultant and his work for Stark Industries like a master. He had promoted Pepper to CEO as soon as he took on Shield's extra work since he knew he wouldn't have time and didn't want to ruin his father's good work.

It was almost the end of May and Pepper had made the mistake of not checking for nosey Avengers when she saw Tony, he grinned immediately and was pulled to her and into a tight hug.

She didn't think about it when she chirped "Happy Birth-Month, Tony!" Tony tensed briefly but smiled and accepted the kiss on his cheek before she spotted the Avengers all sitting around in the kitchen behind Tony, Pepper swore under her breath but Tony just chuckled.

"It's okay, Pepper, couldn't keep it from them forever" Tony reassured her before she dragged him into the common area and pushed him down onto the sofa with a grin, knowing that Tony would prefer the distraction instead of fussing over the mistake.

"I know you don't like present, but we got you this small thing because I think it's sad you never got anything special for it" Pepper explained before she pulled out a black box and pushed it into Tony's hands, Tony poked his tongue out at her before opening the box and looking surprised to find a watch "I know you have a million watches, but it's special, look at the back"

Tony carefully slipped the metal watch out from the box and turned it over to read the engraving on the back 'Happy 21st Birthday Tony, love Pepper and Rhodey', Tony stared at it for a moment before carefully putting it back in the box and setting it to the side. Pepper quickly went to defend her and Rhodey's thinking but was cut off by Tony hugging her tight and pressing his face to her shoulder, Pepper cooed when she felt her shoulder slowly grow damp as Tony cried weakly.

"Oh sweetheart" She cooed as she started to run her fingers through his hair, Tony very rarely hugged them and started the contact himself so she knew that this hug was special for them "It's okay, you're alright, do you like it?" Tony just nodded into her shoulder making her smile, Natasha came over with a curious look on her face so Pepper just nodded over to the box and watched as Natasha read the words on the back and gave her a questioning look to which Pepper shrugged at "No one knows how old you are, but so many people have something to celebrate their twenty-first and we didn't want you to miss out"

"I really love it, th-thank you" Tony sat back and wiped furiously at his face before looking up to Pepper with a shy smile on his face "I don't have anything with my birthday on or anything, this is so great"

Tony took it gently from Natasha and quickly replaced the watch he was wearing to his new one from Pepper and Rhodey, smiling away anytime his eyes caught the metal and he wondered what he did to get such amazing friends. He wanted to tell them his birthday, he wanted them to know how old he actually is, but it terrified him to put that information out into the world.

But for today, Pepper made sure that he didn't have to think about his fear as she had cleared their day and spent it how Tony loved to spend their birthdays together, curled up with ice cream and horrible rom-coms that made them both cry.

"29th of May, 2000" Natasha said confidently in front of the team, minus Thor who was off-world, everyone just shot her confused looks before she pointed to Tony who was staring at her in shock "That's his birthday, he's twenty-one"

The room exploded into noise as the team argued with Natasha about how accurate and how she had found out, they argued if Tony should even be allowed on the team if he was just barely a legal adult, what it meant for Tony to have joined the team a couple years ago and joined Shield a year before that. They bickered between themselves and completely ignored the man in question who had curled up into a ball in his armchair, hands covering his ears and eyes screwed shut.

"He's too young, he shouldn't be risking his life!" Steve snapped and was quickly caught off guard when the argument died as a sob silenced them, their heads whipping round to find where it came from and finally saw Tony as he sobbed.

Tony flinched hard when a hand landed on his shoulder, eyes peeking out from the protective huddle he had formed to look up to Steve who had knelt down to meet his eyes. Steve did well not to react to how terrified Tony looked, how devastated he seemed now that the team knew. He looked every part of a scared child that it knocked Steve sideways for a second as he quickly realised that Tony had to grow up a lot quicker than anyone should ever have too.

"It's okay, Tony, you're not in trouble" Steve said calmly and winced slightly as Tony couldn't hold back a cry at his words "What's got you so scared, just us knowing or something else?"

"N-No one has known since I was fourteen" Tony croaked and leant into Steve's touch as the blonde squeezed his shoulder gently, a little smile on the blonde's face as Steve encouraged to speak up "You want me g-gone"

"Not gone, Tony. It's just scary for us having someone so young risking his life with us, you could die on the missions we go on and you're barely a legal adult" Steve said calmly and Tony screwed up his nose at that, the team all coming to sit around Steve so Tony could see them as they spoke "You've got the weight of the world on your shoulders and have done since you were a kid, have you ever had time to just be a kid?"

"M'not a kid" Tony grumbled which just made his team chuckle at him as Steve grinned at him brightly before Tony shook his head slowly "Mum and Dad said it was better if I made myself seem older"

"And you did a good job of it too, but you deserve to be able to go out and do things people your age do. Have you ever been to a bar or gone travelling?" Clint asked in a soft voice and smiled weakly when Tony just shook his head innocently, Tony's face was still streaked with tears and he was still holding himself defensively as he looked over his team.

"I don't want to though, I like doing this, I like working with you guys and Shield and SI" Tony refused as tears gathered in his eyes again and Steve carefully wiped away the tears before Tony could cry again, the soft gesture making his bottom lip shake slightly as he tried harder not to cry "I don't wanna go"

"Go?" Bruce prompted and Tony just nodded with a whimper "What do you mean 'go'?"

"Y-You're gonna make me leave" Tony's voice came out as a whine as the tears fell again, he rolled with Steve as he was pulled into Steve's lap and was hugged tight "I don't want too!"

"We're not making you leave, Tony, we just want you to understand why it's hard for us to have someone so young on the team" Steve hushed him as Tony clung to him desperately, Steve could tell that his parents must have planted the thought in Tony's head that as soon as people knew how young he is then he was going to get left behind or kicked out.

"'Cause you don't want me to die, but I've been doing it for two years and never had a serious injury" Tony pointed out, muffled by Steve's chest but the team still heard him fine as he sniffled "Please don't tell anyone, no one will take me seriously"

"Not even Pepper and Rhodey?" Natasha asked and saw how Tony tensed up in an instant "They won't leave you once they realise how young you are, they love you, Tony, and they just want you to be happy"

"Not ri-right now" Tony said despite Natasha's reasons and the team quickly agreed to Tony's terms, just wanting to help calm him down and settle him back into the team "I gave them an age range that didn't include my age and they were upset at how young I might have been"

"Probably for the same reasons as us, you've never had the chance to be a kid and act your age" Steve hummed before Tony leant back with a tired yawn making Steve smile down at him "Come with me"

Steve gently nudged Tony out his lap before standing up and leading Tony over to the bar, something that the team had always noticed Tony stayed away from. The team followed and gathered around the bar as Steve laid out five shot glasses and poured an amber liquid into each of them, passing them out once they were all poured.

