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brewsterispunkk · 2 years

Text

sunshine state

TWO: TONGUE TIED

pairing: benny miller x f!reader

WC: 8.7k sorry

warnings: 18+ mature=minors skedaddle! drinking & recreational drug use (weed)—don’t do drugs kids!—drunk!benny, dirty dancing, fake dating, bi!santiago

summary: you accompany Benny to a party with people from his high school, and agree to be his fake girlfriend to make his cheating ex jealous. you’re not totally convinced you’re as important to Benny as he is to you. But, as the saying goes: en vino veritas.

a/n: SORRY FOR THE WAIT! i hope the length makes up for it <3 I love y’all very much. hope you enjoy.

masterlist | series masterlist | previous part

PART TWO: TONGUE TIED

You heard him before you saw him.

It was the same as usual: the shuffling of feet outside your apartment door, the familiar turn and click of the lock, then the swinging of your door open, bringing a rush of hot humid air into your air conditioned apartment. Like clockwork.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how much that prick Lance pisses me off,” were the first words he uttered before kicking off his tennis shoes at the mat and shutting the door behind him.

“Well, hello to you too, Benjamin.” You mumbled, not even bothering to turn around from the Kraft mac n cheese you were stirring on the stove.

It was Friday, and you had forgotten to go grocery shopping yesterday, which meant that you were running low on, well, everything. So it was Kraft for dinner tonight.

“I mean, Tuesday he tries to correct my form, which, like, as if, and today I catch him checking out one of my clients who is sixteen, mind you.” He burst incredulously.

That was something you loved about Benny; how even without being able to actually see him right now, you could hear the disdain in his voice–he was just that expressive. While you tended to hold your feelings close to your chest, Benny was an open book. You could always read him.

“Do you know how to knock?” You threw over your shoulder sarcastically, stirring in the packet of powdered cheese. You heard him scoff.

“Uh, you gave me a key,” he jiggled his keychain. You rolled your eyes, turning to face him.

“Yeah, for emergencies, Ben.”

“Yeah, well, Lance is a fucking emergency.” He shot back, then continued as if there hadn’t been any interruption at all, “I mean, even if she wasn’t a fuckin’ kid, it’d be a creep thing to do.” He made his way over to you in the kitchen, narrowly avoiding a swat from Salem, who was lounging in the sun spots that danced through your open window. He came to lean on the counter next to your stove, facing you now. “But her mom was literally waiting like thirty feet away. Like, come on, man.”

“He better pray I never meet him, because if he’s even half as bad as you say, I won’t be able to be held accountable for my actions.” You pointed your spatula at him.

“And I wouldn’t blame you either.” he drawled, moving to root through your kitchen drawers. You ignored him, humming along to the Bruce Springsteen song that was playing pleasantly through your portable speaker that was sitting on the windowsill above your sink.

“I ever tell you you can sing?” Benny said casually. You barked out a laugh.

“Ha! Okay, what do you want, Miller?”

“What?” he asked, feigning offense. “Can I not compliment one of my dearest friends in the whole world–”

“No,” you replied haughtily. “You cannot, especially not when I know that tone and that you’re about to ask me for something.”

He’d grabbed a spoon out of your drawer and dipped it into your pot of mac n cheese.

“Hey!” you shrieked, hitting his shoulder and grabbing for the spoon. He shoved the spoon into his mouth before you could pry it from his hand. “Get your own!”

“Just did,” he muttered cheekily, chewing the cheesy noodles. You glared at him.

“Asshole,” you grumbled under your breath, trying to fight off the smile spreading across your lips.

“How was your day?” he asked casually, ruffling your hair. You swatted him away, turning to face him. He’d retrieved a bag of BBQ potato chips from your pantry that he’d left there last time he was over, before making his way over to your adjoining living room and plopping down on the couch.

“That’s what you have to say after breaking into my apartment and robbing me for all I’m worth?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Hey, I bought these. Just left them here. That means, technically, they’re mine.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, knowing full well that he was telling the truth. You just liked to mess with him. “Sure, Miller.”

“Whatever,” he snorted. “I’m watching Rick and Morty, it’s my turn to choose.”

“‘Kay, but don’t put on–”

“--the pickle Rick episode, I know.” He finished for you, casting you a look over his shoulder that said “really?”

You didn’t care; Pickle Rick was creepy, and you’d never have him curse your TV screen again.

It’d been nearly two months since the first time you’d gone for drinks with the guys, and so much had changed.

To begin, Santi moved away–nothing permanent, you’d been assured, though you got the impression that he wasn’t one to stick to one place–and he’d gone to do some “freelance work,” in South America, whatever that meant. You had a feeling that “freelance,” meant “illegal,” and there was a reason he was so vague about where he was going, with all of you, the guys included. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Since your first outing with the guys, you’d gone on many, many more; From weekly bar nights, to family dinners at the Morales’, to cook outs that Will hosted the last saturday of every month. You’d met and absolutely fallen in love with Frankie’s wife Mari, who’d practically burst at your addition to the group, claiming it was “about time,” she wasn’t the only girl. She’d joined you all for drinks when she’d been able to, but you’d still not seen much of Will’s fianceé Anna.

You’d conversed with her a little bit at the cookout, which had been held at hers and Will’s house, but the conversation had been… stiff, at best.

You’d tried to be objective with Anna. Truly, you had. But with the looks she’d been shooting Frankie all night, and the little backhanded remarks she’d made about Benny’s job fighting, she’d made it harder and harder to like her. Even Mari, arguably the kindest woman you’d ever met, didn’t like her, from what you could tell. You’d noticed that Will’s smile seemed to dampen a bit whenever she was around, never really reaching his eyes. It made you wonder all the more why he was still with her. You held your tongue, though, and smiled through the uncomfortable cookout.

The biggest change, though, since that first eventful night at the bar, was your relationship with Benny.

In just two months, he’d gone from your good acquaintance, to one of the people you interacted with the most. Even more so than Will, who had been putting in less and less hours at the museum lately. He claimed that his work at the VA was leaving him swamped when you asked him about it, but something in the way he put it made you a bit skeptical. The thing was, because Will was such a genuine, honest person, it was easy to tell when he wasn't being completely truthful. You didn’t push it though, sensing that whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it. And, with seeing Will less, came seeing Benny more.

The new discovery of his apartment being just down the street from yours meant that whenever he was bored or feeling particularly wired, you were the person he’d call. Whether it be midnight runs to CVS for shitty ice cream, or Saturday walks in the park, he had, in Benny Miller fashion, wormed his way into your life in the best way possible. He’d catsat Salem one weekend when you had to go back home for a family event you couldn’t get out of, and then done shots and watched the Bachelor with you when you got back from said family-event-from-hell. Benny had been the first person you’d thought to give the spare key to your apartment to when a string of break-ins happened on your street, and he’d taken complete advantage of that since then, letting himself in at the most random times, but never actually intruding on your privacy or space.

And now, here he was, sprawled out on your couch for the third time this week, using your Netflix subscription to watch his favorite show.

Shoveling your mac n cheese into a bowl, you chuckled to yourself, imagining what your mother’s reaction would be at his presence in your house. You could see it now: she’d gasp your first and middle name, hand on her chest, absolutely mortified at you having a stranger in the house.

The truth was, though, that Benny wasn’t a stranger—not anymore. He was one of your closest friends, the thorn in your side, the one who forced you to leave the house and socialize, the person you wanted to talk to about everything. He was a great friend. In fact, you’d even venture to say that he’d become your best friend in the past two months. Certainly the best one you’d had since the move. The love you felt for him was so palpable, so real, and not even in a romantic way. This was Benny. The guy who loved his friends like family and his family like himself. The asshole who’d eaten all your microwave popcorn, the little shit that would not stop messing with your cat no matter how many times you told him she didn’t like being picked up. The affection you had for him made your chest ache a little bit. Even disregarding the (not so) little crush you had on him.

“Oh my god, I fucking love this episode! Honey, get in here, it’s funny, I swear—“

You rolled your eyes at his insistence. He was determined to get you to like Rick and Morty, even though, to be completely honest, you found it stupid. But, he was your best friend. So you watched it anyway.

Benny was wonderful. Benny was, in that annoyingly perfect way, wonderful. But still, you wondered. Well, not necessarily wondered; it didn’t take up too much of your time. However, sometimes, on days like this when you were going about your day, when Benny was blissfully unaware, you wondered if this friendship was as big a deal to him as it was to you. If you were a best friend to him, or if you were just someone to pass his time with while his real friends were preoccupied.

Glancing over at Benny in your living room, bobbing his head along to the theme song, you shook your head, ridding it from your brain. You grabbed a spoon and a can of the blackberry hard cider that Benny had forced you to buy before you made your way over and plopped down next to him.

“Okay,” you sighed, focusing on the cartoon in front of you. “How many episodes of this do I have to watch before we switch?”

“I resent that,” he said plainly, eyes still focused on the T. V. in front of him. You shoveled a spoonful of mac n cheese into your mouth, rolling your eyes at him.

“I’m just saying,” you leaned back, crossing your feet to rest on the coffee table. “that there’s a reason that cartoons are for kids. This is what happens when adults meddle where they shouldn’t.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Uhm, shit’s creepy.”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Is this about pickle Rick again? I told you, I’m sorry for that—“

“It was scarring, Benny!” You defended, remembering the first time he’d forced you to watch the show.

To be fair, neither of you were in the best state of mind when it’d happened. About three weeks ago, after a particularly grueling day at the office in which Will was a no-show and Paula was up your ass, like clockwork, Benny had shown up at your apartment. With weed, this time. He’d actually knocked before coming in, so when you opened up the door to him grinning like a maniac, holding up the small plastic bag of green substance, you rolled your eyes before letting him in.

“This has gotta be good,” you’d begun, crossing your arms over your oversized t-shirt. You raised an eyebrow at the bag.

“Cmon, don’t be like that, honey.” He teased, jiggling the bag. “It’ll be fun.”

You laughed, making your way into the living room before falling backwards on the couch.

“I haven’t smoked since college, Benny.” You gave him a tired look.

“And that’s exactly why it’ll be so fun. Who said anything about smoking it, anyway.”

“Where’d you even get this shit anyway?” You asked, standing up and grabbing the bag, inspecting it. You sniffed it.

Ok, wow. Yeah. Definitely weed.

“I know a guy,” he said flippantly, hands on his hips. “Look, if you don’t wanna, that’s ok. We can order a pizza or somethin’. Just thought I’d offer since I can’t cook for shit, and I really wanna bake it into something. My lungs can’t take that shit with the gym and fighting and all.”

“Ah, so you’re using me, huh Miller?” You egged him, smacking his shoulder playfully. “For my amazing culinary skills?”

You smacked him again, hitting his chest this time, and with a chuckle he caught your hand, effectively pinning it to his chest.

“Alright, alright, har, har, har.” He sent you a mischievous smirk. “You wanna do it, or not?”

You regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowed with a smile. Your hand felt like a brand on his chest, his own hand still loosely around your wrist.

“Oh, what the hell.” You sighed in defeat, and before Benny could let out a ‘yes!’ you added, “but I get to choose what we bake it into.”

You’d ended up choosing brownies; predictable but reliable. And lord did you regret it.

It had all been fine—up until you got to the sleepy part of your high, and Benny had made the executive decision to put on Rick and Morty. An hour later saw you with your face in his shoulder, terrified at the T.V. in front of you as rats devoured pickle Rick.

“Whatever,” Benny’s voice to your left snapped you back to reality. “Baby.” He added under his breath. You smacked him in response, eating your dinner, eyes glued to the screen.

A few minutes later, Salem sauntered over from her spot on your floor; the sun was beginning to set, and was no longer doing its job of warming her. She jumped up on the coffee table, as she usually did when you ate on the couch, and stared you down, tail swishing behind her.

“No,” you looked at her. “You are not getting any of my mac n cheese. I gave you tuna for dinner.” Her ear twitched in response. There were times that you swore that cat could understand you.

“And she’s fat enough as it is.” Benny pointed out from next to you. Salem’s head turned to him for a moment before turning back to you, yawning.

“Don’t say that.” You said to him, “she’s fluffy.”

“Mmm,” Benny narrowed his eyes at Salem, whose own eyes were burning into him in what looked like a glare. “Do you see that?!” He exclaimed dramatically. “She’s glaring at me!”

You rolled your eyes. “Cats don’t glare, Benny.”

“Uh—this one does! Look at her!”

Finished with your dinner, you put the empty bowl on the side table, before scooping up Salem, who situated herself on your lap. She was in an agreeable mood today.

“That cat doesn’t like me,” Benny was staring at her as she settled in.

“She doesn’t like anyone, Ben.”

“She likes you.”

“—She tolerates me. There’s a big difference.” You scratched behind her ear, causing a furry black paw to swat at you. “See?”

“Whatever,” he muttered, cueing your laughter. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you black cats are bad luck?”

“Oh my god, not this again.” You glared at him. This had come up before, the first time he’d met Salem. Needless to say: the two weren’t on the best terms. And though you’d never admit it to him, he was right; Your cat absolutely hated him.

- - -

It was nearing nine o’clock and Benny had yet to ask you whatever he’d been itching to all night.

You didn’t want to push him, but half a glass of wine and two episodes of Gossip Girl later, you were ready for him to spit it out. He shifted again, fidgeting, causing you to turn to him.

“Okay, what is it?” You grabbed the remote , hitting pause on whatever Blair and Serena were fighting about this time.

“What do you mean?” He looked like a deer in the headlights, and you had to choke down a smile at how endearing it was. He really was a shit liar.

“Are you going to tell me whatever you were going to earlier, or are you gonna keep fidgeting?”

“How the fuck did you—“ he cut himself off, shaking his head with a smile. “Okay, but before you say no—“

“Why do I not like where this is going?” You raised your eyebrows.

“—before you say no, please remember that I helped you dye your hair last week, and—“ you scoffed. “And, it stained my favorite Def Leppard shirt. And that I’m such a great friend—“

“Just spit it out, Benny.”

“Okay,” he breathed out, holding his arms out. “Okay, so like, everyone from high school is back in town for that stupid class reunion on Tuesday.”

“The one you’re missing for that fight?” You asked.

“Yeah.” He affirmed. “The one I’ve been training for for like, months.”

“Anyway,” he continued. “I didn’t wanna go anyway, but, my buddy Mike is having a party at his parents' place while they’re out of town or something. And normally I wouldn’t be caught dead at one of these things but Mike’s a great friend—I mean really, we go back to like 5th grade— and since I can't go to the reunion I thought, why not go.”

“And I come into this how?” You asked.

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, I normally wouldn’t give a fuck about what those assholes from high school think. I mean, really, I’m going to see Mike and his husband Quinn who I haven’t seen in years, but…” he trailed off, rolling his eyes. “Kelly’s gonna be there.”

Oh.

Kelly you’d heard of. You tried to ignore the simmering anger in your chest as she was brought up.

The Kelly situation had come up before, pretty early in your friendship actually. Benny had told you how his high school sweetheart had broken his heart, cheated on him while he was on his first deployment with some quarterback, and moved away as soon as he’d gotten home. And since Kelly, as far as you understood from your conversations with Will, Benny had never seriously dated. You could tell it had kind of scarred him; whenever she came up, he’d get that far-off look in his eyes. The same one he got whenever he talked about his time overseas.

“And I know it’s dumb, and a little immature, but I was wondering if—“

“Sure.” You cut him off, not even needing him to finish his sentence.

“—could you, maybe—what?”

“Of course, Ben. I’ll go with you.” He looked at you, dumbfounded.

“Wait, really?” He asked again. You laughed a little.

“Yes, Benny.” You giggled. “I’ll go, we can hold hands. You can show that bitch what she’s missing.”

“I—yeah. Yeah, okay.” He laughed a little, still surprised at your response. You grabbed the remote, turning off the TV.

“What time does it start?” You stood up, hands on your hips. “And who’s driving?”

“It’s at 11.” He said. “And Mike’s parents’ place is only a few blocks away, so I figured we could walk? Not have to worry about a DD.”

“Woah, not planning on getting too drunk, are you Miller?” You raised an eyebrow. “Because I can barely handle you sober, not sure I even want to find out what you’re like inebriated—“

“Okay, okay,” he rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” you nodded sarcastically. “I hope you’re not planning on wearing that.” You eyed his outfit choice of gray sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“No,” he scoffed. “We can stop by my place on the way over so I can change really quick.”

“Okay.” You said. “I’m gonna go get ready.” You began the journey to your bedroom, before stopping halfway down the hallway to turn back to Benny. “And don’t mess with my cat.”

