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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Note

Heeey! Can I request for the Father of Mine universe? Something along the lines of hickeys, maybe smeared lipstick all over their faces at an event, family dinner or something like that?

“Just skip it and stay here with me,” Jason offered as he leaned against the bathroom frame, shirtless and with his arms crossed.

He had been watching Y/N get ready for at least 15 minutes.

She was currently putting on blood red lipstick that went perfectly with her black winged eyeliner.

Jason wasn’t a big lipstick guy – mostly because it prevented him from kissing his girlfriend the way he wanted to. But he couldn’t deny that it looked incredibly sexy.

“I can’t. I promised Bruce,” Y/N explained as she looked at him through the mirror.

“There will always be other charity events,” he answered with a roll of his eyes.

But he’d had enough of keeping his distance and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He started peppering kisses on her shoulders since her dress was leaving the skin completely exposed and he just couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” she began, “you could always come with me.”

Jason stopped his kissing.

“Guess that’s a no?” Y/N sighed with a shy grin.

But she didn’t really care.

Y/N understood that Jason hated these events. To be honest, she might hate them just as much. But Bruce kept asking her and she tried to go when she could. Sometimes she needed breaks and her father understood that.

Jason ignored her question and his hands started roaming heatedly across her body.

“Don’t even think about it,” Y/N warned, immediately pushing him away.

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Jason laughed innocently.

“Not yet,” she spun around and pointed at him. “But you were going to!”

“And is that so bad?” He asked with a crooked smirk.

“It is when I’m running late. And the reason I’m late is because you couldn’t keep your hands off of me an hour ago.”

Jason tilted his head and narrowed his eyes playfully. “I didn’t exactly hear any complaints…”

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from laughing and shook her head.

No, there had definitely been absolutely no complaints from her.

“I won’t be there long,” Y/N promised.

Then she brushed past him and walked into the giant walk-in closet.

Barely even glancing at all the shoes, she grabbed a pair that matched her dress.

“Can we order pizza or something when I get back? I’ll be starving.” Y/N asked mindlessly as she slipped the shoes on, using the wall to balance herself.

Jason didn’t even realize he was staring.

But how could he not?

The dress was simple. Just a little black dress. It was a charity event after all. But it fit Y/N like a glove, hugging her in all the right places.

Her heels were at least 4 inches, putting her eye level with Jason – if not a tiny bit taller. She would be above the majority of men at the event, except for probably a small handful.

“What?” Y/N asked self consciously. “Too tall?”

“No such fucking thing,” Jason quickly answered.

Y/N usually wasn’t self conscious about her height. She kind of had to get over that back in high school when she was taller than most of the boys in her grade.

But that didn’t mean she completely stopped having slip-ups. Slip-ups that involved questioning her heels or outfit.

Thankfully, Jason was quick to remedy such situations.

“You just look so beautiful,” Jason added as he stepped forward and grabbed her hips possessively.

Y/N kissed him. “Thank you.”

But she opened her mouth to give another warning.

“You’re gonna be late,” Jason spoke for her. “I know. I know.”

Y/N tried not to laugh at her boyfriends desperation as she grabbed her clutch.

“Remember: pizza!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

————

Bruce and Damian were waiting for Y/N at the venue.

Dick and Tim skipped, going to these things less and less as they became fully grown men with lives of their own.

“Thank you for coming,” Bruce greeted as he kissed her on the cheek.

Y/N was about to turn her attention to Damian and give him a hug.

“What the hell is on your neck!?” The boy cried out before she could.

She blinked in surprise, completely unaware of what her half brother was talking about. Self-consciously, her hand went to the sides of her neck, not sure what she should be hiding.

“Can Todd not keep his hands to himself for 30 seconds?” Damian growled.

That’s when it clicked.

Y/N had a hickey on her neck.

“Damian, lower your voice,” Bruce warned his son.

Meanwhile, Y/N started feeling hot from embarrassment.

“Father, make him stop,” Damian whined.

To her surprise, Bruce cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Damian, Y/N is a grown woman in a relationship. She can do as she pleases.”

It was the right answer, but Y/N was still sweating from the embarrassment.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she quickly mumbled, before disappearing to the nearest bathroom.

But Y/N swore she heard Bruce continuing to scold Damian for his rudeness and for embarrassing her.

When she reached the bathroom, she lifted her head to see that she very much did have a hickey on her neck. It was perfectly hidden in the shadow of her jaw, which was why she hadn’t noticed it while getting ready. If she had, she would’ve put 5 layers of makeup on it to make sure her family didn’t notice.

Thankfully, she brought some cover up with her and quickly started going to work.

After 10 minutes, it was invisible and Y/N let out a sigh of relief.

She pulled out her cellphone, glaring at it as if were her boyfriend.

“You better start behaving. Damian and Bruce just found a hickey on my neck. I’m so fucking embarrassed,” Y/N texted to Jason.

“Who cares?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he’d answer with that.

“Call me old fashioned, but I’d prefer not remind my father and younger brother that I do in fact have a sex life.”

“A healthy, satisfied, and passionate sex life *,” Jason corrected.

Before she could respond, he texted again with, “Did you cover it up?”

“Obviously.”

“What a shame. Maybe it would’ve kept the spoiled rich boys away from you.”

“You’re on thin ice, Jason Todd.”

“Ooo. I love it when you use the full name. Gets me all hot and bothered.”

Y/N sighed and tossed her phone back into her clutch.

She’d given up on making Jason feel any bit of sympathy. That man would never feel guilty about showing the world how obsessed he was with her.

—————

Jason was reading on the couch when Y/N returned home.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted before returning to reading his book.

“Ugh. I drank too much champagne. I have the worst headache.”

“I’ll order some pizza,” Jason offered and pulled out his phone.

Y/N sighed in relief when she took off her heels and then she collapsed on the couch, laying her head on Jason’s lap as he placed their order.

Without thinking, his free hand when to her head and started massaging it, hoping it would help with her migraine.

“Hmm,” she hummed with her eyes closed. “That feels better.”

“Order has been placed,” he confirmed.

“Thank you.”

“Arrives in 30 minutes.”

She didn’t say anything, knowing exactly where he was going with it.

“What could we possibly do with 30 minutes?” Jason teased as he inched closer to her face.

She opened her eyes and giggled up at him.

“Ya know, I heard that sex helps cure migraines…”

“Does not!” Y/N yelled out.

Before she could argue with him further, his lips shut her up real quick.

For as large as Jason was, he managed to maneuver his body very gracefully, until he was hovering above Y/N while she lay comfortably on the couch.

“You look beautiful with lipstick,” Jason said it as if it was law. “But I like it even more when I ruin it,” he added with an almost evil smirk.

It was hard for Y/N to have a clever quip when he said things like that to her.

“How about I mark you up even more?” He threatened.

“Jason…” she warned.

But they both knew Y/N was pretending to be annoyed by it – or against it. When in reality, she kind of loved how obsessed Jason was with the idea.

Just when Jason hiked Y/N's dress up and was tracing her legs, someone cleared their throat.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and actually growled. Then he quickly lowered Y/N’s dress and tried to make her modest again.

Y/N covered her face and groaned. “Please, please, please tell me Bruce is not standing at the window right now.”

Jason smirked. “And Damian.”

Y/N pushed her boyfriend off of her and sat up to face them.

There stood Batman and Robin.

Tonight was just not her night.

“You have lipstick smeared all over you,” Damian pointed out to Jason smugly.

“I’d say one day you’d see the appeal, but I’m struggling to imagine anyone ever having that kind of interest in you,” Jason shot back.

“Jason!” Y/N scolded in a yell.

Then she quickly turned to Damian with a sympathetic look, “Dami, he didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I did,” Jason corrected. “What do you guys want?”

“Red Robin is missing,” Bruce stated darkly.

“So…go find him,” Jason replied.

“We need your help,” Bruce clarified.

Jason groaned and rubbed his face. “Fine. But we’re setting some fucking ground rules from now on. I’m sick of you guys invading our personal space. We have a door for a reason. Use it.”

Bruce just nodded.

Then he looked down at Damian and with a glare, got him to nod, too.

“I gotta change,” Jason told them, annoyance clear in his voice.

Y/N followed him into their bedroom, to give them a moment of privacy.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” Y/N sighed as she sat on the edge of their bed.

“They spent all night with you and now they have the balls to interrupt?” Jason shot back. “And I want my damn pizza.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I promise I’ll save you some.”

Jason was in his full gear now, Red Hood helmet tucked under his arm.

He took in a deep breath, tension easing off of him as he saw how cute she was looking up from the bed at him. Her lipstick was half off her lips, but she still looked beautiful.

“Promise you’ll be careful,” her tone was nothing but serious.

“Don’t worry about me,” Jason dismissed as he leaned down at kissed her.

"And be nice to Damian."

"Never."

Jason went back to the living room where Bruce and Damian waited.

“You might want to rub some of that off,” Bruce mumbled as he turned and jumped on the window.

Jason glared at Batman’s back as he reluctantly rubbed Y/N’s lipstick off his mouth with his gloved hand.

Then he looked at Damian. “Say another word about it and I'll skin you alive.”

Damian gave him a dirty look, “I’m not scared of you.”

–––––––––

Let me know if you liked it!!!

#father of mine #father of mine bonus content #Jason Todd x reader #jason todd x tall!reader #Bruce Wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #damian wayne x sister!reader #damian wayne x sister #batboys #batfam

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cdelphiki · 4 years

Text

“Fuck.”

Jason’s spoon clanked into his bowl, as he dropped it and fumbled for the remote. He’d been watching Jeopardy! with the volume low. Half the fun of the game was answering the questions himself, and really, the idiots on the show were often just distracting.

But Jeopardy! wasn’t on the screen anymore.

The Joker was.

The Joker and the current Robin.

“—play a game, shall we?” Joker said, and Jason just cursed louder as he tossed his cereal on the coffee table and jumped up.

“Hrnn,” Robin groaned, when the camera panned to him, “Who’d want to play with you?”

Fucking brat.

The poor kid looked in rough shape. His mask was slightly ripped, showing off a massive bruise right under one of his eyes. His fat lip and the blood trickling down his chin didn’t help much, either.

Oh, yeah. And the fact he was tied up and inside a tiny little cage.

How the hell had Joker got his hands on Robin?

Never mind, Jason thought, as he kicked around the shit on his floor, freeing the various pieces of his Red Hood uniform, he knew exactly how Robin got himself captured.

Batman was out of town.

And he’d left Robin in charge of Gotham.

Like a fucking moron.

“Uh, uh uh,” Joker said, “That’s no way to behave. Be a good little birdy.”

Robin groaned, when Joker stuck a stick inside Robin’s cage, and jabbed him in the side. He pressed a button, and Tim’s groan turned to a scream as he was electrocuted.

Jason grimaced.

“Now,” Joker continued, through a laugh, “The answer is ‘Topeka.’”

Joker’s stupid fucking laugh.

Jason should not be helping the bats.

He did not help the bats. The bats hated him. And, sure, they had good reason to, but it just meant Jason shouldn’t be helping them out of principle!

Why help people who hate your guts and wish you were still dead?

The bats are out of town, his mind helpfully reminded him, they can’t save Robin. And like hell was Jason going to let Joker kill another Robin.

“Shit,” he mumbled, as he grabbed his helmet and shoved it on his head. All he needed was his guns, now.

“Come now, Robin,” Joker said, “You’re disappointing the viewers at home.”

“No, you’re disappointing the viewers,” Jason snapped, as he placed three guns into his holsters, and grabbed his spare magazines, checking to make sure each was full. “No one wants to watch the fucking Joker fuck with a little kid.”

Even if that little kid was Tim Drake. And annoying as fuck.

The camera zoomed back on Robin’s face, and Robin finally mumbled out, “Capital of Kansas.”

Robin screamed, again, when Joker jabbed him with the shock stick, and Jason growled.

He grabbed his tablet and hacked into the batcomputer in record time. He wasn’t sure if Bruce knew he could still do that, but at the moment he was fucking glad he hadn’t been caught yet.

“You didn’t phrase your answer in the form of a question! Haven’t you ever watched Jeopardy!? That’s what the good folks want right now.”

“Fuck, kid,” Jason mumbled, as he triangulated a location on Robin’s tracker, “Where are you?”

Only Robin’s tracker was listed in Gotham, too. No one else was around. Not Alfred. Not Batgirl. No one.

Why the fuck did Bruce keep leaving Robin all alone?

Hadn’t he learned his lesson the first time?

Tim groaned on screen again, making Jason draw his gun and unload the full clip on the screen.

Shit.

His neighbors probably hated him.

“Where are you,” he growled at the tablet, just as Robin’s location finished loading.

Warehouse in Crime Alley.

Not even five blocks from Jason’s safe house.

Good.

- - -

The Joker had almost no henchmen guarding his warehouse.

Usually Joker’s operations were more thought through. Right?

This time it was just pathetic.

How in the ever-loving-fuck had he got his hands on Robin, anyway?

It took Jason not even ten minutes to reach the warehouse, break in, and incapacitate all ten of his thugs. It took only another fifteen seconds to climb up into the rafters, into the main area where Joker was ‘filming’ with Robin.

“Now, Robin,” Joker said, his his annoying high pitched drawl, “You are down in the negatives. You need to get this next answer correct or—”

Jason didn’t let him finish the thought.

Because he shot the Joker in the ass.

“Shut the fuck up,” Red Hood snarled, as he dropped down from the rafters, right on top of Joker, “No one cares as much as you think.”

“Hood,” Joker said, grinning wide, despite all the blood leaking out of him.

Or, well. Not much. Jason should shoot him again.

Robin would get all high and mighty, if Jason actually killed Joker.

Fucking hell.

“How nice of you to drop by!” Joker said, laughing, “We could use a second contestant.”

Yeah. Sure.

Jason brought his elbow down into Joker’s face. Hard. Breaking his nose and knocking him flat out.

“How disappointing,” Jason said, as he stood up and turned toward Robin, “That wasn’t nearly as satisfying as shooting him in the face would have been.”

Robin stayed laying there, where he was, curled up in his cage, clutching his stomach tight.

Whistling, Jason crossed the room and tried to get Tim’s attention. “Yo. Half-pint, you all right there?”

Tim didn’t react, other than to curl up tighter when Jason approached the cage and put a hand on one of the bars.

“Shit,” he mumbled, “Okay, kid. I’ll get you out.”

Ridiculously, it took longer to figure out a way to get Tim out of the cage.

He tried to pry the fucking lock open with a crowbar he found laying around…

Joker and his fucking crowbars.

But the lock wouldn’t budge, and the stupid replacement Robin kept flinching every time Jason got too near. Which, should have probably made Jason feel bad.

If he were, like, a good person.

Instead it just pissed him off enough that he grabbed the crowbar and started bashing it against the lock, until the damn thing fell off.

“Okay,” Jason said as he opened the cage door, “Tell me what the damage is, kid.”

Robin didn’t respond, so Jason reached in and placed one gloved hand on his shoulder. All he was going to do was shake it, a little. Just to make sure the kid was alive. And like, just out of it.

But apparently Robin was super out of it, because instead of growl at him or snap some dumbass quip, he jumped up and punched Jason right in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he huffed. The little sucker packed a mean one, but he was too damn out of it for it to do more than make Jason wince. “The fuck, kid? Knock it off.”

Tim jumped up, however, on top of the cage, then wobbled there as he tried to right his balance. The second Jason tried to reach out to him, to catch him before he toppled over, or some shit, Tim pulled out a couple of his stupid R shaped throwing stars and started throwing them.

“Shit,” Jason growled, as he dodged, “Kid, knock it off.”

“What do you want?” Robin asked, and with that, apparently reached the end of his spike of adrenaline.

Because the next thing Jason knew, Robin was falling off the cage bars he’d been perched on, and Jason had barely enough time to dive the few feet between them and catch the stupid runt before he landed on the concrete ground, head first.

“Get off me,” Robin demanded, thrashing about in Jason’s hold.

All it made Jason do was squeeze his arms around Tim tighter.

“Stop,” Tim said, his voice getting a little more desperate, “Get off.”

“Ow,” Jason complained, when Tim kicked him in the knee, “Would you knock it off. Am I hurting you?”

Tim stilled, for a second, and seemed to evaluate the situation. Jason was still holding onto him, but he loosed his arms a little.

“No?” Tim asked, like he wasn’t sure if that were the correct answer, or something.

Stupid brat. And they accused Jason of shooting first, asking questions later.

“Then why the fuck are you fighting me?” Jason demanded.

“You’re…” Tim said, then paused as he put a hand up to his head. Shit. Jason needed to get him back to a safe house and checked out.

Letting go of Tim completely, Jason set him down and maneuvered, so he was kneeling in front of the stupid runt. He put a hand on Tim’s head and forced his head back, a little, so Jason could get a good look at it. He could see one of Tim’s eyes, due to his mask having so much damage on it, and it looked like Tim was at least making eye contact.

Or, at least. As much eye contact as he could when Jason was wearing a helmet.

“You’re the Red Hood?” Tim finally answered.

Jason merely huffed. “Yeah. And you’re the boy hostage. Where are you hurt?”

“What?” Tim demanded, “Why do you care?” and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Like I’m gonna let Joker kill you. That’s my job.”

Okay.

Wrong thing to say.

Because Tim’s eye grew wide, and he shuffled backward, out of Jason’s reach, kicking his feet.

Jason tried to grab his feet, to make him stop, but Tim kept kicking, and got Jason right in the ribs.

“Ouch, stop it. I was kidding.” Tim got him on the chin, and Jason snapped, “Just stop. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why,” Tim demanded, as Jason finally caught one of his legs and held it up high enough that Tim lost his balance.

It was kind of amusing, how Tim landed on his back, and just groaned.

“Why’s there gotta be a reason?” he asked, “Maybe I don’t want to see another Robin die!”

“You beat me near to death like two minutes ago,” Tim shouted, pulling at his foot, and not succeeding in freeing himself.

Because Jason was standing, and Tim was short. It would be no trouble at all for Jason to just lift Tim right up off the ground entirely by his leg.

“It’s been four months, stop being dramatic.”

“You expect me to believe you’ve changed enough since then that it matters?” Tim demanded, just as he pulled another throwing star out and threw it at Jason.

Too bad for Tim, Jason saw it coming a mile away. And just caught it.

“Yep!” he cheered, “You done now? You’re, like, super out if it and your fight sucks. If you couldn’t tell.”

Robin mumbled something Jason didn’t catch, so Jason dropped his foot, and tried not to grin too wide when Tim groaned when his body hit the ground.

He didn’t fall too far.

And Jason was sure his head and upper back had been on the ground, already, before he let go.

“Can you walk on your own?” he asked.

Once Tim stopped being all dramatic about everything, he grumbled out a, “No,” so Jason knelt down next to him and offered a hand, to help Tim sit up.

Tim glared at him with so much derision, it risked making Jason laugh.

Instead, all he said was, “Then stop fucking fighting me and let me help.”

“Fine,” Tim snapped, lifting an arm up so Jason could wrap it around Jason’s shoulders, “But if you try anything, I’m calling for Superman.”

“Whatever,” Jason said, as he hefted Tim to his feet, and started making toward the warehouse exit, “Just shut up and let me get you out of here.”

Tim was in pretty rough shape.

Jason already knew that, of course, but it became even more obvious as they made their way back to Jason’s safe house.

Mostly because Jason did all the fucking work.

Tim’s left leg was obviously fucked up. Jason was a little glad he hadn’t held that leg up in the air, because then he’d feel guilty.

And that wasn’t it. He kept clutching at his stomach, and Jason was willing to bet there was at least some pretty bad burns there from all the zapping.

Dragging Tim’s ass up the side of Jason’s building was easy, of course. But annoying. Because Jason had to hold onto Tim tight, because the stupid brat’s grip kept loosening whenever Jason jostled him too much.

“Shit kid,” Jason mumbled, as he pushed Tim through the window to his safe house, “I can’t believe Bruce leaves his fucking kid all alone to protect Gotham when he’s out of town.”

Because, seriously.

This was ridiculous.

Tim was fucked up. And it was all Bruce’s fault.

“M’not his kid,” Tim mumbled, as he stumbled a few feet inside Jason’s safe house, over to the couch. He collapsed down with an oof.

Jason rolled his eyes and closed the window behind him, after he jumped inside. “You are too a kid,” he said, unsnapping his helmet and tossing it down on the ground, “You’re like, thirteen.”

Tim followed Jason with his eyes, even as he sank into the couch a little more, and said, “I’m fifteen. And I said I’m not his kid.”

“Fifteen!” Jason shouted, tossing his gloves on the ground. His safe house was pretty small, so his kitchen was his living room. And he, thankfully, had a pretty good first aid kit sitting in the cabinet under his sink. “That’s how old I was. And obviously I meant his son, you idiot.”

“I’m not his son either,” Tim said.

Jason paused, as he was pulling his kit out, and looked up over the counter at the little brat.

“He didn’t adopt you?”

Hadn’t Talia said….?

How the fuck was he even Robin?

“No,” Tim exclaimed, “I have a dad.”

Is that why Bruce was more lenient on Tim? Because he wasn’t his son?

Bruce never let Jason out of his fucking sight as Robin.

He’d thought that was because he didn’t trust Jason, and clearly he trusted Tim.

But was it maybe because he’d adopted….

Nope. Not thinking about this.

“And he lets you run around with the bats?” Jason asked, finally crossing back over to Tim and slamming the first aid kit down on the coffee table.

Tim jumped, but then scowled at Jason and said, “It’s not like he can stop me.”

“Seriously, kid?”

“Look. It’s none of your business. Are you gonna let me go?”

In that state? Not bloody likely.

But instead of say that, and get Robin all fighty again, Jason said, “I’m not keeping you prisoner, but let me look at your injuries.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but sank back down into the couch and mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Jason said, pointing toward the stomach Tim was still clutching, “lemme see.”

It took a second of Tim glaring, but he finally relented and lifted his shirt, and Jason could only wince in sympathy.

“Damn, Timbo,” he said, looking at the criss crossing scorch marks littering his abdomen, “Those look fun. I’ve got some burn cream that should help.”

Jason worked on Tim’s injuries in silence for a good ten minutes. He had so many burns, Jason kind of wanted to go back and shoot Joker in the ass again, just for inflicting them.

And maybe go find Bruce and shoot him in the ass, for leaving Tim all alone for this to happen in the first place.