"Happy 21st birthday, Tony!" Steve cheered as he picked up his shot, everyone else following his lead as they cheered before throwing back their shot and laughing as Tony scrunched up his nose and coughed as it burned his throat "First shots are always awful, but it's an important part of turning twenty-one"

Tony smiled bashfully as the team all joined in to celebrate his birthday, despite it being a few days ago, and all took their turns to give him a tight hug. Reassuring their young team mate that they were still friends and that they didn't want to throw Tony out.

Natasha had kept her arm around Tony's shoulders before whispering "I'm sorry for forcing it to light like this, but I knew you would never do it and you deserve to be happy"

"It's okay, and you're right I've wanted to tell you for months but I never knew how" Tony agreed before hugging her and Natasha just smiled fondly as she hugged him back, both of them safe in the knowledge that there was no bad blood between them.

Tony waited until he could get Rhodey and Pepper together at the same time to tell them about his birthday, he made sure that he had on the watch that they brought for him. He had dragged them up to his room and sat them down on the sofa before losing his nerves and wringing his hands as he paced around anxiously.

"When Pepper gave me the watch, you were right" Tony said and then realised how awkward it came out as his friends frowned at him confused "You didn't miss my birthday"

"Oh, oh my god, Tony" Pepper squealed as she jumped up on her feet and pulled Tony into a tight hug "The 29th, that’s your birthday!”

Tony laughed as he felt Rhodey join their hug and squished the youngest between him and Pepper, it was this happiness and excitement that prompted Tony to keep talking instead of keeping it bottled up “You didn’t miss my twenty-first birthday either, I am twenty one. Natasha found out and told the team, it went pretty well so I’m telling you too, but I still don’t want the world to know!”

Pepper kissed his cheek as Rhodey hugged him even tighter and suddenly Tony knew that everything was going to be okay, his friends didn’t question him or try to get him to step down from SI like he thought they might. His team had promised that it wouldn’t get back to Shield and Tony had promised that they could teach him hand-to-hand combat so that if he was ever out of his suit then he could defend himself.

The world didn’t end just because a handful of people knew Tony Stark’s age, but it sure felt like Tony’s life was just getting interesting now that the people closest to him knew his secret.

#tropetember #eotl writes #fanfiction #Tony Stark #avengers

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holylulusworld · 5 years

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I don’t like you but stay

Summary: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the newest addition to the Avengers. Trying to help his friend settle in Steve asks his friend and the teams moral support to help him with unknown consequences.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader (platonic), Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: angst, language, Bucky being a douche, arguments, fights, violence, angry Bucky, tension, possessive Bucky

Takes place after Endgame. Everyone is happy and alive. No one got hurt...

“You could at least try, Buck.” Steve tries once again.

“They don’t like me and I’m not a team player…not for a long time.”

“But Sam helped us back then, just like Wanda and Clint. We fought together against Thanos, it’s only one dinner. Come with me and eat with the team. Y/N will be there too. You know, my best friend.”

“A doll is your best friend now, huh?”

“She’s not a doll, more like our moral support. Y/N listens to us after a hard mission or if we have problems.”

“A goddamn psychologist or more therapist? No way I let her rummaging in my brain. I’ve got enough of people trying to trick my mind or manipulate me, Stevie.”

“Buck, calm down. She doesn’t want to manipulate you in any way. She’s a friend and I want you to visit her once a week. That’s an order Sergeant.” Steve says full Captain now.

“Fine, Captain. But I will not talk to that woman.”

“Then go to her and just sit in her chair but you will visit her.”

“Fine.”

----

“How is Steve’s friend?” You ask.

“Unfriendly.” Nat chuckles. “Ruined my bikini figure by shooting me.”

“That was years ago, and he wasn’t himself.” Bruce throws in.

“Says the guy with the temper problems.” Sam chuckles.

“Guys, I wanted to know how he is now. Not his time during the Hydra crap. It’s awful this happened to him.”

“Honestly we do not know much about him, except he’s a great fighter and Cap’s friend. I mean he’s not hanging out with us at all. Always stays in his room or trains with Cap.” Sam says, and you nod.

“Thought so. That’s the reason Steve asked me for advice. Jesus this will be a hard piece of work.”

“He’s not a bad man. I could read his emotions and he’s torn and hurt.” Wanda says.

“I guess so. After all, he’s been through. I mean being a puppet to someone must be awful. Waking up and everything you know and love is gone is the worst.” You whisper. Lost in thoughts you barely recognize the man standing behind your back.

“The puppet just arrived.” Bucky spats and you sigh.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve warns.

“Why? She called me a puppet.”

“I said that being a puppet must’ve been awful. I showed compassion.” You say turning around to face Steve’s friend.

Angry blue eyes stare back at you. You never saw more beautiful eyes at a man. Steve has blue eyes too, but this man is beating him without any effort. The soft brown hair frames his handsome face and you can’t stop looking at his lips.

“Got nothing else to justify your speech?” Bucky mutters.

“Hell, I didn’t hold a speech. I…forget it. I’m sorry if you got it wrong. I was just asking how you are doing. Hi, I’m Y/N, a friend of Steve.”

“A therapist without any compassion.” The blue-eyed man snaps at you and anger is boiling up inside of you. Seeing you rolling your shoulders and your body go stiff Steve plants a hand on your shoulder.

“Just breathe…he didn’t mean it that way. You know you can’t…not yet.” Steve says and you narrow your eyes.

“Fine by me, let’s eat then. Wanda and I cooked for all of you. Including our new member.” You say and Bucky scoffs.

“Won’t eat a bite of anything that doll cooked.”

“Then starve to death, Jamesy.” You chuckle.

----

Around one week later…first appointment…

“Why is there no chair or stuff…only a couch?”

“I like to get comfortable while talking to people. I’m not your therapist. We are not in my office this is my room. I invited you to talk to me, but you don’t have to. There are books and newspapers.” You say to lighten the mood.

“I won’t talk to you doll, no matter which kind of trick you will use.”

“I will not force you to anything, James. If you just want to sit over there it’s fine by me. I’ll answer some emails and stuff then.” You say opening your laptop. Seeing you and Steve as your wallpaper Bucky narrows his eyes.

“Are you fucking Stevie?” He mutters.

“Steve and I are only friends. There’s no physical attraction between us.”

“Lesbian or blind?”

“Huh?”

“Have you seen Steve? He’s Captain America.”

“I know that Steve is very attractive and most of the woman want a physical relationship with him too, but like Wanda and Nat, I’m not into him that way. We are friends since he came back. I helped him find a way to live in this for him new world. I would never risk our friendship for sex.”

“So, you would fuck him?”

“I do not like the word fuck…James. I’m not someone who has one-night stands.”

“Prude then?” He asks again.

“Neither prude nor a whore. Are we done talking about me and my sex life? Steve and I are friends. He’s into someone else, by the way, so if you want to talk about something start with your life.” You grunt.

“I like sex, I’m not prude.” James chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah. I get it.”

----

“Anything? Did he open up?” Steve asks.

“If you mean asking me about you and me and if we fuck, then yes, Steve. He opened up.” You mutter.

“Seriously? He asked if we…uh.”