- - -

“Jesus Christ, this place is massive.” You gawked at the larger-than-average house in front of you. Beside you, Benny nodded, watching the strobe-like party lights dance through the windows of the packed house.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “This place was the spot when we were kids.”

“How can such a nice neighborhood be so close to our shitty apartments?” You laughed, looking up at Benny who shook his head, not knowing the answer.

“So much for a ‘small get-together,” you snorted, gazing at the few groups of people situated on the lawn, drinking and laughing. Inside, you could hear the indistinct chatter of a party above the pulsing beat of the music.

“Yeah,” Benny tilted his head. “Mike has always been known for extravagance.” You hummed in response. “Well,” Benny, held his hand out to you. “Shall we?”

“Might as well,” you responded, grasping his hand tightly in yours as you made your way into the house.

Inside it was hot. The Florida heat combined with the sheer volume of people in the house made it humid—much more humid than even you were used to after living in a state of perpetual heat for eight months. You thanked god you’d decided to wear a cropped tank-top instead of the mesh long-sleeve you were considering. Even despite your lack of clothing, you were hot.

Benny’s hand stayed firmly in yours as he maneuvered you through the crowded entry way, skirting around groups of people. You made your way to a kitchen, which was less packed with people, and Benny let go of your hand, looking around the room—presumably for Mike. Beyond the kitchen, further ahead, was a conjoined living room, which was now serving as a make-shift dance-floor. Inside, people were jumping, twirling, gyrating; losing themselves in the upbeat, loud music that permeated into the kitchen. You wondered if this is what high school was like for Benny.

“You guys party a lot in high school?” You turned to him, tilting your head to the side and leaning back on the kitchen island which was serving as a minibar. Behind you, lay bottles of vodka, tequila, whisky, and countless other types of liquor, along with a giant bowl of punch, which held the strong smell of alcohol as well.

“God, no.” Benny shook his head, leaning beside you. “We weren’t really cool enough for that—well, I wasn’t really cool enough. Mike was, I guess, but he hung around me too much to be too popular.”

“Please,” you raised your eyebrows incredulously at the man beside you, whose warm shoulder was casually touching yours. You pushed down the feelings that begin to erupt inside you at that, determined to not let your stupid, stupid crush ruin one of the best friendships you’d had in a while. “You, Miller?” You continued. “Really?”

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, a small smile on his face.

You snorted. “You had to have been popular.”

“Ha!” He threw his head back a bit. “No, I was not. I was 5’5” til I was seventeen and weighed maybe 40 pounds soaking wet.”

“You?” You asked incredulously.

“Why’s that so hard to believe, honey?” He asked cheekily. You eyed him up and down.

“Hmm, nothing.” You hummed. “Just hard to imagine you as anything but the school’s golden boy.”

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes looking more green than blue in this lighting. You couldn’t read his expression. His jaw ticked as he gazed at you pensively, and for a second—a millisecond, really—you could’ve sworn his eyes darted from your eyes to your lips. But as soon as you saw it, it was gone.

Benny cleared his throat. “Will was though,” he said, that easy smile back on his face. “He was quarterback and everything. Swears I followed him around like some lost puppy.”

You smiled fondly at that, remembering the times when Will had told you the same thing. It was hard for you to imagine Benny as anyone different than who he was right now—tall and broad, sometimes bashful, all easy smiles and soft drawls—but you tried to. You tried to picture little, 15-year-old Benny looking up to his brother like he was the sun himself. It was surprisingly easy to do, as Benny looked at him the same way today. You’d seen it. You wondered if that’s how you looked when you gazed at Benny. You hoped not.

“Yeah,” you said fondly. “He’s told me something like that.”

“That chicken shit!” Benny exclaimed, shaking his head. “It’s not true! Don’t you believe a word that man says.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed sarcastically.

“No, seriously!” Benny continued, turning to face you fully now. You took note of your proximity. From here you could see every detail to his face, tanned from the Florida sun. “I didn’t, swear to God! Now, Mikey on the other hand, I followed him everywhere. I was like a fuckin’ barnacle.”

“That so?”

“Oh yeah,” he snorted. “And he was cool. So his parties were the only ones I got into. Nothing’s changed there, apparently.”

You laughed at that. “What, you never got invited to parties?”

“I did, sometimes, when Will was feeling generous, but usually I was DD.” He admitted, shrugging.

“Not much has changed there.” You teased, recalling that night at the bar. He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He mused. “Not tonight though. You want a drink?” He turned to the liquor, getting himself a beer.

“Sure,” you said. “Get me some of that punch.”

“I don’t know if I’d do that if I were you.” A deep male voice boomed. The unfamiliar voice came from behind you, it was deep, and you could hear the smile in his voice. You turned around. “I’m not exactly revered for my jungle juice.”

The man was tall, almost as tall as Benny, and probably the most metal person you’d seen in your whole life. His arms were covered in tattoos that snaked up one side of his neck, and disappeared under his Black Sabbath T-shirt . He wore jeans and combat boots, and his hair was dark and curly, falling just above his shoulders. His face was smiling, looking at you fondly before finding Benny, next to you.

“Mikey!” Benny whooped, enveloping him in a bear hug.

“Come here, you little shit.” Mikey clapped him on the shoulder, the thick rings on his fingers glinting in the light, returning the hug with just as much force. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he pulled back from the hug, hands on Benny’s shoulders.

“Could say the same thing for you, man.” Benny pulled back, a face-splitting grin on his face. “Where’s Quinn?”

“Oh,” Mikey looked around. “Quinnie’s around here somewhere. Probably throwing up that god-awful punch. Really, it’s nasty.”

“You heard him, honey. Maybe go easy on the punch.” Mikey raised his eyebrows when Benny called you ‘honey.’

“Mm,” you hummed, taking a sip of the punch that, in all fairness, was god-awful. “I'm not one to back down from a challenge.”

“And who is this, Benny boy?” Mikey drawled, eyes swimming with mirth. Benny jumped up from his beer, shaking his head at himself.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Honey, this is Mikey. My best friend since, well, forever.” He gave Mikey your name, and you smiled as you shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled at him. “It’s great to meet Benny’s other friends.”

“Ah,” Mikey smirked knowingly. “Then I take it, you've met the gang?”

You snorted at that, while next to you Benny rolled his eyes.

“Man, I told you, don’t call us that—“

“No, I think I like it,” you interrupted. “I’m using that.”

“Me and Santi go way back, right Ben?” Mikey raised an eyebrow, taking a draw from his drink.

“Oh god, don’t remind me.” Benny ran a hand over his face.

“I’m guessing there’s a story there?” You looked between the two, and Benny shook his head.

“He wishes there was.��

“I had him on the ropes.” Mikey defends.

“Sure you did,” Benny took a sip of his beer. You snorted. “Mikey here spent, what six months trying to get Pope to go out with him after our first tour.”

“Ah, it was four months, thank you. And we made out at a party once, so I think that counts for at least something.”

You laughed at that. You hadn’t been aware that Santi was bisexual, but now that you did, you had to admit: it made sense.

“How’s he doing anyway?” Mikey asked casually. Benny tilted his head.

“Wish I could tell ya. Haven’t seen the guy in a couple months. He’s doing some work down in South America.”

“Always moving, that one.” You added.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Mikey said, crossing his arms. “So, you’ve met the guys then?”

“I have,” You nodded. “I actually work with Will.”

“Oh nice!” Mikey said. “What’s big Miller up to? He still with that nightmare?”

You choked on your punch.

“They’re engaged now, actually.” Benny added dryly.

“Jesus.”

“Yep. Not much has changed there.”

Mikey blew out a long breath at that.

“Tough, man.” He shook his head. “But, here, so much has changed. Where do I even start.”

And that’s what began the pair’s waltz down memory lane, which mostly consisted of Mikey pointing out random people walking by or on the dance floor and giving Benny a run-down of the newest scoop into their lives.

You gathered that Benny hadn’t really kept up with people from high school the way Mikey had; he didn’t do Facebook, or any form of social media really, and though he stayed local (mostly), much of his graduating class had moved away. And even if they hadn’t, you’d gotten the impression that after his time in the military, along with all that came with his messy break-up with Kelly, he’d have distanced himself from them anyway.

Mikey came to stand between you and Benny, all of you leaning on the counter opposite of the kitchen island as he pointed out random people trickling by and gave you both a crash course on what they’d done since high school. It was the usual catch-up: a divorce here, a pregnancy there, there was even a woman who’d married an ex-teacher at the school, which had caused quite the scandal. You sat mostly quiet though as they conversed, content to absorb the information and get a better understanding of Benny.

The way he interacted with Mikey, his oldest friend to your knowledge, was the same way you’d seen him interact with the guys, and with you. He was easygoing, kind, funny, and 100% Benny. You knew no other way to describe it. There was something about his authenticity that made you jealous, as much as you hated to admit it. Where you had trouble expressing yourself, your emotions, your thoughts, it seemed to come so easily for him. He was carefree in a way that made you ache. Always telling people how he felt, reassuring them, always honest. He was the same in private as he was with everyone else; there was no facade, or pretense of kindness, it was all just him. Authentically. It scared you the way he made you feel.

You scanned his profile; the long lashes (which you were also jealous of), the slope of his nose, the curve of his brow. His hair was messy—it was always messy—and it fell haphazardly over his forehead in dark blond waves. Your hands itched to touch it.

“Oh god,” Mikey’s voice snapped you out of ogling Benny. You mentally smacked your forehead, blaming the jungle juice for your actions. It was already beginning to take effect, making you comfortably tipsy. “Don’t look now.” Mikey warned.

“What?” You asked, looking between him and Benny, who looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Oh shit,” Mikey looked at Benny, whose gaze was trained toward the dance floor, eyes wide. Mikey grabbed your hands. “Okay, don’t look now, but we have company. Ex-girlfriend, 3 o’clock.”

Your gaze followed his, spotting a redhead making her way over to your group through the throngs of people on the dance floor. As she got closer, you could see her clearer. She was pretty. Really, truly pretty. So much so that she made you shift uncomfortably in place, tugging at your shorts absentmindedly. She was pale, with freckles dusting his cheeks and nose, a smirk on her face as she walked.

“Kelly?” You asked Mikey, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” he said.

Ah, you thought. So this was the bitch that broke Benny’s heart.

You felt a surge of protectiveness and anger rush through you at the thought. In your mind's eye, you saw the look on Benny’s face as he’d told you of her betrayal. The same look that was on his face now. Absolutely not, you thought, remembering why Benny had invited you here in the first place.

You turned to Benny, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a long swig from his beer. You put your hands on his shoulders, turning him toward you. He looked nervous, fidgety. More so than you’d ever seen him.

“You ready?” You asked him, eyebrows raised. “We’re gonna show her what she’s missing.”

He blew out a sigh, looking over at her again before back at you. He nodded resolutely, his poker face returning.

“Yeah,” he said, as if trying to convince himself. “Yeah,” he repeated, more certain this time. “Yeah honey, I’m ready.”

“Then let’s give her hell.”

You grasped his hand in yours, leaning your head on his shoulder and running your other hand up his arm, as you turned back to Mikey.

“This should be fun,” Mikey murmured, as Kelly approached your group.

“Oh my god!” Even her voice was pretty. You ground your teeth, forcing a polite smile at her. “Benny! How are you? It’s been so long!”

Benny smiled politely at her. “Just fine,” he said, not bothering to ask how she’s been. You squeezed his hand.

“Hello to you too, Kelly.” Mikey mumbled into his solo cup. Her eyes snapped to him coldly, before turning sickly sweet again.

“Hey, Mikey.” She purred, pulling him into a hug. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fabulous.” He said. “I mean, I threw the party, didn’t I?”

She laughed, throwing her head back.

Unnecessary, you thought pettily.

“You know, that’s why you were always my gay best friend in high school.”

You snorted. You couldn’t help it. Because Jesus fucking Christ, was this girl serious? Your eyes went wide as you looked to Benny, whose expression mirrored your own. Mikey had a pained expression as he nodded.

At your outburst, Kelly’s eyes snapped to you, sizing you up. She looked you up and down, a sour look on her face.

“And who are you?” She asked, still feigning politeness. You matched her smile.

“Oh, how silly of me.” You introduced yourself, shaking her hand in a firm handshake. “And you are?”

“Uh,” she looked between you and Benny, eyes zeroing in on where you’d hand was still joined with his. You titled your head at her. “I’m Kelly. Benny and I go way back.”

“Oh really?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing in mock confusion as you turned to Benny who looked down at you, a grin alighting his face at your antics. Mirth swam in his eyes. “Ben’s never mentioned you before.”

“Haven’t I, baby?” He asked, letting go of your hand to wind his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. There was that nickname again.

Baby, baby, baby.

You ignored the butterflies that erupted in your gut at his calling you that name. He had practically purred it. Jesus, you needed a stronger drink.

“Hmmm, no I don’t think you have.” You smiled up at him, staring at him for a moment, really milking the whole fake relationship thing.

“Hmm,” Mikey cleared his throat from Benny’s other side, cutting through the awkward silence. “Well, you know how it is.” He said. “After you find the one, old flings just kind of fade together.”

Your heart stuttered at that. The one. It made sense for him to say that; you were pretending, trying to fool Benny’s ex and make her jealous, but still, a part of you wanted it to be true. A part deep, deep down that you’d never admit to yourself.

“Yeah,” you said fondly, deciding to take your chance and reach up and tuck a piece of Benny’s hair behind his ear. You could’ve sworn you say his breath falter for a moment.

“Well,” Kelly spoke up, more annoyed than before and barely hiding it. “It was nice to see you guys again, I’ve-uh-I think Candace is waiting for me.”

When she’d gone, Benny blew out a breath, shoulders deflating.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe that worked.”

You laughed at his reaction, patting his shoulder.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh, yeah—I did!” He affirmed dramatically. “I mean, did you even see that?”

“Yes, Ben, I was there.” You said dryly.

“Lord have mercy, you’re good at that.” He shook his head at you. “Did you have a side hustle in college or something? You could add ‘helps make exes jealous and is amazing at fake dating’ to your resume.”

“Oh god, Ben, that’s gotta be the worst one yet.” You laughed at his awful joke.

“Cmon,” he laughed back, “you’re good!”

“He’s right,” Mikey came up between you, carrying two full shot glasses in his hands. He sat them on the counter in front of you. “You were really good, that girl was seeing red.”

“Well,” you said, flattered. “Thank you. I take pissing off my friends’ shitty exes very seriously.”

“Yeah, I gathered.” Benny added dryly. You swatted the back of his head.

“Now, drink up!” Mikey gestured to the full shot glasses in front of you. “You two deserve it after how awkward that was. I’m gonna go find my husband.”

You raised your eyebrows at Benny as Mikey sauntered away, presumably upstairs.

“Shall we?” You asked him, sniffing the amber liquid in the shot glass. The familiar spice of cinnamon and twinge of whisky hitting your nostrils.

“Ah, why the hell not,” he said, picking up his own shot glass. “God, I hate fireball. Reminds me of Pope.”

You snorted, before clinking your glass against his and throwing it back. The familiar burn of the whisky mixed with the spice of the cinnamon warmed you up as it went down.

“Agh,” Benny made a face as he drank his own. “That's awful.”

“Pussy,” you muttered. His mouth fell open.

“Wanna bet?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Five bucks says I can out-drink you.” You challenged. His lips twisted into a wicked smirk, staring you down.

“I’ll take those odds.”

———

Benny may have taken your little bet a little too seriously.

A little too seriously, as in: he was five drinks in, and wired as all get out.

You were reasonably drunk yourself, to be fair. After the shots, you’d challenged Benny to chug some jungle juice, and after he did, he’d had two more cups. After matching his pace in the first two, you’d decided to call it quits and lose the bet. You deemed babysitting Benny for the night and making sure he didn’t embarrass himself in front of Kelly or anyone else from high school more important than the five dollars you’d lose to the bet. You’d win it back another time, anyways.

Now, though, you’d discovered what Benny was really like when revved up with alcohol, and it was more than you bargained for.

“Ben, I gotta cut you off,” you pressed his chest lightly, standing between him and the makeshift mini-bar. He stopped, pouting at you.

“Why, honey? I’m completely sober.” He argued, sounding a bit too much like a toddler for your liking. You snorted, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, ok, big guy.” You said, before nudging one of his shoulders backwards with a little more force. He stumbled backward a bit, losing his footing for a second before shaking his head, standing upright again. “See?” You asked. “You drink anymore, you’re gonna pass out and I’m gonna have to drag you home.”