“That one needs stitches,” Jason said, after he’d pulled Tim’s sleeves up, inspecting his arms for any more burns to treat. Instead, he found a jagged knife wound, that was still oozing a little. “Did you think you could hide it from me?”

Tim pulled his arm closer to himself, and mumbled, “S’not that bad.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and pulled out his suture kit. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Amazingly, Tim didn’t fight him at all, when he took his arm back and started cleaning the wound enough so he could apply the local anesthetic and start stitching it up.

Instead, all Tim did was stare at him, a little blankly.

It was actually unnerving.

“What?” he snapped.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” Jason scoffed, readjusting his hold on Tim’s arm so he could get the last few stitches in straight, “I’m not letting Joker kill another Robin.”

And, sure. Stitching the kid up and treating all his burns was going a little above and beyond.

But Jason would feel a little bad if he, like, bled to death or whatever.

“Yeah,” Tim said, blinking hard as he ran his free hand through his hair, “But like, you coulda just took him out and left. Why’re you— ow.”

“Whoops,” Jason said, bearing his teeth a little as he grinned at the accidental needle prick he gave Tim outside the numbed area, “Are you seriously complaining? Don’t you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Tim was rich, wasn’t he? Weren’t they taught that shit, too?

Jason was pretty sure Bruce never let him be ungrateful about gifts. Not that Jason would, of course. But even Bruce Wayne taught his kids to be thankful for what they had…

Then again. Tim apparently wasn’t Bruce’s kid…

“When that gift horse tries to kill us every other week, no,” Tim said.

“Shut up,” Jason scoffed, “I haven’t messed with you idiots in months.”

Which was, absolutely, completely, 89% true.

He hadn’t attempted anything fatal on them in months. Fucked with their cases for the laughs? Maybe.

Mostly just Bruce’s. When it didn’t get anyone hurt, of course.

Just because it was fun to fuck with Bruce.

Because fuck Bruce.

“Yeah, but— ow.”

Jason might have stabbed him again.

“All done,” he said, before Tim could get out whatever it was he was going to protest, “Congratulations, you’ll survive. You can sleep here. I’m burning the safe house tomorrow, though.”

He’d shot the TV. So it was pretty useless now, anyway.

“Next time you get captured by the Joker, I’m shooting you in the ass, got it?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, rolling his eyes as he settled back on the couch a little more comfortably, “Whatever.”

Jason watched as Tim pulled his legs up and clearly just… collapsed there. To sleep. And rolled his eyes even harder.

Like that would be comfortable.

On his way to the window, after he’d put his helmet back on, Jason grabbed the blanket and pillow from under the coffee table and threw it right at Tim’s head.

Tim scowled, but did readjust himself so he looked at least slightly more comfortable.

Satisfied, Jason nodded and said, “Kay. Tell Bats I said fuck him. Later, squirt.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim mumbled, just as Jason was slipping out of the window.

Heh. The runt wasn’t so bad, after all.

Maybe.

But Jason was not going to make a habit of this. No way.

If he did, he’d have to go shoot Batman in the ass, for letting his stupid little Robin get hurt.

That would be fun, actually.

#whumptober2020 #no.4 #caged #batman #batfam #red hood #robin #tim drake #jason todd #c writes #fanfiction #injuries #hurt/comfort #batbros #cross posted to ao3

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Into The Unknown, Part 2

First

Interdimensional travel? Awful. Don’t try it at home. It’s a lot like how one would imagine getting sucked up a straw: you get squished and pulled until you come out the other side a goopy mess.

Speaking of goopy messes: Tim keeled over and threw up.

He ignored the yelling right next to him because, honestly, he couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the moment. The bright light of this world -- apparently it was daytime here, ew -- hurt his eyes even through his sunglasses and he really didn’t want to move from where he had curled up in what seemed to be grass.

But, eventually, he did. He pushed himself up onto his knees and squinted over at her.

Ladybug had detransformed at some point and was now wearing an old t-shirt and some sweats… and she was apparently fighting off a baby. Damian kicked, screamed, and wiggled in her hold as she tried her hardest to trap him in the blanket again.

“... how are you losing to a baby?”

She sent a glare at him and then mumbled a curse as a tiny fist connected with her face and Damian wriggled away from her.

“Let me think about that, Red. What could go wrong if I, a meta used to fighting other metas, tried to use force against a human child?”

Okay, yeah. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t tried anything.

Oddly enough, when Tim walked over and replaced Marinette, Damian started behaving immediately.

He frowned, tipping his head to the side confusedly. He picked up his younger brother and stood up. “Why’d he start freaking out?”

She did the exact opposite of standing up, opting to spread out in the grass and glare at the sky. “I don’t know. He just started freaking out when I tried to put the watch around his neck.”

“Weird,” he mumbled.

“Yeah.”

He took the time to look around properly for once. They were in a park but it must have been a weekday because there was hardly anyone around. The only people that had paid them any mind were a group of teenagers -- probably ditching, he thought -- that were staring at them with wide eyes.

Tim glanced at a street sign to make sure the common language was English before sending them a glare. “It’s rude to stare, y’know.”

The teenagers quickly looked down at their phones. Tim knew better than to believe that they were actually paying attention, they had the same posture that a lot of lookouts did, but whatever. No one would believe them, anyways.

He gave her a few more minutes before he adjusted his hold on Damian and offered a hand up.

Ladybug took it with a faint smile and he pulled her to her feet. She grabbed their discarded suitcase and they started walking aimlessly.

“Okay, we’re here… but we still need a cover.”

“Um… you’re the one that’s good at hacking, right?”

He nodded. Damian reached a hand out of the blanket and began touching his hair. He was too busy wondering what to do to really mind.

“Great. How about… we’re the kid’s siblings?”

“We can pass as his parents. I mean, it’d be a teen pregnancy but it wouldn’t be bad,” said Tim. “We still had him at eighteen-ish.”

She shook her head. “He’s darker than both of us, it wouldn’t make sense. Maybe I had him with some… darker guy and now you’re my boyfriend? No, that feels racist for some reason. I’m his half-sister, our parents died, and you’re my boyfriend.”

Tim frowned. “Why am I always the boyfriend? He’s my brother.”

“Well, frankly, you look nothing like him. He and I, at least, have similar noses.”

He scowled. It made sense but it still annoyed him. “Fine. I’m your husband, though. I want to have at least some rights.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Guess that’s good for tax benefits, too. Better get me a cute ring.”

“Okay, but the diamond is going to be fake.”

“Cheapskate.”

“Cheskae,” Damian said, yanking Tim’s hair like the little shit he was.

“See, he agrees,” Ladybug said with a victorious grin.

They went up to a hotel (Red Robin had tried to talk her into a five-star one but she managed to bring it down to a two-star when showing him the cost) and tried to reserve a room.

“May I have a name for the reservation?” The nice lady at the front counter said, smiling at them.

Red Robin glanced up from where he was awkwardly bouncing with the baby in his arms to shoot her A Look. It was unfortunate that she had no clue what the look meant. She considered the question for a moment before eventually saying:

“Dupain-Cheng.”

Red Robin relaxed a little so she was pretty sure she had gotten it right.

She hesitantly took the baby from him -- the kid had apparently forgotten about his earlier freakout because he was just as weirdly still as he had been back in Gotham -- so he could pay.

The moment they got into the hotel room she fell back in the bed. The baby squirmed a little on her stomach to get comfortable before joining her in her laziness.

Red Robin sighed and sat next to them, resting his head in his hands. “Okay. We’re going to need supplies for him. Do you want to do a supply run or should I?”

She shrugged a little, much to the baby’s dismay. Have you ever had a baby babble angrily at you? It’s very cute.

“You’re so helpful. Thanks, Ladybug.”

“No problem,” she said as if she couldn’t hear the blatant sarcasm in his tone. Then she pushed herself up to squint at him, the baby sliding down to her lap smoothly. “Wait, are we still going to be using codenames?”

He frowned. “Obviously.”

“... for fifteen years?”

“Obviously.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great, so when we take the kid back we’re going to explain to him that, on top of all the adjustment of moving to a different dimension, he needs to now use a different name for you, and messing up isn’t an option. Also, I feel like people are going to question two random people called ‘Red Robin’ and ‘Ladybug’ at some point.”

Red Robin frowned, clearly thinking hard, and then nodded slightly. He removed his glasses and looked at her with an awkward smile. “This is Damian, I’m Tim.”

She raised her eyebrows because he was looking at her expectantly and she really didn’t know what he wanted from her. “Uh… am I supposed to know you?”

“I mean… kinda?”

She squinted at him for a while before shrugging. “That one guy? Timothy --.”

“Yep!”

“-- Chalamet?”

He looked oddly hurt now. “You think I look like Timothy Chalamet?”

“I mean you both have the same sickly Victorian boy look about you.”

“... for the sake of our fake marriage I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that. I’m Tim Drake.” She still didn’t show any hint of recognition (probably because she didn’t recognize him) so he groaned and motioned to Damian. “This is Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne? Like Waynetech?”

“There you go,” he said.

She grinned at him. “It’s not my fault you made me guess.”

He huffed a little. “Alright, fine, then who are you, then?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“... who’s that?”

“A nobody. Like secret identities should be,” she said, giving him a smug look.

He rolled his eyes. “I feel like this is going to be a long fifteen years.”

“Shouldn’t have dragged me into your mess, now you gotta deal with the consequences.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. She returned it. So did the baby.

It was decided that Marinette should be the one to go on a supply run since Tim needed to start making identities for them.

… it would be a lot easier if there wasn’t a baby crawling all over him. She’d better get a crib while she was out because he didn’t know if he could deal with a baby smashing the keys for much longer.

“Dami -- no, stop, I -- I swear to god -- you’re a baby okay I can literally just drop you and you would -- please stop --,” Tim cut off his irritated rambling when Damian nearly got them on a good few government watchlists by smashing the keys at the wrong time.

Fed up, he grabbed the kid and set him on the ground. It’ll probably be fine. He only needed to do a few quick things, anyways.

He was shocked to find that there was a version of him in this world. The idea of a Tim who didn’t do vigilante-work was foreign to him. He had apparently stayed with his parents and was now working towards a business degree. This dimension’s Tim wasn’t nearly as famous as he was and the three of them had landed in Texas so it was unlikely that he would be recognized but he would prefer not using the name if he didn’t have to. Just to be safe.

Damian didn’t exist, as far as he could tell, but Bruce Wayne did and he was still famous so it wouldn’t be a good idea to use his last name either.

There was a version of Marinette, too, but she was currently in France helping her parents run their bakery. Very little chance of her getting recognized.

So, he decided to use her last name for all of them. Quick and easy. He’d have to tell her that he changed her birthplace to New Jersey when she got back to the hotel but he doubted she’d have much of a problem with that.

… oh. His phone was ringing. Apparently he could tell her now.

He picked up and wedged it between his ear and his shoulder as he worked at finding them a few social security numbers to… ‘borrow’.

“Yeah?”

“How big is the baby?”

Tim blinked a few times. “... baby sized?”

“No. Like… what size diaper do you think he would use?”

He scoffed. “Do I look like I would know the diaper sizes?”

“Do I look like I do? Just… how old do you think he is?”

Tim looked over the edge of the bed to where Damian was currently shaking Kaalki like she was a maraca. Kaalki, for her part, only looked vaguely annoyed as she bounced around in his tiny baby fists.

“I dunno. Like… a year-ish? Just buy one of everything we can see what fits.”

“Fucking hell I forgot you were rich. You said a year? I’m using that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay -- OH SHIT DAMIAN NO!”

He tumbled out of bed and raced over to Damian before he could stick his finger in a socket. He didn’t really know if that was enough to get shocked but this was not the way to find out.

Damian was apparently very annoyed about him foiling his attempt at dying because he squirmed around in his grip and yelled incomprehensibly. Tim ignored the baby fists trying to knock his teeth out -- his teeth had faced far worse before -- and scooted across the ground to his phone.

“-- to god, Tim, what happened if you don’t answer I will run over there --.”

“It’s fine. Just get… you know the things that cover electrical sockets? Make sure to get some of those,” he said, tipping his head back to rest against the bed so he could kind of relax despite the ball of anger in his arms.

Marinette groaned. “Fuck, you can’t just scare me like that.”

“Yeah, you were the one that suffered the most during that.”

She scoffed but he swore he could hear a tiny laugh hidden under her mumbled ‘shut up’.

He smiled a little.

She didn’t hang up, probably expecting to ask him something else soon, so he listened in idly as he tried to calm Damian down enough to start working again.

She mumbled to herself while she looked for things. Some of the speech was normal but most of it was pretty much as incomprehensible as Damian’s babbling (admittedly, it probably didn’t help that he was only half paying attention).

“... tty trai… now?... oh... alright… oh, great, does she work here?” She murmured to herself. Then, louder: “Hey, lady --!”

“We’re in Texas,” he reminded her. “People are expected to be more polite down here.”

He was too late. Someone started yelling on Marinette’s end and, if the tiny sigh of annoyance was anything to go off of, it wasn’t her.

The yelling lasted approximately five minutes before someone intervened.

He heard her speak in rapid Spanish to the employee and, to his surprise, he could actually understand every word of them talking shit about the lady who had screamed at her. He didn’t know what to think of this outside of pulling the phone away from his mouth so he could try and roll an r. He was delighted to find that he had gained that ability as well. He continued rolling his tongue.

Damian stopped his squirming and gave Tim a confused look… and then he started to giggle. He twisted around in Tim’s lap and started trying to mimic the sound.

He tried to hide his smile as the two of them kept making r sounds at each other. He didn’t think he’d succeeded at keeping his face relatively neutral, but he didn’t really mind.

~~~~~

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess

#made a complex story with distinct arcs and heist vibes #and then released a story about two idiots raising a kid #and somehow i was surprised that people liked the second one better #i know im good at fluff its just really draining to do it all the time #but i rely so much on feedback at this point for serotonin that now I'm doing both #idk what ill do when school starts up tbh #into the unknown #maribat #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Weather the Storm

An Overboard Addition

For @the-darkdragonfly because it’s her birthday!!!!!!!

What started as a fluffy little addition to Overboard, one of my more popular fics that Kay loves, became something… angsty as heck. But not to worry, there’s more where this came from.

There are brief mentions of miscarriage in this piece. Please take care of yourself and remember you’re always welcome to message me with questions.

Thank you endlessly to @donteattheappleshook for beta-ing this

Rated E

~8600 words

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

Emma pulls the cable knit sweater over her head and smoothes it over her hips, noting the way it falls perfectly just above her ass in her tight jeans and smirking at her reflection in the mirror. Killian loves when she wears his clothes, and she can’t wait to drive him mad in front of his crew for the entire day.

“ Bloody hell ,” he breathes as he walks into their bedroom, stopping short with his hand on the door handle. She smirks again, turning to face him with a smile.

“Like my outfit?”

“You stole my sweater,” he accuses, although she can see the way the corner of his lips tick up with a small smile he tries to fight off.

“The cream color matches so well with these black jeans. Don’t you think?”

Stepping towards her, he shakes his head as he eyes her up and down. “I must say, I agree.”

“Hmm,” she hums with false pensivity, pouting her lip. “You don’t look very happy.”

Wrapping his hands over her waist, he pulls her close to himself until his hips press against hers and she can feel that he is, in fact, quite happy. “Perhaps that’s because my beautiful wife is trying to make me late for work.”

She giggles as their lips collide, his hands sliding up the back of her sweater so that she can feel the cold metal of his new wedding band chilling her skin. Her giggling subsides when his tongue slides against her, the sweet, bitter taste of his morning coffee waking her senses and making her fingers tighten around the hair at the nape of his neck.

She grinds her hips against his hardening length, causing him to groan as his grip on her tightens, bringing her even closer to him and making her want to shed the cozy sweater she borrowed and toss him onto the bed they share. “Killian,” she breathes into his mouth desperately, scratching her fingers down into the black and silver hair on his chest.

He bites on her bottom lip before pulling away, effectively making her head spin at the loss of contact between them. “You can’t trick me again, temptress. It’s time to leave.”

“ Trick you?! When have I ever tricked you?”

Pointing a finger at her, he eyes her down suspiciously and says, “A lady as tantalizing and mysterious as you must certainly be some manner of siren, or vixen, or--”

She cuts him off with a kiss, pulling at the collar of his sweater with her greedy fingers. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not a bloody mermaid. I love you. ”

She feels him sigh, his breath washing over her face in a soothing warmth, and he nods. “Aye. I suppose I sometimes just can’t wrap my head around how lucky I am to be married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

With another hum, she closes her eyes and presses a final, soft kiss to his lips. “Well, get used to it, buddy. You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Good.”

“Now, hurry up. You’ve made us late.”

~~~~

“Good morning, wife,” Will greets cheerfully, dropping a chaste kiss to Emma’s cheek and shooting Killian a smirk and waggling brows. “I sure am excited to have you on board with us.”

“Me too,” Emma smiles. “I think I’ll be your good luck charm. How many are we catching?”

“If we don’t catch three, you may not be invited back,” Robin jokes.

With a scoff and a roll to her eyes, she says, “Please. As if you have any say. My husband can’t say no to me.”

“Can’t blame him,” Will agrees.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Killian mumbles as he drops the bag they brought into his quarters. “There’d better be bait on this deck.”

“Aye, Captain. Caught it meself this morning while you and the wife were--“

Killian laughs when he realizes what’s happened; when he sees the small heron flopping across the deck upon Emma throwing it at Will, successfully shutting him up.

The sun shines brightly against her skin, causing her cheeks to pink as she lounges on the bow, giving him a distracting view as he tries to navigate through the sea of weekend fishermen to his favorite secluded spot. Sure, she’s still fully dressed, but something about seeing her in his sweater makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and his jeans feel tight.

“No funny business while we’re on board, aye Captain?”

Killian grumbles inaudibly in Will’s direction, rolling his eyes, and demands, “All the lines had best be out, Scarlet.”

“Aye, all but the ones on the bow. Don’t want to disturb the beauty.”

“Stop looking at my bloody wife,” he grumbles, earning a smirk from his deckhand.

He meets her later, when Will and Robin have completed their tasks and find themselves lounging on the deck waiting for a bite. His heart flutters when he watches her turn towards him, a beaming smile decorating her face and the color of her eyes catching the sun. He smiles back, crawling across the small, slightly slippery expanse of the deck. “You look nice and warm.”

“You look nice.”

He chuckles softly at her blatant flirting as he moves to lie beside her on the deck. “May I join you?”

“Please do.”

She’s quick to move beside him, the towel she brought to lounge on scrunching between them as she curls up to his side. She smells of sea and sunscreen and something that’s so painfully her that his arms move involuntarily to wrap around her, his lips pressing a firm and longing kiss to her temple. ��I’m glad you came,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible to even himself over the sound of the crashing waves.

“Me too,” she agrees. “It’s nice. Your job doesn’t seem too hard.”

“Oh, aye?” he laughs, rolling her so that she’s on her back beneath him, cognizant not to throw them overboard. He knows she’s joking; she knows how difficult and dangerous his work can be. But her playfulness is impossible to ignore. “About as easy as being the Sheriff, I’m sure.”

She giggles under the weight of him, her grin beaming in the sun until he consumes it with his own lips. He slides his tongue along her bottom lip, suddenly taken by the comfort that being with her brings him. The gentle touch of her wandering hands sliding up his back, pushing his sweater away, sends a shiver down his spine. The cold weight of the white gold rings on her finger reminds him of how far they’ve come. She’s his wife .

“You know,” she growls against his mouth, “The waves will probably have a very interesting effect when we do it later.”

He bites down on her bottom lip, just a bit harder than he means to and drawing from her a whine and giggle all at once. “And what have you done to deserve that?”

“I’m your good luck charm,” she says confidently against the shell of his ear, one hand sliding from his rear to the front of his trousers and squeezing until he breathlessly ruts against her palm. He’s always awestruck by her, but the way she can make him behave like this despite knowing that his mates are just on the other deck makes him feel like a teenager again. “You’re gonna catch big today, baby. I can feel it.”

“Aye, you’ll feel it alright.”

Her laughter rings through his ears again, but the blissful sound is interrupted by the raucous shouts of his mates announcing the small blips on their radar. They’re marking fish, several tuna swimming beneath his boat, and it kills him to pull away from her in favor of checking the bait and praying for a hookup.

“We’re on!” Will screams excitedly, and he can hear the scream of the reel being pulled out by a sea monster.

Emma scurries from beneath him, hastily hurrying towards the starboard side so that she can head back towards the deck. She’s always excited to see him work, to see what goes into his livelihood, and she’s made him promise to let her reel at least once.

Will jumps on the reel while Robin pulls in the others, careful not to allow the lines to tangle, and Emma stands beside the wheel while Killian steers. He needs to stay on top of the fish so that they don’t run out of line, he explains, and she watches his careful and diligent movements, his sweater dampened by the ocean spray and clinging to the muscles in his shoulders. She can’t help but bite her lip.

He asks her to take the wheel and she’s nervous, worried that her screwup could mean their loss. But he directs her perfectly, telling her when to put the boat into neutral and when to reverse, where to steer and when. Eventually, Robin shouts that he can see the fish, and her eyes bug out of her head at the sheer size of it. She’s seen plenty of tuna at the docks, many of them several feet longer than she is tall, but to see one in the water is stunning.

Killian takes the harpoon in his grip, lining it up and setting his jaw tightly in concentration. His brows draw close together, his empty arm lifting in front of him so that he can visualize the course to his target, and in a move that’s almost too quick to comprehend, he draws his chest and shoulder back and launches the harpoon into the water, grunting deeply as he strikes.

Her cheeks go red.

Her husband is so damn hot.

They work together to hoist the beast onto the deck, it’s sheer size and weight overpowering and breathtaking. They measure its length, and Robin calls out that the fish is 112 inches, a record for the Jolly Roger .

“You are lucky,” Killian laughs, pointing at her playfully as he stands. He bounds towards her, scooping her up and spinning her carefully as Will and Robin groan quietly. She giggles as he kisses her everywhere, his lips landing on her cheeks, her nose, her lips… she can’t get enough of the love he has for her.

They catch one more fish while she’s sunbathing, their joyous, celebratory shouting music to her ears as she listens to the sounds of her husband’s success. Neither of them have very conventional jobs, but she couldn’t be prouder of him, of them , for making a life together that they can both take pride in.