“I told him we do not have sex. Don’t worry. Also, I told him I don’t like the word fuck.”

“Same.” Your friend stammers shaking his head. “Why did he ask you?”

“Saw the wallpaper on my laptop.”

“I see.”

----

Three weeks, James. If you do not want to talk about anything it’s fine by me. I’ll call Steve and tell him you are…whatever.” You groan while Bucky continues throwing knives at your books.

“Can you stop this? These books are rare. First editions. Stop ruining my books.” You yell now and Bucky starts grinning.

“That so? Do not look rare to me. Just old paper, doll.”

“If you throw one more knife at my books I’ll call Steve right now and tell him you can not attend any mission for the next months. How does that sound to you Bucky?” You mutter and he narrows his eyes. Searching your face, he licks his lips and throws a knife into the nearby wall.

“What the fuck!” You yell.

“Ah, you said fuck, doll.” Bucky teases and you want to strangle him.

“You threw a knife into my wall, you idiot! I can’t believe I promised Steve to help you. What a waste of time and energy. Could have good sex right now instead I’m trapped in this nightmare.” You groan falling onto the couch.

“Good sex? You…seriously.”

“As if you would know how to satisfy a woman.”

“I know how to fuck a girl to make her scream, doll!”

“Sure. That’s the reason you are hiding in your room since you came here. Just like in Wakanda you stay to yourself. No visitors or friends come around. You are one poor and lonely boy trying to get Steve’s attention.”

“I don’t need to listen to your stupid babbling,” Bucky yells storming out of the office.

“Finally, a reaction. I can work with that.” You say to yourself.

----

“How long do I have to come here.” He groans after two minutes.

“Until Steve says otherwise, or we killed each other.” You retort too tired to fight today.

Closing your eyes, you try to ignore the man staring at you. You can’t see it, but his blue eyes are searching your face.

“Why are you so silent today?”

“None of your concern.” You sigh.

“Tell me and I’ll tell you something too.”

“I do not trust you.”

“Pinky promise.”

“Fine, I was seeing this guy for some weeks. We had a few dates and I started liking him.”

“Was the sex bad?”

“Dunno. We didn’t have sex so far. I was busy with my job, the Avengers…you. I haven’t seen him for two weeks, so I called him and he acted like he’s busy. What he didn’t know was that I was in front of his house. I wanted to surprise him and then…”

“Then what doll? Don’t hook me on a story and don’t continue it.” Bucky mutters.

“I saw him with the waitress of the restaurant we were eating at during our last date. He almost choked on her tongue. Grabbed her ass and more.”

“So, he had fun. What’s the problem?”

“Only a guy can ask you something like that. I started liking him. If a woman does like you she imagines things…a future with you. We don’t see just a potential sex partner. We see marriage, children, a home…”

“Sex?”

“Yeah, dammit, Barnes, sex too. But first of all, I thought he likes me but obviously, he did not. He was just another asshole trying to get in my pants. Satisfied?”

“Hmm…” Angrily clenching his jaw Bucky decides to pay your friend a visit.

“Will you tell me something now?” You ask.

“I ate pancakes and strawberries for breakfast.” Bucky chuckles and your eyes widen.

“I can’t believe I opened up to you only for you to make fun of me.” You yell. This time you are the one storming out of the room.

----

“This won’t work Steve. I’m trying to make him open up for six months now and honestly, I’m done. He’s making fun of me. Lies…”

“Lies?” Steve asks.

“He made a pinky promise if I tell him something personal he will do so too. I told him, but he didn’t keep his promise. Told me what he ate for breakfast. I’m done, Steve. Let him go on missions or not. I really don’t care. You know him better than I do…I just can’t do this any longer. I’m sorry for letting you down.” You sigh.

Moving his arms around you Steve gently plants a kiss to your hair. What you both can’t see is the angry look on Bucky’s face and the jealousy welling up his stomach.

----

The next sessions Bucky never shows up, so you decide to tell Steve you did your best. After the little breakdown, you promised to give his friend another chance but obviously, he doesn’t want it.

Leaving the room to finally meet up with Nat to go on a shopping trip you bump into Bruce staring at you with wide eyes.

“You okay? Do you need my help, Bruce?”

“I think James needs your help. His hand is bloody, and he doesn’t want to tell me why he’s injured. Looks like he hit someone, but he refuses to talk to me.”

“Okay. Calm down, breathe.”

“I’m not going to ‘hulk around’ right now. I’m just worried about Steve’s friend. I would’ve asked Cap but he’s away.”

“On a mission with Tony and Clint, I know. Let’s go then.”

----

“Will you tell me why your hand is bloody and your knuckles almost broken?” You ask.

“…”

Sighing you shake your head. He even refused to let anyone clean the wounds.

“Listen I know you don’t like me.”

Not answering Bucky stares at the wall beind you.

“Dammit, you are so frustrating. Steve had to soothe me after our last session. Cap had to hug me to calm me down, idiot!” You mutter and Bucky’s face lits up.

“I had to hit someone.” He mumbles finally letting you clean the wound.

“Why? Was someone else in danger?”

“He hurt a woman and I had to defend her.”

“Oh, then it was justified, I guess.” You say gently putting some sanitizer onto his wounds.

“Hmmm…I’m sorry I did not come to our session. I had to take care of that guy first.”

“It’s okay. I can throw knives at my books on my own.” You tease and he smiles at you for a moment.

“I can do this for you. Bet you can’t even hit the right target.”

“Maybe…or maybe I’m a master…”

----

“He did what?” You gasp.

“I’m sorry to tell you but it seems like Bucky beat your friend into a pulp,” Sam says.

“Why should he do such a thing? I never even told him anything about Matthew. God, did his wife see this? Was she there too?”

“No, luckily we came just in time and thanks to Starks technology we could fix what Bucky broke. Why is he going after your friends?”

“I think he hates me and tries to hurt me that way, Sam. This ends now. No matter what Steve told me I will make Bucky pay for this. Friend of Steve or not I will mop the floor with the Winter Soldier right now.” You yell storming toward the training hall.

Bursting through the door you see Bucky’s surprised face a smile on his lips he walks toward you but the moment he approachs you he feels his body gets slammed into the nearby wall.

“You think you can do this and believe I will not hurt you!” You yell.

“I got no clue what you are talking about.”

“No clue? You almost killed my friend!”

“A worthless piece of shit!” Bucky talks back.

Using your powers, you slam him into the ceiling and then down on the floor. Groaning in pain he can see you start feeling dizzy. Steve was right. It’s too soon to use your powers again.

“I swear I will break your neck stupid bitch!” Bucky yells.

“Do it! Steve will be very happy after you killed his best friend, asshole!”

“I’m his best friend!”

“Forget it! You tried to kill him, you psychopath. Crazy piece of a man, not even able to control his emotions. I’m done…I’m just done with trying to help you for Steve’s sake. Fuck you, Bucky Barnes. Go to hell or back to Hydra. I don’t care!” You yell and for the first time, Bucky flinches at your words.