“You’re a party pooper, you know that?” He asked you, crossing his arms and coming to lean against you, too drunk to consider your personal space. You couldn’t bring yourself to care as he leaned his head on your shoulder. He sighed. The party was still in full swing behind you as you sat in silence with him. You leaned your head on his, catching a whiff of the pine scented shampoo he used. An involuntary thrill went through your gut.

“I didn’t like seeing Kelly tonight,” he said, voice so melancholy it made your chest stretch and ache. “Was too much for a little bit.”

“I know, Ben.” You said, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

“But you,” he giggled a little bit, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. “You made her so mad.” He looked up at you, all trace of sadness gone from voice and face. His eyes were glittering.

“Okay, she wasn’t that mad.”

“No, no, honey, she was!” He said. “She made that mad face.” He mimicked her facial expression, pressing his eyebrows together dramatically. You laughed at his antics. His eyes then snapped to the dance floor, catching Mikey towards the middle, dancing wildly with a shorter man with a dark afro.

“Mikey!” He said excitedly, face lighting up. “I wanted to dance,” he added, face falling a bit. “I was too worried about Kelly to dance.”

“We can dance, Ben.” You took his hand. “If you want to.”

He pulled you to the dance floor then, not wobbling at all. Part of you rolled your eyes at that—perhaps he was just being dramatic when he’d stumbled earlier. You brushed it from your mind, though, and instead focused on Benny’s warm hand in yours as you made your way through the packed dance floor to Mikey and Quinn.

“Quinnie!” Benny beamed when you’d reached them, enveloping the shorter man in a crushing hug. “We missed you earlier!”

“Yeah, well,” he cast a sarcastic look at Mikey who shrugged. “This asshole left me upstairs to fend for myself against Candace Meyers.”

“Okay! To be fair, I didn’t know she was up there! I thought you were sick or something!”

“That makes it even worse, Mikey.” You added arms crossed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” Quinn said, smiling at you.

“Oh!” Benny put his arm around your shoulder casually. You tried not to stiffen. He gave Quinn your name, before adding. “She’s my—“

“Benny’s friend.” Mikey completed for him, kissing his husband on the cheek. Benny’s brows furrowed, before jumping up again, as the music changed from an upbeat song to a more slow one.

“I love this song!” He said, looking to Mikey and Quinn who were already beginning to sway. “Dance with me, baby.”

You thought you saw Mikey raise his eyebrows at the endearment that fell from Benny’s mouth, but you couldn’t be sure, as you were focused on Benny’s firm palm on your waist, pulling you to him.

You felt the booze buzzing through your veins as he pulled you closer, his fingers warm against the skin that was left bare between your shirt and jeans. Motivated by the liquor in your system, without thinking, your hand went to the hair at the nape of Benny’s neck, your other going to his shoulder. As you ran your fingers through and played with the hair there, you could have sworn you felt him shiver, his grip tightening on your waist while his other hand pulled you closer by your hip.

And god, you’d never felt the way you did when he was touching you.

Everything felt charged as he swayed you back and forth to the music, and all of a sudden, there was no more sweat, booze, and chatter of the people around you, there was only Benny.

You gulped, and his hand slid up your shirt, his smooth palm gliding over the expanse of your back, skin to skin. Your head fell to his shoulder, and he cleared his throat, spinning the two of you around slowly. You felt his nose at the top of your head, before he inhaled.

Was he… smelling you? You had to hold back a laugh at the thought, before catching yourself, remembering that merely five minutes ago you were doing the same thing to him, when he’d had his head on your shoulder.

The hand on your hip moved to your hand, grabbing it. You looked up at Benny, not realizing how close he was. Your noses were nearly touching, his eyes looked impossibly dark in the dim light of the living room. His warm breath grazed your lips, smelling of the fruity jungle juice from earlier. For a moment you both just stared, before Benny surprised you by pulling you out into a spin away from him.

You giggled a little as you clumsily spun back to his catching his slow grin in the process. But when he spun you back, his hands went to your hips, pulling you backwards against him, and any laugh that you may have had died on your lips.

As silent gasp broke past your lips, your back meeting his chest. You could feel the heat of his chest bleeding through his T-shirt on your back, warm and firm against you. His hands stayed resting on your hips as he slowly began to move you both to the music.

You swayed, too overwhelmed with the sensation of his body against yours, his scent, his breath against the back of your neck, to convince yourself otherwise. Everything in your body screamed: Benny, Benny, Benny.

You let your head fall back to his shoulder, feeling motivated by the alcohol in your system to turn your head and press your nose and lips up against his warm neck. A sound that was almost a whimper fell from his lips as he gripped your hips tighter, one of his hands grabbing yours and the other reaching over to grab your opposite hip. Without realizing, you ground your backside against his front, resulting in a puff of warm air from him against your throat.

“Hey,” Mikey’s voice snapped you back to reality, and you practically jumped out of Benny’s arms.

“Uh,” Mikey was trying, and failing, to hold back a shit-eating grin. “I’m gonna kick everyone out soon. Thought I’d give you guys a heads up.” He narrowed his eyes at Benny who coughed.

“Yeah, man.” He tried to feign sobriety, but one look at him had you holding back a laugh of your own. You were drunk, but you weren’t that drunk.

“Make sure he gets home okay?” Mikey had a hand on your shoulder. You smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

“I will.” You looked back at the man behind you. “He’ll probably sleep at mine tonight. I don’t feel like walking the extra block to his apartment.”

Mikey hummed in response, before gigging you goodbye and promising to give yours and Benny’s goodbyes to Quinn.

“You think you’ll be able to walk home?” You asked Benny, eyebrows raised.

“Hmm?” He shook his head, looking at you bleary-eyed. You sighed, rolling your eyes and grabbing his hand.

“Alright, cmon big guy.” You said, starting toward the door. “Let’s get you in bed.”

- - -

“Mmm,” Benny moaned, arm slung across your back and forehead pressed into your shoulder. You sighed, practically dragging him up the stairs to your apartment.

“I know, I know,” you mumbled. “Just a few more steps. We’re almost there.”

He’d gotten to that point in the night where he’d hit a wall. All the energy he’d had on the walk home, where he was practically skipping and shouting, had given way to sluggish, slurring, tired Benny. The Benny that you had hanging off of you as you tried to fish your keys out of your purse.

As you searched, he lifted his head from your shoulder, settling his chin there instead. He smiled as you rooted around for your keys.

“Need some help, honey?” He asked innocently.

“Fuck off, Ben.” You laughed, turning to face him. Your nose bumped his, and he smiled. You shook your head and turned back to your purse, focused on the task at hand.

“Aha,” you mumbled to yourself, finally finding your house key, “gotcha.” Your fingers shook a bit fumbling to fit it into the keyhole, a bit rattled by Benny’s breath against your neck.

“You’re pretty, you know that?” He said plainly. You opened the door, hoisting his arm over your shoulder, guiding him in.

“You’re drunk, Benny.” You sighed, ignoring the butterflies that erupted at his admission. You kicked off your shoes, locking the door behind you.

“M’not,” he said as he tripped over his own shoes. You laughed lightly at his clumsiness, grabbing his hands to steady him.

“Mhm, I believe you too, Ben.”

“Smartass.” He retorted, following you as you took him back to your bedroom. “Always such a smartass.”

“Uh huh. Save it for when I’m not taking care of you, ‘kay Miller?” You said with no venom in your voice. He grumbled in response, too tired or drunk or both to come up with a retort.

“Alright. Get ready for bed, while I go change and brush my teeth,” you said to him as he stared blankly at you, sitting on your bed. “I’m not undressing you, Ben. We’re not that close.”

You grabbed a pair of pajamas before making your way to the bathroom to clean up before bed. After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you returned, pushing open your squeaky bedroom door.

Benny had stripped down to just his boxers, and was slumped over on your bed, head resting toward the foot of it, already dozing off. You held back a laugh, walking over to shake him awake.

“Hmm?” He asked, confused.

“Gotta get you under the covers, Benny.” You told him softly, pushing him lightly backward by the shoulder.

“Mmm,” he hummed affirmatively, standing up and rubbing his eyes so you could unmake the bed and pull the covers back.

“Was gonna ask,” he said, voice gravely in a way that made you shiver. “Could I borrow your Fleetwood Mac shirt?”

You fake-glared at him. “That’s my favorite shirt.”

“I know, but it’s soft,” he started before you laughed.

“I’m kidding, Ben. Get it bed, I’ll grab it.”

“Woah, honey,” Benny drawled teasingly. “Trying to get me into bed so quickly.”

“Funny,” you commented dryly at his innuendo.

“I mean, really, take me out to dinner first—“ you cut him off by tossing the shirt right at his head with a flop.

“Mmm thanks,” he replied, pulling it on.

“No problem.” You said. “I’m gonna go grab you some advil and water for the raging hangover you’re gonna have in the morning.” He groaned as you went to the kitchen to retrieve the pills and glass of water.

When you returned, he was leaned up against the headboard, brows furrowed. You set the pills and water on the bedside table before getting back up, preparing to sleep on the couch.

“We are.” His voice stopped you in your tracks as you reached for the doorknob. You shook your head, not catching his meaning.

“‘We are’ what?”

“That close.” You looked at him confusedly, so he continued, “earlier, you said we aren’t that close; we are.”

You paused, your tongue feeling like cotton. Your mind blanked and you just kind of, stood there, absolutely tongue-tied and shocked by whatever admission this was. Still, he continued.

“You’re my best friend, yaknow.” He mumbled, before leaning back into the pillows and letting out a deep breath, ready to sleep. You stood there for a second, an overwhelming warmth filling your chest, before responding quietly.

“You’re mine too, Ben.”

#benny miller x y/n #benny miller imagine #benny miller x reader #benny miller x f!reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #garrett hedlund imagine #garrett hedlund #sunshine state

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wrencatte · 7 months

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oooh do you mind telling us more about leverage, possession, and babs and jay fear?

ohhh the leverage one is fun! I don't have my roles anymore cos I'd posted that on twitter and I have deactivated my twitter (and i might be deleted by now I think?) but I wanted to try my hand at it. The relationships are both similar to canon and tweaked with Bruce playing more mentor than dad mode, but everyone else is found family.

“Batman is dead.” It’s said matter-of-factly, not an even a hint of emotion. Dick knows better though, he can hear the frustration and annoyance, the slight hint of tears from them both, a tinge of legitimate sadness. “You up for a job?” Dick leans back until the chair is touching the ground with two leg, aviators dangling from between his fingers as he lifts his coffee to his lips without drinking. He watches his target from his peripherals, giving off the air of a bored tourist who only came here because of the reviews and now has an unwanted call. The unwanted part is completely true. Batman is dead. Dick can’t wrap his head around it. “What happened?” he murmurs. Barbara sighs, it crackles over the line. “Bad intel,” she says. “It didn’t come from me. He didn’t check it with me. Batman’s burned. Bruce went underground.” “Damn.”

Possession is - this one is funny now because of an ask i got a week ish ago telling me about ghouls just wanna have fun. It was Jason doing a "hunting down a magic artifact and it happens to be in Blud" and gets some nasty side effects. magic case fic with Jason & Dick batbros

Dick slips through his window with well practice eased and – freezes halfway through, instantly on edge. He can’t say why. Just feels his skin prickle, his hair standing on end, his gut screaming at him to listen. His leading leg is still bent awkwardly on the sill, and he quiets his entrance even more as he enters the apartment. He creeps through his own living room on the balls of his feet, pulling out one escrima. He’d left his kitchen light on before he left and the light is still there, yet – the rest of his apartment seems darker than it should be. Shadows elongating. The spot of light spilling through the doorway shrinks with every step he takes. Something is in his apartment. A soft click has his escrima humming faintly. It sounds loud in the smothering, encompassing unease of his surroundings – he almost wants to call it abyssal – but he’ll take the risk. It’s not like the was quiet when he opened the window. He slides to the wall and peeks around the corner. A shadow looms over his stove. Smoke drifts from its hair like the remnants of a banked fire, pools around its feet in ashy clouds. A void of grey and black in the middle of his lit kitchen. Dick swallows and flicks the light – off – and the figure turns, around, eyes flashing – then on, and – “Sup, Dickhead,” Jason says casually, body pulled together, smoke gone like it was never there. Dick lets out a breath. His brother leans against the L in the countertop, dressed down in a graphic tee Dick swears is his, jeans, and biker boots. He looks okay, except for the scrap on his jaw and the dark bags under his eyes. “You’re back sooner than I thought.” “What the hell, Jace,” Dick breathes out. Jason shrugs. “Refilled your fridge, it was lookin’ kinda pathetic.” Dick doesn’t drop his escrima. He tightens his grip and holds it higher as he inches into the room, still on edge. “You’re trying to eat grass that isn’t there,” he offers. He snorts. “Why don’t you give it a chance to grow?” he replies in the same sing-song voice he’s been doing since he was fourteen and he was both whiny and ecstatic about the chosen code phrase. He wanted something cooler, but Bruce had maintained it needed to be obscure enough.

Babs & Jay fear was going to be a 2022 whumptober fill that I just haven't been able to wrap my head around. Two people who suffered in the hands of the Joker, comforting and bonding with Jason dosed with fear gas

Nothing can catch Barbara by surprise anymore. Well, nothing can catch her by surprise in her own home. Not even Cass at her sneakiest since her last system update. Her new sensors are working better than expected. It settles something deep in her bones, that knowledge, that security. Her hyper vigilance has lessened over the years, certainly lower than any of the other Bats, and has found she’s all the better for it – sleeping better, relaxing more, finding herself able to juggle everyday routines on top of her night life better, just general things Babs hadn’t really noticed she struggled with until she wasn’t anymore. She’s still vigilant. After all, she’s Oracle. But it’s something useful now instead of…of debilitating. Instead of being anxious and paranoid in her own home, it just makes her aware. It makes her not flinch, keeps her heartrate steady, when her alarms go off, indicating someone slipping through a window up in the Clock Tower’s loft where she keeps her Oracle business. She has a set up closer to her living spaces, but the real work is done upstairs. The beep is a friendly one, registered for her family both in and out of the mask. She finishes making her coffee, pouring it into a thermos and grabbing an extra mug. There’s a small kitchenette up there too. Today was going to be a day off – which is why she’s down here instead of well into overseeing the night patrols. (It’s never too late for coffee.) Before Babs can head to the elevator, though, her ever present earpiece clicks on. “Hey,” Tim sounds breathless. “Sorry, I know you’re off. But do you think you can track Red Hood? We were taking care of some fear gas and he got hit with some then disappeared.” Her brows furrow then – oh. She rolls into the elevator and hits the button, thoughts whirling. “No need. I know where he is.”

#asked and answered #my writing #jason todd

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chcrrybcmbs · 5 months

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✼ ʾ 𝑎𝑐𝑡. 𝒊 , the bits & bobs .

FULL NAME: vincent ashton hart. ALIAS(ES): vinnie ( preferred name ) , vin ( by family ) . BIRTH DATE: august twentieth. BIRTH PLACE: texas. AGE: twenty seven years old. PRONOUN(S): he , him. GENDER: cis male. ORIENTATION: heterosexual , heteromantic. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single. EDUCATION: graduated high school , dropped out of vanderbilt university his sophmore year. OCCUPATION: country singer , songwriter. CAREER DETAILS: click here.

NATIONALITY: american. ETHNICITY: english and german. LANGUAGES SPOKEN: english , some spanish. FINANCIAL STATUS: middle class growing up , upper class throughout adulthood. FATHER: tba hart. NATIONALITY: american. OCCUPATION: tba. MOTHER: tba hart. NATIONALITY: american. OCCUPATION: tba. SISTER: juliette hart. NATIONALITY: american. OCCUPATION: country singer. PETS: two dogs , named finnick and jacksey. PAST RELATIONSHIPS: ophelia evans ( 2018 - 2021 ).

HEIGHT: 6 foot. WEIGHT: 162 pounds. HAIR COLOR: dirty blonde. EYE COLOR: blue. TRAITS: affable , protective , loyal , generous , perfectionist , critical ( especially of himself ) , guarded , prideful. ZODIAC: leo. HOBBIES: tba. CHARACTER INSPO: elijah mikaelson , bruce wayne.