He worried when she took the job as sheriff, the last one being killed in the line of duty not settling his nerves one bit. It was the fuel for one of their first fights as a couple, a few months before their intimate beach wedding. And although the argument was difficult, she never once doubted that they would work through it.

They’ve worked through plenty of things, hardly any of them actual disagreements. The one thing she worried may have caused turmoil between them turned out to be nothing at all. Her shy confession that she’s never desired to have children was met with unconditional understanding and kindness, his words nearly drawing tears to her eyes each time she thinks back on them.

“ I planned on spending the remainder of my life alone. I never really had an opinion either way. I’ll be the happiest man alive if I just get to spend the rest of my days with you.”

They married mere months later, her parents and brother on her side and his mates on his. She would’ve been happy enough to have it just be them and them alone, but he reminded her of what being there would mean for her family. Calling them that still sits strangely with her to this day, but ever since she and her father opened up to one another, her relationship with her parents has been much improved.

All she ever wanted was love and understanding. She has that, and so much more, with her husband, and there’s really nothing more she could ask for.

~~~~

The sun’s nearly set by the time they make it to the docks, Emma’s father waiting for them and giving a friendly wave when he sees them approaching. Her arms slink around his middle while he steers them towards the dock, head resting on the sore space between his shoulder blades. She pushes a firm kiss there, then another, her fingers clinging to his sweater as he shuts off the engine.

He lets out a soft, gentle chuckle when she kisses his neck just below his ear, knowing she must be on her toes and just barely able to reach. She isn’t especially short, not much shorter than he is, but the way he can envelope her in his arms sends happy warmth through his veins. She kisses the space between his shoulder blades and scratches against his stomach as he navigates next to the dock and waits for Will to tie them off.

“Got two big ones for ya, Dave!” Will shouts when they arrive, and Emma kisses his back once more before pulling away to greet her father. Standing at the wheel, they aren't in David’s direct line of sight, and for that, Killian’s grateful. He can’t ever get enough of his wife’s touch, but he also doesn’t love the idea of her father watching them. “112 incher! Gotta be a thousand pounder!”

“Let’s see,” he returns as Emma steps onto the dock, taking her father’s hand for support.

“Hey,” she says as she leans in for a hug. It’s taken her a while, but she’s known her parents for over a year now, and she’s finally starting to become more comfortable with them. It was difficult at first, knowing that she was given up and replaced by her younger brother a few years later. But she and her parents have had a series of eye-opening conversations, and she’s found herself more and more willing to accept the love that they want to give her with each passing day.

She’s grown increasingly closer to her father over the last few months, finding that his unconditional acceptance of her warms her heart in ways that she never expected. Truthfully, despite being raised by a mother who loved her endlessly, having her father in her life changed everything. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Good day?” he asks when he releases her.

“Very good. I’m good luck.”

“Of course you are,” he chuckles, turning on the crane so that they can lift the massive fish out of the boat. Once it’s dressed, it weighs in at just over 800 pounds, Will and Robin shouting and high fiving each other and Killian gently resting his chin on her shoulder from behind to press a kiss to her cheek in quiet celebration. She doesn’t miss his grin, the one that carves deep lines into his cheeks and the sides of his eyes, and all she wants to do is turn around and hold him tight, never content to let him go.

They’re offered a hefty price tag for their catch, the smaller of the two weighing almost 500 pounds, and each of them celebrate with more high fives and hugs. Once the boat is cleaned, Killian sends Robin and Will home early for their hard work. She finds her place behind him again as he drives the boat through the harbor, navigating expertly through other boats and docks until he finds his place at the dock just outside of the home they share.

“We have to go to dinner tonight,” she remarks when the engine stops and a calm silence settles over them both. “My mom is cooking.”

“Aye, love,” he agrees softly, turning to face her and placing both hands on her hips. She lets her fingers trail along his jaw, combing gently through the hair spread across his face that’s getting too long to be considered stubble.

“I like this,” she whispers.

“You don’t think it makes me look like an old man? I haven't shaved in days.”

With a coy smile, she says, “I didn't say it doesn't make you look like an old man, I just happen to like my silver fox of a husband.”

He hums doubtfully, rolling his eyes and giving her a shy smirk that makes it impossible for her to stop herself from pressing onto her toes and kissing him. His beard scratches against her chin when they deepen it simultaneously, the burn delicious and enough for her to crave his mouth everywhere , but they don’t have time. He has to finish putting the boat away and she has to head to her parent’s house to help with dinner. The knowledge that the honeymoon is truly over sets in, and she pouts when they break apart.

“I love you,” he whispers, his forehead pressed to hers and his breath washing over tingling lips.

He can never fail to make her heart race in her chest, beating so forcefully against her ribs that she’s relying on the strength of his arms to hold her up. “I love you, too,” she whispers back, letting her eyes flutter shut against the wind whipping against their hair and in response to the sudden and palpable tension between them. It’s begging to be broken, each of them craving the touch of the other, needing to express their love for each other however they can, but there’s no time. “How long will it take you to clean up here?”

“No more than an hour.”

“We don’t have to stay at my parents’ long,” she murmurs, her lips nearly touching his with each word. All she wants is to be with him. It isn’t just a sexaul desire that she has for him; she needs to be with him. She needs to be touching him. She can’t stand to be apart from him, or to sit in a room with him and not be touching him.

“It’s alright, my love,” he whispers. “Being with your family is important. Despite how desperately I crave you, I'm willing to wait.”

“You might be, but I'm certainly not.”

He laughs loudly, the sound of his glee cutting through the noisy waves and making her heart soar and her grin grow painfully. “I’ll meet you there. I won’t be long; I promise to make quick work of the old girl.”

She nods, kissing him chastely despite her desires and humming in agreement. “As long as you promise not to make quick work of your decidedly much younger girl.”

“You make me sound like a predator,” he laughs.

“No, I told you: you’re my sexy silver fox husband and I'm your young, gorgeous trophy wife.”

“Of course, my love. Whatever you say.”

She lets out a giggle, a sound that would have been so unlike her a year ago, kisses him once more, and regretfully pulls away from him. “I love you,” she says again. “I’ll see you in an hour. I’ll be the one looking devastatingly beautiful.”

“As usual.”

~~~~

“Your dad called,” Mary Margaret announced once they had gotten settled, each of them standing side by side preparing dinner. Emma has been put on chopping duty, and she’s decidedly avoiding the onions. “He said Killian made out very well today. That’s great.”

“Yeah, they did really well. Two fish were over a thousand pounds.”

“Wow,” she smiles, stirring the pasta after pouring it into the boiling water. “That’s impressive. You guys will have a nice nest egg soon enough.”

Emma purses her lips as she finishes chopping a carrot, nodding slowly and unsurely. “I guess. I mean, we both have savings.”

“Oh, I know,” her mother says, taking the chopped carrot and tossing it into a skillet as Emma starts working on the cursed onion. “I meant more for… extra expenses,” she clarifies unhelpfully, giving Emma a presumptuous smile.

She stays quiet for a few moments, trying to consider her mother’s words but letting confusion take over as she tosses the onion into the skillet and Mary Margaret adds olive oil. Moving to the sink to wash her hands, she says, “I mean, we’re happy at the cottage. Maybe Killian would want a new boat soon.”

With a soft giggle as she tosses the vegetables together, Marg Margaret adds a can of tomatoes, causing a raucous sizzle. “Honey, I was referring to… I mean… maybe a baby is in our future? I can’t wait to be a grandma!”

Emma chokes on her own breath, reaching for her glass of wine and taking a generous swig. “Well, grandma, we’ll have to ask Leo to hurry up.”

“Leo,” she laughs, shaking her head. “He’s too young. You, on the other hand, are happily married and at prime child bearing age.”

“Mom…” Emma starts, laughing awkwardly. “I’m not having kids.”

The horror with which she drops her spatula into the skillet, as if what Emma just said is the most unbelievable piece of information she’s ever heard, sends a wave of anger through her veins. The complete shock in her mother’s face at her desire not to bring a child into this world makes Emma’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

Mary Margaret had a baby and gave her away. How could she expect her daughter, the very one who was left abandoned for years, to have a child herself?

Emma’s never wanted kids. She’s always felt this way, like if she had a baby and something happened to her, they would grow up exactly like she did. How could she bring a baby into the world and risk putting them through what she went through?

How could her own mother not understand that?

“You’re not?”

“No,” she answers definitively, the set of her jaw almost painful.

“Oh,” she says with a soft nod. She adds beef to her bolognese in silence, a thick tension settling in the room.

The quiet is awkward, and the longer it lasts, the angrier Emma feels. It’s because she knows what Mary Margaret is thinking. She knows that she’s hurt by Emma’s announcement that she doesn’t plan on having children with her husband. She’s having trouble believing it; she’s struggling to see why Emma wouldn’t want to experience the joys of motherhood.

It’s annoying, and it’s making Emma angry, but nothing compares to the rage that waves through her when Mary Margaret speaks again.

“Does Killian know?”

Her eyes bug out of her head, the glass she was holding dropping onto the countertop too loudly. “ What?”

“I just… I wondered if he agreed…”

“We’re married, ” she answers immediately. Her voice is low, almost a growl in her throat as she tries to stay calm.

“I know, I just…”

“You just thought that maybe I tricked him into marrying me? Maybe I didn’t tell him my foolish idea to stay childless until after we’d tied the knot? You thought that my desire to spend the rest of my life with my husband and with the freedom of not having kids comes second to a man wanting an heir?”

“ Emma, I never--”

“You didn’t have to! You didn’t have to say a thing. Did you really think we wouldn’t discuss something like this before we even got engaged?”

With a sigh, she says, “Sweetheart, of course. I misspoke. I’m sorry. I was just surprised.”

“Surprised?” she asks, trying to calm her voice.

“I mean… I just figured you two would want that. It seems like a natural next step.” Emma’s quiet for a moment, making herself even out her breath and preparing to respond calmly before her mother speaks again. “And I’ve seen how happy Killian seems to be around little Alexandra.”

She feels her heart rate picking up again, and she forces herself to take a moment, having a sip of wine before responding. “So, you’re saying he couldn’t possibly be happy unless I pop out a few kids?”

“Oh, honey… that’s not--”

Her answer is too slow. She can’t defend herself immediately or easily, and that’s all Emma needed to know.

“Okay, I get it,” she says quietly just as David opens the door followed closely by Leo.

“Everything okay?” her father asks

“Great,” she grumbles sarcastically. “Enjoy dinner.”

“Emma!”

She doesn’t turn back, grabbing her wallet and moving past her brother without so much as a word, ignoring her mother’s pleas for her to stay with them. With her family. She can’t.

~~~~

It had only been forty minutes by the time he finished, proud of himself for making such quick work of cleaning his vessel. The image of his stunning wife sitting across from him at the dinner table, surrounded by the family she never thought she’d have, was enough motivation for him to hurry up and meet her.

At least, he thought that was his plan, until he hears angry footsteps stalking against his dock and he knows there’s no other person they can belong to other than his fiery wife. She has a penchant for heated anger, and the sounds she’s making are unmistakable. He only pities whomever put her in such a state, and prays that it wasn’t him.

She reaches the edge of the dock, hands in fists on her hips and jaw set tensely as she stares down at him. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asks, hearing her barely-audible growl in response.

She stalks onto the boat, jumping the few feet onto the deck, and approaches him quickly. Before he knows what hits him, her lips are on his, tackling him against the wheel of the boat and making him thankful that the engine is off.

Her fingers find the hem of his sweater, easily tugging it over his head and exposing his bare arms to the chilly harbor air. He lets out a surprised grunt when her hands land on his stomach under his shirt, scratching through the smattering of hair lower and lower until she grasps his belt and pulls his hips against hers. “Love,” he grumbles against her mouth, and as he opens his lips to speak, her tongue finds his.

She deftly undoes his buckle, humming into his mouth and pushing him until his back is against the exterior wall of the cabin, her hands moving from his belt up to his chest beneath his shirt. A groan escapes her throat through their tangled lips as she lets her palms explore, moving from his chest around to his back and sliding down until she can tug his shirt off, too. He shivers, partially against the cold but mostly in response to her.

“Emma,” he tries again as she drops lower, her tongue swirling against his nipple as her fingers undo the button and zipper of his jeans. “Baby--”

She bites him, making him hiss and surely leaving a mark. “I need you,” she says once she’s looking up at him, her eyes dark and desperate. “Now.”

“Bloody hell,” he breathes as she drops to her knees, lifting her own shirt off and exposing her hardened nipples to the bite of the evening air. She pulls his jeans down effortlessly, his cock springing to attention responsively despite her surprise attack, and he feels his pulse quickening as she bites her lip at the sight of him.

“Fuck,” she says before licking a long strip up to the tip, sucking it into the heat of her mouth. He shudders, his hands finding her hair and tangling into it, trying hard not to take control. She whimpers when he hits the back of her throat, her eyes meeting his in the dim moonlight.

His head falls back against the window when he sees her stirring on her knees, tucking a hand into her leggings and swirling it over her clit. He’s suddenly consumed with a need for her, a need to taste her, to hear her sing for him. He pulls on her hair and she moans around him, making him pant and tug once more before she releases him with a smirk on her swollen lips. “What is it?” she asks, her voice rough in her throat.

Breathless, he shakes his head minutely, intent to find out what’s gotten into her eventually, but also just as intent to be the thing that’s gotten into her and suddenly not feeling very patient about it. He releases his grip on her hair and moves his palms to her cheeks, brushing them with his thumbs before encouraging her to stand again. “Off with these,” he insists in a growl, pulling on the elastic waistband of her leggings as she stands and letting it snap against the small of her back. She yelps playfully, finally smiling and letting out the soft giggle that he always craves, pushing her obvious anger to the side for a moment.

“Aye aye, Captain,” she murmurs, catching his lips with hers again and swirling her tongue against his just as she had done against the tip of his cock. It makes a shiver run up his spine.

He hums, the sound rumbling through his chest, and says, “Ah, so it’s the Captain you want?” as his fingers find her sopping core.

“I need you,” she returns desperately. Her nails dig into the skin of his shoulders as he spins her, pushing her back against the wall he was leaning on and dropping quickly to his knees before her. He couldn’t even begin to consider not giving in to her. He needs her more than he needs to breathe, ready to drop anything at a moment's notice to pleasure her if only to be rewarded with the sinful, intoxicating sound of her moaning his name.

Her fingers cling to his hair, her hips bucking forward towards him as soon as his mouth latches onto her swollen clit, and he says exactly what he knows will make her squirm. Pushing her hips back, he chastises, “Behave, love.”

He’s met with a breathless, desperate whimper, Emma dropping her head back against the window behind her as he swirls his tongue over her. Her hips continue to dance over his mouth as if it’s impossible for her to remain still, and she pulls his hair particularly hard when he hums against her sensitive flesh. “Don’t stop,” she begs, one hand in his hair and the other bracing herself against the wheel tower. When he curls a finger into her, dragging it out against her tight walls and then thrusting back in, she lets out a shout and bucks her hips again.

He bites the flesh of her inner thigh as punishment and moves his mouth back to her core before mumbling, “Be good for me, that’s it,” and earning another moan and shudder. He feels her tightening around his finger and takes it as a cue to add another, making her cry out his name.

With a few more thrusts and strokes of his tongue, he feels her tense, her legs quivering under her own weight as she lets out a high pitched, nearly silent scream, her brows woven tightly together and her jaw dropped. She’s so stunning like this, his wife, and he has to slow his ministrations over her clit so that he can get a good look at her falling apart above him.

There’s nowhere he’d rather be.

“There’s a good girl,” he says into her sensitive flesh, earning a full-body shiver and another soft, needy hum. “Alright?”

Her chest is heaving, her breasts glowing in the moonlight under a sheen of sweat, and she shakes her head. “I need you,” she says again, dragging him up to her and falling back against the wall when he stands against her. His lips find hers easily when she drags him to her, and she hums against his mouth as her tongue explores against his.

“You’re very needy,” he agrees into her mouth, earning a nod. “And I perish the thought of not delivering.”

“Good,” she mumbles. The gasp that escapes her lips when he picks her up doesn’t stop her from locking her ankles around his hips. She groans when he slides into her, and it feels like coming home. They fit so flawlessly together, he can’t help but to groan as well and drop his head to the window she’s pressed against, his lips pressing to the top of her shoulder. “ Fuck. Don’t stop.”

This is never an easy position to be in, especially with his age and with the waves of the harbor making him unsteady on his feet. Needing to support the weight of the both of them is difficult, but the way she clenched around him makes it infinitely worth it. He’s still rather fit for his age, exercising daily through his job, and he’s always glad for it when he can elicit these sounds from his wife.

She claws at his back desperately, begging to get closer to him despite it being impossible. With each thrust, she bites onto his shoulder or sucks on the lobe of his ear or kisses his neck, a moan that must be too loud meeting each drive of his hips. He pivots his hips just slightly so that he’s certain he’s supporting her weight, then moves one hand from the back of her thigh and presses his fingers to where he knows she needs him. The action earns another clench of her muscles and a cry of pleasure, his name ringing in his ear as she calls for him and tells him she’s close.

“Harder,” she begs, and it’s a clear indication that something’s happened to upset her. She doesn’t want it like this unless she’s bothered by something. Unless she’s hurt by something. He obliges, content to let her use him for the comfort that she needs as he drives into her harder, making the boat rock and creak against the dock. He’s only glad that it’s his own private property, lest the whole town hear them.

“Killian, I’m--” her words catch in her throat as the circles he draws quicken.

“Come on, angel, come for me. I want to feel you come on my cock,” he says into her ear, knowing that his words and the whispering breath on her skin will bring her to the edge.

She bites his shoulder, most definitely leaving a mark but successfully stifling her cry as she shudders around him. He feels her muscles tensing with her orgasm and he continues his ministrations on her clit for as long as he can, reveling in the jerking movements that her release is eliciting before he can’t hold on any longer. He spills into her, cursing as he does, at the feeling of her taking everything he has to offer and clinging to him as if seeking more.

They stay still for a while, longer than he can keep track of, until his legs begin to shake under the weight of the both of them and he has to release her thigh from his grip. She drops down to the deck but doesn’t let him go, continuing to hug him close to her and nestling her head into the crook of his neck. He lifts his hand to cradle her gently against him.

“I love you,” he reminds her pointlessly. She already knows.

She hums, nodding against his neck and pressing a soft kiss there, one that drastically contrasted the way she was touching him moments ago. “Sorry for jumping you. I love you, too.”

“Aye,” he laughs, scratching his fingers over her scalp in the way he knows she loves. He feels her shudder against him, either because of the sensation or because of the evening breeze blowing over her bare skin. “Is that something you’re ready to talk about?”

He feels her shaking her head immediately, before he even finishes his question, and he fights off the urge to sigh, choosing instead to hold her closer to himself and press a kiss to the top of her head. He knows if he waits long enough, she’ll sigh and give in, but at this second, she isn’t ready to talk. He’ll wait for her.

After a few moments of calming silence, the only sound between them the gentle waves lapping against the boat and the wind swirling around them, she lets out a frustrated groan and lifts her head. She stares into his eyes, the emerald jewels difficult to read. “You’re too emotionally mature for me,” she finally says as she walks into the cabin in search of a tissue.

He laughs lightly, following her closely, and responds, “You know the deal, my love. You’re only allowed to fuck me through your feelings if we talk about them afterwards.”

Rolling her eyes, she turns towards him, shamelessly exposing her nude form to him and making him wonder how it’s even possible for a man his age to shorten his refractory time. “ Way too mature.”

“Come,” he requests, holding out his hand to her once they’re cleaned up.

“I just did, thank you very much,” she responds with a smirk, one that tells him that she’s fighting tooth and nail against any conversation remotely related to her feelings.

“Twice, if I recall.” He grabs a knit blanket from the small tattered couch in the cabin and takes her hand, guiding her outside and towards the starboard side of the boat. He climbs up and onto the bow, Emma following him closely until they’re lounging in each other’s arms and he’s able to wrap the thick blanket over them. He loves her confidence, her complete comfort with herself evidenced by her silent refusal to get dressed despite them being out in the open, and he’s happy to stay naked with her if only to feel her soft skin against his.

“I love you,” she finally whispers into the quiet settled between them. “A lot.”

He pulls her impossibly closer, every part of him touching every part of her, and responds, “I know you do, darling. I’ve never doubted that.”

“I just--” she sighs, dropping her head dramatically against his chest. The moonlight shines against her hair, making it appear even more platinum than usual. “I love you. I love our life together.”

“Angel,” he breathes, “I wouldn’t trade our life together for anything, you know that.”

“I need to tell you something,” she whispers against his skin. “Something about my past… when I was young.”

“You know you can tell me anything, Emma. I’ll never judge you, especially not for something that happened when you were young.”

She stays quiet for a moment longer, her fingers gently tracing patterns over his chest and through the black and silver hair peppering over his skin. She’s always had a fascination with his chest hair, never able to keep herself from touching it when it’s exposed to her. Aside from the comfort it brings her to comb through the soft, thick hair with her fingertips, it also serves as an effective distraction against her nausea at the thought of opening up to him.

It’s ridiculous, really. He’s her husband, for goodness sake. She’s never felt this comfortable around anyone in her entire life; not her parents, not the woman who raised her. He’s successfully broken down nearly every wall she put up, and she feels the guilt settling deep in her gut as she considers breaking down this one and letting him see her whole truth.

“Killian,” she whispers against the gentle sea breeze. “I’m… I’ve never wanted kids.”

She feels him breathe out softly and nod, and she wonders what he’s thinking. Is it relief? Is it regret?

“I know, my love,” he comforts. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I just… I never told you…”

“Emma, your reasonings are entirely understandable. I respect the decision you’ve made, and, as I've told you, I’m perfectly content to live out the rest of my days with you as my wife, with or without a child.”

“But would you be happier if we did have one?” she asks, suddenly needing to look him in the eyes as she presses up onto her elbows and stares. The moon glistens off of his deep irises, the darkness making them appear as though they’re the color of the ocean tonight. The way they shimmer makes her fall in love with him even more.

“What is this about?” he asks, his hand lifting to cradle her cheek, and she leans against his palm and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. His answer isn’t an answer, not really, and it serves only to drag out her feelings of guilt and insecurity.

She sighs and closes her eyes, entirely unable to look at him when she finally admits the truth. “When I was 16, I had a boyfriend. He was a real piece of work… I think it was part of my teenage rebellion phase.” He laughs softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek and letting her continue without interruption. “He and I… I mean… he was my first. It sucked, every time, but… I got pregnant.”

She bites her lip and opens her eyes, and she’s met with unconditional understanding.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, easily able to read the emotion she feels as she opens up to him.

“I didn’t want it; I’ve never wanted kids. And when I got pregnant at sixteen by someone who was no good for me-- not to mention too old for me at the time-- I knew that I really didn’t want kids. And I planned on giving it up for adoption because I knew I couldn’t handle raising it.” She bites her lip again, sighing and lying back down onto his chest. “I never told anyone. I thought, maybe I could hide it,” she laughs. “I never told Ingrid or Neal. I just found out and waited a few weeks and hid how shitty I felt. I just kept hoping that it wasn’t happening to me; that it was a dream and I’d wake up soon. And then…”

She gulps, tugging on the blanket so that it’s tucked under her chin, needing to be covered and held together. He reads her again and pulls her closer to him, squeezing his arms around her back and providing her with comforting pressure. “It’s alright, my love,” he repeats in a whisper.

She doesn't even realize that the tears have started to fall until she feels a warm wetness on her cheek against his chest. With a sudden sniffle, one that catches her off guard, she says, “And then one day I woke up and… it was gone. It was like I wished it away and it worked. I don’t even know how far along I was because I never went to the doctor, but it was… It was gone.”

He sighs again, his hands running up and down along her spine to gently soothe her as she breaks, crying into his chest and whimpering at the loss of something she didn’t even want in the first place. “I wanted it gone and it… I did that. It’s my fault.”

She never wanted to have children. That fact hasn’t changed. But when she found herself pregnant and wished that she wasn’t, her wish came true. And she’s never stopped regretting it.

“Emma,” he whispers, “I'm so sorry.”

“I didn’t want it,” she says again. “I wanted it to go away and then…”

“That doesn’t make your loss any less painful, love. Even though you weren’t ready to have a child, you still suffered a loss. That was still something terribly difficult that you had to go through alone.”

She nods, because he’s right. It was impossible, and she’ll never forget the feelings of guilt and regret and complete failure. With another sniffle, she says, “and today my mom asked when we’re having kids, like it's something we should be doing, and I just…”

“It made you angry. And hurt? Misunderstood, perhaps?”

“Yes,” she breathes in relief. He’s always understood her, unlike anyone she’s ever known. “And she talked about how happy Alexandra makes you and it was like she thinks I'm hurting you by not wanting kids.”

“You’re not, Emma. I promise you, you can never hurt me.”

They’re quiet for another few moments, and she lets his gentle breathing and his soothing strokes up her back and the soft waves beneath them lull her into a sense of calm. Being with him never fails to bring her back down to earth, guiding her from her fear and anger and pain and into a place of love and consolation. She can weather any storm if he’s with her.

“I never… I never want to feel like that again. I always knew that I didn’t want children, but that experience really… I mean, it really solidified that for me.”

“I know what you mean, darling. I never had a specific desire to have children myself. I would have, if you’d wanted to, but it’s never been something that I’ve found myself needing.”

She nods and wipes a rogue tear away. “I sure am lucky,” she remarks, caught in a sense of disbelief at the fact that she gets to call herself his.

“Aye, about as lucky as I am.”

“I just can’t,” she whispers after a moment. “I never wanted to, and now I just… I can’t do it.”

“I know, angel. And you never have to feel that way again, I promise.”

“I can’t,” she repeats pleadingly, her arms tightening around his middle and her nose pushing impossibly further into his neck. She’s desperate to turn it off, the anguish that tortures her too great, and he’s desperate to help her. But there’s nothing he can do but hold her and let her cry in his arms until she’s spent, powerless to stop her pain. It kills him.

He whispers that he loves her into her hair, letting anger consume him for a moment as he considers her words and the fact that her terrible, too-old-for-her boyfriend did this to her. He wants to find the man and make him pay for the sobs wracking his wife. For taking advantage of her when she was just a child and making scars that still seem fresh a decade later. It’s unfair, and he feels his anger through the tips of his fingers as he tries to console her with gentle touches and soft words, unsure of what else he could possibly do.

He’s angry with her mother, too, for the things she said. The words that reopened an old wound when it could’ve stayed closed off in the deep pits of her mind. But he knows that the only way for her to heal is to feel, despite how difficult it clearly is for her.

It’s an experience that has haunted her for years, something she won’t easily move past and may never fully get over. He understands that, can empathize with her torment and guilt over her loss, and he only hopes that being here for her is enough.

When she calms, her breathing steady again and the tears no longer dampening his skin, he feels her let out a heaving sigh and press a kiss to his chest. “I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice croaking after her sobs.

“Please never apologize,” he begs. All he wants is for her to be open with him, something he’s requested countless times. Now she has, and he can never express to her what it means that she trusts him. “Thank you for telling me.”

She nods into his chest and hugs him close to her. “Thanks for letting me blubber,” she answers sarcastically.

“Emma,” he starts. “You know you can blubber to me about anything.”

It earns him a soft giggle, the sound ricocheting off the water and the smooth surface of the boat and landing in the cockles of his heart, warming him from the inside out.

“I know. It’s just that… Well, I know this is nothing like your brother…”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “We can’t compare our losses or the pain they bring us. This was painful for you. You’re allowed to feel that no matter what anyone around you has gone through.”

She nods with a dejected sigh, obviously letting exhaustion overtake her after the long day that they’ve had. Between leaving before dawn, spending the day wrestling sea monsters, and the emotional and physical activity in which they’ve just partaken, he doesn’t blame her. He feels it too, although she would point out that she’s much younger and more energetic than he is.

“You missed dinner, my love,” he points out. “Why don’t we order in? Head home and have a shower?”

“A bath,” she says softly. It’s a brilliant idea; being on the water is certainly settling a chill in their bones.

“A bath, then,” he agrees.

She remains still for a minute more before shuffling over him, lifting onto her elbows and showing him her face. She looks stunning, blackened tear tracks and swollen eyes and all. He gives her a smile, one that’s genuine and reserved only for her, and cups her cheek with his palm. She leans into it immediately and kisses the inside of his wrist again, making his heart skip a beat.

“I love you,” she whispers. “More than anything or anyone. You’re perfect.”

“If you feel that way about me, then you better not argue when I tell you I feel exactly the same about you.”

She smiles, finally, and nods into his palm. “Okay,” she concedes softly. “Can we get onion rings?”

�� “Naturally,” he agrees.

When they get home, he tucks her into the couch under a warm blanket, endlessly dedicated to her comfort. He presses a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for just a moment before a knock on the door interrupts them and draws him away. He answers, Ruby delivering their dinner and smirking knowingly at his disheveled sweater. They’d dressed quickly after he’d placed the order, needing to hurry home with the knowledge of how quickly Granny works.

He places the bags on the coffee table before her, removing two grilled cheeses and a large order of onion rings and giving her a smile as he returns to the kitchen to fetch some drinks. She can’t imagine their life not being like this. She can’t even begin to picture a scenario that would make her happier than this. It’s taken her plenty of time to come to terms with her feelings, the realization that not every woman needs to crave raising a child of her own. She’s realized that it doesn’t make her broken, thinking like this. It doesn’t make her a bad woman, or a bad wife.

“There we are,” he says gently when he sits beside her, leaning toward her and pressing a long kiss to her temple. “My beautiful wife and my onion rings. What could be better?” he asks sarcastically, making her chuckle and snuggle into his side.

“Nothing, I hope,” she murmurs insecurely.

“Absolutely nothing.”

Eventually, she’ll go back to her parent’s house and apologize for her rude exit. She’ll apologize to her mother for her sudden and unexplained outburst. Maybe she’ll even explain her reasoning, although she doesn’t really feel that she should need to.

But for now, she’s perfectly content to sit here on the couch with her husband, enjoying their takeout and trash TV if only because it means that they get to spend this time with one another. That’s the only thing that matters to her.