Tears stream down your face and you need to brace yourself against a wall to not break down. Before you can react an impact next to you make you scream.

“You won’t just leave! I’m not done with you! I don’t like you…but stay…” Bucky pants removing his metal hand out of the wall.

“Why? You tried to kill my friend! He never did anything wrong. His pregnant wife was in his house. Would you have attacked her too?” You sniff and his eyes widen.

“Wife? You said he cheated on you with a waitress.” Bucky gasps.

“Waitress? I don’t…wait…did you believe Matthew was the one cheating on me?”

“Yeah…he was not?”

“No, Matthew is my cousin's husband. One of my best friends since college.”

“God…then I was wrong. I wanted to punish him for hurting you…”

“Why would you do that?” You ask feeling even dizzier.

“I…”

“I think I need to sit down…” You whisper.

Scooping you into his arms Bucky picks you up to run with you toward Bruce’s lab. Someone has to help him...

----

“You see she’s like Wanda but at the same time different. Using her powers means using life energy. She drains her own energy out to perform her powers. I told her she’s too weak by now. The fight with Thanos got her good. Y/N was defending Vision with Wanda and almost died.” Steve explains looking at your unconscious form.

“She’s an Avenger too?” Bucky asks.

“Kinda…more into defending an injured team member and stuff. She uses a shield to protect us if needed. Y/N barely attacks. It’s just not her style.”

“But she attacked me…really good. A hell of a woman.” Bucky says.

“Ask her out, Buck. Man up and tell her how you feel. Watching you pining is kinda sad.” Steve says knocking Bucky on his shoulder.

----

“Hey, doll. Don’t move too much. You really shouldn’t have attacked me.” Bucky says gently holding your hand.

“What happened?”

“You were unconscious and I brought you to Bruce.”

“Oh, Steve was right. I wasn’t ready to use my powers yet.”

“I’m sorry for hurting your friend. I was wrong…uh…I just tried to punish that guy.”

“You don’t have to punish anyone for me, James.”

“But I want to…I don’t like you but…stay. Please stay with me. Don’t leave me too.” Bucky says kissing your hand softly.

“Bucky?”

“I want…I need…I like you. Would you go out with me?”

“Seriously?”

“You don’t want to?” He sighs.

“I mean you need six months to ask me out? Do you need that long to get me into your bed too?”

Eyes darkened Bucky grins down at you. Covering your body with his he presses you into the mattress.

“No.” He rasps before kissing you breathless.

“Fuck. I like you too…but you will have to tell Steve you stole his best friends heart.” You tease.

“I’m his best friend and he knows you stole mine.” Bucky retorts.

“That’s not true! I’m his best friend.”

“Woman don’t make me mad! I don’t like you but I will make you stay…and I’m Stevie’s best friend.”

“In your dreams…now kiss me again and we ask Steve.”

“Those are the most useful words ever leaving your lips, doll,” Bucky mutters claiming your lips once again.

----

“Fucking finally,” Nat groans dragging Steve out of your room.

“They were fighting over me.”

“No, they are fighting to turn each other on. You really don’t want to see what happens next.” Nat chuckles when you and Bucky start moaning.

“I guess you are right. I like them both but I will not stay…”

#marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #angst #arguments #tension #bucky barnes fanfiction #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #bucky barnes x you

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 52)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:4918

Warnings: Language, Jealous Tony, uncontrollable powers, dangerous situation, arguing, Tony done fucked up, unwarranted action, talk of the past, Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A few days have passed and the closer they were to completely removing the powers from Shannon, the weaker she got. At some point it had been too much that she could no longer stay awake long enough to do much. She and Bruce had rescheduled the garden walks for when she had more strength. Tony had been seen around the mansion more often but each time it seemed as though Bruce was always around to keep Shannon company. He knew he would eventually have to confront Bruce about his feelings towards his wife.

Bruce would frequent the room to check up on both women then it was noticeable that the real person he went to see was Shannon rather. He would often sit next to her and read to her or just stayed and chat. You personally didn’t mind that he was here so often, you just hoped that he wouldn’t get too attached because after all Shannon is a married woman.

On one of those days that he had come to visit her, they had been sharing the bed and you had been sleeping off the exhaustion from the recent transfusion. Tony walked in holding a tray of her favorite food when he found the two all snuggled in the small bed. Shannon had her eyes closed leaning her head on his chest as he massaged her head and read one of her favorite books.

“What the hell is going on here?” He dropped the tray harshly on the table near the door. “You two are looking extremely fucking cozy.”

“Tony, relax and lower your voice. You’ll wake up Y/N,” Bruce said as he pointed over to you curled up to your pillow. “Shannon wanted me to read to her.”

Shannon was listening to them argue and had had enough of it. She opened her eyes.

“Please. Can you two not start right now? I'm exhausted and I’d appreciate it if you two didn’t fight while Y/N is sleeping.” She attempted to move and Bruce helped her, adding a few more pillows around her. “I’ll leave. You two to talk.” He smoothed her hair back. “I’ll go check on the tests we did today give me a shout if you need me.”

“No need, Mr. Nurse, I'll be here.” Tony remarks as the other man leaves. “Care to explain what the fuck is going on here?”

“Would you lower your damn voice, Stark! My head is pounding.” She rubbed her temple. “He’s just been keeping a close eye on me.”

“Maybe a little too close, wouldn’t you say?” he snapped, his eyes hard on hers. “Keeping an eye on you? Seriously, Shan? Does he cuddle Y/N too? Either he’s being professional or he’s not, and curling up in bed with you goes way beyond being a helper.”

“I asked him to sit next to me so that he wouldn’t have to raise his voice.” she shook her head. “What’s gotten into you lately? it’s like you are being a child.”

“I’m the child?” he asked, fuming, pointing to himself. “You’re the one flouting around with Banner! We just got married, Shannon. Does that mean nothing to you? How the fuck would you feel if you saw me cuddled up to Pepper on our couch and my response was, ‘Oh, sorry, hun, she had a headache and I wanted to keep an eye on her.’?”

“Oh you wanna talk about cuddling up to other people?! Okay fine. How about the times I've seen you getting real cozy with Pepper back at the office? Or during one of your famous parties and you’ve taken countless women back to the room?” Shannon growled back getting mad that he’s getting upset over nothing important. “Yes I did get married to you and it means more than you think, Stark but if you think that for a second you're gonna get to act like this then you’ve got something else coming your way.” the lights slowly dimmed and her hand was shaking

“I’ve never been unfaithful to you, ever. Pepper is a good worker and a close friend, you know this. Those women and parties were long before you and I even had our first date. How can you tell me I can’t get mad? My best friend is lying in bed with my wife! You’ve barely looked at me or talked to me since you’ve been admitted to the mansion for these treatments. But every time I turn around, you’re with Bruce. What the hell else am I supposed to think, Shannon?”