✼ ʾ 𝑎𝑐𝑡. 𝒊𝒊 , the story so far .

born vincent ashton hart , to two ( clears throat ) loving parents , in a small town in texas . one of three kiddos , coming up from rather humble beginnings . as a child , vincent , reckless but his mom always saw the light in those baby blue eyes -- he meant well , never an ounce of malice in her sweet boys heart . it was around five or six , he and his brother took on a role no young boy should never have to take . left to be the men of the family , when their dad up and left . vincent had convinced himself for as long as his mind could muster up that the man he called dad wouldn't leave , something had to be wrong . despite that , he still took up the empty space that was left to the best of his ability . deeming , his lifelong roll in life would be to look after his sister ... no matter how much she complained about it .

growing up he was your typical all - american boy ; excellent athlete ( played wide reciever up until he left college ) , straight a student , and a southern gentleman to his core . to this day he gives all his mother all the praise for any and everything he is and has done . his mother instilling every value he holds dear , her words on an endless loop in his head even today : a man's just as good as his word , it takes twice as long to build bridges you've burned . he lives his life of these things and is rather prideful about that .

when college rolled around , vincent was offered a full ride scholarship for both his athletic ability and his grades . he decided to attend vanderbilt in nashville , unaware that choice would steer him away from his love of football but instead toward his love for music . the first time he ever stepped foot on music row , he was enamored . absolutely obsessed . taking a songwriting class in college , claiming it was simply a way to get more credits but truth was it quickly became his favorite class . he'd spend practice thinking about what song he'd be able to write once he finished reps . the first time he ever sang in front of a group of people was at a kareoake bar , soon enough it became a weekly tradition with him and his friends -- stop by sing a little kareoke at the beginning of the night before getting completely hammored at one of the rooftop bars nearby .

it was at 19 , vincent met jason aldean while out and the country star saw something in the texas boy . offering him a spot to play at one of his upcoming shows . at the time vincent didn't have a single song fully finished -- always over critical and believing nothing was good enough to be done but despite this he accepted the offer . spending that week churning out a five song setlist . he opened for jason aldean the next weekend right at the grand ol opry , in front of 4,000 people apposed to the usual hundred on a random night out . the crowd loved him and he fed off the energy , a true natural jason would go on to tell him after the show . then , as if it never happened vincent went back to life as he knew it . 8am classes , football practice , weekends spent at the bars . the taste for what he had that night opening never quite going away though and he was a live performace staple at nashville bars . one way or another , word got back around to jason aldean and he extended another olive branch to the texas kid . this time , a permananet opening spot of his upcoming tour . leaving vincent with a choice : say yes and forgo his academic and athletic career to take a chance on something that could easily go no where or say no and stick to what he knew . in rare fashion , he took a chance . went on tour as an opening act and spent that entire year writing and recording .

after the tour he spent a year traveling , southern states really . spent some time in oklahmona , alot of time in tennessee , even more time in texas , even made a pit stop in louisiana . he wrote a solid album in this time and when he returned back to nashville he knocked on sony records doors , handing over the copy of what he hoped they would consider a perfect debut album . weeks passed , no call . he struggled with the idea that perhaps , he'd ruined his life . having had it all figured out at once and now he was hanging onto a dream that didn't seem to be producing much of anything for him . doing some random gigs at local bars and spending his days working construction , this was not the life he'd planned for himself but vincent was far too prideful to tuck his tail between his legs and return back to college .

then the call came . an executive at sony called him asking for a meeting . he cleared his entire schedule and went over as soon as possible . offered a record deal that day , from there everything went at whirlwind pace . his first album releasing just a few months later . a well received debut , amassing country fans from every corner . girls falling in love with him , guys relating to him , older generations appreciating his way of modernizing a sound they grew up on .

after his first tour , he'd made the reluctant choice to move to los angeles . the city of angels wrapping him up in its cold embrace . from the outside looking in one could think , the city was changing him ... but the truth was , he was in his early twenties , high on life , and having the time of his life . paparazzi catching him leaving bars , out to dates regularly -- he gave them the perfect ammo to twist the narrative . make him seem like something he wasn't ; a fuck boy , a party boy , the bad boy . anyone who spent even a few moments with him knew that was all just gossip , though . vincent had always had a good head on his shoulders , carried himself with respect , and prided himself with knowing there wasn't anyone who'd walk away from an interaction with him with a genuinely bad thing to say about him .

✼ ʾ 𝑎𝑐𝑡. 𝒊𝒊𝒊 , the inner circle .

tba.

#hillzintro #vinnie tag tba

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makingimages · 4 months

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Leo was from a long time ago, the first one I ever saw nude. In the spring before the Hellmans filled their pool, we’d go down there in the deep end, with baby oil, and like that. I met him the first month away at boarding school. He had a halo from the campus light behind him. I flipped.

Roger was fast. In his illegal car, we drove to the reservoir, the radio blaring, talking fast, fast, fast. He was always going for my zipper. He got kicked out sophomore year.

By the time the band got around to playing “Wild Horses,” I had tasted Bruce’s tongue. We were clicking in the shadows on the other side of the amplifier, out of Mrs. Donovan’s line of vision. It tasted like salt, with my neck bent back, because we had been dancing so hard before.

Tim’s line: “I’d like to see you in a bathing suit.” I knew it was his line when he said the exact same thing to Annie Hines.

You’d go on walks to get off campus. It was raining like hell, my sweater as sopped as a wet sheep. Tim pinned me to a tree, the woods light brown and dark brown, a white house half hidden with the lights already on. The water was as loud as a crowd hissing. He made certain comments about my forehead, about my cheeks.

We started off sitting at one end of the couch and then our feet were squished against the armrest and then he went over to turn off the TV and came back after he had taken off his shirt and then we slid onto the floor and he got up again to close the door, then came back to me, a body waiting on the rug.

You’d try to wipe off the table or to do the dishes and Willie would untuck your shirt and get his hands up under in front, standing behind you, making puffy noises in your ear.

He likes it when I wash my hair. He covers his face with it and if I start to say something, he goes, “Shush.”

For a long time, I had Philip on the brain. The less they noticed you, the more you got them on the brain.

My parents had no idea. Parents never really know what’s going on, especially when you’re away at school most of the time. If she met them, my mother might say, “Oliver seems nice” or “I like that one” without much of an opinion. If she didn’t like them, “He’s a funny fellow, isn’t he?” or “Johnny’s perfectly nice but a drink of water.” My father was too shy to talk to them at all unless they played sports and he’d ask them about that.

The sand was almost cold underneath because the sun was long gone. Eben piled a mound over my feet, patting around my ankles, the ghostly surf rumbling behind him in the dark. He was the first person I ever knew who died, later that summer, in a car crash.

I thought about it for a long time.

“Come here,” he says on the porch.

I go over to the hammock and he takes my wrist with two fingers. “What?”

He kisses my palm then directs my hand to his fly.

Songs went with whichever boy it was. “Sugar Magnolia” was Tim, with the line, “Rolling in the rushes/down by the riverside.” With “Darkness Darkness,” I’d picture Philip with his long hair. Hearing “Under My Thumb” there’d be the smell of Jamie’s suede jacket.

We hid in the listening rooms during study hall. With a record cover over the door’s window, the teacher on duty couldn’t look in. I came out flushed and heady and back at the dorm was surprised how red my lips were in the mirror.

One weekend at Simon’s brother’s, we stayed inside all day with the shades down, in bed, then went out to Store 24 to get some ice cream. He stood at the magazine rack and read through MAD while I got butterscotch sauce, craving something sweet.

I could do some things well. Some things I was good at, like math or painting or even sports, but the second a boy put his arm around me, I forgot about wanting to do anything else, which felt like a relief at first until it became like sinking into a muck.

It was different for a girl.

When we were little, the brothers next door tied up our ankles. They held the door of the goat house and wouldn’t let us out till we showed them our underpants. Then they’d forget about being after us and when we played whiffle ball, I’d be just as good as they were.

Then it got to be different. Just because you have on a short skirt, they yell from the cars, slowing down for a while, and if you don’t look, they screech off and call you a bitch.

“What’s the matter with me?” they say, point-blank.

Or else, “Why won’t you go out with me? I’m not asking you to get married,” about to

get mad.

Or it’d be, trying to be reasonable, in a regular voice, “Listen, I just want to have a

good time.”

So I’d go because I couldn’t think of something to say back that wouldn’t be obvious,

and if you go out with them, you sort of have to do something.

I sat between Mac and Eddie in the front seat of the pickup. They were having a fight about something. I’ve a feeling about me.

Certain nights you’d feel a certain surrender, maybe if you’d had wine. The surrender would be forgetting yourself and you’d put your nose to his neck and feel like a squirrel, safe, at rest, in a restful dream. But then you’d start to slip from that and the dark would come in and there’d be a cave. You make out the dim shape of the windows and feel yourself become a cave, filled absolutely with air, or with a sadness that wouldn’t stop.

Teenage years. You know just what you’re doing and don’t see the things that start to get in the way.

Lots of boys, but never two at the same time. One was plenty to keep you in a state. You’d start to see a boy and something would rush over you like a fast storm cloud and you couldn’t possibly think of anyone else. Boys took it differently. Their eyes perked up at any little number that walked by. You’d act like you weren’t noticing.

The joke was that the school doctor gave out the pill like aspirin. He didn’t ask you anything. I was fifteen. We had a picture of him in assembly, holding up an IUD shaped like a T. Most girls were on the pill, if anything, because they couldn’t handle a diaphragm. I kept the dial in my top drawer like my mother and thought of her each time I tipped out the yellow tablets in the morning before chapel.

If they were too shy, I’d be more so. Andrew was nervous. We stayed up with his family album, sharing a pack of Old Golds. Before it got light, we turned on the TV. A man was explaining how to plant seedlings. His mouth jerked to the side in a tic. Andrew thought it was a riot and kept imitating him. I laughed to be polite. When we finally dozed off, he dared to put his arm around me, but that was it.

You wait till they come to you. With half fright, half swagger, they stand one step down. They dare to touch the button on your coat then lose their nerve and quickly drop their hand so you—you’d do anything for them. You touch their cheek.

The girls sit around in the common room and talk about boys, smoking their heads off. “What are you complaining about?” says Jill to me when we talk about problems. “Yeah,” says Giddy. “You always have a boyfriend.”

I look at them and think, As if.

I thought the worst thing anyone could call you was a cock-teaser. So, if you flirted, you had to be prepared to go through with it. Sleeping with someone was perfectly normal once you had done it. You didn’t really worry about it. But there were other problems. The problems had to do with something else entirely.

Mack was during the hottest summer ever recorded. We were renting a house on an island with all sorts of other people. No one slept during the heat wave, walking around the house with nothing on which we were used to because of the nude beach. In the living room, Eddie lay on top of a coffee table to cool off. Mack and I, with the bedroom door open for air, sweated and sweated all night.

“I can’t take this,” he said at 3 A.M. “I’m going for a swim.” He and some guys down the hall went to the beach. The heat put me on edge. I sat on a cracked chest by the open window and smoked and smoked till I felt even worse, waiting for something—I guess for him to get back.

One was on a camping trip in Colorado. We zipped our sleeping bags together, the coyotes’ hysterical chatter far away. Other couples murmured in other tents. Paul was up before sunrise, starting a fire for breakfast. He wasn’t much of a talker in the daytime. At night, his hand leafed about in the hair at my neck.

There’d be times when you overdid it. You’d get carried away. All the next day, you’d be in a total fog, delirious, absent-minded, crossing the street and nearly getting run over.

The more girls a boy has, the better. He has a bright look, having reaped fruits, blooming. He stalks around, sure-shouldered, and you have the feeling he’s got more in him, a fatter heart, more stories to tell. For a girl, with each boy it’s as though a petal gets plucked each time.

Then you start to get tired. You begin to feel diluted, like watered-down stew.

Oliver came skiing with us. We lolled by the fire after everyone had gone to bed. Each creak you’d think was someone coming downstairs. The silver loop bracelet he gave me had been a present from his girlfriend before.

On vacations, we went skiing, or you’d go south if someone invited you. Some people had apartments in New York that their families hardly ever used. Or summer houses, or older sisters. We always managed to find someplace to go.

We made the plan at coffee hour. Simon snuck out and met me at Main Gate after lights out. We crept to the chapel and spent the night in the balcony. He tasted like onions from a submarine sandwich.

The boys are one of two ways: either they can’t sit still or they don’t move. In front of the TV, they won’t budge. On weekends they play touch football while we sit on the sidelines, picking blades of grass to chew on and watch. We’re always watching them run around. We shiver in the stands, knocking our boots together to keep our toes warm, and they whizz across the ice, chopping their sticks around the puck. When they’re in the rink, they refuse to look at you, only eyeing each other beneath low helmets. You cheer for them but they don’t look up, even if it’s a face-off when nothing’s happening, even if they’re doing drills before any game has started at all.

Dancing under the pink tent, he bent down and whispered in my ear. We slipped away to the lawn on the other side of the hedge. Much later, as he was leaving the buffet with two plates of eggs and sausage, I saw the grass stains on the knees of his white pants.

Tim’s was shaped like a banana, with a graceful curve to it. They’re all different. Willie’s like a bunch of walnuts when nothing was happening, another’s as thin as a thin hot dog. But it’s like faces; you’re never really surprised.

Still, you’re not sure what to expect.

I look into his face and he looks back. I look into his eyes and they look back at mine. Then they look down at my mouth so I look up at his mouth, then back to his eyes then, backing up, at his whole face. I think, Who? Who are you? His head tilts to one side.

I say, “Who are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

I look at his eyes again, deeper. Can’t tell who he is, what he thinks. “What?” he says. I look at his mouth.

“I’m just wondering,” I say and go wandering across his face. Study the chin line. It’s shaped like a persimmon.

“Who are you? What are you thinking?”

He says, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Then they get mad after, when you say enough is enough. After, when it’s easier to explain you don’t want to. You wouldn’t dream of saying that maybe you weren’t really ready to in the first place.

Gentle Eddie. We waded into the sea, the waves round and plowing in, buffalo-headed, slapping our thighs. I put my arms around his freckled shoulders and he held me up, buoyed by the water, and rocked me like a sea shell.

I had no idea whose party it was, the apartment jam-packed, stepping over people in the hallway. The room with the music was practically empty, the bare floor, me in red shoes. This fellow slides one knee and takes me around the waist and we rock to jazzy tunes, with my toes pointing heavenward, and waltz and spin and drip to “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” or “I’ll Love You Just For Now.” He puts his head to my chest, runs a sweeping hand down my inside thigh and we go loose-limbed and sultry and smooth as silk and I stamp my red heels and he takes me in a swoon. I never saw him again after that but I thought, I could have loved that one.

You wonder how long you can keep it up. You begin to feel as if you’re showing through, like a bathroom window that only lets in grey light, the kind you can’t see out of.

They keep coming around. Johnny drives up at Easter vacation from Baltimore and I let him in the kitchen with everyone sound asleep. He has friends waiting in the car.

“What are you, crazy? It’s pouring out there,” I say.

“It’s okay,” he says. “They understand.”

So he gets some long kisses from me, against the refrigerator, before he goes home

because I hate those girls who push away a boy’s face as if she were made out of Ivory soap, as if she’s that much greater than he is.

The note on my cubby told me to see the headmaster. I had no idea for what. He had received complaints about my amorous displays on the town green. It was Willie that spring. The headmaster told me he didn’t care what I did but that Casey Academy had a reputation to uphold in the town. He lowered his glasses on his nose. “We’ve got twenty acres of wood on this campus,” he said. “If you want to smooch with your boyfriend, there are twenty acres for you to do it out of the public eye. You read me?”

Everybody’d get weekend permissions for different places, then we’d all go to someone’s house whose parents were away. Usually there’d be more boys than girls. We raided the liquor closet and smoked pot at the kitchen table and you’d never know who would end up where, or with whom. There were always disasters. Ceci got bombed and cracked her head open on the banister and needed stitches. Then there was the time when Wendel Blair walked through the picture window at the Lowes’ and got slashed to ribbons.

He scared me. In bed, I didn’t dare look at him. I lay back with my eyes closed, luxuriating because he knew all sorts of expert angles, his hands never fumbling, going over my whole body, pressing the hair up and off the back of my head, giving an extra hip shove, as if to say There. I parted my eyes slightly, keeping the screen of my lashes low because it was too much to look at him, his mouth loose and pink and parted, his eyes looking through my forehead, or kneeling up, looking through my throat. I was ashamed but couldn’t look him in the eye.

You wonder about things feeling a little off-kilter. You begin to feel like a piece of pounded veal.

At boarding school, everyone gets depressed. We go in and see the housemother, Mrs. Gunther. She got married when she was eighteen. Mr. Gunther was her high school sweetheart, the only boyfriend she ever had.

“And you knew you wanted to marry him right off?” we ask her.