~~~~

Tagging:

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#Captain swan fanfic #Overboard ff #Weather the Storm #cs ff #captain swan fluff #captain swan smut #captain swan angst #tw miscarriage

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makerkenzie · 4 years

Text

Sansa learns the limits of Family.

An idea that keeps coming up in Sansa’s arc is what I describe as: “Family is not destiny.”

Does Sansa love her family? Of course. She loves them, she misses them, she will always regret not having more time with her mother and Robb.

Westeros is a setting in which politics are tangled up with family dynamics. A noble family represents power as much as it represents love. Members of noble families, especially children, are treated as assets of their Houses before they’re seen as individuals. Examples: any noble marriage ever, fosterage, squiring, service, hostage-taking, and expectations of combat service.

Sansa knows this; she’s lived it. Her marriage to Joffrey would’ve represented an alliance with House Baratheon and, because we’re talking about the royal family, it would’ve given House Stark much more influence on the governance of the realm. Her being kept as hostage was meant to affect her brother’s political ambitions. Her marriage to Tyrion was supposed to put House Stark’s assets under the Lannisters’ control. She grew up with Theon as a de facto sibling but his purpose in the Starks’ household was to keep his father under control.

In this system, the family determines the individual’s reputation. Individuals from more powerful Houses are generally treated with more deference and generosity than those from poorer and lower-positioned Houses. From the perspective of a noble child, individuals from the “right” Houses are to be trusted and those from the “wrong” Houses are to be regarded with the most uncharitable assumptions.

In the culture of Westerosi nobility, one is viewed by one’s surname, first, and one’s actions...later.

As the child of a Paramount-level family---especially, having grown up with loving parents and affectionate siblings---it would be understandable if Sansa bought into this culture. Her own mother’s House motto is “Family, Duty, Honor.” It would be understandable if Sansa were inclined to conflate family ties with one’s sense of duty and honor, and assume everyone else did the same.

Having been forcibly separated from her family for so long, while kept hostage by people who don’t care to make her feel safe and welcome...it would be understandable if Sansa became more entrenched in the belief of surname as a representation of character.

She’s going in the opposite direction.

Sansa has interacted enough with the royal family to see that they are not a monolith. The non-viability of her marriage to Tyrion is a separate issue from his behavior. When Aunt Lysa asks, Sansa recalls Tyrion as...kind.

She knows Podrick Payne is related to Ilyn Payne and she doesn’t hold that against him. He’s a nice kid trying to survive in the Red Keep and he didn’t ask to be born into the same House as the official headsman.

In an early chapter in AGOT, King Robert is making a loud drunken scene at Cersei, and Jaime is the only man there who tries to get him to settle down. Even after Robert knocks him on his ass, he keeps his cool. This is in Sansa’s POV. Contrast that with Ser Barristan, and Renly, and oh, all the other men at the feast who could have intervened, and didn’t.

When Joffrey was having his Kingsguard knights beat her, Tyrion was the one who put a stop to it, and Sandor Clegane--a kingsguard at that point--used his cloak to cover her. This happens in front of the court in the throne room. Tyrion’s move is the bolder one but Sandor’s kindness is still meaningful. By putting that cloak on Sansa’s body, he is quietly showing the court that he sympathizes with the Stark girl, not the king. Later, he rescues Sansa from the mob in Flea Bottom, and not on Joffrey’s orders. She remembers Sandor coming to her aid. Meanwhile his older brother is leading the Lannister troops’ invasion of the Riverlands. Sandor is nothing like his brother and Sansa knows that.

She knows Tyrion is not like Cersei. Tommen is not like Joffrey. Podrick is not like Ser Ilyn. Jaime is not like the other Kingsguard. Sandor is not like his brother, not like the other Lannister vassals, not like the other Kingsguard, either.

Either way, Littlefinger takes her out of the Red Keep and up to Aunt Lysa and Cousin Robin at the Eyrie. It’s the first time she’s been around blood relations since her father was executed. First of all, Aunt Lysa starts talking about marrying Sansa to Robin, which, first of all, yuck, and second: because Lysa is the only adult family member presently available to Sansa, she’s not really in a position to refuse. Anyway, because Sansa can’t catch a break from people trying to plant their flags on her ass, Littlefinger starts molesting her. Aunt Lysa, being the nearest equivalent to a parent in Sansa’s life...treats her like a homewrecker.

Aunt Lysa was born into House Tully, the one whose motto is “Family, Duty, Honor.” When she sees her new husband behaving inappropriately with her teenage niece, she tries to toss the girl out the Moon Door. Is that what Family-Duty-Honor looks like? Granted, Lord Hoster fucked up with Lysa pretty hard, but there’s no need to take that out on your sister’s daughter.

Now this much is bad enough: Sansa’s own aunt is trying to kill her out of jealousy. There’s that. The much bigger issue is where the conversation goes as Littlefinger talks Lysa down from the literal and figurative ledge. She mentions that she killed her first husband, Hand of the King Lord Jon Arryn, using the poison Littlefinger gave her. She wrote to Catelyn, at Littlefinger’s instructions, and told her the Lannisters killed Jon.

If we recall: Ned and Cat spent all of AGOT trying to prove the Lannisters killed Jon Arryn. The fallout from that investigation started the War of Five Kings and cost Ned his life. Because of that fallout, Sansa was held hostage at the Red Keep and forced into marriage with Tyrion. Because of that fallout, Cat and Robb have just been murdered at the Red Wedding and Arya is off who knows where doing Seven only knows what. Far as Sansa knows, her brothers Bran and Rickon were killed by Theon Greyjoy and she has no way of knowing Arya is even alive. Aunt Lysa is the only family member left in a position to take care of Sansa now, because of the war she and Littlefinger started.

In more news of Littlefinger’s machinations: because he conspired with the Tyrells to frame Tyrion for Joffrey’s murder, Sansa’s life at the Red Keep went from uncomfortable to untenable, with Littlefinger being the only one ready to rescue her. She’s dependent on him because of his political sabotage, so now he’s molesting her at her aunt’s house, and her aunt has to be coaxed and cajoled out of killing her.

It’s because of Littlefinger’s machinations that the Lannisters became the Starks’ enemies. Granted there’s no version of this story in which the AGOT-era Starks and Lannisters are buddies, but there could’ve been a story where they haven’t been actively trying to kill each other.

Sansa’s been places and met people enough to know the Lannisters are not consistently villainous and her own family are not reliably safe.

Unbeknownst to her Sansa (yet), Tyrion’s squire Podrick Payne is traveling around with a big warrior-lady carrying a Lannister-branded Valyrian steel sword. A gift from Jaime Lannister. Cersei’s twin brother, and the one man with the backbone to ask the drunken king to stop embarrassing himself. Unbeknownst to Sansa, Ser Jaime has just deserted his army because he’s helping Brienne and Podrick rescue Sansa out from under Cersei.

They have this assignment because Catelyn stepped away from her animosity to the Lannisters for a moment long enough to give Ser Jaime a chance to do the right thing. That Jaime is rejecting the Lannister regime in favor of Stark-Tully interests has a lot to do with Brienne’s influence, while the likely success of their mission will probably have to do with Sansa’s conduct at the Red Keep. It’s Podrick Payne who’ll recognize Sansa with her hair dyed brown, and Podrick who has the best chance to convince Sansa that Lady Brienne is good and Ser Jaime is on their side.

Winter is Coming. The Stark motto isn’t nihilistic; it is a call to action. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. It’s the spirit of mutual protection, care, and cooperation that keeps the pups alive in the darkest and meanest times.

Sansa is gradually learning that “the pack” isn’t just those who share her family tree. The pack is made up of the ones who show up. When the wolves are tossed to the four winds, the pack may welcome the strength of lions. Unbeknownst to Sansa, the Hound showed up for Arya and may yet appear and join her pack. The real danger is the mockingbird.

It was Sansa’s own family---her mother’s sister and foster brother---who created the conflict that drove the Starks into war with the Lannisters. Now it’s Lannister associates coming to her rescue. There may yet be a story in which the wolf and the lion work together and learn to trust each other. Sansa can help write that story.

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

Light Of My Life Pt.2 Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely returning anon!

“I’m the anon who requested the avenger reader and ......... *chefs kiss* *chefs kiss* *chefs kiss* It’s so good! i love the readers powers and how they get sparky when they’re happy! I always thought that captain America and tony stark and Natasha and everyone else would be protective of the reader so I wonder what would happen if she introduced Jason to the avengers? Do you think they’d find out that he was red hood? (And they’d keep it a secret but maybe then they’d be REALLY protective)”

LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

HI AGAIN IM SO GLAD YOU’RE BACK LOVE!!! We been knew I love me a good protective family and Jason sooooo my beautiful anon you did it again! Chef’s kisses right back at you angel <333 Because you liked the happy sparks let me show you what happens when all the emotions come out to play.... mwahahahaha CHECK OUT PT 1 HERE!

“Fuck no.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend as he pouted. “Hey I met your family you have to meet mine!” you chided, Jason had been reluctant to meet the other Avengers. The last time he’d ever met one besides you was as Robin pre-death when Stark came to visit Bruce Wayne and Iron Man visited Batman. The two never really got along and since Jason idolized Bruce he hadn’t been the kindest to Stark.

You’d only recently learned this when you told the other Avengers why you always wanted to be in Gotham. Cap was happy you’d found a friend, he understood the necessity of having a person you can talk to and rely on, and he missed his person so he wished you the best. To say Stark was pissed was an understatement. Not only was he secretly rooting for you and Spidey to get together but he always got a bad taste in his mouth thinking about the Wayne family. “No” was his only reply and you had to give him the “even though you’re my father figure and my boss you don’t control my personal life” speech which ended in a hug and some cursing under his breath. To your surprise Peter was equally upset and said next time you went to Gotham he needed to meet this elusive, powerless, gun wielding, Jason.

And just like that here you were in Gotham, wrapping in your boyfriend’s arms, trying to convince him to come meet the “A-list” as he called them. “You’re going Jay. Maybe you can bring Tim he loves the Avengers he’d die to meet them!” you cooed, knowing Jason would agree because he never wanted to tell you no. Jason knew how excited you were, he could feel the light shocks that danced on your skin as he held you. Begrudgingly he agreed. You had decided it would be better to meet as your human personas rather than stir up the media with an Avengers visit to Gotham.

“Hey gorgeous” Jason grinned as you gave him a spin in one of your favorite outfits, beyond excited to introduce him to the people who were your family you rushed over to him. As you toyed with his t-shirt collar you admired his appearance, Jason was fashionable in the lowkey, vibey kind of fashion, it was perfect, and undeniably attractive. You could tell he was trying to hide his nerves, he gripped your hand tighter than normal and fidgeted slightly, he knew these people were your home and you could tell he wanted to make a good impression even if he wouldn’t admit it.

You’d invited them to your now shared apartment with Jason. The two of you had spent a while cleaning and prepping for guests and the apartment was spotless. Getting the text from Stark that him, Peter, and Natasha were headed up and you saw the three of them cloaked in jackets and hats entering the main lobby. Giving Jason’s hand a squeeze you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and a reassuring looking. Jason leaning into your embrace whispered “it’ll go fine” and you couldn’t tell if he was saying it to himself or you. Almost on cue there was a loud knock and before you could get to the door Tony burst in with Natasha and Peter following. “WHERE IS HE!” Tony yelled and you rushed over grinning. “Shut up Stark behave yourself!” he brought you into a quick hug before looking at Jason. “Hello Todd” he said, Jason looked a little shocked that Tony had either remembered from those years ago or had done his research. Jason stuck out a hand feigning confidence and Tony took it strongly.

Inviting everyone in you all sat cooly around the living room. As you talked with Natasha about recent events and living in Gotham you noticed that Jason looked afraid to touch you, sitting rigid next to you. Glancing over you saw him getting death stares from Peter and Tony anytime he moved a muscle. “The two of you stop it!” you chided, grabbing Jason’s hand and realizing it was slightly shaking. “I expect it from Mr. Father Figure but really Parker?” you quipped as he shrugged in agreement.

You could feel your aura radiate with annoyance and Peter and Tony looked taken aback. “Hey Sparky- Y/N it’s fine” Jason looked embarrassed at his use of one of his many nicknames. “Dude you use electric puns too!” Peter looked excited as he told Jason about some of his favorites. As the two bonded you groaned when Peter said “DUDE LIGHTNING MCQUEEN IS SUCH A GOOD ONE!” and went in for a high five over your embarrassment. Tony broke the bro-moment, “So Jason Todd, second Robin, heard you died. Haven’t seen you in a bit do you prefer Todd or Hood?” Jason gulped, straightening up as he squeezed your hand. “Um, Todd is fine, yeah I did and it was really hard but I have Y/N and she’s really been amazing and also yes I was Robin when I saw you a long time ago and you totally already know that but yeah” he took in a deep breath as Tony processed his answers. Turning to you he asked “and he’s nice to you? Good friend? Good lover? No ring yet right? I learned the hard way waiting too long isn’t great but you better not rush this kid” you rolled your eyes hearing the same line of questioning as always. “Tony shut the hell up” Natasha interrupted. “Look, Jason’s whole body is angled to Y/N, he’s holding her hand through the sparks and probably shocks, he hasn’t gotten angry at your dumb overprotective dad moments, and everytime one of them looks at the other they calm down a little more. They’re in love Tony leave them be.” Tony starred in silence before standing up, drawing in a breath you could feel Jason tense. “Alright then I approve. Let’s get this party started! You guys got booze?”

A couple drinks in an everyone was best friends with everyone. You and Peter weren’t of age yet so you both skipped but Tony was definitely nicer a couple drinks in, and Jason was a lot less tense even though he wasn’t drinking, determined to stay sober to answer any questions he was asked. Peter still looked like he didn’t trust Jason but you couldn’t help but grin as you watched the only father figure you’d ever had bond with your boyfriend. You finally felt like you had a family, it was perfect.

Perfect until Peter Parker got attacked.

As you frantically zapped through light posts you heard Jason on his bike behind you. Tony and Natasha didn’t want to alert the press with two of the most prominent Avengers being seen in Gotham and after a couple drinks they decided to let you and Jason take the lead. So as Red Hood and Y/H/N took to the Gotham streets after Clayface who had engulfed a terrified Peter Parker, Black Widow and Iron Man watched from above.