“You only recently started showing up and that was after you found out I was sick! Half the time you're here, you're somewhere else doing who knows what.” she crosses her arms to hide her shaking hands. “I can’t just get out of bed and go find you and drag you back here.” there was a light buzz of the electrical system. “The only people who even stay long enough for me to spend time with are Bruce, Wade, and Remy and half of the time he’s here for Y/N. For Christ sake even Logan, who doesn’t always like to talk, would come see me.” By then her anger was growing and she had no idea where it was headed.

Tony stopped for a moment, trying to reel his anger in. “I can’t fucking believe this. I’m getting attacked after I found you in bed with another guy. This is fucking backwards.” He rubbed his forehead, shutting his eyes tight. “I’m here for you, Shannon! I always am! Every time I come here, it’s to see you. Sorry if i have an obligation to do some work while I'm here too, but I do.”

“What’s fucking backwards is that my husband is acting like a fucking asshole and treating me like I’m sleeping with someone else!” Her powers helped her get up and her eyes had gone red and she had no control of her powers. “What work could you possibly be doing that's been taking up your time.” she dared him to say something else to push her buttons. “So don’t you come in here acting like the victim.”

“Fine. Fuck it. Have it your way. You and Banner can cozy up all you want. I’m out of here.” He started to grab his things, ready to leave. He saw that she was beyond control and maybe it was actually best he leave.

The door slams shut cutting him off from leaving. “You are not about to run off after starting this!” her voice booms.

All anger vanished at her voice and the sight of the door. “Shannon,” he started carefully. “Let’s just let this go. You don’t want to do anything you’ll regret,” he warned. The fight was officially over. It was time for him to go into survival mode. He didn’t have a suit on or near him, and the only person who could save him, was you, who was somehow miraculously sleeping through this entire ordeal.

“Aww does the Great Tony Stark feel helpless now?” the lights flickered harder. She was losing control of her powers.

At the sound of the door slamming and loud voices, you woke up. Your eyes snapped open and you heard Shannon. You immediately jumped out of bed, adrenaline charging you. Shannon was standing while Tony seemed to be shrinking away from his wife. You immediately moved to stand in front of Tony, your hand out.

“Shannon,” you began softly. “Whatever’s going on, you need to fight it,” you encouraged. “Your powers have taken over and you’re about to hurt your husband, Tony, whom you love very much,” you reminded soothingly.

“Why are you defending him!” She got angrier. “He’s acting like I’ve betrayed him. I've done nothing wrong.” She felt like she was fighting really hard to take back control. There was a look of confusion on her face. It's like there was something wrong.

You narrowed your eyes before glancing at the door, using your power to open it.

“Tony, go get Logan, now,” you ordered quickly before whipping your face back to Shannon’s. Tony ran out into the hall, shouting for Logan.

“Y/N, you know i’d never do anything to hurt him.” She groans. “I can’t control my powers.” she managed to grunt out. “This is your doing Tony!” she said as the two entered the room.

Logan ran back into the bedroom, with Tony in tow.

“Jesus, Shan,” Logan remarked.

“Grab her,” you instructed. You threw your powers out, wrapping around her, electrifying her for just a second, just enough to throw her off guard. Long enough that Logan could grab her. He lurched forward, grabbing her in a bear hug, toppling over with her on the bed. You ran over, put your hand on her head, and again, robbed her of all of her senses. When she finally stopped writhing in Logan’s grasp, you let go. She seemed to go to sleep, which wasn’t what you were doing to her. “Logan?” you asked, peering at him, wondering if he’d somehow accidentally hurt her.

“Wasn’t me,” he assured as he got up, letting her go.

Shannon lied, motionless on the bed. Her eyes closed. She’d passed out, possibly, her powers over taking her.

“Shit,” you breathed, terrified you’d hurt her somehow. “Someone go get Hank,” you ordered, your voice shaking.

Logan ran off to go find Hank and came back a few moments later.

“What happened here?” Hank asked as he noticed that some of the lights were busted.

“We had an argument and then something went wrong it’s like her powers went haywire.” Tony said. He walked over to where she was.

“Well it looks like what Charles and I had predicted, we predicted her powers would try to control her once more and it caused her to enter into a comatose state.” He moved to set the monitors into a new setting to watch for any changes in her during her new state.

“She’s what?” Tony looked up. “That can’t be true, right? Tell me it’s not true!” He looked exasperated. He had been the reason that she entered this phase and it was going to kill him if she didn’t come back.

----------------------------

Shannon was now in her comatose state next to you. The only light in the room was the moonlight. You’d been lying on your bed for hours, staring straight up as Remy lay beside you. You’d already explained that Shannon and Tony got in a fight, causing her powers to finally take full control and shut her down physically. You told him you were worried it was your fault, even though Hank had assured you a million times it was her powers that did it.

“You okay?” he suddenly asked.

“Not exactly,” you admitted with a sigh.

“Well, physically though. Between the session from today and having to use your powers on Shannon yesterday...” he said.

You shrugged. “I’m a little weak.”

“What got them fighting anyhow? Tony and Loki?” he questioned, curious. It’d been a day, but Remy’d heard about the fight between Loki and Tony. He decided to give you some space, seeing as within 24 hours your boyfriend was fighting your best friend’s husband, and you had to use your powers to basically deactivate her. Now she was comatose.

You bit your lip, thinking if you wanted to confide in Remy what the fight was actually about.

“They were… Loki’s jealous of you,” you blurted out.

He made a noise of disappointment. “I don’t like speakin’ out of turn, chere, but he ain’t no good for you.”

“Remy,” you moaned, exasperated. “Don’t do this. Not now, please.”

“Well when the hell should I do it?” he challenged, his voice more stern than normal. “When you’re married to that maniac?”

Your eyes glowed purple. “Don’t,” you begged through clenched teeth.

“Y/N/N, what can he possibly give you?” he asked, a pleading in his tone.

“A life,” you answered, turning your head towards him.

His face was still soft as he peered at you. “What kinda life is this? This is an idea of a life. This ain’t no real life.”

“I love him, okay? We’ve been through everything together. He understands me.”

“And you think I don’t?” he asked as if he were offended. “Both of us orphaned. Both of us have got this odd power in us. Both of us don’t really belong anywhere. Come on, you know you love travelin’, that’s why you’re always doin’ your science out in the field. We’re both nomads.”

You shook your head, turning away from him.

“I can’t do this, I love him,” you said in return, your voice thick. You flung your legs off the side of the bed and tried to get up and leave the room. You only made it to the doorway when Remy’s voice caught you.

“Look at what he’s doin’ to you, darlin’. Every time he is around, there’s a fight. Shannon’s wedding, here, New York… Confrontation follows that guy like a shadow. Life with him has not been easy, and it ain’t gonna never get any better,” he stated, begging in his voice.

“You don’t understand, alright? I love him. I nearly died for him.”

“Well maybe that’s what’s wrong. You’ve done all this for him. What’s he done for you?” he asked.

“He’s done more for me than I can ever repay,” you assured, your voice ominous, and Remy had no choice but to believe you.