She smiles and says, “Yes.”

“They always want something from you,” says Jill, complaining about her boyfriend. “Yeah,” says Giddy. “You always feel like you have to deliver something.”

“You do,” says Mrs. Gunther. “Babies.”

After sex, you curl up like a shrimp, something deep inside you ruined, slammed in a place that sickens at slamming, and slowly you fill up with an overwhelming sadness, an elusive gaping worry. You don’t try to explain it, filled with the knowledge that it’s nothing after all, everything filling up finally and absolutely with death. After the briskness of loving, loving stops. And you roll over with death stretched out alongside you like a feather boa, or a snake, light as air, and you... you don’t even ask for anything or try to say something to him because it’s obviously your own damn fault. You haven’t been able to—to what? To open your heart. You open your legs but can’t, or don’t dare anymore, to open your heart.

It starts this way:

You stare into their eyes. They flash like all the stars are out. They look at you

seriously, their eyes at a low burn and their hands no matter what starting off shy and with such a gentle touch that the only thing you can do is take that tenderness and let yourself be swept away. When, with one attentive finger they tuck the hair behind your ear, you—

You do everything they want.

Then comes after. After when they don’t look at you. They scratch their balls, stare at the ceiling. Or if they do turn, their gaze is altogether changed. They are surprised. They turn casually to look at you, distracted, and get a mild distracted surprise. You’re gone. Their blank look tells you that the girl they were fucking is not there anymore. You seem to have disappeared.

#susan #minot #lust

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natsbelovs · 2 years

Text

— twisted perfection

chapter two: bad blood

series masterlist | chapter three

pairing: rockstar!natasharomanoff x blackfemale!oc

— authors note: how are you guys liking the series so far? any questions or concerns? Let me know. !PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY WORK! Also let’s just pretend that Genevieve wrote the song below!

— warnings: 18+ minors dni strong language & mentions of abuse

“Give it up for Genevieve!” The crowd cheers as Genevieve walks up onto the stage, her heeled boots clicking the hardwood floor. Coming up to the mic a small smirk forms onto her lips as she waved to the audience.

“How’re you guys doing tonight?” She says into the mic as the crowd cheers, while some others yell good. “Great. Let’s get this party started shall we?” With a flick of her wrist, she signals the band to start playing.

Now I will tell you what I’ve done for you

Fifty thousand tears I’ve cried

Screaming, deceiving, and bleeding for you

And you still won’t hear me

Genevieve's voice was strong, but due to this song she’d written it had a different touch to it. A different sound. Her voice was filled with warmth, but slowly grew to using her vibrato on lower emotional, fragile passages, now slowly combining it with a breathy tone to echo the wobble of a crying voice.

Her singing has constant movement, and her dynamics were incredible. Each note she had sung she eased in, swells, and falls back again, much like the bowing of a violin.

“Going Under“ The drummer sang into the mic as Genevieve walked around the stage reaching forward to take someone’s hand, and watching them cry. A small smile cracked upon her face as the beat of the song dropped, now dropping along with it throwing her head back singing.

I’ve got to break through

So go on and scream

Scream at me, I’m so far away

I won’t be broken again

The vibrations of the base and band playing sent waves through her body as she continued to sing. This was her first time performing this song for her fans, and by the looks of it, they were enjoying every bit of the song. This song took about a week to write after she’d broken up with her abusive ex boyfriend, Brady. Flashbacks of her being pushed on the ground and beaten to death flashed before her eyes, tears streamed down her reddened cheeks.

She blinked trying to get the images of her being on the floor curled up in a ball, crying, bleeding and aching. Taking deep breaths, she opens her eyes and swallows deeply, lifting up onto her feet singing her last few lyrics.

I’ve got to break through

I’m going under

( Going Under )

Going under

( Drowning in you )

I’m going under

Just as she finished the last lyric, cheering filled her ears as she breathed heavily. Her brown eyes now meet the crowds. She smiled, taking a bow and moving her hand towards the band giving them their props to play for her. Clearing her throat, she speaks hoarsely into the microphone. “Thank you guys so much for coming out tonight. It means the absolute world to me! After my hiatus I didn’t think…I’d be able to come back. But, here I am doing what I love most.” Running a hand through her purple hair she sighs. “Thank you guys.”

We love you!! She hears as she grins. “Love you more! Goodnight guys!” As she began to walk off the stage her eyes met with blue ones.

Natasha.

Huffing, she rolls her eyes walking backstage and setting the mic down onto the stand. What could she possibly be doing here? Cursing under her breath she stares into space for a moment.

“Gene!” She hears and swings around as she’s almost tackled down onto the ground by a hug.

“Hello to you too.” She grunts, hugging the blonde headed girl back. Pulling away she hums, tilting her head and looking at the other blond head. “Why is she here?”

Natasha rolls her eyes, leaning up against Bruce as he murmurs something into her ear.

“Hey, before you start bickering. I brought her here because we kinda have a problem.” Yelena says, snapping her fingers at Genevieve who was staring down at Natasha and Bruce with the look of disgust on her face.

Taking her attention away from the two, and looking back at Yelena for a quick moment, “What’s the problem?“ Genevieve questioned, now walking off towards her dressing room.

“Steve left.” Opening the door to her dressing room Genevieve laughs to herself.

“You came here to tell me Steve left?” She questioned confusingly, as she moved to the side motioning for them to come in. Each of them takes a seat on the couch while Yelena posts up against the wall.

“No— dumb ass.” Natasha speaks up, with a slight irritation to her voice. Genevieve’s eyes flicker to hers in an instant. Jaw clenching, she looks away with a small smile on her face.

“Keep your girlfriend on a leash will you?” She says to Bruce as Natasha’s mouth drops open. With a blink of an eye Natasha’s up and going towards Genevieve. Catching her by the arm, before she can swing, Yelena tosses Natasha back into Bruce.

“Hey, what did I tell you about starting shit with her?” Yelena questioned Natasha as she huffed and shook her head.

“She just called me a dog—“

“And you called her a dumb ass.”

“Because she is one.”

“Wow, I see you still haven’t matured at all Natasha.” Genevieve says laughing.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.” She snaps through gritted teeth.

“See, this is exactly why I don’t want her in the band! She’s always causing problems.” Natasha yells as Genevieve raises an eyebrow. “And can never learn how to shut up.”

“I’m not your lap dog, Natasha. Your boyfriend is though. I’m quite sure he still does everything you tell him to do doesn’t he?” Genevieve smirks in a mischievous way as Natasha goes to get up again, Yelena pushes her back down.

“God dammit, Gene. Please, give it a rest.” Yelena says glaring at her.

Throwing her hands up in defense she hums with amusement. “So, me being in the band, huh? Very interesting suggestion.”

Sighing, Yelena nods. “Yes…” Genevieve couldn’t help but laugh, this was absolutely the funniest shit she’d ever heard. Being in Natasha’s band? That wouldn’t be…fun. “You're the only person we’ve got, Gene. We go on tour in a few weeks and if Happy finds out that Steve left, he’s gonna throw a bitch fit.”

“What makes you think I’d be a fit for the band?” She questioned curiously, now picking at her polished nails.

“We saw what you did on stage, you were amazing. How could you not be a good fit for the band?”

“She was okay.” Natasha mutters.

Ignoring her comment Genevieve thinks. “Hm…”

“We don’t need her.” Natasha says, rolling her eyes and getting up from the couch.

“Clearly you do if you're here.” She chuckles.

“I’m not letting anyone with an attitude like this in my band, Yelena. You can forget about it.”

“Oh, please! Like you don’t have an attitude as it is?” Yelena argues back.

“This isn’t up for arguing about. WE don’t need her, let’s go.” Natasha says, now storming out of the dressing room.

“Natasha!” Yelena calls out after her sister as Genevieve waves to Bucky who hasn’t said a word since he’s been here.

“Bucky— nice to you see buddy.”

“You too, Gene.” He says with a small smile as Bruce shakes his head, getting up and going after his girlfriend.

“Well, this was nice. Hope you guys find someone.” Genevieve says, as Yelena groans in irritation. Bucky gets up wrapping an arm around Yelena’s waist comforting her.

Gasping Genevieve smirks, “When did this happen?” She says pointing in between the two.

“3 months ago.” Bucky smirks as Yelena blushes, sighing.

“Cute.”

“Look, I'm gonna try and talk some sense into her okay? But, please tell me you’ll at least think about it?” Yelena says. Genevieve stares into her eyes seeing a bit of hope in them, taking a deep breath she rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Fine, Fine.”

“Yes!” The blond exclaims in excitement. “I’ll text you in a couple days and update you.” Reaching over and hugging her tightly, Yelena sighs. “It was nice seeing you on stage again..”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it.”

“I’ll see you soon?” Yelena questioned.

“Mm, maybe” nodding quietly, Yelena heads towards the door holding Bucky’s hand.

“Think about it.” Yelena says through gritted teeth.

“I will, I will.” Genevieve says with a small chuckle watching as Yelena turns away leaving out with Bucky hand in hand. Sighing, Genevieve turns around to her mirror staring at herself.

What the hell was she gonna do?

taglist here! @lainjupi @franfineashell @sincerelii

next chapter will be up soon !

reblogs & comments are appreciated !

#black female oc #natasha and yelena #natasha x oc #black female reader #black female writers #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x female reader #black widow #natalia romanova #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x female #twistedperfection

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batarangsoundsdumb · 3 years

Text

guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

#this is only like half of it #but at least you can get like a few answers #yanno fuck it #bataranswers #ask #asks #anon

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bumblesimagines · 3 years

Text

Green Thumb

Part 14

Request: Yes or No

TW: Vision dying, the snap victims

Did I almost cry while writing this? Hell ya lmao I had to watch the movie in order to get everything right but im also just a big crybaby lol

Three for the price of one? More likely than you think

You gently leaned Vision against a branch, taking a seat beside him. You looked over at Wanda as she landed nearby. She rushed over to you and Vision.

"Are you two okay?" Wanda asked softly, placing a gentle hand on Visions cheek. He groaned in pain, hand going to the Mind Stone. You frowned, touching his arm.

"What? What is it?" Wanda asked, watching him in concern.

"He's here." Vision breathed out, looking around in a panic. You swallowed, a chill running down your spine. Wanda stared at him, a shakey breath leaving her. The team quickly grouped, keeping an eye out for Thanos. You met Buckys gaze, giving him a tired smile as he helped you up.

"You alright?" He asked. You nodded, leaning against him. You noticed movement, turning your head and seeing the giant. You took a small step away from Bucky, watching him.

"Cap... That's him." Bruce confirmed. Steve nodded, beginning to walk towards him. You watched as he effortlessly took out everyone. You glanced back at Wanda and Vision as Vision tried convincing her to destroy the stone. You frowned, looking forward.

"(Y/N)." Bucky grabbed your arm, frowning. You looked at him, offering a small smile.

"We'll be fine, Bucky." You assured before you walked forward, looking at Thanos. You raised your hands, making roots grab onto Thanos. They wrapped around his arms and neck, pulling back. Even if they didn't stop him, it saved Wanda time. You lowered one hand, crouching down and picking up the dagger. Thanos grunted, struggling against the roots. He lunged forward, the roots snapping.

"Oh, shit." You breathed out. You were close enough to stab the side of his stomach before he grabbed your shoulder, tossing you aside and throwing the dagger as well. You were thrown against a tree, making it snap.

"Fuck!" You grunted, head spinning. You shut your eyes tightly, opening them and seeing Wanda using her powers in the Mind Stone. She cried but didn't stop until it finally broke, sending a blast through the area. You looked up, watching Thanos approach Wanda.

"I know how you feel." Thanos said sympathetically. Wanda glared up at him through watery eyes.

"You could never." She whispered. Thanos gently patted her head, continuing towards where Vision once was. He rewound time so Vision was slowly constructed again.

"No!" Wanda screamed, running forward but she was thrown back. Thanos picked Vision up by the throat, pulling the Mind Stone out of his forehead. Your throat went dry as Vsion turned gray and limp. Thor finally appeared, throwing his axe in Thanos chest. You slowly crawled towards Wanda, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Wanda?" You stared down at her, trying to blink away tears. Wanda slowly sat up, a horrified gasp leaving her when she saw Vision. You looked up, seeing Thanos half burnt body and half destroyed gauntlet. He made a portal, going through it before anyone could react.

"Vision.." Wanda whimpered.

"Steve? (Y/N)?" You turned towards Bucky, eyes widening as he fell, turning to dust.

"Bucky?" You called out softly, watching Steve touch the dust in shock.

"Sam?" You called out in a panic, standing up and looking around.

"I'm here." Sam stood, stumbling forward but he fell, turning into a pile of dust.

"(Y/N).." Wanda whispered, making you turn to look at her. She turned to dust as well, panicked breaths leaving you.

"Where are they? What's going on?" You asked with a trembling voice, tears beginning to slip down your cheeks.

"He did it." Steve whispered. You furrowed your brows, making eye contact with Natasha. She frowned, approaching you.

"Oh, baby.." She whispered, giving you a tight hug. You hugged her back, mind racing. You suddenly pulled back.

"Mom and dad.." You breathed out. Natasha's lips parted, nodding. Steve slowly stood, picking Visions body up. The team made their way to the city. Okoye met up with the remaining Dora Milaje, telling them the news of T'Challa. By the time you all reached the city, T'Challa's mother and sister had gotten word. The Queen Mother greeted you and the team with a solemn look on her face. You could tell she was trying to stay strong and fight back tears.

"I need to go see them." You said quietly. Ramonda had Ayo take you and Natasha to a jet. Ayo held a strong face though her eyes were watered as she piloted. Natasha placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. You stayed silent, staring at the floor. Your mind went blank, trying to focus on calming yourself down. You and Natasha were dropped off at the farm. You felt immense relief upon seeing Clint, running towards him.

"Clint!"

(Y/N), oh thank god!" Clint quickly caught you, arms tightly wrapping around you. You couldn't stop the sobs that wrecked your body, legs buckling beneath you. You and Clint fell to the ground, still holding onto each other.

"They're gone.." You whispered, sniffling afterward as your body trembled.

"Bucky, Sam, Vision, Wanda.. All of them.. They just.. They just turned to dust." You told him in a shakey voice as you pulled back. You could literally see Clints heart break in half. You sniffled, noticing hotdogs on the bench outside.

"Where's mom?" You asked softly, looking at Clint. He stayed silent, staring at the ground. Your brows furrowed as you stared at him.

"Dad?"

"They're gone too, aren't they?" Natasha asked softly, standing behind you. Your face dropped, staring at him as your bottom lip trembled.

"No, no.. They can't.. They couldn't have.." You stood up, stumbling slightly. You glanced at the bench, walking towards the house.

"Mom? Lila? Cooper? Nate?" You called into the empty house, searching for your family. Every room downstairs was empty. You quickly went upstairs, almost tripping as you entered each room. Cooper and Lila's rooms were as messy as always but with no sign of them. You entered Nathaniels' room, almost stepping on a drawing of his. You reached down, picking it up with shakey hands.

"Oh, Nate.." It was of the whole family. It was poorly drawn but it was easy to tell who was who. Tear drops fell onto the paper. You walked towards your room, sitting on the bed. You held tightly into the drawing, holding it against your chest as you cried. You took in short breaths and closed your eyes, letting out a scream full of anger, sadness, and exhaustion. When you opened your eyes, you saw most of your room covered in ice.

"I'm so fucking tired.." You whispered, watching the ice slowly retract.

"I can't have one good thing without it being taken." You muttered, looking out the window. Natasha comfored Clint, most likely having explained everything to him. Natasha left not long after, taking a motorcycle. You licked your lips, hearing Clint step inside the house. It was too silent. You were so used to hearing Laura talking or humming along to whatever song played on the radio, Cooper attempt to teach Nate new words, Lila ask Clint about his work as Hawkeye. You heard Clint heavy footsteps head up the stairs and stop at your door.

"You should take a break from work." Clint said quietly. You kept your stare on the window, mind blank again.

"Okay.." You heard Clint walk away from your room, heading back downstairs. You let out a shakey sigh, reaching out to the device you used to speak to Bucky with. You clicked on the button.

Calling White Wolf...

Call failed.

Your jaw clenched, eyes watering again. Your brows furrowed, noticing one option appear.

Replay previous calls?

You hesitantly clicked on it, brows lifted and lips parting as recordings of all the calls you made with Bucky appeared. You could listen to his voice and see his face again on repeat. You felt some sense of relief. You stood up, grabbing some clothes and a towel. You entered the bathroom, stripping and grunting softly. You turned around, looking at the mirror.