You zapped in front of Clayface, your skin practically sizzling. “you!” ZAP “are!” ZAP “interrupting!” ZAP “my!” ZAP “DAY!!!” you screeched, letting out all the anger and stress pent up from the day. Unfortunately, your electricity didn’t have much effect on a giant piece of dirt, so you went for keeping it’s attention while Jason fiddled with some explosives.

You zapped around the scene, being careful not to let Clayface get a hand on you for fear of him trying to engulf you too. You could barely hear Jason, cursing yourself for leaving you comm somewhere in the apartment but you could make out “Y/H/N it’s ready but Peter’s in there!” from Jason. “Shit alright I’m going in I guess!” you called, unsure if your powers would even work inside of Clayface. With a deep breath you ran straight ahead, preparing for whatever came next when a figure shoved you out of the way. Instinctively you shot into a lamp post for safety when you saw Red Hood press the button for the explosives and dive into Clayface. Once you realized he just sacrificed his life for yours appeared on the pavement screaming for Jason. Lightning cracked above you as you cried out amid the explosion. At the peak of the explosion everything you felt was too much, needing to know if Jason was okay and it Peter was still alive you felt stuck to the ground. Letting out a guttural scream you gave up trying to hold everything in. The lightning dissipated as you felt your energy connect to every current in Gotham. As the smoke cleared you saw a pile of Clay and no Red Hood and your heart snapped in half. Sinking to your knees you felt the power of every light in Gotham and it was too much. As your tears poured you needed the pain to stop, it had to stop, you’d lost everything.

And then it did. No more sparks, no more current, no more emotion, no more pain.

Your eyes fell out of focus as you stared ahead. You didn’t see two figures emerged from behind the corner of a building. Your eyes were blurry and you felt numb, unable to recognize the voice of Jason as he called out for you. Everything was quiet and muted, no buzzing from the streetlights or vibrations from cell towers, you felt disconnected, lost. Slowly blinking, thoughts of your past boyfriend jolted through you so quickly you couldn’t comprehend the fact that he was right in front of you. His voice sounded like a faint whisper calling for you. A different reality almost. You felt yourself get lifted into the air, off the ground and into someone’s embrace.

This embrace carried you home. Home. That was your apartment. With Jason. But he was gone and someone had brought you home, setting you softly on the couch.

“What the fuck happened to Y/N” Jason pleaded Tony who looked just as confused. “I think she’s in shock, maybe she didn’t have her comm in and didn’t hear the plan for rescuing Peter then dealing with Clayface?” Tony whispered as he looked at you as you stared at a wall, tears slowly cascading down your cheeks. Natasha squatted next to you, waving a hand in front of your face. “She’s in shock but we need to shock her out of it, anyone got a spark?” Tony quickly reprogrammed part of his suit to deliver a fair amount of voltage into your body. Taking a deep breath Jason just wanted to hold your hand but he knew that was not going to be safe until you woke up. As everyone stood back Tony counted down “One, Two - ”

Suddenly you felt the connection again, it jolted through you and danced on your skin, you felt the humming of the fan in your apartment. Your apartment, you were home. Home. Home is with Jason, and you could feel him next to you. Jason, was, home. Safe.

“JASON YOU IDIOT WHAT WERE YOU THINKING YOU FUCKING DIED AGAIN!” you bolted up and began wailing on his chest, shocking everyone around you at your burst of, well, energy. Without thinking Jason just pulled you into his chest, swaying slightly back and forth you melted into his grip. “Y/N baby Stark thought your comm was on like mine and we thought you knew the plan, you were making a good diversion and everything” Jason explained. “Then Parker and I come out after the big boom and you’re like completely zoned out. Like even the sky was clear, and your eyes didn’t have the little sparkle they always have, we thought you’d lost it or something” he rambled as you finally put the pieces together. Glancing up at him you whispered “so you’re okay?” and he nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily Sparky” you found comfort in the nickname that was slowly growing on you.

After a cup of tea and some relaxation you were feeling a lot better. Peter was impressed at how quickly Jason thought on his feet and that he’d put himself in danger to save him and was a lot happier with your relationship. You’d told him about Tim and how well the two nerds would get along so he tagged along with Stark who was out meeting Bruce and trying to explain why there had been an explosion and Avenger sighting in his city, and Natasha used her expertise to know it was time for you and Jason to have some alone time, so she headed out as well.

Now you were resting in Jason’s arms as he toyed with your hair. Breaking the silence you admitted “I think I severed my powers when I thought you died” and Jason looked up, his face asking you for more. Delving into some of your own truths you admitted “I always knew my powers were emotion driven. Like our kiss that one night. And I knew there was a reason that I have to keep some energy inside and reign it in, but now I know that releasing it all doesn’t explode, it makes me implode on myself. Like the energy I use is raw emotion and when I thought you were gone it hurt too much and I cut it off” you sighed, enjoying the feeling of letting it off your chest. You could’ve sworn Jason slyly wiped a tear away before pulling you in close as he too sighed. “I think you’re right Y/N but that means your powers are more interesting than we ever knew. And I know what it feels like to lose everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing for ever being the reason you felt the loss. It kills me to think of you in such pain you couldn’t feel it anymore. Because you are the strongest person I know and I know how painful it must’ve been. I’m so sorry. And I love you”

The big eight letters. They felt right. Raising your head to his you took his lips in yours, trying to convey the same words right back at him. In the moment of pure love you felt warmth envelop your entire body, unable to contain the joy. Mid-kiss you let a grin slip onto your face and you pulled away. “Jason Todd I love YOU!” you moved to throw your arms around him and as you outstretched your fingers you released some of your love into the air and suddenly everything in the room when black.

“Y/N you just shorted out the apartment building. But I love you too” You were kind of glad the lights were now off because Jason couldn’t see the furious blush that developed on your cheeks. Flopping down on to him you mused “Too many emotions for one day, I feel pretty shorted out too” and Jason hummed in agreement. As the two of your drifted off into sleep you heard him mumble:

“You better get control of these emotions I can’t be telling you I love you then having you break my toaster. I need my waffles you know” and you groaned.

“I’ll put that on the list of things to worry about. Right beneath the end of the world so pretty high up there”

“Thanks I appreciate it. Good night my lovely bolt of lightning”

“Goodnight you sappy fuck”