“Is that all you want your relationship to be? ‘I owe him this’, ‘She owes me that’, ‘I owe him my life’.”

“Don’t cheapen the situation,” you ordered. “Loki didn’t trick me or ask me to do anything. Everything I’ve done, every choice I’ve made was on me.”

“And what about now? I understand before, but now. You’re not in jail any more together, you don’t have to be together.”

“But I want to be,” you insisted.

“Really? Because when we were dancin’ earlier, I felt the spark. You can lie and say you didn’t feel it too, but I know you did.”

"Why now? Why are you telling me this now? You have had years."

He frowned at you incredulously, as if you'd lost your mind. "Years? When exactly was I supposed to tell you? When we were kids and you were about to leave for college and I couldn't follow you there? Or how about when you graduated and went all over the world for research. Or maybe when you skipped out on the entire planet to go play Prince and Princess, and wound up in prison. Tell me, when was I s'pose to tell you mah feelin's?"

You threw your hands out to the side, exasperated, shaking your head. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm in love with someone else and I can't change the past."

Without much warning, he closed the distance between you two and his lips were on yours in a warm embrace, his hands in your hair. The sensation hit you as if you'd been electrified. His energy and yours combined and for half a second, you forgot everything but Remy LeBeau - then suddenly you remembered Loki, and nothing but him. You shoved Remy away, only taking a split second to charge your fist.

You slammed your knuckles into his jaw and it nearly sent him to the floor.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" you demanded with rage, your fist still charged with purple energy.

While he was still bent over rubbing his jaw, he answered, “I was thinkin’ I’d change your mind. Shoulda seen that comin’,” he noted. He straightened up, his hand still touching his jaw. “You pulled your punch,” he remarked.

You crossed your arms. “Yeah and now I’m wishing I didn’t. Remy...I love Loki. You don’t get to do this to me. You’re my oldest friend.” All you could do was shake your head and walk off to your room, having nothing further to say to him. You laid on your bed, your chest tight as tears rolled down your cheeks.

------------------------------------

The following evening, Tony came up to visit Shannon. You were absorbed in a book. You’d still been healing Shannon even while comatosed, but now that she was unconscious all the time you had no friends. Remy kept his distance and you think word had gotten around the mansion and now no one spoke to you. You honestly thought they were being courteous and giving you room.

However, Loki hadn’t been back since the fight and this didn’t help your morale. No Loki, no Shannon, no Remy, no anyone.

Except Tony. He was here, looking like someone had taken the light out of his life. You eyed him up and down for a moment before finally getting the courage to ask, “Gotta long face, Tony… What’s up?”

Maybe it was the fact that Shannon was comatose and couldn’t talk to him. Maybe he was desperate. Maybe he was lonely, but for whatever reason, he opened up to you. “I put her here. And it’s not just fighting your pretty boy that did it.”

You frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“I pushed her away from you. You’re her best friend and here you were the one to fix her. I just… I didn’t trust you, Y/N/N. After New York, you were this different person. You were vivid, full of life, curious. Then you went up there, came back, and suddenly you’re trying to kill us for… him. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I still can’t.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line. “Did Shannon ever tell you what happened? While I was gone.”

“Other than you were brainwashed, no. Why, does it matter?”

“Depends on who you ask,” you noted with a bit of a humorless laugh. You put your book on the nightstand and looked back to him. “I met Loki here, on Earth. I was able to see him. This got Thor and Loki wondering if I was Asgardian. Well, we went there and sure enough, we found out my parents were Asgardian and Frigga started to raise me with Thor and Loki. I felt as if I belonged somewhere. Don’t get me wrong, Earth feels like home, but so does Asgard. Earth is what I know, what I grew up with, but Asgard has this familiarity to it. Like a childhood home.”

Tony sat there, listening.

“So here I am, I finally find out who my parents are, what race I am. Not to mention this magic I have. Then suddenly… Loki learns he’s adopted too, he’s not even Asgardian, well he’s half. He became consumed with rage. He’d been lied to. He’d been treated differently his whole life and now he knew why… In his fit of rage, Thor had to stop him from killing another race - the Frost Giants, his true race. When he did that, Loki ended up trying to commit suicide. Odin held onto him on the bridge, and Loki he… he just let go,” you recalled, the feeling bubbling back up inside you. “I’d gotten somewhat close to Loki. I’d cracked his hard outer shell a bit. And for some reason, that day, when I saw him falling, all I could think was ‘not him, I can’t live with out him.’ And I jumped after him. I mean, I was kind of raised with him, we were both lost people tied to Asgard, orphans - you know? There was this common ground.We had gotten to know each other very well in two months. I was completely in love.” A fond smile pulled at your lips as you remembered those easy days. “Shannon was the same way with you. I don’t know if she ever told you,” you stated.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“She didn’t care much for you, until she worked in your lab. She admired your work, and your mind, but it wasn’t until she worked with you every day that she really fell hard. She just kind of saw you for the persona you put on.”

Tony didn’t even argue the point you made. He knew that you knew him well enough to know he was mostly show, all a distraction for his insecurities and fears.

“But she saw you for this sensitive, sweet, intelligent guy. The same thing happened with Loki. He was this cold, rigid man. But once I got him to open up, he was the most romantic, caring man I’d ever met. He’d just been looked over all his life. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how many battles he won, no matter how many academic challenges he crushed, he never earned the praise of his people or his father.”

“Maybe we have more in common than I thought,” Tony muttered. “But why go through all that, for him? I mean, the brainwashing, torture, nearly killing the avengers and Shannon… All that for him?”

“It was never, ever our intention to kill any of you, let alone hurt you. We were sincerely hoping that we could at most turn Bruce into a wrecking machine that you would have to focus on. That was the best case scenario… But it didn’t happen.” You bit your lip. “Thanos said he would kill Loki if I failed… What would you have done? If it came to fighting Rhodey and your friends, to keep her alive?” you questioned, your tone slightly challenging.

Tony’s eyebrows slowly rose as he gazed at the floor.

“I was just trying to save him, save us, save our lives. We’d endured a year of suffering and torture… I didn’t want it to all be in vain. What would you have done?” you asked.

After several moments, he finally spoke up. Tony Stark being speechless was something you never thought you’d witness.

“Can’t say I’d have done much differently,” he agreed begrudgingly.

You gazed down at your hands, toying with your fingers.

“Tony, I still mean what I said years ago. You’re still one of my greatest friends, and you’ve always been great to Shannon. Don’t be so hard on yourself. She loves you more than anything. I wish we could go back to what we were,” you noted with a half grin. “I know we can’t but… I’d like to at least start over.”

A smile played at his lips. “Yeah, I’d like that too,” he stated. “But no starting over. Too much work and I don’t want to have to remember all your favorite things. Let’s just call it even and say it’s water under the bridge, yeah?”

A laugh escaped you. “Agreed.”

“I guess everyone is turning over a new leaf,” he commented, seeming amused.

“How so?”

“Well after Lokster and I went rounds, we went out for drinks.”