"Fuck.." You breathed out, seeing the bruises. You sighed, turning on the shower and waiting for it to heat. You entered, standing under the water. You watched the blood and dirt go down the drain, slightly leaning against the wall.

"What the hell are we gonna do now?" You closed your eyes, running a hand over your face. You licked your lips, finishing your shower and getting out. You carefully dried off, changing and stepping out. You grabbed your phone, checking the news. Half of Earths' population gone. There was confusion, chaos, and fear.

"Where the fuck is Tony?" You asked yourself, noticing some articles about him missing. They had been published before people turned to dust. You clicked on the video, watching it.

"Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, was last seen in his suit flying towards what appeared to be a space ship. Since then, he has not made an appearance and his future wife, Pepper Potts, has neither denied or confirmed his disappearance."

"This is a big fat shit show." You whispered, turning off your phone and standing up. You left your room, heading down the steps and seeing Clint staring at Lilas' old toy bunny.

"I didn't know Tony was getting married." You said quietly, watching him. Clint gave an amused smirk, nodding as he looked at you.

"Neither of us were invited.. Wonder why." Clint said softly. You approached him, sitting beside him and leaning against him.

"At least we have each other."

Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley

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soundtracker27 · 2 years

Text

Day 3, "Home" - @koriandrappreciationweek

I love thinking of them like a family. They come from vastly different backgrounds but have found a safe place together. Friends are the family you choose for yourself. ❤️

-------

"Home"

It's been strangely quiet in Titans Tower today. Gar and Raven have been out running errands, Dick has been busy with a lab analysis for Bruce.

Kory softly mouths along to the words of the song she's got playing in her ear buds, and wanders through the dormitory floor looking for Donna. "He-lloooo? Donna?"

Donna pops her head out of their shared bathroom, brushing her teeth. "Hey honey, wanna pick up bagels with me for the meeting later?" Kory almost leaps for joy. Any time with Donna is a good time - she's the best friend she's ever made and Kory is beyond grateful that Donna doesn't seem to mind her awkward unfamiliarity with earth. "Let me change into something cute!"

She dashes in her room and comes out moments later trying to zip a summery dress. Donna finishes the zip, checks her phone to send a text and the two head downstairs, Kory dangling her high heels on her fingertips, and Donna pulling her hair into a pony.

Kory bounces into the kitchen only to be shocked by a spray of streamers in her face.

"Surprise!!!!" yells one voice. "Happy anniversary on Earth Day!" yells another.

"Glad you're here, Goldie." Vic says.

"Well, oh my goodness! What is this about!?" Kory is amazed and ready for whatever this pleasant surprise happens to be. Everyone is here - Gar, Rae, Vic, Wally, Dick.

Dick hands her a small, nicely wrapped gift and kisses her cheek. "You've been with us for exactly a year, Kory." "A year?" "Yup, one whole revolution around the sun."

Garfield pipes in, "And what a year it's been, huh? You've tasted pizza and cotton candy, put the Scarapelli gang behind bars, ridden on your first subway and been to a Yankees game."

"And learned to be a pretty good barista at Kelly's, and balanced a modeling job with being a badass crime fighter." Wally always knows how to compliment her in the ways that mean the most. She shoots him a beaming grin. "Thanks, Wally. I think this has been the best year of my whole life!"

Gar puts a paper birthday crown on her head and the team drags her over to sit on the couch. Each has a gift for her - from Raven, a book, from Dick, a pretty "T" necklace that hides the world's tiniest spy cam. Donna ordered those furry boots she had been eyeing from Macy's. "Sorry they haven't come yet! I didn't think of it in time." Kory throws her arms around her friend. "This is the best day of my whole life!"

"We're poor, so we went together and got this album for your polaroid photos!" Gar presents a pretty pink photo binder from him and Wally both.

"Poor? I'm a skeptic," Vic chimes in. "The rise and fall of the good fortune of Logan is a mysterious thing indeed," Gar quips back.

"Alright princess, here's my gift. Dick helped me with it, with some assistance from the Justice League database. Click the button on top." Victor hands her a small metal orb with etchings all over, and a small red button on the top. She clicks it and the orb opens like a flower and shines a hologram on the ceiling with what looks like the night sky filled with stars.

Vic looks at Dick to launch an explanation. "No, you go ahead, this was your brilliant idea and mostly your hard work. I was a consultant."

"Okay. So this is my best guess at the Vegan star system, Kory. It's hard to find exact measurements to go off of because, as far as I know, you're the first Tameranean to make contact with earth. I took some maps off the ship you crashed when you arrived, and did some educated guessing to fill in some bits. But my best guess is that Tameran would be right about here." He points to a pinkish haze in the upper left of the quadrant of the hologram.

Eyes wide, and brimming with tears, Kory nods. "That seems right. It's the eighth planet in the system." She reaches out to brush the pink spot representing where her life began. "Home," she whispers. "Victor, thank you." She throws her arms around him, and he is pleased knowing his gift hit just right.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you everyone. This has been the most unexpected and wonderful surprise! You all mean so much to me, and... As much as I miss Tameran, you've made Earth a most lovely new home. I don't even know what to say to thank you."

"How about, 'Let's eat' because I'm starving and Vic, jack of all trades that he is, made lasagna!" Dick squeezes her hand and nods towards the table. Kory giggles, "Let's eat, then!"

#koriandrappreciationweek #dc titans #koriand'r #starfire #donna troy #wonder girl #dick grayson #garfield logan #victor stone #rachel roth #wally west #dc fanfic #new teen titans #teen titans

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vintage-marina · 3 years

Text

A woman out of time (james norrington x f!reader) chapter 2

TW: suicidal thoughts, idk what the word is but the reader is seeing things that isn’t there

You washed your face and looked into the mirror, the circles under your eyes were enormous and it looked like you hadn't slept in days, what indeed was. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the battle of Wakanda or you saw the faces of people that you had murdered. Murdered, you had murdered them. You screwed your eyes shut and clung to the sink for dear life, a sob escaped your lips. I don't deserve this, you thought to yourself, your victims should be alive not you, them. Not you, Vision, Vision deserved it. Or Wanda, Bucky, Sam, Peter, T'Challa everyone besides you. T'Challa, yes he deserves my place, but he isn't here to take it isn't he? You softly hummed a song to yourself, a method to soothe you. After a few minutes of humming, you opened your eyes. Red, your eyes were red, you touched your cheeks and you realised you were crying. You stared into the mirror, you saw yourself but you couldn't reconise her. You stared to face and noticed the scars on it, they were small and were from the bomb that exploded right in front of you and you noticed the burn on your neck. You didn't found them ugly, but you didn't love them either. They were a part of you now and you couldn't do anything about it, just like your arm. You felt neutral about them. You picked up your toothbrush and brushed your teeth, the feeling of guilt slowly washing away. You knew that that feeling would never go away, but just like your therapist said you must learn to live with it, if you wanted to live your life in a somewhat peacful state.

Ever since half of the population died you didn't knew what to do, you felt like you didn't belong in the group that they called themselves the Avengers but you also didn't fit in as a civilian, so in the chaos that Thanos left you packed your bags and moved away, after you were fully healed ofcourse. You left everyone a handwritten letter and then you moved into a little old house on the shore.

You heard the telephone ringing, you walked toward the livingroom and picked up the phone. Maybe it was Steve, Natasha or Tony you didn't knew. You wiped your tears away, stupid ofcourse because the caller couldn't see them. ''Hello, with Y/N'' you said into the phone, it was Natasha. ''Hey Nat! How are you? No, I'm not crying why did you think that?'' ''You know that you don't have to lie to me right? But if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to'' ''Yeah, I've been crying but I'm fine now. '' The last part was half a lie, you were fine but a few minutes earlier you weren't. ''Im glad to hear that you are doing alright, sometimes it is just so hard you know?'' You hummed in agreement, not knowing if she talked about her past or about the guilt she felt with the whole Thanos hassle. '' But, Y/N/N, I, no we have something important to talk about. Scott, you remember Scott right?'' ''Yeah, I remember him, he was snapped right?'' ''We thought that too but a few hours ago, he showed up on our doorstep of the compound.'' ''So he wasn't snapped away, you mean'' now it was her turn to hum in agreement. ''Y/N, what I want to tell you is that we can bring them back and we want you to be there,'' you smiled a little and you whispered: ''Ofcourse, I will be there'' ''We will pick you up in an hour, see you then'' ''See you Nat'' Natasha hanged up and you pressed the telephone to your chest and let yourself fall on your little couch and let out a laugh. A few minutes ago you felt on a point of breaking down and now hope streamend into your veins.

An hour flew by and you saw in the distance three figures walking, one blond headed, one red headed and one had dark brown hair. You openend your door and welcomed them inside, ''Hi guys'' you said to them and gestured that they can sit down, you went back to your little kitchen and brought back some drinks and cookies. You sat on a chair and turned your eyes to Scott, ''so you just showed up after 5 years of radio silence?'' ''Yep'' ''how?'' ''I got stuck in what they call the Quantum Realm'' ''What the hell is that?'' you mumbeled, ''Alright so, that realm is a microscopic universe on its own and if you want to be there you have to be really tiny. Time works different there and basically I got stuck there'' ''What do you mean time works different there?'' you asked to him. ''Well, I was missing for 5 years right'' you hummed in agreement, ''but for me it was 5 hours. So I thought what if we can navigate that universe and can enter it at a certain point in time but then exit the realm at another point of time.'' Your eyes widend and your brain couldn't proces it really, ''I don't understand what you mean and that doesn 't make ant sense Scott'' he sighed and then said: ''Timetravel'' ''Like back into the future type of thing?'' you said to him, ''Wait how do you know about back into the future Y/N?'' said Natasha surprised, you turned to Natasha ''I saw it on the television ofcourse!'' Steve furrowed his brows and said: ''How have I never heard of that movie?'' you shrugged your shoulders and focused your attention back to Scott. ''So how do you guys want to timetravel, I still don't understand how you guys want to do this but I'm in.''

At the compound

After you guys could convince Bruce to help, things had happend quickly. First of all he was green, that was pretty weird for you and for the rest of your team. He explained to your group that he emerged himself and the Hulk together, you were pretty grossed out about this and was scared to asked how he did that. Secondly, you couldn't convince Tony to help out wich was disappointing but not surprising, after all you two held contact and you knew that he had a family. You understood that he was scared to loose his life or his family so you didn't try to persuade him into helping your group instead you were chatting with Pepper. Thirdly, without Tony's help was Bruce all alone on how to make this time travel thing. You hoped that he knew how to make this thing, but you weren't so sure about it. Scott was the test person and when he was gone you thought it finally worked but instead he was a teenager, then he was a baby, then he was a grandpa and then he was finally back to normal. There was panic and not just a little! Natasha was relieved when she saw that Scott went back to normal and Bruce spread his arms out and said proud: ''Timetravel!"

''But it didn't work really work'' you noticed, ''yes but also no'' Steve shaked his head and then Bruce said: ''What? I see this as an absolutle win''

Night time

A radio was playing a soft melody. The woman who you stared at didn't move a muscle, she looked like a dear in headlights. Time moved slow, to slow for her and sweat was forming on her forehead. You didn't even knew her name or why you were here, you only knew you had one job. The room reeked of blood and it was coated on the floor, you raised your arm and pulled the trigger before she could even scream. You could hear her body fall, finally you woke up and you could hear your heart racing. You clenched your jaw and stepped out of your bed, your feet touching the soft floor, you hummed softly trying to calm yourself. But you couldn't hear yourself, all you heard was the soft tune of the radio. Shuffling in the dark is never easy, your fingers touched a wall and your eyes went wide. Blood, why was there blood on the wall. You squeezed your eyes and then you saw the pattern on the wall. It was dark green with little leaves and flowers on it, your hand flew towards your mouth when you realised you were not in your bedroom anymore. You turned your head and then everything went back to normal. You didn't saw the blood splatters and the wallpaper anymore but you were in your bedroom?

The next day

A lot happend during the day, Tony showed up out of nowhere. Thor was back, who looked like shit. Rhodey suggested to go back in time when Thanos was a baby and to strangle him, which you found very amusing and Clint showed up with tattoos and a sad background that he killed people just because his family passed away. Everyone grieves differently I guess, some people like me you thought are gonna live in solitude and other people are gonna kill people for the fun of it. So now you were lying on the floor next to Bruce, Natasha and Tony trying to figure out where the stones are. Tony, Bruce and you were arguing about which place and time is the most convienent but Natasha broke your quabble. ''Guys, if you pick the right year there are three stones in new York'' ''Shut the fuck up'' ''You're a genius you know that right'' ''Whoah'' were the three things that were said in unison to her.

After five years you finally wore your suit again. The med pack on your bag felt familiar and you almost forgot how thick the leather was, the only bad side was that you now had to wear a mask. On your wrist was a watch and after twenty explanations from Tony you understood how to work with that thing, above your suit you wore another suit were you would timetravel in. You are going to travel with Tony, Scott and Steve to New York 2012 because Tony could help you with your suit when you didn 't knew how to work with it. ''Can someone please explain to me why I would have to wear a mask again?'' Actually you did know why, because the four of you didn't want to risk that 2012 Steve would regconise you. The Avengers and you were walking in unison and you guys formed a circle. Natasha and Steve looked at eachother and she said to him smiling: ''See you in a minute'' a machine whirred above you and you clicked on a button to summone your helmet and then you were shrinking.

It was a really weird experience to say atleast, your tummy was doing cartwheels and you felt your fingers (but not from your vibranium arm) tingling. You saw blue everywhere and it looked like honeycombs. You marveled at this, but then someone's elbow went into your ribs and you flew out of the orbit. Instead of going right with the others you went straight ahead. Shit, shit shit! But everything went so fast you didn't even had more time to think about it. A flash happend and you had your eyes shut. Your vibranium arm was stuck into something but not for long, whatever your arm was in was ripping and flew down with you. You could hear yells and cursing and then you fell on the ground. Well, not ground but on wood? You heard it crack underneath you and you thought you had fallen through the floor. Something is strange here, you didn't hear any cars, you didn't hear airplanes and you certainly didn't smell the fumes. You sniffed again, and you regconised it, it was salty and now your ears heard the soft waves of the ocean. You were on the ocean, you cracked one eye open and right in your face was a small man with dirt on his cheeks and wearing a mullet. ''Witch! A witch is on our ship!'' Fuck.

#james norrington #james norrington x reader #james norrington imagine #norrington #commodore norrington #potc #elizabeth swann #will turner #jack sparrow #henry turner #commodore norrington x reader #marvel #fanfic #marvelcrossover #avengersinfinitywar #avengers endgame #avengers

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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Stalker X Stalker, Part 6

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

Just remembered I had a plot so oops

Marinette wasn’t stupid. Nino had a brother only a few years older than Robin, and that brother had never acted so young or clingy at Robin’s age (and it surely wasn’t a thing about Robin, because she had yet to see him cling to anyone else). She knew that Robin was just using her to mess with Red Robin.

But she didn’t particularly mind. It was kind of funny to watch Red getting all worked up over his little brother and friend being close. She was glad she had her mask, because otherwise she definitely would have given away the act by this point.

Robin, for his part, had been upping things more and more every time he saw her. She wasn’t sure whether this was because he knew that she knew or because he was testing the limits of what he could do without her saying anything.

Red looked like he was at his wit’s end with Robin held out a hand for Marinette right before crossing a street. She took it, which was when he finally snapped:

“He’s twelve, not five!”

She pulled her face into a mock frown. “Are you saying that twelve-year-olds should get hit by cars, Red?”

Red Robin sputtered.

“Miss Ladybug, why is he so mean to me?” Robin asked with wide eyes. She could see the corner of his lips twitching in an effort not to smile.

She winked. His eyes narrowed just slightly then he widened them back to their wide-eyed sadness.

“I don’t know, sweetie. He’s just a meanie, I guess.”

Red Robin threw his hands up in either anger or defeat. It didn’t really matter which one it was, they counted it as a win.

Tim wasn’t surprised to walk into the Batcave one day and see Marinette’s face on the Batcomputer. The only thing he didn’t know was whether she was up there because they had figured out her identity or because Tim had started hanging out with her as a civilian.

He took a long sip of his coffee as he considered this, then he trudged over. Might as well find out.

“Hey guys,” he announced his presence.

He watched Duke out of the corner of his eyes. Duke was the newest of them, he could usually count on him to have more pronounced reactions.

Duke didn’t seem all that awkward. So it must have been them finding out her identity.

Tim sidled up beside them. “Sure that’s her?”