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ladyanput · 5 years

Text

Seeing Green Ch.1

Well, I would like to thank @ozmav for the awesome idea for the entire AU and @realrandomposts for inspiring me to finally write this story as well as editing it alongside @zebrabaker. Enjoy, my little darlings!

~~~

It was supposed to be a lovely trip. A fun trip to America, to be shown around a multimillion dollar company that branches in every corporation known to man. Marinette had stayed up countless nights, putting together plans, balancing a budget with Miss Bustier, everything! But there she stood, staring off in the direction of the long departed bus. She hugged herself tightly, as the cold winter air ruffled her clothing.

They.. They had forgotten her. Left her behind, while they all went off to tour Wayne Enterprises. Without her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat before glancing down at the small purse at her hip and into Tikki's large, worried eyes. She forced a carefree smile, and winked at the kwami.

"Well, Tikki, I did say I wanted to see more of the city. What better way to see it than to walk? It's only a thirty minute walk, it won't be too bad." Marinette widened her grin as she began her trek to Wayne Tower, shoving down the hurt that gripped her chest. Everyone must have been too excited to notice her missing, that was all. She was sure they had realized their mistake, and was waiting for her to catch up. No doubt about it.

As she began walking, she felt those tears rise up again. She dashed them away before any of them could fall. She couldn't lie to herself. It just brought even more pain when the disappointment set in. And it always did.

…

Damian Wayne was not having the best of days. He had woken up late. He rarely woke up late, but being up until four in the morning did not help him with his sleep schedule. So he leaned back into his seat, watching the world go by as his driver took him towards work. He was required to be there, since a class from France was coming to see what they were all about. It felt like a waste of time to Damian, putting on a decently hospitable visage for a bunch of annoying teenagers that could barely speak English, and then dealing with any of the girls trying to flirt with him, because he had the powerful last name of 'Wayne'.

He wished he could change it to Kent some days, to have everyone leave him alone.

But, alas, his life would never be so simple, now would it?

As soon as the driver pulled up to the company building, Damian bolted out of the car, only to be slammed into by a flurry of pink. He tensed ever so slightly, grabbing who he now saw was a girl, steadying herself before she could fall flat on her face.

He glanced down and gazed into the bluest eyes he had ever seen, and his mind froze. He stared at the girl, with her dark hair, pulling back into a tight ponytail, and a splash of cute freckles across the bridge of her nose..

Cute. Cute was the perfect word for the girl, especially when her lovely face went crimson and she began sputtering apologies in French. But then tried to struggle for English.

"I- I am so sorry, I was in such a rush to catch up with my class, I wasn't watching where I was going!" She stuttered out, her dainty hands pressed firmly against his chest.

"It's alright, I wasn't watching where I was going either." Damian found himself smiling down at the red faced girl, before removing his firm grip from her shoulders, and taking a step back. "I'm guessing, by the French, that you're a part of the French class that's going on the tour today?"

"Er... Yes, my class left without me, I guess they were so excited for the tour, they left early." The girl smiled at him, and Damian felt like the air had left his lungs. She… She was as beautiful as an angel. He watched as the girl fidget under his gaze, her blush only seeming to get worse. "Do you work here? As an intern or something?"

"Um.. Yes, I work as an intern here. My older brother is going to be leading the tour today. We should probably get inside, before you get left behind by your class." Damian held out his arm to the French girl, who gladly took it, and they strolled inside. "I'm Damian, by the way, it's nice to meet you."

"Marinette. The feeling is mutual."

…

The last thing Marinette was expecting to see was her class standing in the lobby. But there they were, faces filled with annoyed expressions, as Miss Bustier was clearly arguing with the receptionist and the woman standing beside her.

"Please, the students came all this way to enjoy the tour. It's not nice to just keep them standing around, they're going to get tired." Miss Bustier begged with the receptionist, while the younger woman beside her crossed her arms.

"Miss Bustier, with all due respect, you are an hour early. You and your class arrived here early, without calling in advance, and Mr. Grayson is not yet here to give you the said tour, because, as I just stated, our tour does not start for another HOUR." Evangeline Bourbon hissed through clenched teeth, her violet eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Speaking of your class, where is Marinette?"

It was then Bustier blinked in surprise, before glancing back at her gathered class. Immediately, Lila's eyes welled up with tears, and she began sobbing loudly into her hands.

"This is all my fault! Miss Bustier was so kind to try and get us through this tour, because my precious Damidear invited me on a date tonight.." She cried out, before bursting into more dramatic sobs, causing Evangeline and the receptionist to exchange glances and roll their eyes. Ah, the pains of being a teacher's assistant. "A- and now Marinette is trying to slow us all down, because she's jealous of me being in a relationship!"

"Actually, I'm right here." The entire class turned to see Marinette walking up, arm in arm with a tall boy around their age, dressed in a trim charcoal suit, his black hair smoothed back, and his green eyes so sharp, they could pierce your very soul. "I'm so sorry I'm late, no one told me we were leaving early."

"Maybe because nobody wanted you here." Alya grumbled under her breath, before sharing a smirk with Lila.

"Well, since everyone is here, we can all wait for Mr. Grayson." Eva spoke up quickly, cutting off any reprimands Miss Bustier was about to send Marinette's way. She strode over to the duo standing at the entrance, drawing all eyes to her. She was a lovely woman, tall and curvy, with long shiny brown hair and impossibly violet eyes. Eyes full of kindness,but took no bullshit, something that became quickly apparent when she became Miss Bustier's teaching assistant last year. "Marinette, are you okay? Who's your friend?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Miss Bourbon. This is Damian, he offered to escort me to the group, if you guys had taken off without me." Marinette ignored the harsh glares being sent her way by her classmates, before smiling up at the TA, the only ally she seemed to have at school. "But thank you.. For not starting without me."

When Eva smiled, Marinette felt herself relax a bit more, before letting go of Damian's arm, not realizing how tightly she had been gripping it.

"Well, I suppose now I can get out of your hair. Thank you, Damian." Marinette felt her cheeks heat up as she finally stepped away. When he smiled at her, she felt a familiar fluttering in her heart that she hadn't felt in so long… And his eyes were so green, so much greener than Adrien's.

"Marinette, can you please stop eye fucking the guy, before you creep him out." Alya spoke up, her voice echoing through the lobby, causing all eyes to focus on Marinette. There were a few snickers and Mari felt her ears burn. "Wouldn't want to scare him off, like you did with Adrien!"

That caused the class to burst into laughter, while Marinette felt a stab at her heart, instantly taking a large step away from Damian.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.." She whispered out, as shame and embarrassment curled in her gut sharply. She watched as a furious expression crossed over his face, and he looked as if he was about to yell.

"Hey, so you must be the group I'm giving the tour to. My name's Dick Grayson, nice to meet you all." Marinette turned towards the voice, her guilt only eating away more as she quickly darted away from Damian. He hated her, thought she was a freak. Just when she thought she could make a friend, Alya had to open her mouth and ruin it all. She held back tears as she glanced up at their tour guide, a tall, handsome man that gave everyone a kind smile.

"I'm sorry. And thanks again.." Marinette whispered as she glanced back at Damian, who seemed rooted in place, staring at her. "I swear I wasn't looking at you in that way. I'm really sorry."

And she scurried off to join her class as they began their tour, leaving a dumbstruck Damian staring after her.

…

"You should have seen how her classmates treated her! Father, why did you let such a horrible class to come here?!" Damian whirled on his father, as they stood in his impressively large office. Bruce sighed as he saw the blazing fire in his son's eyes, so like his own, then began pacing again. "I trailed behind them for a bit. You should hear what this one girl keeps saying! How she's dating me, how she's such best friends with my brothers, Dirk Greyjoy, Tim Todd, and Jackson Drake!"

"... I wasn't aware that they behaved in such a way.. If I had known, I wouldn't have invited them." Bruce stood and glanced out his massive window, staring out at the city of Gotham, as he pondered. "Well it's too late now. We'll have to keep a close eye on them, they'll only be in Gotham until the Wayne gala, then they will be back to France, and none of our concern."

"Father… I feel protective of Miss Dupain-Cheng." Damian felt his cheeks heat up at his father's surprised look. But it was true, something about those large blue eyes drew him. "She.. Brings out my Robin instincts. She's being bullied, she's.. She's all alone."

Damian could feel his father staring, trying to read his thoughts, his expression, but he kept on a neutral mask and his body rigid.

"... Damian.."

"I must be off now, Father. I have duties to attend to." Damian turned on his heel and promptly left before his father could say another word. He didn't stop until he was all the way down in the cafeteria, where the French class was currently having their lunch.

He spotted Marinette immediately. She was sitting all alone, far away from the class who seemed to be swarming around that brown haired girl who had been sprouting bullcrap about him earlier. As he walked by that table, he decided to listen in.

"I called my Damidear, he completely understood that I'd be a little late for our dinner tonight, but he's just so understanding and sweet, saying he got us reservations to the best restaurant in town! I'm thinking he might propose to me tonight!" The girl gushed, as others around her ooh'd and ahh'd at the fairytales she was sprouting. The entire thing just made him want to go over and shake the girl. Who the hell would get engaged at seventeen? Only idiots, that's who. He rolled his eyes and continued on his way.

"Hey, Marinette." Damian smiled at the girl when her head snapped up at the sound of his voice, and those eyes widening, making her look like a deer in headlights. As she began to get up, he reached out and took her hand, taking a seat across from her. "Please, don't run. Listen, what that girl said earlier, I know it isn't true. I... I was actually curious if you wanted to get dinner with me tonight."

He watched the wheels turn in Marinette's head, before that beautiful smile, though more shy, lit up her face.

"I- I think I would, Dami. That would be really nice."

"Actually, she means no."

Damian watched as Marinette tensed at the voice, before glancing up at a furious looking blond boy standing next to their table, his green eyes blazing.

"She doesn't go around with pompous windbags."

…

Marinette couldn't believe that Adrien had just said that. She was on her feet in seconds, fury flickering through her, but she quickly stamped that flame out.

"Adrien, apologize! There was no reason for you to speak to Damian like that!" She whispered harshly when she grabbed his arm to pull him away. Her crush for the boy had died three years ago, when he kept insisting to never rock the boat with the whole Lila affair.

"You never apologized to Lila for trying to out her, why should I apologize to a guy who's clearly trying to get into your pants?" Adrien asked promptly. He turned back to Damian, puffing out his chest, making Marinette shake her head. "She's not going on a date with some sleazy guy she just met this morning, so I suggest you back off."

"'Agreste, stop it!" Marinette shoved him the hardest she could, sending the model stumbling back a few steps. He stared at her in shock, never before had she lashed out like that, never before had she looked at him in such disgust. Mari shook her head once more, then turned to Damian. "Listen.. I'd like to have dinner with you. But, please, don't feel the need to go all fancy, okay? I think you're a sweet guy, so you've already impressed me enough."

"A- alright then! I will pick you up at seven then?" Marinette felt herself blush more when Damian smiled, making him all that much more handsome.

"Sounds like a date!" Her cheeks heated up more and she beamed. In her glee, she didn't catch sight of Lila glaring her way, scowling as she plotted a perfect way to ruin that date for Marinette.

#daminette #maribat #dc x mlb #Seeing Green

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okaybutlikeimagine · 4 years

Text

(tumblr won’t let me respond to asks directly so we’re screenshotting them till further notice 🤷)(i had the WHOLE THING typed out w/ the italics fixed into the ask and i copied it so i wouldn’t have to go through and put the italics again and then my DUMBASS SELF went to copy a fucking SHRUG EMOJI and now i have to put the italics in again. good thing i do all this stuff on a separate google doc bc i’m a moron and would have lost the whole thing just now. anyway)

Hi!!! I’m crying bc you fucking KNOW that Billy would get so fucking embarrassed!!

Bc Billy is prideful!! I’m telling you, that boy has some Leo in his chart or something bc if anyone so much as smiles at a joke at his expense, he gets defensive. And that’s not to say that he doesn’t banter back and forth with Robin, and that’s not to say that he and Steve don’t give insults that sound like endearments, and that’s not to say that he and Jonathan don’t rib each other amicably… but it’s different. Pride is a very different thing.

Bc Billy is legit like a little lion cub. (AKA every Leo i know, therefore Billy has Leo in his chart, don’t @ me) it’s an almost juvenile kind of attachment to pride. Like a baby lion cub who’s just getting their mane in but holds their head like they’ve got the biggest one in the pride, it’s a little childish (as much as he may not want to admit it).

And it’s really not Billy’s fault. That’s what he’ll tell you. That’s what he’ll tell anyone. It’s not his fault he’s a brat and he’ll shrug his shoulders and he’ll continue to be rude/bratty and for some people (Steve) it’s charming and for others (almost everyone else) it’s tolerable but for Jim…. It’s…. It’s upsetting. Jim doesn’t like to be seen as “controlling” or a “hardass” or whatever but he’s not sure how he can just ignore when Billy is being disrespectful. Even if it’s only slightly. bc like…. He feels like he needs to be a good dad and good dads make sure their kids grow up to be good people, right??? Which isn’t to say he thinks Billy is a bad person but he worries because, like every parent, his biggest fear is fucking up. He didn’t get a whole lot of practice with Sara. and after her death he couldn’t help but think of every time he slipped up. Every time his wife soothed his hair and said: “We have time to get it right.” every day that passed with Sara in the hospital where he realized she was wrong.

And i’m SO sorry for getting into that but I think that really influences how Hop parents now! The man was broken and then just…. Acquired a 12 year old. And then a 17 YEAR OLD?? Like… the man would be Confused as to how to proceed. And then THIS happens…

Bc Billy has mood swings. Billy is a teenager and also the human version of a bratty little cat that puffs his chest out and ruffles his own fur and may leave a few scratches but is ultimately harmless (esp now that he has a nice, loving family!!) and so they’re at the dinner table and the boys are talking about their grades and whatnot and Billy may be a little pouty. Because maybe Billy didn’t study as hard as he should have for his last history test. He just thinks history is so stupid. He’d rather read a book or do 100 math problems. What’s history gonna teach him?? He doesn’t need to know any more about plagues.

So he says that.

Jonathan’s talking about how well he did on his essay and Will is talking about how he did on his math test and Billy’s pushing carrots around when Joyce asks: “How’s school for you, Billy?”

“Just peachy keen.” he sneers down at his plate. Hop tuts harshly.

“Hey.” Hop chastises, only serving to make Billy’s blood boil more.

“What?”

“Calm down.”

“I’m plenty calm.” Billy snaps back, but it’s quiet. He shoves a sliced carrot in his mouth.

“Have you had any tests or anything lately?” Joyce asks calmly, in that motherly voice she always gives that makes Billy’s mind swirl a bit.

“Yup.”

“Billy-” Hop warns and it makes Billy sit straight up, but give a challenging look in Hop’s direction as he says, loudly:

“Yes, ma’am.”

Joyce stops asking, but she sends a look to Hop, who’s still caught in a staredown with Billy. Billy can’t see her look, but he wouldn’t understand it if he could, because it says: Hop, cut it out.

And the conversation shifts to significant others and then Joyce is smiling kindly at El and asking about her and Mike and maybe Hop is pouting but he’s not gonna draw attention to himself bc Joyce will just hit him like she always does when he’s pouting over their kids dating (specifically El). And Jonathan is smirking a bit into his dinner but Will is visibly uncomfortable as El gushes about Mike before complaining that he doesn’t come over enough and that she doesn’t go out enough and Billy gets irritated. Why should he and Will have to listen to this when they don’t want to??

And he mutters something, darkly. Something about Mike and El and “ungrateful little brats”.

And everyone hears. He only half means it, but they don’t really think that far.

And Hop shoots a look his way before chewing on a carrot rather aggressively.

“Somethin’ to say?”

Billy gives Hop a challenging stare, but he backs down as soon as he starts it.

“No sir.” He mutters harshly.

“Then behave.”

“How about you and Steve, sweetie?” It’s Joyce. Being sweet.

“Happy as can be.” It sounds bitter the way he says it because it is. They got in a fight today. A little one, but enough to make Billy taste something sour in his mouth when he thinks about it. He figures they’re gonna make up just fine tomorrow, no flowers or empty promises needed, just another heated conversation followed by a heated make out in the front seat of Billy’s Camaro. Maybe followed by a serious talk that’ll make Billy’s face heat up because he still can’t believe this boy has Billy wrapped around his finger so fucking tight.

“Yeah, well Officer Callahan says you and Harrington have-”

“You know his name.” Billy growls, resting his fork on the plate.

“Steve. You and Steve have been running around empty fields a lot lately.”

“And?” Billy’s vision is turning red. It’s tunneling a bit.

“And what’s that all about?”

“Don’t really wanna give you all the dirty details.” Billy shoves some meatloaf in his mouth. Hop’s looking at him like he’s a hassle and Billy’s proud of it.

“You guys shouldn’t be doing that. Someone’s gonna say something.”

“And?” Billy’s getting madder. He puts his fork down with a loud clang.

“And you’re gonna cause problems-”

“For you?” Billy seethes, leaning forward a bit, just willing Hop to say it.

“For yourselves.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy asks, leaning back in his chair, blood boiling hot. “Well what about the little twerps?”

Billy nods over to El, who makes a whining noise.

“Hey!” She calls, face pouting.

“What about them?”

"I just don't think it's very fair that it's safe for them and not us." Billy growls, gritting his teeth, eyebrows low.

"That's not true."

"It's safe for everyone else but us!" He’s mad. He’s mad bc him and Steve have argued about this before. Argued about how there’s no real point in being together if they have to hide all the time. That one time when they saw Cindy and Jason being grossly affectionate in public and Billy grabbed Steve’s ass and Steve got mad. They fought for a few days and it ended with them laying in Hansen’s big empty field, on the outskirts of town, talking in dreamy, far away voices about how one day they’d move to California bc “It’s not like this there… trust me, babe. It’ll be so much better.”

Billy’s vision tunnels more. All he sees is Hop in different shades of red. He forgets where he is. He’s livid, thinking about El and Mike and Cindy and Jason and Tommy and Carol and Nancy and Jonathan and he’s going to scream. His heart is racing with disdain.

"You know it's still dangerous for El to go out." Hop warns.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Look... kid-"

"I'm not a fucking kid." Billy growls, leaning forward even more.

"Language!" Hop’s voice is booming and Billy’s had about enough of this. He resents being told off like a kid.

"Sorry! Excuse the fuck out of me!" He’s snarling and Hop seems about as livid as Billy feels.

"Go to your room!"

"Fine!" Billy yells, shoving his chair back and standing up, turning to Joyce for the first time all dinner and seeing her eyes full of… concern. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. Something in his chest heaves at the sight. His eyes flick over to Jonathan and then to El and then to Will…. And then his chest tightens. He looks away just as quickly.

He thanks Joyce quietly for dinner, mumbling it a bit but he thinks the sentiment is clear enough. He drops his plate off next to the sink and storms off to his room, slamming the door with probably too much force but everything’s on his mind and he has the right to be a brat if he wants.

It’s just that he hates just sitting here with nothing to do but think about everything. He doesn’t even have his stereo to listen to music with bc he gave his to El until she can get a new one bc hers broke and her nightmares have been bad recently. Listening to music before bed calms her down. Billy didn’t say anything about his own nightmares or his own need for music before bed. He wishes he had now that he’s laying in bed, about ready to rip his sheets to shreds bc he’s boiling. He feels like a storm but, to any outsider, he looks like a toddler- red-faced from a tantrum and fidgeting and bubbling like a shaken up soda bottle.

He’s so mad he can’t even do anything. The minutes pass in sticky but frantic moments of anger and thoughts and memories and the only thing his body will let him do is just sit there. Lay in his bed and pull at his covers and fall into thoughts and think about Hop reprimanding him like that and how awful it was and how red and angry he looked and how he sent him to his room like a kid and… and how Joyce looked so worried…. And how that same look was in Jonathan’s eyes…. And Will’s…. That same worried, concerned look. They all three have the same eyes- Lonnie be damned. Those boys share their mother’s eyes and all of the emotion that goes within them and it makes… it makes Billy mad he’s mad about it he knows he’s mad and-

And…

And he calms down a bit. Calms down enough to do what Steve told him to do when he gets angry and stressed and doesn’t know what to do with himself. Because Steve’s family is “well-traveled” and Steve knows all these weird little things from all these cool different countries.

So Billy takes out his notebook and rips a couple pieces of paper out (bc he saves the fancy paper Steve gave him for when he’s actually trying) and does some origami. Bc Steve said it’d help him to do something with his hands and this is something he can do quietly, in his room, without being destructive. ”It’ll help, I promise!”

The hardest part is making a perfect square, bc it takes too much patience and usually Billy doesn’t have that. But he’s just doing this to calm down so he eyeballs it as he cuts the paper and starts to fold what he knows, which is either a heart or a crane. Those are the only 2 things Steve has taught him that he knows off hand w/o the instructions or Steve guiding him through it.

There’s more crumpled paper on the ground than folded paper on his desk but Steve had assured him that was more than okay. It’s kind of the point, he figures. Crumpling and ripping up the paper is almost as nice as folding it to make something, and it makes actually making something feel even better when it happens.

He’s sitting there, on his 3rd heart, when there’s a small knock on the door.

“Go away.” He calls, realizing that the paper he cut isn’t a perfect square bc the corners won’t match.

“It’s Will.”

Billy pauses a bit. He goes back to folding his paper, not caring about the corners bc it’s not bad enough to start over. He doesn’t say anything.

He hears the door open.

“Do you think ‘go away’ doesn’t mean you?”

“Does it?” Will asks, voice earnest. Billy looks up to see his face matches.

Billy sighs, the harsh feeling in his chest softens a bit at the boy in his doorway. He turns back to his folding.

“What do you want? And close the door.”

“I wanted to ask if you wanna come listen to records with me.” Will says, closing the door behind him.

“I don’t think they want me out there.” Billy folds his paper with his fingernail to make it sharp. It burns his thumb a bit.

“That’s not true.” Will says, taking a few steps closer. “Mom told Hop… Dad he shouldn’t have done that.”

And that makes Billy mad. He’s not even sure why. It’s a heat in his chest and his face that feels like anger and he messes up his fold and he’s just… he’s confused and he’s red and all he can think about is Will saying “mom”. Not “my mom” just “mom” and also “dad” like he’s theirs and Billy can’t understand it still and he smashes the paper into a ball in his hand-

“I don’t need your mom defending me.” Billy says harshly, spitting the words out like he hates them, chucking the paper on the ground. He’s too aware of the way Will flinches a bit at his harshness. He takes a deep breath.

“Uh... “ Will’s fidgeting. Billy feels bad. He sighs.

“I don’t have my stereo.” Billy leans back, running a tired hand down his face. “Ask Jonathan.”

“But I wanna listen to your music.” Will says quietly and Billy believes him. Will’s been getting interested in Alice Cooper and Led Zeppelin and all of the fun bands that actually perform. Steve gifted Billy a VHS performance of Led Zeppelin and Will seemed to like the lead singer quite a bit.

“Well I don’t wanna go out there, pipsqueak.” Billy rips out another piece of paper. It’s quiet for a second, Billy eyeballing another square to cut. It’s so quiet, Billy thinks Will has left.

He thinks wrong.

“Can I still hang out with you?”

Billy puts the scissors down, exhausted, and looks up at Will.

“Alright, what’s wrong?”

Will shrugs. “Nothing. I just…. Like it in here.”

Billy’s confused, but he almost believes him for a minute.

“I don’t have music for you.”

“I can grab a book to read.” The boy’s so earnest, Billy knows he’s not gonna shake him.

So he waves him away with a nod and Will’s out and back quicker than Billy can think about how weird it is that this boy would rather sit in his room in silence than do something fun. Will’s closing the door carefully, latching it quietly and moving over to sit on the bed.

Billy has crumpled up 2 more pieces of paper before Will begins to pry.

“Are you folding things again?”

“Uh huh.”

“What’s it called, again?”

“Origami.”

“Cool.” Will scoots on his knees to the edge of the bed so he can see what Billy’s doing. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m good.” Billy mutters, unconvincingly.

“I can cut the paper for you. I’m good at making squares.”

And so Will is sitting criss cross on the bed, cutting perfect square after perfect square, while Billy sits backwards on his desk chair with his arms folding on the back rest and mind racing a mile a minute. Will’s so quiet and calm, willingly coming in here just to spend time with Billy, helping him now and… and something sick fills Billy’s chest. The only thing he can hear are his words at the dinner table.

‘Hey-uh…” His voice sounds weird to his ears and his tongue feels thick but he’s got Will’s attention now so he needs to get it out. “Sorry.”

Will’s eyebrows scrunch up. “Sorry for what?”

For being a dick? For ruining your dinner? For ruining your family?

Billy shrugs.

“I dunno. Just… not being a good example.”

“Whaddya mean?” Will asks, handing over a handful of squares before working on some more.

Billy shrugs again. “I dunno kid I just… I’m not like Jonathan. I’m not… I’m not a good example for you. It’s embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing?”

“Getting told off like that in front of you guys.” Billy turns back around so he can start folding again. He needs to do something w/ his hands.

“I told you, mom told him he shouldn’t have done that.”

“But he was right-”

“No, you can be upset if you’re upset. It’s fine.”

Billy falters a bit. He wonders if Will is quoting Joyce. The small boy keeps speaking.

“You’re a good example,” Will’s voice says, and he sounds so sure that Billy believes him. “You’re just a different one. You show me to stand up for what I believe and… and that it’s okay to be… to like boys…”

Billy stops folding altogether. Will’s voice gets quieter.

“You’re a good example. It’s good to let things out when you feel them.”

Billy’s mind is racing. He’s folding without thinking about it. Because the only thing he can think about is how he got accepted into this family so quickly. How Hop took him in and Joyce accepted that like she was accepting a package at the door. She took him in like he was her own son and not some bratty problem child being dumped on her. And now Hop reprimands him without his fists and Joyce chastises Hop for being too harsh even though he’s… doing his job, whatever that entails and it’s… it’s too much sometimes. It’s too much to think about but Billy knows he wouldn’t give it away for the world bc every moment like this reminds him that every passing day is a day further away from the pain he grew up surrounded by. The pain now doesn’t even compare to the pain then. This is so different bc this pain is laced with care and love.

He’s made a crane before he realizes.

“I’m glad you’re my brother.” Will’s voice sounds so far away but it crashes over Billy like a wave.

Billy nearly crushes the crane in his hand from the words. He’s so shocked at them.

He turns and gives Will the crane, not looking the boy in the eye as he gathers up the paper and the scissors from the bed.

“I don’t need any more paper. Thanks.” Billy mumbles, dumping everything on his desk.

“You’re welcome. Is this for me?”

“Yup.” Billy shoves the paper in a drawer and tosses the scissors into his pencil cup.

“Thanks!” Will’s so excited about it. Billy’s heart is fluttering.

“Wanna listen to those records now?” Billy asks, hands on his hips, fingers fidgeting bc this is a lot and he just…. He needs music now. Whatever. He realizes he shouldn’t be so scared. There’s nothing to be scared about. Will beams up at him.

“Sure!” Will gets up and rushes to the door as Billy grabs a folded heart and follows the boy out, aiming to give it to Joyce by means of apology. He thinks briefly about giving one to Hop as well, but he figures a spoken apology and a light punch on the shoulder and a promise to listen should do just fine to get the man smiling again. Bc somehow- somewhat miraculously -it always does.

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noel-byers · 5 years

Text

What monsters do you fight? || chapter O1

Chapter O1 • Chapter O2 • Chapter O3

Words: 1130

N/A: english is not my mother language pls don’t kill me bye

"Hargrove...? What are you doing in my house...? "

⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉⑆⑇⑈⑉

The year my brother Will disappeared transformed my entire existence, just as if I had been turned upside down, like the upside-down ... already excellent irony.

That year I learned even more about how important my family bond was and how I should have been afraid not only of monsters but also of humans themselves.

I could have sworn on my own life to reveal nothing to anyone about our terrifying adventures, but this gangrene really does not seem to want to give my family peace, much less my brother Will.