“Really?” you questioned, a skeptical laugh escaping you.

“Yeah.”

“How did that go? I miss him. Even though he’s an ass, I wish he’d come around.”

Tony winced. “Yeah, about that….”

You frowned. “What about it?”

“Remember that we’re friends again when I tell you this--”

“What?” you questioned, your eyes narrowing as you started to get off the bed. “What did you do, Tony?”

“He was feeling really… well homesick. I guess. He thought maybe he’d be better off just going back to Asgard and I said, ‘Well why don’t you?’”

“What!?” you all but shrieked. “Tony, why? How could you do that?’

He stood up to meet you at eye level. “Hear me out. Look, he misses his home. He thinks his dad will you know, go easy on him since he served a sentence out here. He confided some things to me and I thought maybe… Well… you just changed so much since you met. I just wonder if maybe you aren’t better off without him.”

“Better off without-- That is not your place to decide!” you yelled.

“I know.”

“How did he even leave? He was under probation here and you’ve got a travel restriction on him.”

“I may have lifted that so he could leave.”

“You did this on purpose!” you accused angrily.

“Y/N/N, listen to me,” he begged, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just thinking of you here. Ever since you met him your life has been one train wreck after another. Did you ever wonder if maybe you two aren’t meant for each other? Maybe your lives would be easier apart. You want to live here on Earth, and he wants to be on Asgard.”

It seemed as if Shannon could feel strong emotions that her friend was feeling and that caused her to wake up. It’d been so long since she’d been awake but it's like she was perfectly fine.

“Y/N, what's wrong? Did Tony tell you something to piss you off?” She sat up looking from her best friend to her husband who she remembers she still had to finish talking with.

“Babe, you're awake!” Tony exclaimed, rushing to her side to hold her hand. “Are you feeling okay? Do you need something to drink?”

“I’m fine, Tony. I'm more worried about Y/N. What did you tell her?”

“I told her that I gave Loki permission to leave New York and go back to his family on Asgard. I figured that he should get to go back, seeing as he missed his family.”

“Tony, what were you thinking?! He shouldn't have left, let alone by himself. They still had things to fix. You had no right to do that.”

"Shan, sweetie, you need to rest. I can take it from here. I'm going after Loki," you said defiantly as you started to grab clothes and a suitcase.

“Y/N, I can’t let you do that by yourself. The least I can do after everything you’ve done for me is go with you and help you sort out this problem.” She looked over at Tony, giving him a look. “As for you, we’re going to finish our conversation before I passed out when we come back.”

Tony looked away, knowing he was going to get an earful from her when she got back about everything that’s happened.

“Y/N, finish packing. I’ll go shower and get dressed really quick. Think you can pack my bag?”

"Of course," you said solemnly.

“You just woke up. I dont think it’s a good idea for you to be going to another planet just yet, babe.” He watched her get up and start heading for the bathroom.

“I know I probably shouldn’t be doing this but it needs to be done. Who knows how things will go when they talk? I need to be there in case of anything.” And with that, she walked into the bathroom. A little while later she was showered and dressed. Just then Bruce walked in to do his routine check on her.

“Shannon! You’re awake. You shouldn’t be up and walking around just yet.” He rushed to her to make sure she didn’t fall. “Where are you going?” He noticed the two packed bags.

“Y/N and I are going to go find Loki and have him come back to earth so those two to talk things out.”

“Where exactly are you going?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t too far

“Asgard,” she simply responded.

“No, Shannon! I can’t let you do that. Who knows how your body will react to you entering their planet.”

“I’ll be fine. If anything, the doctors over there can check me, plus my healing factor has been active this entire time so I’m okay.”

“I’d rather me or someone else go with you two just to make sure,” Bruce said, not seeing how Tony reacted to him saying that.

“Babe, he’s right you two shouldnt go, healing factor or not you are not at 100 just yet.”

“I am a grown ass woman I can go where I please and if you really want to come Bruce, I’m not stopping you. Just don’t think I’m going to do everything you say,” she called over her shoulder as she grabbed her bag and both women headed out the door.

“Wait, let me grab some things and I’ll go with you both. Just to keep you girls safe.” He went to the room that was close by, no one had realized he had switched rooms to be closer to Shanon. “Alright, I've got everything, you want to lead the way?” He gestured to you to go ahead of them.

“On it,” you said confidently as you walked out of the mansion, far away from it, and out into the field behind it. Shannon and Bruce were just behind you, following you out.

Tony pulled Bruce back. “You better not dare try anything while you three are there, got it?” he warned the taller man. “Remember who she’s married to, Banner.”

“Relax, would you? As her doctor, I’m keeping it professional.” He walked away in hopes of ending the conversation there.

As soon as everyone made their way beside you, everyone’s luggage in hand, you took a deep breath. “Heimdall, open the bifrost, please,” you requested. It was so odd, you hadn’t been to Asgard since the fall. You wondered how it would feel returning to your ‘home.’

Heimdall opened the rift and within the blink of an eye, a rainbow shroud formed around you to take you away.

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

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#unforeseen chasm #loki x reader #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #bruce banner #tony sstark #tony stark fic #tony stark x ofc #remy x reader #gambit #mentions of queen frigga #logan #hank #mentions of wade #mentions of Heimdall

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pepperonys · 5 years

Text

pepperony week: day 6

just a little oneshot written to celebrate pepperony week 2019! the prompt for the day was endgame fix-it. I truly hope it’s at least tolerable!

READ ON AO3.

“How do you think she will react to it all?”

“Oh, probably as anxiously as you could expect from a 5 years old.” Pepper replied, “But you know as well as I do that she will do great. She’s the smartest kid I know.”

Tony smiled at this. Of course she would. This was his Maguna they were talking about. There is no way she would be anything but perfect, which included her first day at school, a normal, perfectly ordinary school — for their standards at least. Her security was their number one priority after all.

After the final battle against Thanos and his army of minions, the world was finally at peace, and so was, in slow, careful steps, Tony Stark. He hadn't forgotten everything that had happened, still had nightmares about the mad titan as they called him. But as it had almost been a year since they had fought against Thanos, things started to settle down, and he was healing — therapy, self-forgiveness and support from the people in your life can do wonders when you’re ready for it.

One could say they were all making progress. The world was still rebuilding itself, there were people who lost things and people they could never replace despite them reversing the snap and the economy worldwide was still trying to find a solid ground to be what it once was. But they were all moving forward. The Starks played an important part in trying to help the world rebuild itself from the ashes those five years of crisis had created, but they still lived in their secluded and modest home by the lake in upstate New York.

The most important part for them, though, was the fact that they didn’t need to fight anymore. Tony could finally rest. Actually rest, not being held down by the weight of his guilt like he was in the five years mid-snap. For once in his life, he actually felt at peace and like he could breathe. That was the very reason why he left the Avengers business once and for all. He still helped the young heroes, like the boy he loved like a son, Peter Parker, and the ones still there, such as Romanoff, Sam Wilson and Rhodey, with tech and such stuff. Both Tony and Shuri provided all the help they needed with technology, but that was as far as Tony’s work with the superheroes went now. He was actually okay with it, as impossible as that might sound to some.