Bruce, never one for using his words when he didn’t have to, held up a small container of blood.

He hummed his understanding and intended for that to be the end of the conversation… but it was getting increasingly hard to ignore the eyes boreing into the side of his head. Tim fought to keep a straight face and unclench his jaw and ignore the stupid ‘d-d-don’t be suspicious’ song playing in his head.

And then Cass tapped him on the shoulder and he cursed quietly.

“Fine. Fine. I knew. Happy?”

Cass was not. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I saw her run into an alleyway and I followed -- obviously, it’s Gotham and alleyways are dangerous -- and she transformed right in front of me.”

She nodded and let it go.

Bruce, however, did not.

“You knew her identity and didn’t think to tell us?”

“I thought to tell you, I just didn’t,” he said with a cheeky grin.

Ah. The Disappointed Dad Stare. He had certainly not missed that.

His grin melted into an awkward smile. “It felt weird to reveal her. She clearly cares about her identity since she hasn’t told us herself yet, I figured I’d respect that as long as I could.”

“... you weren’t making progress on her identity on purpose. God, that makes so much more sense,” muttered Steph.

He shrugged. “Easy to avoid someone’s identity when you know who it is.”

Bruce was still looking at him disapprovingly.

“Don’t worry, I have contingencies,” Tim said.

His father relaxed, finally. He motioned for him to go on.

“Well, a few need confirmation. I still don’t know if her yoyo can be cut and it’s hard to tell if other people can unzip her hood or not. But if the hood is open then The Flash or Superman can easily get the earrings from her -- beyond those she’d just a normal person with some fighting skills, same contingencies as The Arrows or any of us. If not then Green Lantern can probably neutralize her.”

Bruce nodded.

The other kids looked mildly concerned.

“Wait, he has contingencies for us?” Duke said.

Bruce was back to looking dismayed. Tim showed them all where their files were (he wouldn’t hack them for them, obviously, he didn’t want to break the news of exactly how messed up Bruce’s contingencies were). He could practically see all the sweat beading itself on his forehead beneath his cowl.

(Tim hid his smile. He’d finally gotten revenge for the time he’d made him stay inside after The Chloroform Incident. And revenge was sweet.)

… it wasn’t until he started seeing his siblings on the rooftop across from Marinette’s apartment that he thought that, maybe, he should have gotten them into their files. It definitely would have distracted them from the Marinette Is Ladybug situation.

At least Cass trusted Marinette -- she would have slipped up and showed her intentions at least once by now -- and therefore wasn’t likely to come by. Cass would be the one to figure out that Tim coming up to the roof was more than him just checking on his siblings.

The first person that came by was Damian. Fair enough, he’d been around Marinette the shortest amount of time and what little friendship they had was based on his lies.

Now, the youngest sibling sat, cross-legged on the rooftop. He was sketching in his sketchbook between quick glances over at Marinette. He looked up when Tim pulled himself over the side and squinted at him.

“Drake.”

“Dami,” Tim greeted, because it always annoyed his younger brother when he used the nickname. “Having fun spying on Marinette?”

Damian was silent for a few moments before clicking his tongue. “She needs to close her blinds more often.”

“Aw, do you care about her?” Tim teased, reaching over to ruffle his brother’s hair.

He pushed his hand away. “She’s a Gothamite and is therefore under our protection.”

Tim snickered and shook his head, taking a seat beside him on the rooftop. “We can tell Duke about it once everyone else has had their chance at checking her out. He’s the only one that can get away with asking her to close it.”

Damian nodded firmly.

Tim hid the fond smile on his face by diverting his brother’s attention: “So, what’re you sketching?”

Damian’s eyes lit up.

The next person to drop by was Bruce himself. He was sitting there, in all black despite the fact that it was less useful during the day, with full spy equipment.

Tim dropped down beside him and was offered a set of headphones. The two of them stayed there in silence for a long time, listening to Marinette going about her day. She was currently cooking something and singing along to a song:

“I always feel like... somebOdy’s watching meeEe… andIhavenoprivacy~.”

Tim was choosing to ignore the song choice in favor of giggling about her inability to hit the notes. He could feel Bruce watching him out of the corner of his eyes, but he didn’t say anything and neither did Tim.

Next was Steph.

Steph raised her eyebrows at Tim when she saw him.

“Come here often?” She asked in a tone that was only half-joking.

“Only recently,” he lied. “Trying to figure out if any of you trust my judgement.”

“Doubtful.”

“Yeah, Duke is my last hope.”

She snickered and shook her head. “To be fair, you’re whipped. You could have been biased.”

“But I’m not.”

“But you’re not,” she conceded, then turned her gaze back on Marinette. “She’s cute. I approve.”

“Glad to know you trust her.”

“I wasn’t talking about it like that and you know it,” Steph said with a wink.

Tim blushed and pushed her face away. “You’re the worst.”

Marinette was having a little difficulty figuring out the not-quite-a-language that the bats spoke with her. She wanted to learn it because she cared about Black Bat and, though she could use ASL, it was clear that she wasn’t comfortable with any particular language… but wow was it hard to learn a language when there wasn’t any actual language involved.

Thankfully, Signal had said he would teach her since he had learned it the most recently and therefore might have an easier time teaching it.

Now, it was just after they had finished their lessons for the day and the two of them were relaxing together between their patrols. He had his head in her lap as they both scrolled through Twitter, occasionally laughing and showing each other the dumb things that the other bats had supposedly done. Her favorite so far was the picture someone had discreetly taken of Robin while he was petting their dog.

And then Signal suddenly sat up straight, eyes so wide beneath his domino that she swore that the lenses were going to pop out.

“Uh --?”

“We need to go,” he said.

She felt his hand wrap around her wrist and now she was being dragged somewhere else --.

There was a rush of air and next thing she knew she was being held just barely off the ground.

She blinked all the dryness out of her eyes and then looked up to see that her captor was none other than Superman himself. He had grabbed both of them and taken them to where the Batcomputer was, holding her by her hood and Signal by the back of his shirt. He looked angry, but not particularly at her. She followed his gaze to where Batman was sitting in his Batchair.

“B --.”

“Batman,” said Batman sternly.

Oh, so Superman got to know his secret identity and she didn’t?

(She was ignoring the fact that Batman’s civilian name started with a B.)

“Batman, what do I have here?”

“Two children?”

“Two. Metas.”

“Technically, Ladybug isn’t a meta. Her powers were given to her by a god that lives in her earrings,” Batman informed him.

Marinette tried not to smile too much. Look at how much he had grown. He was using her excuses now.

Superman’s eyes narrowed. She’d say something about how ‘if looks could kill, Batman would be dead’... but, considering the fact that Superman could kill someone with a single look, it didn’t really work.

“And is the god allowed in Gotham?”

Batman didn’t have an excuse for that one. He just grunted a specific grunt which Marinette had learned meant: “What’s your point?”

Superman also knew this specific grunt, apparently. “My point is that the last time I was in Gotham you put kryptonite in my coffee! You said no metas, and we listened, but now you have two!”

“They’re my kids.”

Marinette blinked. “News to me.”

Signal tried to reach across Superman to punch her arm. Superman was a very wide not-man, so he came up short.

“Do you want to be kicked out of Gotham?”

“Guess I’ve always wanted family here,” she said quickly.

Superman squinted at them for a long time before, finally, dropping them.

“You’re lifting your no meta rule.”

“No --.”

“Yes. If even you’re not going to listen to it, neither should we.”

Batman didn’t seem happy. Superman didn’t seem to care. Probably because he was a good head taller and had far more superpowers than Batman did.

Superman left soon after.

Marinette knew it wasn’t the time, because Batman was back to his Batbrooding, but she couldn’t help the grin slowly spreading across her face.

“So, Dad, can I have the new Xbox for Christmas?”

Duke had visited Marinette. Tim hadn’t seen him visit, but he definitely had because Marinette had closed her blinds and they hadn’t been open in days. She was still in Gotham, though, she had gone on patrols and, as far as he could tell, she didn’t have any places in Gotham in her name. She had to still be in the apartment, so Duke must have visited as Signal and told her to close them.

And he should have been happy about this. It was far safer that way. The less people knew that there was a woman living alone in that apartment the better.

… but he couldn’t help but be concerned.

The blinds being closed was his best indication of when she was about to leave or currently not home. He didn’t like that he no longer had a way of figuring that out. How was he supposed to watch over her while she was getting groceries if he never knew when she was going?

He gives her a necklace with a tracker in it the next time he sees her as Tim.

She raised her eyebrows at the box he was holding out to her. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to propose?” She joked, but he could hear the slight wariness bleeding into her tone.

He grins easily. “It’s just to thank you for the outfit you’re making me.”

“You pay me,” she said. “That’s thanks enough for me.”

“Maybe I just feel a little bad about guilting you into making it in the first place.”

She hesitates, but he could see the shiny red gem inlaid in it winning her over. It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t a gold digger, she was a fashion designer and he had purposefully chosen a common gem color so she’d be more inclined to wear it more often. It worked with a lot of outfits and it came from someone she -- hopefully -- considered a friend? There was little reason to say no.

As expected, she gave in.

She turned around and he carefully clasped it behind her neck. He pressed a tiny kiss to the back of her head.

When she turned back around her face was redder than the gem. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her along to the newest attraction.

Marinette fell back on her bed with a huff.

“Tikkiiiiiiiii,” she complained.

The kwami slipped out of her purse and came up to float above her face. “Did you enjoy your date?”

“It wasn’t --!”

Tikki laughed at her dismay. Because Tikki sucked.

She dropped the pillow back beside herself and curled up in what had used to be Tim’s jacket (she wasn’t joking when she’d taken it, he was never getting it back).

“Tim better be Red Robin. I’m not doing the whole ‘two crushes at once’ thing again.”

You know, there were actually times where Tim felt bad about chipping Marinette. He wasn’t out of it enough to think that it wasn’t messed up, he knew that there was a reason he didn’t want the other bats to know.

And he knew that, if he had to keep his habits from fellow bats, his habits had to be pretty bad. Every single one of them had a tendency to watch over their loved ones from time to time, it just came with the territory of having friends that are a) vigilantes/heroes/Rogues, b) stupid enough to live in Gotham, or c) an unfortunate mix of both. And, really, when you have the entire world at your fingertips it’s hard not to cross a few lines from time to time.

But Tim couldn’t bring himself to care about that line when she didn’t seem to care about her own safety.

She left the house constantly. Tim was beginning to suspect that she’d had her blinds open so often in order to feel closer to people rather than because she liked sunning herself. This would be fine… if she wasn’t leaving as a civilian. Marinette cared about her secret identity almost as much as Bruce did, so he knew that she probably wouldn’t try too hard to escape attackers for fear of them finding out who she was through her very particular fighting style. The bats had drilled her on the best ways to deal with being held at gunpoint and everything, but not every criminal was completely predictable. Bruce’s parents were a prime example of that.

She also had a tendency to take food without checking to see if it was laced. She did it especially when Tim handed her food and, while he liked that she trusted him, he didn’t love that she was as trusting of him as she was.

Marinette had trouble detecting when people were watching her, too. He figured it was just a byproduct of having most of the stuff she did as Ladybug filmed by tv crews and random civilians… but understanding why she was like that didn’t make him any less concerned about it.

Most damning, however, was how she dealt with catcalling.

Tim never felt a need to intervene when any of his siblings got catcalled on the job. He could trust them to tell whoever it was to stop with however much politeness was correct for the situation (usually not that much).

(The only exception was Damian because, unlike everyone else, Damian was still very obviously a minor. And even then the temptation to beat them up was mostly sated by the fact that Damian knew far more nonlethal ways to hurt them than he did.)

But the few times Marinette had gotten catcalled in front of him she… had just very politely asked them not to say that? And, when they didn’t stop, she had just sat there in her discomfort until they were done?

And Tim had done nothing but watch in stunned silence the first few times. It hadn’t been on purpose, he had just… not been expecting it. She usually acted far more confident, usually had some sort of retort on her tongue, why was this any different?

He didn’t know. Both he and Steph had tried to ask but she shut down both times and they didn’t want her to be more upset than she already was so they’d stopped trying.

The bats just silently agreed to check in on her through comms when she was quiet for too long and, if she didn’t respond, head towards her last known location and start looking.

So, yeah, his paranoia wasn’t completely unfounded.

Marinette blinked at the envelope Black Bat had handed her.

She turned it over in her hands, wondering if it was some kind of test, but that wasn’t really as much of a Black Bat thing as it was a Batman or Red Robin thing. So, she figured it probably wasn’t dangerous. She still found herself examining it. It was done in an old style, with a rough and slightly yellowed paper, a red wax seal with a pointy hat emblem she didn’t recognize, and ‘Ladybug’ written across the front in gorgeous calligraphy.

“Uh…?”

Black Bat only smiled at her and made a motion to open it.

Marinette hesitantly opened the letter and pulled out more weird paper. It was splattered with something that looked suspiciously like dried blood. In the same elegant script that had decorated the front, it read:

Your spirit has been summoned to my annual Halloween Party!

Dress to kill!

This was followed by a bunch of directions and timings and stuff about RSVP-ing.

Marinette looked at Black Bat, somehow even more confused than she had been before.

Thankfully, Red Robin chose that moment to run down the stairs, waving his invitation excitedly.

He stopped short when he saw Marinette already holding her invitation and huffed, sending Black Bat a halfhearted glare. “I wanted to tell her.”

Black Bat’s smile morphed into a smirk.

“Rude,” Red said. Then, he turned to Marinette. “We got invited to his Halloween Party!”

“Yeah… whose Halloween Party, exactly?”

“Scarecrow’s, of course!”

… what?

#stalker x stalker #maribat #shutterbug #timmari #timari #timinette #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #marinette: all the rogues are dangerous and smart i need to expect the unexpected #scarecrow: im having a halloween party!!#marinette: ... i guess that IS unexpected...

81 notes · View notes

anagentinwriting · 3 years

Text

Lifeline - Part 1

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: ~1800

Warnings: Car accident, angst

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

A line ringing over your headset notifies you another emergency call is coming in. You cleared your head, preparing for anything, and clicked the spacebar, answering it, “911, what’s your emergency?”

“Bro, that was insane,” the male voice said over the phone. “You’re gonna be famous on YouTube.”

“Excuse me, sir? What seems to be the problem?” you asked, letting out a sigh.

“My friend is having trouble breathing, and his throat feels like it’s on fire.”

“What’s the address?”

“576 Rose Lane in Westwood.”

You typed the address into your computer, signaling the nearest available unit to the caller's location. “First responders are on their way. Can you tell me what he was doing before this happened?”

“We were doing the cinnamon challenge.” You rolled your eyes. “I thought it was harmless. Then, he was gagging, and then he coughed, and a puff of cinnamon came out of his nose. It was awesome; he looked like a dragon.” It's been a while since you got a call about an internet challenge gone wrong, but it's been forever since you got a cinnamon challenge one. You didn't even know that challenge was still around. “Oh fuck!”

“Is everything okay? What happened?”

“He collapsed. He’s not moving. Should I shake him awake?”

“He probably passed out, but paramedics are only a few minutes away. Is he still breathing?”

“I don’t think so,” he panicked.

“Remember to stay calm, I’ll help you through this the best I can, okay? Okay, now I am going to have to ask you to administer CPR. Do you know what to do?”

“Sort of. I learned it in health class a few years ago.”

“Perfect. It's 30 chest compressions followed by two breaths going to the rhythm of the song Staying Alive. You can do this.”

“Ok---okay. Yeah. Right, right,” he mumbled. Hearing him set the phone down on the ground, he started counting and doing chest compressions.

The responding unit was about a block away, and once they arrived, you could hear the sirens coming through the phone call.

“Odinson, take over compressions,” a lady’s voice commanded. “Kid, come with me.”

“Is he going to be...” the line went dead as he hung up his phone.

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your eyes. This wasn’t anything new; when help arrives, people hang up, and you don’t get to know how it ends, but maybe it was for the best. You sit back up, seeing your reflection in one of the many screens in front of you. At least, you knew most of the firefighters from Station 107 at the scene, including your brother Thor, if you ever wanted to know how it ended.

It's tough, taking call after call, emergency after emergency with little to no recovery time in between. It’s a stressful job that is emotionally and physically taxing. It requires extreme focus, patience, and puts you under a certain kind of pressure. The pressure of wanting to help and do everything you possibly can when this person you never met puts their life in your hands. You never know what the outcome will be, but you try to help them get through what might be the scariest moment in their life. It’s those calls, the ones you were able to save, that keep you coming back to work.