He's sick, he denies, but I recognize his eyes when they talk, he's sick and there is something that hides both me and my mother. I see him absent and he is haunted by nightmares that make our skin crawl every night because of his unsheathed screams.

I love my brother, I love my family, but this situation is consuming me and as much as it may seem selfish, I'm trying to distance myself from it, distract myself with everything I have, keep me busy.

Of course, the school does not seem to be a fairly fertile ground, except for my friend Robin and Jonathan. People have now framed us Byers as poor fools, without even the evidence to rely on. Only because my brother has disappeared and his mind is suffering from multiple traumas.

People often think themselves great, filling their mouths with bullshit ... pathetic.

The only thing I want now is for this to end, I'm sick of this hell, I just want to behave like all the stupid girls of my age.

It's a new day here at Hawkings and as usual I have just finished my extra literature lessons, the high school is almost empty, not all of them stay for extra-curricular activities, only geeks like me, gymnasiums playing basketball and the cheerleaders to practice with their "phantasmagoric choreographies". I go to the schoolyard, not far from the gym and without giving too much in my flannel shirt and grab my beloved cigarette "at the end of the day" and the lighter. I know that I will never be discovered, none of the school staff passes by here, if not the students. I inhale the smoke abundantly letting the heavy smell of tobacco drown my nostrils and lungs, finally my nerves relax after a long and tiring day. I look up at the sky and I observe that the latter is cloudless, due to the now winter wind that has been blowing for a few weeks throughout the city. Although this place concealed a supernatural entity, I would not have known where else to go, the woods, the often desolate city, the few but ultimately friendly people were my home and whether I liked it or not I was part of that absurd machine. A gear cannot choose its own destiny. My thoughts were then captured by voices in the distance, a girl was arguing with a group of boys, probably the basketball team. But my attention fell on a specific character: Billy Hargrove.

He was new but he had already shown that he was the most disgusting person in this world. Every week her bed was surrounded by some stupid and naive damsel, who for the most part decided generously to give her virginity to this emeritus dickhead, to then come out of it with a broken heart and trampled dignity.

I sharpened my hearing more but I already knew the script by heart.

"What do you mean?" The girl asked naively, probably a year younger than Billy.

"So, Melissa, is that your name? I will try to be very concise. It was a wonderful fuck in short, my room was full of your high-pitched moans ... OH Billy please...don't stop...ha ha aaah" that scene was really puking, Hargrove's friends started chuckling spitefully and mischievous, while the poor girl turned red and small with the low look "But it was nice until the fuck lasted"

"You...You can't treat me like a trophy, I can be much more than that" she tried to defend herself, but Billy rolled his eyes, his arrogant smile.

"Listen...Melania?"

"Melissa!"

"Here you see it? You answered yourself, you don't even count as a trophy for me, you are a fucking gap" the young lady's eyes filled with tears, my heart as cynical had a tight grip that made me cough in a scraped way, but not totally noisy.

"Now get out of the way, little girl, before I start to lose patience" Billy said finally in an unfriendly tone, as he watched his poor victim run away in tears.

The small garden was filled with their laughter and comments to say the least, but this nauseating symphony was cut short by my slow clapping of hands. The silence collapsed and everyone's eyes fell on my figure not far from them.

"Good boy! Really an excellent lesson in respect, I mean have you ever tried to apply as a student representative? Or will your insecurity be devoured by the sense of judgment of others?" I asked with a sharp and sarcastic tone.

"Who the fuck are you?" A friend of Billy asked.

"Um no no, I'm not talking to you, I know that being in front of a big guy like King Billy is a great excuse for delusions of protagonism, but I was talking to the boy in the foreground who made himself the permanent equal to his mother" I replied with a smirk and inhaling a little more tobacco from my cigarette. I slowly approached him, who strangely began to clench his fists and look at me with fiery eyes.

"Listen to me Hargrove, I don't know what your problem is. Maybe your dad never complimented you on your crap drawings in kindergarten or maybe your mom didn't buy you sweets enough, but surely go and fuck the smaller girls than you, and then screw them in front of your group of your Trained dogs is definitely not the right way to surpass your insecurities" I continued to blow a small cloud of smoke towards his face. Billy's face was as red as a tomato, he probably didn't put his hands on me yet because we were in school, but one thing was certain: I had caught his weak spot and he was silent. An overwhelming victory.

Without another word, I put my worn-out cigarette on my dry lips and turning my heels, I started looking for that girl, she would surely need a helping hand.

"Are you leaving without even telling you your name, coward bitch?" Billy asked, trying to return to battle.

"My name is Noel Byers, dickhead" I replied in a calm tone, raising my eyebrows, but continuing to turn my back to him "And before firing random insults, I would inform myself whether the interviewee is a virgin or not" I concluded sarcastically, throwing away the butt of my cigarette.

T O B E C O N T I N U E D . . .

#stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things gif #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #joyce byers #will byers #jonathan byers #robin #eleven #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #steve harrington

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stansbooty · 5 years

Text

the line between love and hate // reddie

summary: soulmate au where you feel intense emotions with your soulmate & their name appears on your body the first time you touch warnings: underage drinking words: 2945

ao3 link

Everybody knew about soulmates. In fact, it was one of the first things you learned about when you went to school and one of the first things most children wished for on the birthday after. Everybody wanted to find their soulmate. It sounded magical. A person whom the universe created just for you, a perfect match sent to be with you until you died, complimenting you in every way as you did for them.

Richie Tozier came home from school they day he learned about them, blabbing nonstop about the new magic he became aware of.

“And Mrs. Johnson said that everything is better with them! That you feel a lot more. Like if you’re happy, then you’re really happy!” Richie told his mom from the backseat of the car.

“Yes, that’s right.” Mrs. Tozier laughed.

“And we get a special tattoo of their name!”

“When you touch for the first time, yes. And then you’ll fall in love. Or maybe even before.”

Richie paused for a moment. “When’s that?”

“Love?”

“Yeah.”

Mrs. Tozier sighed, trying to find the words to describe it to her 5-year-old son. “When you fall in love, you’ll know.”

“But, Mom, how?” He whined.

“Love is when you like the person so much that is almost hurts you.”

Richie grumbled. “I don’t want it to hurt.”

“Not really in a bad way, sweetie. You love them so much that you feel so full. You always want the best for them. You always want them to be happy.”

“Like with my friends?”

“Kinda, yeah.” She smiled and looked briefly back at him. “Except just so much more. It’s like being friends times a hundred.”

“What about times infinity?” Richie giggled.

Mrs. Tozier chuckled as well. “Yes, times infinity works, too.”

From that moment on, Richie knew that he wanted to find his soulmate as soon as he possibly could. He couldn’t imagine a world in which he didn’t have someone like that by his side. A friend times infinity? It sounded magical.

Richie soon found out that it wasn’t all magic. When he turned 9, his teacher told them that a lot of people don’t find their soulmates. Or sometimes their soulmates die. Or even worse, sometimes they don’t like their soulmate and their soulmate doesn’t like them.

“How does that happen? Aren’t they perfect for you?” Someone asked her.

“Well you already know that everything feels better with them.” His teacher, Mrs. Robin, explained. They all nodded. “Well everything bad also feels worse. If you’re happy, you’re more happy. But if you’re sad, you’re more sad.”

Richie pouted and that afternoon in the car on the way home, he asked his mom another question.

“Are you and Dad soulmates?”

Mrs. Tozier was a bit taken aback. “Of course we are. Why wouldn’t you think that?”

“Mrs. Robin said not everyone ends up with theirs.”

“That’s true.” She sighed. “But your dad and I are, don’t worry.”

“What if I don’t end up with mine?” Richie exclaimed, suddenly very nervous.

“Richie, there’s no need to worry. I am certain you’ll find your soulmate and be very happy.”

“Mrs. Robin also said not everyone likes their soulmate. What if I’m not happy?”

She sighed again, bringing one hand away from the steering wheel to rub at his forehead. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

“But -”

“This is nothing to worry about right now. You’re 9, you have plenty of time to find them and be happy.”

“Okay.” He muttered, leaning his head against the car window and resuming his pouting.

“I hate him!” Richie Tozier, now 18 years old, slammed a hand on the table in front of him.

“What’d he do now?” Stan, Richie’s best friend, asked without looking up from his book. Bev, on the other hand, took it as an opportunity to push her textbook away.

“He’s just so infuriating! I’m just as smart as him, you know?” Richie sat down.

“I know.” Stan muttered.

“But fucking Kaspbrak thinks he’s all that just because he’s a teacher’s pet.”

“And captain of the track team.” Bev pointed out with a smirk.

“Who the fuck gives a shit?” Richie put his head down on the table.

“He’s not even that bad, Richie.” Stan finally pushed away his book. “He’s actually -”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

“Pretty nice.” Stan finished.

“He thinks he’s better than everyone. More specifically, me.”

Stan sighed and looked over at Bev, who had the same exasperated look on her face. This had been going on for the entirety of high school, since Richie had met Eddie Kaspbrak in his freshman English class. Richie had originally had a huge crush on Eddie, calling him the “cutest boy he’d ever seen”, but as they began to talk in their class, Richie realized the sheer rage he felt around the boy.

“You know, Ben is friends with him.” Bev mentioned.

“I know.” Richie rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how someone as sweet as Haystack could be friends with someone like him.”

“He says he’s a really good friend.”

“I really think you guys got off on the wrong foot.” Stan interjected hesitantly.

“You always do this. Just accept that I hate the guy and move on. You guys are my friends, you’re supposed to support me!” Richie groaned.

“I’m not going to support your childish hate of someone without reason.”

“So if I give you a legitimate reason, you’ll support me?”

Stan and Bev shared a look of confusion, but nodded nonetheless.

“I guess if you can find one, but he’s a good guy, Richie.” Bev answered.

“We’ll see about that.”

“So, Haystack, any parties this weekend with your other friends?” Richie asked Ben at lunch, resting his chin in his hands as he smiled faux sweetly.

“Yeah, Bev and I are going to Mike Hanlon’s party this weekend.” Ben smiled back, unaware of Richie ulterior motives.

“Can I tag along?”

Ben’s smile expanded to a grin. “Of course! That’d be great. You can bring Stan, too, it’ll be fun!”

“Benny boy, you’re so sweet to me.” Richie reached over and ruffled Ben’s hair.

“Why do you want to go?” Bev spoke up, having watched the exchange.

“Just some fun.”

Beverly squinted her eyes at him in suspicion, then turned to Ben. “Will Eddie Kaspbrak happen to be there?”

Ben shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t asked him but I’m sure he will.”

Bev turned back to Richie and glared at him, but didn’t say anything.

When lunch ended, Bev grabbed a hold of Richie’s arm and dragged him into an empty classroom. Her grip on his arm caused him to curse as he was being pulled away.

“Shit, Bev, chill out.”

“You leave Eddie alone.” She pointed her finger at him accusingly.

“What ever do you mean?” He feigned innocence.

“If you and Stan go to that party this weekend, I want you to leave Eddie alone. This whole situation is getting so ridiculous and I honestly can’t handle it. We’re graduating soon, grow the fuck up!” She exclaimed.

“I will when he does!”

“Just shut up, Richie. This is childish and stupid and you need to forget about this.”

“Fine.” He snatched his arm out of her grip. “I’ll go and be civil to the demon.”

“Thank you for your sacrifice.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it’ll be so difficult.”

“It will, Marsh.”

In fact, Richie actually was having a hard time being civil. From the minute he walked into the party, he had locked eyes with Eddie and felt a surge of emotions flow through his body. He immediately had torn his eyes away and walked to get himself and Stan a drink, his own being particularly strong.

He sat himself on a couch alone, Stan having gone to talk to the host (Richie was pretty sure he had a crush on Mike Hanlon), sipping his drink that would hopefully make him a more well behaved human being.

Then the couch cushion dipped.

“Surprised you haven’t sought me out.” Eddie’s voice filled Richie’s ears as he refused to look his direction.

“I made a promise.”

“A promise to what? Actually be a decent human being?”

“To be civil.” Richie spat out.

“Oh.” Eddie sunk back into the cushion, relaxing. “How’s that going for you?”

“Pretty good.” Richie tried to keep his answers short and curt, trying his best to keep his mouth from running.

“Well, thank you.”

Richie finally looked at Eddie, turning his head quickly with a confused look on his face.

Eddie took a sip of his drink. “I figured you, and me to an extent, could start being civil.”

“To an extent?” Richie barked a laugh. “Kaspbrak, don’t make me laugh.”

“That’s the last sound I want to hear, Tozier.” He mocked the venom Richie had put into his name but had a small smile barely on his lips. “I was just thinking, our friend groups have melded and we only have a few months until graduation….”

“You’re waving the white flag?” Richie’s lips quirked upward into a smirk, his eyes glinting.

“Far from it. I’m proposing a truce.”

“And after we graduate you’ll go back to being a dick who thinks he’s better than me?”

“Me?” Eddie let out a bark of laughter. “You’re the one that started hating me out of nowhere!” Even with his voice raising, it did little against the loud sound of the music.

“You’re infuriating and are constantly putting me down, but sure, I’m the bad guy.” Richie stood up from the couch.

“You make fun of me, you insult me, you go out of your way to make my day miserable, I just want you to leave me alone, because from where I stand it seems like you’re a 5 year old with a crush and you don’t know how to handle it.”

“A crush?! I wouldn’t have a crush on you if someone put a gun to my head.”

Eddie stood up as well, gripping his drink tight in his hand. He glanced down at it for a moment before tossing it towards Richie, effectively soaking the other boy’s shirt in the sugary alcohol.

“Grow up.” He spat.

Richie stood there, sticky shirt and all, as people stared, suddenly feeling more embarrassed than he had in his entire life.

A hand grabbed his and dragged him through the crowd, he glanced away from where Eddie had stomped off to see a mess of red hair and a head of brown curls in front of him.

“You’re ridiculous, I swear.” He heard Bev saying as they started up the stairs. “How immature can you two be?”

“Not to mention you cock blocked me.” Stan grumbled, causing Bev to let out a short chuckle. He shot a look at her before turning to face Richie. “This has officially gone too far and I’m sick of it.”

“I’m sorry.” Richie said, still feeling embarrassed, and now slightly sick.

“Too late.” Stan grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him through a doorway, Bev following them. Mike was standing there with an equally annoyed looked on his face, his hand on a doorknob to what seemed to be a closet.

“You folks gonna murder me?” Richie looked around at all their faces.

“Maybe indirectly.” Mike shrugged and opened the door.

Using his grip still on Richie, Stan shoved him into the closet. He heard the door slam and lock behind him before he saw two glowing eyes in the darkness. He screamed and the other person screamed as well, and Richie scrambled to turn on a light.

Eddie Kaspbrak sat there with red, puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

“Kaspbrak? What -”

He quickly wiped his face with his sleeves, sniffling. “Shut the fuck up, leave me alone.”

“We’re leaving now.” Bev screamed from outside the door. “We’re not letting you out ‘til you grow up. Don’t care if it’s days from now!”

“Fuck.” Richie let out a deep sigh and slid down to the floor.

“I know, I know, you’d rather die of starvation than speak to me.” Eddie said quickly.

Richie swallowed hard and took in the other boy’s appearance. “Are you okay?”

“Okay? No! I just embarrassed myself in front of half the school and realized I’m so stupid that I didn’t figure out you actually hated me until this moment.”

“Only because you hate me.”

Eddie let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. “Do you really believe that?” His voice came out weaker than Richie had ever heard him speak.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Richie,” Their first names hadn’t been said by each other in years. “I had a total massive crush on you freshman year and you treated me like dirt.”

Both boys’ hearts silently skipped a beat at the confession.

Richie swallowed hard. “Shit, Kaspbrak….Eddie, I liked you too.”

He felt a strange feeling in his stomach unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It was as if he was going to be sick, but he knew he hadn’t drank that much. It made it difficult for him to speak, his throat closing and he voice coming out scratchy.

“So, what happened?” Eddie sounded small.

Richie racked through his brain, trying to recall the first moment that he started this rivalry, so to say, with Eddie Kaspbrak. The first time he walked into school, saw his face, and the words coming out of his mouth were cruel, not gentle.

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly.

All he could remember was the feeling of anger bubbling up in his chest, he didn’t even know if it was something Eddie did.

“Our personalities clash.” Richie finally said.

“So does everyone’s. Hell, you and Stan are pretty different.” Eddie managed to let out a small laugh.

“I don’t know what it is about you.” Richie moved his body closer to Eddie’s, so they only had to speak barely above a whisper. “You always just – ugh – managed to get under my skin and I couldn’t think.” He felt a lightness to him he’d never felt with anyone else, it was bubbling inside of him and spreading across his body and made him speak without any reservations. “I couldn’t think of anything but you, and every move I made was to frustrate you, or to get you to look my way so I could say something I thought was witty, and, damn, Kaspbrak, I don’t know how you did it, but you got a tight grip on me.”

“Like a compulsion you couldn’t control.” Eddie added on.

“Yeah.”

“You’re saying I was your drug, Tozier.” He smiled.

Richie let out a small chuckle and felt a hysterical wave of laughter wash over him, forcing him to cover his face with his hands as his cheeks became red with glee. Eddie couldn’t help but join in, the two boys laughing until their stomachs hurt and they couldn’t anymore.

“I think we’re idiots, Eds.” Richie said when he caught his breath.

“Eds?”

Richie’s mouth worked quicker than his brain. “Yeah, I figured, it’s short and cute, like you.” His eyes widened when he realized what he said. “Um, I’m…sorry.”

Eddie gave him a lopsided grin. “So about that truce?”

“You got it.” Richie stuck out his hand.

Eddie reached out and they shook, but they both quickly recoiled, a sharp pain running through their each of their bodies. Eddie clutched his wrist tight, waiting for the pain to subside, while Richie slapped his ribcage.

When it had passed, Eddie looked beneath his hand to see the name “Richard” scrawled across his skin. His felt his breathing quicken and he looked up to see Richie already staring at him with a hanging jaw.

“I – um – I don’t – how -” Richie tried to speak but Eddie reached forward, pulling up the shirt still soaked in alcohol to where Richie had gripped in pain earlier.

“Let me see your chest!” He screamed.

Richie scrambled to pull off his shirt and Eddie lightly touched his bottom rib, “Edward” printed there.

“Oh my god.” He covered his mouth with his hands and tried not to scream again.

Richie looked down at the writing on his own skin. “Holy fuck!”

“Are we…does this mean?”

“We’re fucking soulmates!” Richie yelled out in glee. “I found my soulmate!” He stood up from the ground, reaching down to grab Eddie’s hand and pull him up too, a huge grin spreading across the smaller boy’s features. He turned around, banging on the door repeatedly. “Hey, let us out, we’re more than civil!

The door opened and the boys scrambled out, Richie still holding on to Eddie’s hand.

“You’re missing a shirt.” Mike pointed out, Bev and Stan with him as well, taking in the scene.

“Look!” Eddie said excitedly, turning Richie and pointing to the name on his side, then lifting his own arm up to show his.

“Well, shit.” Stan exclaimed.

Bev looked hesitant to speak. “And you guys are okay with this?”

“I can’t tell you why, but I’ve never been more ecstatic in my life.” Richie answered.

Eddie glanced at Richie, biting the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling anymore, his face was starting to hurt.

Stan let out an exasperated laugh. “All these years? The unexplained anger? Should’ve realized you were fucking soulmates.”

The two new found soulmates looked at each other, smiling in a way they hadn’t seen since they met each other years ago in their English class.

Richie couldn’t remember what caused his anger to start, he could only remember seeing Eddie’s bright face for the first time that morning and thinking “This boy better be my soulmate”.

-------------

hello everyone i am back from the dead to post a secret santa that i was supposed to post in december (obviously for christmas) but then i fell off the face of the earth and never did it!! so here it is...and enemies to lovers soulmate au it was for

#dont even know if i'm coming back to tumblr but here ya go #i put allll the tropes in here #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #fic #it #it 2017 #reddie fic #mine #itblurb #reddieblurb

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 7

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

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

No I didn't get carried away with writing domestic fluff and forget to do the one thing I was supposed to with this chapter I'm a professional and would never do that

It took a long time for Tim and Cass to convince Marinette that, no, it wasn’t a trap, it was just a normal Halloween Party. It took even longer to explain what a Halloween Party really was, because apparently it wasn’t a huge deal in France.

But, eventually, she got it:

“Okay, so every Rogue and vigilante has to go to his Halloween Party in stupid costumes… or else?”

Tim nodded. “Rogues have to go because he’ll be insufferable, we have to go because otherwise we’re leaving a bunch of Rogues alone together without supervision.”

“And it really is just a Halloween Party?”

Cass flashed two thumbs up.

Marinette still looked a little confused. “And we… we want to babysit the Rogues?”

“They mostly behave themselves. Again, Crane can be insufferable when he wants to be and they have to spend a lot of time with him in Arkham.”

“I guess that’s cool then…” Then, a thought seemed to occur to her because she brightened up. “Is Nightwing coming?”

Tim nodded, suddenly a lot more wary. “Yeah, both he and Flamebird drop by for most holidays, anyway, so they might as well… why?”

She blushed a little. “I kind of wanted to see if I could get him to train me. I think his fighting style is pretty cool.”

Tim was not jealous or annoyed that Marinette might like two of his brothers more than him. He was fine if she liked Cass more, because Cass was, well, Cass. But Dick? Damian? Come on!

At least he had a month before the party to prepare himself.

For now, he glared at Cass, because she was laughing at him behind her hand.

Then he remembered that Marinette was still there and was watching the two of them interact with a vaguely confused expression and he pulled himself together: “I don’t know if he can teach you much since he’s usually in Bludhaven, but I used to be obsessed with the guy and I know all his moves by heart.”

She tipped her head to the side, considering, then smiled at him. “Sure. Thanks, Red, I owe you one.”

He tried to hide his relief behind a smile. She smiled and blushed, so he was pretty sure it worked.

Marinette smiled as she scrolled through the Batinternet on her phone (they’d finally given her the password! She no longer had to waste data!). The batkids were all working on the computer, trying to hack into their father’s files to see their Christmas presents.

She didn’t get why they were doing it then, it wasn’t even Halloween yet. Still, they insisted that Batman was always prepared well before the holidays hit. She was curious about what they’d find, if anything, so she waited as Red Robin hacked their dad’s files.

Loud cheers erupted from the others, which meant they must have found something.

“... right, Ladybug, yours is easiest to get into… he probably didn’t expect you to try… he’s getting you an Xbox and a bunch of games to go with it.”

Her gaze shot up and she surged to the front of the group to see. “Really?”

Red Robin pointed at the screen and she blinked a few times. Yep, that was a customized Xbox. Wild.

Then her shoulders slumped. “Damn, I was only kidding. If I knew he was actually going to get it I would’ve asked for a Playstation.”

She continued looking at all the ‘random’ games Batman had bought her (he was suspiciously good at guessing what she liked), completely oblivious to the fact that she had accidentally started World War III right behind herself at the casual mention of a thing she wanted.

She glanced back at them once during their fight and they straightened instantly, innocent smiles in place. The hand Red Robin had in Robin’s hair turned into a hair ruffle. Black Bat had turned the way she gripped the collar of Spoiler’s shirt into pulling her down for a hug. Signal’s eyes stopped glowing under his domino. She smiled a little and turned back to the screen to look at the rest of the games. Fighting resumed.

Or, at least, it did until Marinette saw the file name.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I knew you fuckers took my blood,” she hissed irritably.

She wasn’t exactly scared, the bats seemed generally well-intentioned, just paranoid, but that didn’t mean she liked it. They stole her blood to figure out her identity without asking.

They all tensed up behind her and looked at each other awkwardly.

Robin was first to snap out of it. He swatted Red Robin over the back of the head. “Look what you’ve done, Drake.”

Marinette blinked and then pulled her gaze back to Red Robin. “Drake?”

The batkids looked at each other awkwardly. Except for Red Robin, who was glaring at his youngest brother.

Spoiler was the first one to come up with an excuse: “It’s an older codename. We told him to come up with something original since everything else he’s used has belonged to someone else first… and that’s what he came up with.”

She considered whether Drake really confirmed that Red Robin was Tim Drake-Wayne. On one hand, yeah… but, on the other hand, was he really that stupid? Would he really use his own last name for a codename?

She supposed that, in all her time knowing Tim and Red Robin, he had never shown himself to be original. Smart, sure, but a little unoriginal.

So, yeah, Tim was almost definitely Red Robin.

But she was prepared to ignore it for now. Every bat seemed tense at the idea of her learning their identities, so she played dumb:

“It’s not that bad of a codename. Dragons are pretty cool.”

She could feel Black Bat still staring at her, but everyone else relaxed almost imperceptibly.

“He didn’t base himself off of dragons, he chose male ducks,” Robin informed her.

She blinked. “Why the hell would he choose ducks?”

Signal snapped his fingers and started pulling out his phone. “Oh, Mari -- can I call you Mari? -- you should see his outfit.”

Red Robin realized he was about to get murdered for his younger self’s outfit choices and tried to snatch the phone away.

Unfortunately for him, while he was concentrating on Signal, Black Bat had sidled over to Marinette. She tugged her arm to pull her attention from the two fighting boys and then showed her the picture.

Marinette stared at the ugly cockroach outfit for a long time before taking a deep breath: “Alright, first of all...”

Tim… he was fine.

Okay, no, he wasn’t.

The tracker was better, he would admit. She had even started wearing more red and black so she could wear the necklace more (something that made him feel all fuzzy inside), but she wasn’t wearing it every day and he couldn’t exactly tell if the necklace was there because she was home or if it was there because she’d worn a different outfit.

So, he only had one solution: randomly dropping by to do chores with her.

It started off with the ‘might as well’ principle. They were already out for photography and getting ideas for outfits, why not pick up some groceries while they were on their way back? She could even carry more since there were two of them.

He quickly dropped pretenses, though. The one time every few days that they hung out wasn’t enough to keep her in the house, and even if it was she clearly wasn’t fond of staying inside for long periods of time. He started dropping by every day to just go out with her.

He could tell his family was getting a little suspicious about what he was doing, Steph and Cass both narrowed their eyes at him whenever they saw him leaving the office at a normal time and once he had caught Duke following him to see where he was going… but it was fine. They weren’t going to complain about him actually getting some sort of down time.

And, he had to admit, it was nice. Not only did resting his brain for an hour or two a day do wonders for his mental health, he just… enjoyed doing chores with her? He didn’t think he would. He’d expected to like it the first few times, the novelty of going on his first grocery shopping trip or figuring out how a laundromat was always going to make it interesting and new for a bit, but it didn’t seem to be wearing off.

He was pretty sure that was because of the person he was doing it with, though.

He smiled as he watched Marinette half-climb the supermarket shelves for a bag of Takis.

“Need help?” He called.

“Nope!”

He watched her jump a few times on the lowest shelf before, eventually, climbing up another shelf.

Tim winced and surged forward to support her weight a little.

She huffed and grabbed the Takis. He set her down.

She crossed her arms. “I said I could get it.”

“I trust you. The shelves? Not so much. Do you want to die crushed under a bunch of chips?”

Her halfhearted glare morphed into a grin. “If I die any other way you have to promise to resurrect me so I can do it again.”

He rolled his eyes. “How about I resurrect you and you try not to die again for a while?”

“Hm… I guess that’d be alright.”

Then, at the laundromat, Tim saw a bunch of Two Face’s henchmen. How did he know that they were henchmen? The black and white suits kind of gave them away.

He was just wondering whether it was worth it to try and call Duke over so they didn’t risk something happening when he realized that Marinette had slipped over to them.

But she wasn’t concerned as she offered some of her detergent. “Hey, if you need to wash lights and darks together like that… you’re going to need a different detergent. I know those are cheap but there’s a reason for that.”

“Isn’t that just an old detergent problem?”