He wanted to be able to see his daughter grow into a wonderful person and he wanted to be there for Peter, Harley, Rhodey, Happy and of course, he wanted to grow old by Pepper Potts' side. He once promised her he would try not to die before they were at least in their 70s and he couldn’t possibly break that promise. So, he didn’t just go and wielded the gauntlet created by himself, Bruce and that raccoon alien guy and died, not when they could all simply go back in time and save his self-sacrificial ass — there was no way his wife would accept it. And that was exactly why, after all was said and done and he thought he was gonna die, the people alive post-battle assembled to get him and Nat back in the game. Kinda.

It all worked out just fine. He was alive, so was Natasha and the universe was free of any imminent threat for now — hopefully for a long time. So that was pretty much why he and Pepper were casually talking about how it was to drop their daughter on the first day of school as they drove back home.

“I know, Pep. She is perfect. Never really doubted she would be anything less. But the kids…” he trailed off, “What if they– What if they bully her? I mean, she’s our daughter, we’re not exactly common people and she’s never interacted with so many kids her age before, honey. We only had that one neighbor who had a kid. What was her name again?”

“The kid? It was Meredith.” Pepper smirked at her husband’s inability to remember names.

“Yes! God, who names their kid Meredith? What were they, Grey’s Anatomy fans?”

Pepper had to laugh at that. He was ridiculous. She loved him.

“Honey,” she started as they stopped by a red light, “I’m actually surprised you know the name of Grey’s Anatomy characters.” Pepper teased her husband. “May I remind you, you picked our daughter’s name and I know it’s not solely because of my uncle, but also because you’re the biggest Arthurian legend nerd I know. So why are you judging?”

He couldn’t help but smile. She knew him way too well.

“Okay, you win, but I’m right. Besides, Morgan is a much better name and you can’t argue with me on that one or else I’ll record this and show Morgan. Won’t be pretty.”

“Uh-huh, right. Aren’t we losing the track of this conversation?”

“Right. Morgan, school, bullying,” Tony recapitulated, “I guess we should ask her how it went over dinner, huh?”

“That's what I was gonna say, honey.” Pepper looked over at him smiling.

He was definitely much better at the whole talking-about-important-stuff thing now that they had Morgan. So was Pepper if she was being honest.

“Love that after all these years I can still read your mind, Potts.” he kissed her carefully on the cheek and she smiled as they proceeded on the way home.

____________________________

Later that day, right after dinner, the Stark-Potts household was filled with Morgan's delightful laughter as her Dad chased after her because she didn't want to go take a bath; she wanted to watch Moana for the millionth time that week. There were no arguments with her Mom though.

Pepper couldn't help but find the moment funny from where she sat on the couch reviewing a spreadsheet and waiting for them to stop it. And despite being slightly annoyed, she just thought the two of them were way too cute.

"'Kay, you win." Morgan said lying on the couch, her head on her Mom's lap. "But can we watch Moana after bath, please? Pretty please, Daddy? Promise I'll behave."

"Alright, Alpha Female. This time," he was panting on the floor, "I'll let you have this. What do you say, Pep?"

She looked at both of them from her spot on the couch and retorted, "Fine. You can have it… But…" she trailed off, looking serious.

"What?" two pairs of big brown eyes stared at her.

"I'm just teasing. Let's go get this bath started, you little monster." Morgan ran upstairs giggling.

"Don't run like that or you'll break all your teeth, squirt!" yelled Tony.

She actually quit running, for Pepper and Tony's amusement.

After getting their daughter's bath ready and leaving her under F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s supervision, they were talking about a bunch of random things as they cleaned the slightly messy kitchen — they could cook a decent meal, but they always left a mess behind.

It was part of their daily routine now. Doing domestic chores could be very therapeutic, they realized, and together it could be even better.

Pepper was finishing drying off the plates when Tony's arms found their way around her waist and his head dropped on her right shoulder. She couldn't help but let her own head rest against his and run her fingers through his hair. These peaceful, quiet domestic moments between just the two of them were not as rare as they used to be before Morgan, when they were barely ever home, but they still treasured them the same way they used to before everything changed. For better, but changed nonetheless. They were the same people, in a lot of ways, but completely different in so many others, yet the one thing that didn't change were these quiet moments of intimacy and what they meant for the two of them.

"After we watch Moana for the millionth time this week," his hands found their way under her sweater and caressed the bare skin of her waist, "we should totally explore a different kind of ocean, you know."

Pepper snorted at her husband's awful innuendo.

"I am serious, Pep." He was grinning as he lifted his head to leave kisses on her neck, "I would love to know more about your depths."

This time he snorted, "Alright, that was really awful."

She was about to reply when they heard a tiny voice by the kitchen's door making them both untangle themselves from each other.

"Why is Daddy going to explore your depths, Mommy?" Morgan's big, innocent brown eyes were focused on her parents. She had finished her bath and was wearing the cutest blue pajamas.

They didn't know what to say. At all.

"Ah– Well, baby, you see, Daddy was just making a joke." Pepper tried.

"Oh."

She kept staring at them and looked downright confused as she continued, "But I want to explore this ocean, too! Like Moana did."

"Maguna," Tony started, "Honey, you see, that was an adult joke… For an adult-only kind or exploring. You can explore all the oceans you want when you're older." He winced. "When you're much older. Like, when you're 40."

"When I'm old like you?" Morgan frowned, still puzzled.

"Uh… Yeah."

"Okay."

Pepper was trying so hard to keep herself from laughing during the entire awkward situation, but when Tony's expression went from worried to offended as he realized what their daughter implied, she couldn't help but just let it go and found herself out of breath from laughing.

"Is Mommy okay?" the kid whispered at her father, "She looks like a pepper."

"Might as well be one." He rolled his eyes at his wife's reaction, but smiled because she was damn cute when she was like this.

She stopped laughing eventually and just smiled right back at him. God, he loved her.

"Moana, Daddy?" the tiny one looked up at him, pleading with her eyes and the small hands on his legs asking for attention.

"Right! Let's do it. I love Moana!"

The little girl went ahead of her parents to the living room, leaving them behind amused and smirking.

Pepper intertwined her partner's fingers with her own and got close enough to his face so that she could kiss his lips softly, resting her forehead against his. They opened their eyes, seeing everything they needed in that one gaze.

The pair pulled away a few seconds later, still smiling.

"Let's go watch that film so we can explore other waters later, shall we, Mr. Stark?" she winked teasingly at him.

"As you wish, Mrs. Potts."

And he followed her.

#pepperony #pepperonyweek19 #pepper potts #tony stark #morgan stark #my fic*#eeee so i'm so not comfortable posting anything i write ever especially in a language that is not my native one so uhhhh #but thanks to charlie's reviewing i think it must be at least decent enough so here it is aajksakjsalsa #anyways bye

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