You stepped away from your command center and headed towards the kitchenette, spotting Luis rummaging through the fridge. It wasn’t unusual, but it did always bring a smile to your face. It was hard to believe he was one of the dispatchers who showed you the ropes after relocating to Los Angeles three months ago.

“Hey, Luis.” He turned around with a doughnut in his mouth, quickly removing it and shooting you a carefree smile.

“Hey, Chica, get any weird calls yet? You know I love hearing about those weird ones, right.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, but a guy called earlier saying his whole body hurt everywhere he poked. I told him to drive to the emergency room and get his finger looked at because it’s probably broken. Oh, and there was another cinnamon challenge victim.”

“Another one, I thought that craze was over.” He shook his head. “But I did hear about this crazy call that came in last night, right. It wasn’t so much crazy, but one of those nuisance calls, you know what I’m saying, the kind where you’re like, ‘why are you calling, this isn’t an emergency type of situation?’ Anyways, Cameron Klein took the call; you know the dude with the great hair, the kind you just want to run your hands through. It has the perfect fluff to curl ratio. I mean, I touched it once, and it was like a cloud. I asked him what products he used in his hair, and he was like…”

“Luis, how does this relate to the call?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, sorry, sorry, so there was this lady caller, right. She was telling Great Hair how she couldn't leave her car because there was a hostile raccoon outside her door. So then, Great Hair was like why don’t you go out a different door. And this caller says ‘yo I tried, but it’s like this trash panda can read my mind, right. He follows me when I move to the other side, and he’s like crazy, stupid fast like a rocket.’ And here comes the best part, Great Hair was like, ‘Hey girl, you better run fast then,’ and hung up,” he beamed with a slight chuckle.

“Oh my god, people really need to learn what an emergency is,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“You know that’s right, but duty calls.” He tilted his head towards the door, carrying two doughnuts and a huge mug full of coffee.

“Later, Luis.”

Years ago, you never would have imagined you would be working as a dispatcher in Los Angeles. You preferred helping people hands-on, which is why you became an ER nurse. It was the feeling of never knowing what was going to come charging through those doors next that excited you. But being a dispatcher gave you a whole different kind of thrill because you could only use your voice to help.

The rest of your shift flew by until you were on hour eight of your ten-hour shift. A pileup involving a semi jackknifing on the highway forced a huge collision of cars. All the units in the area along with a few on the outskirts came in to assist. It was the same call coming in multiple times, and all you could say was help was already on the way.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Send help,” the woman cried, telling you her address.

“Ma’am, I am going to need you to tell me what is going on?”

“A power line…a power line fell into our pool, and my daughter is trapped on her unicorn floaty in the water. I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

“Stay calm, ma’am. My name is YN, and I’m dispatching a unit to your home now.” You switched lines to the highway accident, getting on a line with Captain Danvers from Station 107, who was sending three individuals to the scene right away. You switched back to the caller. “Okay, I will need you to stay calm. What is your daughter’s name?”

“Morgan, she’s five years old.”

“Please, whatever you do, make sure Morgan stays on the floaty because it is protecting her from the water. There is a good chance the power line is sending more than 5000 volts through the water.”

“Okay, okay, I can do that, “ the mother breathed. “Honey, please stay on the tube.”

“I'm going to try to get in contact with the power company to turn it off.” You looked up the power company in the area, and someone slid next to you. You glance over, seeing Bruce get to work on calling the power company. You nodded at him, staying on the line with the mom. “Ma’am, has help arrived yet?”

“No, but I can hear the sirens.” You peeked at Bruce, but he shook his head, still trying to get a hold of the power company. “They are coming through the back gate now.”

“Ma’am, can you hand the phone to one of the firemen?” You bit your lip, studying the layout of their home on one of your monitors. There were flowers all over their backyard, and you got an idea.

“Hello, this is Fireman Rogers.”

“Hi, Fireman Rogers. This is 9-1-1 dispatcher, YN, how is it looking there?”

“Well, on the drive-in, we saw that a truck hit the power line pole, which caused the pole to fall into the pool. The driver isn’t in any serious condition, but one of our EMT’s is looking him over,” he informed in a deep voice. “Then, we have a pool vibrating with energy, but I assume you already know that part.”

“Do you have a plan in place? We are still trying to get a hold of the power company.”

“There are a few more floaties by the pool. I could ride one over to Morgan and pull her to safety?”

“Really? Where did you get that from the macho man handbook?”

“I don’t think that book exists, YN,” he added, making you scoff.

“I may have an idea.” You narrowed your eyes, playing out the idea in your head.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I can view the whole home on one of my monitors, and there are a ton of flowers. So, I can only assume a garden hose must be nearby.”

“Yup, I see it.”

“Okay, perfect. Grab the hose and cut off the metal ends; it's rubber, so it won't conduct electricity. Then, have you and another fireman take the hose and walk along the opposite sides of the pool. Have Morgan grab ahold of it and carefully pull her back to the edge."

“That’s genius, YN. Thanks for your help,” he acknowledged, making you crack a side smile. Few people said thank you in this job, but when they did, you appreciated it. “Here’s your phone back, ma’am.”

Morgan’s mother's breath was shaky and staggered through the phone. She was scared and had every right to be. If you were in that situation, you would be, too. “Oh my god, it’s working. It’s working,” the mother shouted into your ear. “Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?”

“I am okay, Mommy,” Morgan replied before the phone line went dead.

You smiled at yourself in one of the now blank screens. It was these moments why you loved what you were doing; a happy ending. Some calls never get a happy ending, but when they do, those are the ones you try to remember when a stressful call comes in.

________

AN: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. There is a long way to go and I promise things will definitely get more interesting. This was just a quick intro to some of the many characters that will make an appearance/cameo. Comments always welcome! Thanks for reading and I hope you’ll stick with me!

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guineverekrumbs · 3 years

Text

I only got eyes for you (Bucky Barnes)

-----

You unconsciously lick your lips at the sight below you. Your eyes followed every move, every breath. Tracing every crevice, every muscle that flexed as he moved. He crossed his arms which made his forearms look more prominent. His steel blue eyes scrutinizing the new recruits from shield. For a split second you thought his eyes landed on you and you almost forgot how to breath.

"You are my citadel, you are my wishing well, my baby blue,"

The clipboard in your arms almost fell. You didn't thought that just watching Bucky Barnes train new recruits could be this.. overwhelming. Luckily you were on the second floor behind a glass wall, so maybe it wasn't that obvious that you were currently melting.

"I used to like smoking to stop all the thinking But I found a different buzz"

That song reminded you of him. Ironically, you don't smoke.

"You need wipe that drool off you mouth." Natasha smirked.

You rolled your eyes at her. "ha ha very funny." But you wouldn't be surprised if there actually was drool. "How long have been there?"

"Long enough to see you eye rape Bucky." She teased.

"Shut up!" You said feeling the heat rise up your cheeks.

"You know, instead of staring at him from afar like a stalker you could just ask out the old man himself." She said teasingly while bumping her shoulder to yours.

"Thanks for the suggestion as always but no. How do you think a man from the forties is gonna react to a girl asking him out?" You asked raising you eyebrows facing her. You just don't see it happening. For you it was a hopeless case.

"Grateful. Realize that he is one lucky man." She stated a matter of a factly. You just shaked your head at her words as you glanced back down.

There he goes again, the sleeves of his shirt were pulled up. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt to wipe his sweat, exposing an extremely toned stomach. Those abs are just.. You inwardly sighed. Damn.

"I'm already high enough I only, I only, I only got eyes for you"

You knew Bucky. You were friends, went on a couple of missions together. Sat next to him on the jet, shared jokes, and once fell asleep on his shoulder. He always helps you and has saved your life more than once. He's kind and such a gentleman yet here you are looking at him like his some sort of meat. If he knew what you were thinking, he would surely be disappointed. At least that's what you thought.

"You're so clueless." You heard Nat whisper. Your eyebrows furrowed. "About what?"

"Nothing. Hey you're still going to the party Tony's throwing tonight, right?" You look at her suspiciously as she changed the topic so quickly.

"Is it mandatory?" You sighed.

"If its you then yes." Nat laughed.

"Then of course Im going."

"You better be there! Ill meet you at the pool table later." She said as she turned to leave and waved goodbye.

"Great!" You said sarcastically because you sucked at pool.

You glanced back at the steel eyed man that always makes it hard to look away from him. You don't what it is but something about him just pulls you in.

You huffed. You'll get over this stupid attraction to him somehow. Thankfully you were good at hiding it.

As you walked away from the glass window, you didn't notice a pair of eyes following you as you left.

----

He confidently walked in to the party. A dark brown leather jacket on his shoulders. Freshly out of the shower with a smell of aftershave. The party was in full swing. With Thor making humans drink alcohol from Asgard. Tony and Rhodey telling stories. Steve and Bruce drinking by the bar. A familiar song blasting through the speakers.

Someone handed him a drink. Sam. "Almost thought you wouldn't show."

"Yeah, yeah." He took a gulp of his beer as he discretely tried to search the crowd. But not as discrete as he thought.

"But then again it would be impossible for you not to show." Sam smirked. "Looking for someone?"

Bucky put down his drink. "No."

Sam laughed at his friend's terrible acting. "Quit denying it." Sam nodded his head towards the pool table.

His eyes followed the direction and finally. There you were laughing with Natasha as you failed miserably in playing pool. You shoulders shaked as you laughed and your beautiful eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Oh, you're phenomenal, feel like a domino, fall to my knees I am a malady, you are my galaxy, my sweet relief."

He didn't miss the way your hand held the stick, as you unconsciously caress it. He sucked in a breath. You flipped you hair to the other side as you leaned down the table, exposing you beautiful neck and he wondered what it would feel like on his lips.

"I used to like liquor to get me inspired But you look so beautiful, my new supplier I used to like smoking to stop all the thinking But I found a different buzz"

Your little black dress clung to you perfectly, your oversized denim jacket falling off your shoulders everytime you stood up. Oh how he wanted to run his hands on your shoulder to your neck as he whispered things to you ear. You looked up towards his direction and your eyes met his. Bucky could swear that he saw you bite your lips before you looked away.

"Woah calm down there Barnes." Sam's voice snapped you back to reality. "You're gonna break the table. But whatever Tony's rich so."

He looked at the little marble table in front of him and saw that it already had a small cracked. Damn, he was losing it. What were you doing to him?

You're just innocently having fun yet here he was staring at you like he was some sort of predator. And in a way he was. He wanted you. Badly.

He didn't want to scare you away and has always tried his best to be a gentleman in front of you. But he didn't know how much longer he could take it. The moment you fell asleep on his shoulder he was a goner. He knew it was more than something physical but right now the temptation was too high. He needed to leave before he does something he'll regret.

"Im gonna go ahead Sam." Bucky said as he gulped down his beer.

"What? Already?" Sam said surpised.

"Yeah, this party isn't for me." He replied as glanced back at you.

Sam smirked as it clicked in his head. "For a second there I thought you were never gonna get your fill of her."

"What are you talking about?" He denied.

"She'll burn if you stare too much you know." Sam teased him.

"I hate you." Bucky rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

"Look wait, why are you even leaving? You need to man up and ask her out." Sam exclaimed.

Bucky stopped in his tracks and turned his head to Sam. "What makes you think she want to date a mass murderer?" He stated coldly.

Sam sighed knowing he was never gonna get through him when its about that. "That wasn't you."

Bucky walk towards the elevator but Steve managed to catch him and dragged him to the bar.

---

"Hey! Barnes has been looking at you for the past 10 minutes." Natasha grinned at you as she hit a bank shot.

"Yeah, right." Your back was turned to them so you couldn't see if it was true or not. You did this on purpose so you wouldn't look like an idiot for staring at Bucky so much and actually have fun.

"Why do you think that you don't have a chance?" Natasha asked you as she stood up. Hitting her next target but it missed the hole. "Your turn."

You get into position, bending over the table, and flipping your hair to the other side of your neck. And you swear you feel someone's burning gaze on you. So you look up, only to be met with a pair of smoldering blue eyes. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling at the sight and immediately looked away.

You couldn't believe it. Bucky Barnes was staring at you but then again it could have been a mere coincidence. You cringed as the ball you hit missed the hole.

"Maybe its because I suck at pool." You let out a breath as you leaned on the table.

"How about a real reason." Natasha rolled her eyes at you. You tittered at her reaction.

You look towards Bucky and saw that he was talking with Sam about something. You realized he was about to leave as he gulped down his beer in one chugged and started heading towards the door.

You shifted away your gaze from them. Of course it was a coincidence, you thought. You sighed as you turned your back to them. "I hate boys."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at me. "What's wrong?"

You smiled grimly. "Nothing. Want a drink? Ill get some from the bar."

"Sure." Natasha shrugged.

You started walking towards the bar. You almost didn't notice the abundance of people there in the party. Suddenly, you hear a voice call your name. You turned around and see a familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes and a boyish grin which made you grin. "Peter!"

-----

Bucky sat on the bar stool with a hard drink on his hand, wondering how he managed to let Steve convince him to have a few more drinks. But then again, its Steve. He look towards the pool table and saw you weren't there anymore. His eyes searched for you til it landed on you laughing something at that boy from Queens said. Immediately his lips formed into a thin line. The little green monster creeping on his neck. He faced towards the bar, planning to ask another drink.

"Don't be so glum Buck!" Steve encouraged as he slapped you on the back. "I know its different from the parties in the forties but the drinking, the friends, and the beautiful dames, their still the same."

Bucky scoffed at Steve's sentence. If he only knew that there was only one beautiful dame that was flooding his mind right now. He still hasn't decided whether that was a good thing or not. All he knew is that he wanted to pull you close, feel your skin on his, and kiss you til it hurt.

Steve leaned back on the bar, wondering what had his friend so worked up. It wasn't until he saw Bucky secretly glance at the person talking to Peter and immediately gulped down his drink when he realized it. Steve smirked.

"Speaking of beautiful dames, there's one coming right now."

Without a doubt, you were walking towards the Bar but you didn't see Bucky yet as his back was turned towards you and you completely believed that he had went home.

It was when Bucky turned around the chair that you halted in your steps. Your lips parted in surprise, not because you discovered that he was still here but because of his eyes. Those steel blue eyes seemed to look into your soul, pulling you in, making you wanna sin. Was Natasha right? You questioned. Its like there's no one else in the room. Like he only got eyes for you and he did.

"Do you see anyone other than me? Baby, please. I'll take a hit of whatever you got Maybe two, maybe three."

You decided to play it innocent like you didn't notice anything. You walked closer to Bucky with a playful look on your face. Whether you were just assuming or not, you didn't care. This was now or never.

"What's wrong Sergeant Barnes? One drink too many? I thought super soldiers couldn't get drunk Steve." You laughed as you asked Steve.

Bucky didn't hear a word you said. All he could sense is that you were half a meter away from him, close enough that he could smell your intoxicating scent. You were close enough to grab, to touch and your supple lips were tempting him beyond reason. You had a glint of mischief in your eyes that almost made him think that you knew what you were doing to him and It took everything in him to stop himself from smashing his lips on yours.

"Don't try to give me cold water I don't wanna sober up."

You saw how his eyes followed your every move. The way his eyes shifted to your lips so you decided to push it even further. You furrowed your eyebrows as a response to his silence. "Sergeant Barnes are you okay?" Heat rose from your stomach to your chest as your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched closer to him and licked your lips. Where this confidence was coming from? You didn't know.

"Bucky?" You breathed.

You were merely a breath away and as if a thread snapped, Bucky's eyes flashed to yours. You didn't realize what was happening when in a split second he pulled you in by the waist, claiming your lips, hungry and intense, until your knees almost gave in. The taste of him nearly silenced all thoughts. His fingers moved and sank into your skin with a mind of their own, pulling you impossibly closed.

"I'm already high enough You got me, you got me good I'm already high enough I only, I only, I only got eyes for you."

You wrapped your arms around his neck kissing him back just as intensely and roamed your fingers through his hair. His kiss was possessive and consuming, it made you dizzy but you didn't want to stop, instead you wanted more.

Finally, you reluctantly pulled away from each other. You leaned you forehead against his, both breathless. You both stare at each other for a few seconds, wondering if that really happened or not. But it did, finally it did. You both let out a small laugh, realizing how stupid you both have been.

Bucky smiled before licking his lips as he stared at you adoringly, arms still wrapped around you." Wanna get out of here?"

You grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

As you guys left, its like you could almost hear the rest of the team say "Finally!"

#avengers #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #fanfic #wintersoldier

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