“No, separating every single color into a different load is. But, if you want to do pure black and white like that… you don’t want to risk it.”

Then she turned and glared at another goon, who was pulling their luckily still okay clothes out of the washer.

“You’d better not be putting that in the dryer.”

The sheepish look on the henchman’s face was answer enough.

She huffed. “That is airdry only why would you do that --?!”

And that’s how they ended up friends with -- and possibly under the protection of? -- a bunch of henchmen. Tim had to admit, they were really nice when he and Marinette weren’t trying to get them thrown in jail. He almost found himself slipping and hoping that Frank managed to achieve his mob boss dreams. He actually did offer to babysit Sam’s kids while she had a shift because she seemed very stressed.

“Tim, darling, do you even know how to take care of kids?”

Tim didn’t know whether to blush because she had called him darling oh my god or due to embarrassment at that massive oversight.

“Uh… would you be willing to help?”

Marinette gave him an exhausted look. “I’ve only ever babysat one kid at a time without their older sibling being there to help.”

He quickly changed the offer to paying for a babysitter. Sam was thankful regardless.

When everyone had finished laundering their clothes to Marinette’s satisfaction, the two of them headed back towards her apartment.

Tim changed the position of the laundry basket on his hip so it didn’t dig into him as much. “You know, you didn’t have to help them.”

She snickered. “First of all, you’re absolutely wrong. I couldn’t just sit by and watch them ruin their clothes right in front of me!”

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fond smile on his face. “And second of all?”

“Secondly…” She let him into the house and closed the door behind him. A cheeky smile formed on her face. “Well, they’re henchmen. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have them on our side in case things go wrong rather than indifferent to what happens to us?”

It was here, with her smiling in front of him, intelligence sparkling in her eyes and the necklace he gave her hanging from her neck, that he realized that he was going to fall in love. He might not be there yet but, if they continued doing things like this, he was sure he would.

He wouldn’t mind that, he thought, as she leaned forward to take the basket from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way over. He watched her disappear to her room, no doubt to fix whatever damage he had done while carrying it that would be invisible to anyone but her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went to start up the coffee machine.

There are no botanical gardens more beautiful than the ones in Gotham. Whether that was because Poison Ivy herself tended to them or because they were kept in tip-top shape to appease her, Marinette didn’t know. Whatever the reason, it was gorgeous and Marinette had gotten quite a few different ideas. She pretty much had an entire spring collection planned out…

It was unfortunate that she’d gotten ideas for a spring collection in the middle of autumn, but she was ignoring that.

Now, they were sitting on her couch. They needed to relax after all that walking around on top of a rather exhausting night the night before (Scarecrow had broken out of Arkham to start preparing for his Halloween Party). She was completely in his space in an attempt to mess with him. It, unfortunately, didn’t seem to annoy him as he lazily rested his head on top of hers.

She huffed a little but allowed it.

He fiddled with the settings on his camera, biting his lip.

She looked down at the camera and asked: “How’d you get into photography?”

“... it’s a kind of personal story,” he said carefully. “A little sad, too, I guess.”

She tried to pull back, an apology on her lips, but he just rested an arm around her shoulders and held her close.

“It’s fine.”

She nodded as much as she could with the head resting on top of hers.

They were silent for a long time. She tried to relax herself. There were no akumas in Gotham, it was okay to accidentally upset someone and it was okay to ask them if they wanted to elaborate. They were people, people are supposed to feel sad sometimes. It’s healthy.

She took a deep breath before curling more into his side. “Would you like to talk about it?”

The arm around her tightened almost imperceptibly. “I… I guess I can, sure.”

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly. In fact, she might be a little more comfortable with that. Emotional conversations weren’t a Parisian’s forte.

But he sighed and shook his head. “It’s fine. Our relationship can’t progress all that healthily if we never tell each other anything.”

Yikes. Way to accidentally call her out on the fact that she hadn’t formed a healthy relationship in years, Tim.

“Not that I’m all that great at healthy relationships,” he said after a minute.

At least she wasn’t alone, she supposed.

“No easy way to say this, I guess… my parents weren’t the best. They’d go on trips -- they were archaeologists -- and I’d be left home alone, usually for months at a time.”

She cringed internally and took his hand in hers, rubbing comforting circles into his palm.

He sighed lightly. “So… I was lonely, obviously. I started by taking pictures of my parents. Sometimes it was all I’d have of them for months. They could leave, but the pictures weren’t able to.”

She felt him bury his face in her hair.

“I started following the bats after a while. I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t sated by pictures of just the two of them and decided to expand, if it was because they had a happy family despite a distant father and I wanted that for myself, or if it was because I wanted my parents to find out and be worried about me, or a mix of all of that… but…”

She slowly moved the camera off of his lap and pulled him into a hug. “But?”

He was silent for a bit, thinking over his answer. He shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. “It was an old coping mechanism. A way of feeling connected to people when I couldn’t actually be.”

“‘Was?’ What changed?”

He laid back on the couch and she allowed him to pull her down beside him. “People around me… started ‘leaving permanently’.”

She winced. Oh.

“It hurt a lot more to look at the pictures after that. It just felt like a reminder that I was alone.”

She frowned. “But… you’re taking pictures of me, now.” Her eyes widened. “Shit, did I accidentally trigger --.”

He shook his head quickly. “No, no. Well, kind of, but it’s okay! Every time they’ve died, it was because of some sort of shortcoming on my part. I think I’ve learned from all my mistakes. You… I won’t let you get hurt, okay?”

Marinette didn’t know how to respond. On one hand, she was pretty sure that she should be assuring him that, even if she did end up dying, that he shouldn’t blame himself… on the other hand, she had no intentions of dying and she was pretty sure it was nearly impossible for her, so maybe it was a good thing that he had chosen to protect her of all people? Maybe the problem would solve itself?

She didn’t know.

She carefully took his face in her hands, pulling him to look her in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay, darling?”

He gave her a tentative smile. “I sure hope you’re right.”

He had been asked to stay the night. Her excuse was that she was almost done with an outfit for him and she wanted to give it to him the second it was done and, by the time it would be, it would be too dark to go out safely.

Tim kind of felt bad that he had worried her but he wasn’t going to turn down the offer of staying over and watching her finish the outfit.

But, first, food. They dropped a million takeout menus on the desk. A long silence stretched between them as they looked at all the options.

“... what do you want?” Asked Marinette.

“I’m not in the mood for anything in particular, you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, do you want anything?”

“I don’t want anything, what about you --?”

This continued on for about three minutes before Tim got a brilliant idea. He dialled Damian’s number and put it on speaker.

“Drake. Why are you calling? Have you been hurt?”

“No, Dami, I’m getting takeout and I was just wondering if you had any ideas.”

Marinette gave him an affronted look, but he clapped his hand over her mouth before she could warn Damian that, no, he wasn’t buying food for him he was just going to be an asshole.

“... I suppose I wouldn’t be averse to Chinese.”

“Thanks, Dami! Hope you can get Alfie to make that for you.”

“What do -- ?”

Tim hung up on his very confused younger brother.

Marinette frowned as he removed his hand from her mouth. “That wasn’t nice of you, that’s a kid.”

Tim was not about to get beaten by his brother in both identities, thank you very much.

“Alfred can cook better than anyone in the world, he’s not going to suffer.”

She snorted. “I doubt he can make food better than…” She picked through the takeout papers for a few moments before holding up a menu. “... this place!”

He squinted at the menu. “... I really hope you can speak Mandarin.”

“You’d be hard pressed to find a language I can’t speak, Timmy,” she said, absently dialling the number.

Well, he supposed that explained how a person from France knew ASL and could speak English like a native. Damn. Now he kinda wanted magical god-earrings so he could speak every language in existence.

She spoke cheerfully to the person on the other side of the line for a moment before turning to Tim. “What do you want?”

“Uh… shrimp fried rice?”

She rolled her eyes and flicked his nose. “Alright, fine, white boy.”

“It’s a safe option okay --!”

She wasn’t listening to him explain why fried rice was the best choice for him because she was relaying the order to the person on the other side of the line. She hung up with a smile.

“Food will be here in about three minutes. Do you rich people have small bills or do you just use them for tissues or something?”

He raised his eyebrows. “They go down to a hundred, right?”

She pressed her lips together thinly, clearly unsure whether or not he was joking.

He snickered and shook his head. “Nah, I think I have twenties and fifties…”

“Yeah, that won’t do. We’re going to get robbed,” she said, reaching into her purse.

“We? Didn’t know I lived here, too,” he joked.

She barely even glanced up from where she was counting money. “Honestly, with how often you’re here, you might as well move in.”

He choked. He wanted to say something smart or funny or smooth, instead all that came out was: “You --? I --? Uh --!”

She snickered behind her hand. “Love, relax, I’m just kidding. You don’t have to leave your fancy mansion with all your siblings --.”

“Wait, don’t make living here sound even better. I will do it purely to get away from them, don’t test me.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “Maybe that's the plan, you’ll never know.”

Tim had exactly zero idea whether they were joking or not anymore. The tone and reactions made him pretty sure they were kidding, but… what if they weren’t?

He was just gathering the courage to ask when the doorbell rang, pulling their attention to the food. She continued counting for a second before running to the door and swinging it open.

He walked up beside her awkwardly as she chatted politely to the guy to take the food inside. He knew, logically, that Marinette was actually way stronger than he was… but his stupid brain saw a thin, short woman in need of someone to help her carry things. So, he took it from the guy with a smile.

The delivery guy glanced Tim up and down before asking Marinette something. She laughed and gave a shrug. Tim did not know what was going on but he felt vaguely insulted.

He was definitely learning Mandarin after this.

The moment the door closed he whined about being insulted. She looked amused.

“You know what he said?”

“... no,” he admitted.

Her lips twitched.

“... you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

She snickered and leaned over the two bags of food in his hands. “So, you got the fried rice, right?”

“Mariiiiiiii.”

“Your food is going to get cold.”

“Beeeaaaan,” he complained.

She raised an eyebrow at him, a blush spreading across her face. “Bean?”

He grinned, feeling heat creep to his own cheeks. “I don’t know, I couldn’t think of anything for a nickname. First thing I thought of was coffee beans, so: Bean.”

“Wow, you’re such an addict,” she teased.

He continued pouting at her until she gave in.

She leaned forward to press a kiss to his nose. “He asked if you could use chopsticks or not so he could get you a fork if you couldn’t.”

He felt the blush on his face deepen. “Oh… I can’t.”

“That’s fine.” She grabbed a tote bag from the floor of her pantry and pulled out a set of plasticware.

He blinked. “... you keep plastic forks?”

She shrugged and tossed the bag back in her pantry. “Plastic forks, grocery bags, napkins, a few sets of chopsticks…”

“... why?”

“Some of us are minorities, darling.”

“What --?”

She hummed tunelessly as she worked.

Tim had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Had most of this been an elaborate plot to make him finally get some sleep? Possibly.

She didn’t feel all that bad, though. With how much he overworked himself both as Red Robin and as Tim Drake-Wayne… honestly, she was beginning to doubt that he slept at all. And, really, if a vigilante coffee addict with a magically enhanced physique is worried about your sleep schedule, you’ve got problems. Intervention was needed.

Don’t get her wrong, though, she was going to make up for lying to him. She’d move him to her bed and leave a cup of coffee for him on the bedside table. Maybe she’d even make him breakfast, it depended on how tired she was in the morning.

But that was for when she was done. For now, she was working on the last part of the outfit: she needed to lace up the corset. His posture needed a little work and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that to his face.

… besides, corset vests are cute. She wished more guys would wear them.

She smiled to herself as she pulled the last bit of lace through and tied a loose knot. Done.

She looked down at Tim. Loose strands fell in his face as he slept. The tiny wrinkles in his forehead disappeared, making him look much younger. His lips curled into a slight smile at whatever he was dreaming about.

He looked so genuinely at peace. She hated that that was abnormal for him.

She couldn’t help but worry a little about what he’d said earlier. He’d claimed that the reason he had gone up to the top of that building the day they’d met (as Tim and Marinette) was to scout out a location for photography, but now that was seeming like a lie because he apparently preferred taking pictures of people over locations… so, why was he up so high? He’d known it was illegal to be there, so she doubted he thought anyone else would be…

She swallowed thickly.

She didn’t think his mental state was that bad… but, just in case it was, she waved Tikki over for a bug and sewed it into one of his sleeves.

Tikki was looking at her disapprovingly. Marinette ignored her.

It was Ladybug’s job to make sure everyone was doing okay mentally, and she wasn’t going to fail a person she cared about of all people.

His head slipped from her shoulder onto her stomach and she sighed, trying to lightly push him off without disturbing his sleep. It didn’t work. He made a quiet sound in the back of his throat and buried his face in her stomach, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Well, this is her life now.

… she supposed it wasn’t so bad, though.

#stalker x stalker #shutterbug #timari #maribat #timmari #timinette #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #yes it's all just maladaptive coping strategies #it's ME what'd you guys expect

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thisartemisnevermisses · 4 years

Text

Going Under 6/-

Paring: Mostly Steve Rogers x Reader; little Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, out of character acting, probable smutt in later chapters, sad reader, broken, sweet ending.

Summary: You work as head oversight for the Avengers. After a party and a little kiss, you start crushing on Steve. Only an event from you’re rookie years, is sabotaging the possibility of your crush to evovle into something more.

A/N: My writing is getting better with every chapter. I’m notice that finding the wright words gets easier. Here’s another long chapter, with some steamy fluff. Enjoy Going Under.

Chapter 6: Lithium

“Y/n stop it, that’s nonsense.” Bucky says angry, “If I thought about you in that way, I wouldn’t bother asking you, your side of the story. I’m sorry for that ass of a best friends. They way he reacted was not okay.” Bucky said smiling mockinly, taking a slight glance at Steve.

“The next day we had to report to Fury in the Avengerstower. Steve was also there, he apologized to me.” You smile, remembering your talk with Steve.

"y/n, where were you. We were looking for you." Callie and Lexi walk into the quinjet, both of them draging one of the man of your team. Both were shitface drunk, and clinging onto Callie and Lexi. "Fury wants to talk to us about..." Lexi stops talking, seeing your face. Your eyes are red and your make-up is running from the tears you've shed. "Fury can wait." Callie says and starts the engine of the quinjet. "Let's get back to home." The next morning, you're up early, trying to connect the server for updates. Sipping at you're freshly brewn cup of coffee, you welcome Owen into the room. He complaints about the noise you're making and the pounding headache he’s got. Offering him a cup of coffee, makes him hurl and sprint for the badroom. You chuckle at his failed attempt to outdrink a God.

Everyone is slowly waking up and joining you one by one in the commen room. Owen and Avery hiss at every sound and wear sunglasses, dramatizing their hangover. Once the team is compleet Robins start to brief you on the request of Fury. Ordering you to leave as soon as the briefing is over.

You’re sitting in the quinjet, nervous as hell, chewing your lip. What had Fury to talk about, that it even couldn't wait a day. After that short briefing, Robins had sent you off to the Avengerstower. Excluding all important information for you.

You look around in the quinjet, Lexi and Calli are chatting while in the cockpit. Owen and Avery have a death aura surrounding them. What an idiots, not man enough to handle their hangover. What if Fury wants to split the team up. For nearly 8 years they where your home, your family. The ones that stoot by you through every important event. Thinking of saying goodbye, made you sad. You shake the thought out of you’re head and decide to join the girls in their talk.

Once you where in the tower, Hill had ordered all of you to sit in the kitchen/diningroom. Avery and Owen were hidding in the corner of the diningroom. Trying to get some sleep. Callie sat on a stool and Lexi decided too sit ontop of the counter. You were pouring yourself a cup of coffee, really needing the caffeine shot. Callie was talking about a guy she met yesterday and how sloppy his kisses where. She compared him to Lassie the dog. Lexi almost fell backward from the counter. Igniting another wave of laughs. It felt good to laugh, the events yesterday made you feel like that rookie agent of 10 years ago. You were a grown woman and didn't need to apoligize. Nor be treated like a nobody. Owen yells at you for laughing to loud. Having a pounding headache and feeling like shit. "Well, you should't drink that much if you can't hold it." you yell the last part, earning a growl from Owen.

Your conversation gets interrupted with the distant sound of two low voices chatting. Rounding the corner were Steve and Bucky. Steve stopped talking, once he saw you standing in the kitchen. He looked at you, but didn't make eyecontact. Seeing the supersoldier before you, made you blush. An electric jolt goes through you, remembering last nights kiss. How his hands where everywhere, how he kissed you and they made you feel dizzy.

"Y/N can we talk?" Steve interupts the silence, looking at you, ignoring the looks from the others. Earning a low hustle from Bucky, Avery and Owen. "Oh, sush you guys." Setting your cup on the contour. "Do not, I repeat do not touch my coffee! I mean IT Avery, don't touch it." looking at Avery who flipps you off.

Lexi squeezes your shoulder, looking worried at you. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Callie winks at you "Oh, and don't forget to make a fist with you're thumb on the outside. It won’t break your tumb, when you hit him!" She shouts after you. --------------Your talk with Steve--------------

"Listen y/n I want to apologie for my behaviour yesterday." Steve starts, his hands in his pockets and trying to make eyecontact.

"Tjee, ya think." snapping at him, avoiding his eyes. There so mesmerazing. Even if he treated you wrong, you still feel a pull towards him. You feel a little flame in the pit of your stomach. The effect that Steve has on you, feels disturbing. Are you even ready to let all of those feeling into your life again?

"Could you at least look at me, I'm trying here." Steve moves closer, demanding a reaction from you. Taking a step back, your back hits the wall behind you. Were you a trained agent, well so much for checking your envirenmont and exits-point. Great strategie.

Breathing out, you look Steve in the eye. "What do you expect, Captain Rogers?" You bite at him, oh god he stands so close, he's so freaking tall. With one step, he could close the gap between you and him. You would stand chest to chest, feeling how the other breaths. Just you're uniform sepperating your bodies from eachother. You become aware of his warmt and scent, your breathing speeds up. This doesn't go unnoticed by Steve. "Are you okay?" He asks concern in his voice.

"I'm fine." You snarl, letting out a shaky breath. Why does he have that effect on you. There is a logical explanation for all of this, you're sure of it. Maybe it's because of your lack of sex, yeah that's logical.

"Really, it seems too me, your breathing irregular and your face is flushed." Steve leans in closer, closing the gap between the both of you.

"Are you really fine." he whispers in your ear. If your weren't that mad at him, you would jump him. How you loved to rome your hands over his chest, tracking every muscle. Your breath is caught in your throat, biting your lip.

Steve leans back, enough to make eyecontact, "It doen't seem like your fine." he says while ghosting his lips over yours. You only have to lean in and you could kiss him. Likking your lips, seeing Steve looking at them, makes you desire him even more. Does he want this too? Should you take the leap?

Within a second the moment is over and Steve takes a step back. You immediatly miss his warmt and regret not responding to his almost kiss.

"I was out of line, I didn't want to intimidatie you. You.....have an affect on me and I don't know what to do with it." Steve confesses bashful.

You smile at his confession, a color spreading over your cheeks, looking to the ground. Should you confess to? Steve’s feeling bolt and leans against the wall, capturing you between him and the wall.

You look up into his eyes, they show how sincerely he meant this. You let out a sigh "Well Captain..," you start.

“Hey Cap, were expected , briefing starts in 5." Clint interrupts. He sees you standing with Steve. Greeting you with a grin. Just fucking great, out off all people, this asshole does see you talking to Steve. Seeing the way Steve shifts on his feet, avoiding eye contact and flushed cheecks, makes you sad. Is it so hard to be with you, speak with you, without behaving like an idiot. Is it a crime to interact with you. How foolish of you to believe you had a shot at romance. Maybe Steve talked to Clint and would think you're a quick fuck.

Angry you speak up "You know Captain Rogers, I don't need your apologie, nor your company. I was foolish to think that you were nice and meant well. I thought I learnt my lesson, but I guess not.” Vile is all over your face and tears stinging in your eyes.

"No, really, I was out of line saying that too you yesterday and just now, please accept my apologie." Steve says caught offguard, surprised by your reaction. This wasn't going the way he would liked it to go. He wanted to make it up to you, even aks you out. He can't hold himself in your presence. He wants to kiss you, be intimate with you, take you over and over again. He felt like a teenage boy, who's hormones are raging. And now you're angry with him, because off his stupid behaviour.

"Ooh.." you shuckle spiteful, "Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. Yesterday I had loved to know you better, today I pass." Your eyes are hard and show disappointment.

"I'm sorry, let me make it up to you. I acted like an ass and really like to get to know you, I'm not fooling around. It was so nice and refreshing talking to you yesterday." Steve takes your hands in his, staring in your eyes.

You open your mouth to reply, but decided not too. Rethinking what you want to say, you look at Steve "I need to think, Captain." and you walk away. Walking back to the kitchen you scold yourself, there goes your shot at romance. How could you be so foolish, thinking that an Avenger would be interested in you. Love wasn't kind to you, you had loving friends and there it stopped. Experiencing something like an relationship was not reserved for you. You blame karma for it, being a homewrecker, made you lose your shot at love. Thinking about the grin Clint had worn when he saw the both of you, made your stomach turn, asshole. On the other hand, Steve seemed sincere and really sorry. Maybe you should think about it, giving the both of you another chance. A fresh start would be nice.

“There you are, y/n Fury is ready for us.” Callie calls, running towards you. “He, you okay?” She asks, laying an arm on your shoulder.

--------------In the office--------------

“Welcome, beta team.” Fury motions for all of you to sit. “I want to talk about joining the Avengers. As an analyzing and colleteralinterpet team. As you have noticed those idiots, are wrecking havoc with their way off running missions. We all know how New York looks like after their encounter with the Chitauri, lets not forget the way Sokovia looks after Ultron. At the moment all leaders are talking about an accord, binding the priveliges of the Avengers. We want to keep the Avengers the way it is and prevent that fucking accord." Fury ends his speach.

"If I'm correct, you want all of us, to join the Avengers, to oversee their missions. To prevent collateral?" You ask, looking at your teammates. Fury wouldn't have all of you here, if he didn't mean the whole team. "Including Robins?" you look at Fury, he eyes you and huffs. "Robins, gets a new team of rookies. Coulson warned him, to use your full potential. He didn't, but I will." He answers. "You will be leading this team." Looking straight at you, earning small coughs and gasps from your teammates.

"Sir, I don't think..." Fury interups you. "Agent y/l/n/, as I told you almost 8 years ago, don't fucking doubt my descisions. You can do that, you're more than capable." Fury adds, his eyes soft, knowing it will be tough on the first months.

“Yes sir. I will do my best.” You smile, looking at your team. “And we will help you, you can do it.” Lexi smiles at you, the rest of your team nods.

“If that’s all sir, I would like to consulate my team how to start.” Standing up from your chair, you wait for Fury to react. All he does is nod and continues his paperwork.

When you exit the office of Fury, Steve is leaning against the wall of the frontoffice. You walk by, he watching you, searching for contact. Deciding to ignore him, his head drops in dissapointment. Once your past him, you turn around, "Hè Rogers, wanna make it up to me..Well here's your chance..were going to work together." you smile at him. Hopefully this was the wright decision.

“Fury asked us two years ago. The choice of becoming the Avengers analyse-team was easy. Hoping that working together would lead to seeing Steve more often. We started the next day with evaluating of all of your missions and reading information about all of you. Preparing a colleteralplan and an advisory report for future missions. It was a hell of a job, but we managet it, meanwhile I was starting crushing on Steve and found it difficult to interact with him, at least when it was about small talk. When the missions didn’t go as plannend, everything went from bad to worse.” Sipping at your coffee, you look at the clock. You’ve been talking for nearly two hours. Bucky had let you talk freely about your expericence, asking a question once in a while. It was relieving to tell your story to Bucky. But at the moment he seemed distracted. He was looking away and making wierd faces. Was he talking to someone? Shit, was someone sitting behind you, listening to every word you say. Were they fooling you again. With one swift movement you stand up, surprising the two man. Bucky and Steve look at you, you stare wide-eyed at Steve. “For how long have you been sitting there?” you ask.

#Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #imagine #marvel #marvelfan #captain america #captain america x you #romance #fluff #angst #Avengers #shield #love #Drama

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thefaithie · 5 years

Text

WC, Chapter 8

Wrong Conclusions Chapter Eight: Reconsideration

"What're you two so down about?" Cyborg asked, turning momentarily away from his own metallic arm and lifting up the goggles he had been using to protect his organic eye from electric sparks. Robin and Raven had entered the Tower no more then ten minutes ago, and from Robin's somber expression and Raven's colder-than-usual attitude, the metallic Titan had been able to tell something had gone wrong.

"Nothing," Robin spat out as bitterly as possible. "Nothing at all."

"And my mother was a toaster," Cyborg rolled his natural eye. "What happened?"

"I said 'nothing'!" Robin growled through gritted teeth, but Raven sighed and answered properly, instead.

"Robin's jealous of the fact that Beast Boy's the one going out with Starfire."

"So they are actually datin', huh?" Cyborg asked in mild surprise, ignoring Robin's indignant look. "I was wonderin' when it'd happen. I mean, they both changed a lot after you two got together-"

"We're not together!" They both cut him off at once.

Robin grinded his teeth and balled his fists in fury, and the shadow over Raven's face revealed four red, glowing eyes. Cyborg ducked just in time as a Bird-a-Rang and a wave of black energy went for his table, causing a small crater to form in the middle of it.

"DUDE!" Cyborg looked up from the crack and glared at the two of them to assure they wouldn't repeat those motions again. "I know, okay!? I was just messing with you two!" The mechanical man straightened back up carefully, staring at his friends in disbelief. "Seriously, if you two're THAT jealous, maybe you should just tell 'em instead of bein' all moody with me?"

"I'm not jealous of anything!" the Boy Wonder snapped again before turning on his heel and heading towards the gym, still utterly seething.

"I don't do 'jealousy'," Raven said coldly, floating a few feet in front of her metallic teammate. "And furthermore, there's nothing for me to be jealous of whatsoever."

"Will you two stop foolin' yourselves?" Cyborg sighed, pulling out a screwdriver and ignoring how taken-aback his comment made Raven look. "You've had it bad for BB ever since that mirror-thing. But you're never gonna admit it because you think you're this awful demon or whatever and you think that means you don't deserve someone nice like him. Just like Robin's been droolin' over Star for as long as I can remember, but won't say anythin' 'cause he's too scared it'll mess up the team or whatever way he phrases his excuse. All of ya gotta just suck it up, tell each other how ya feel, an' finally give me some peace and quiet."

Raven was now emanating an energy so black that it made her leotard look grey. She glared at Cyborg, wondering what she could do to make him regret saying what he had dared to utter.

She could encase him in energy so he couldn't breathe...no, that was stupid - he probably had an oxygen mask. She could take all his bolts out of him...No, no, he could just pull himself back together with whatever magnetized sensors he had inside him. Something, something to get him back for daring to say that she had feelings for that stupid monkey of a boy...

After a few seconds, the furious glow around Raven faded and a satisfied smile appeared on her lips.

"...Says the guy who fell for a pink-haired villain, of all people."

Cyborg's head shot up, blushing in surprise and embarrassment, sputtering, "H-Hey! That's low!" but it was too late. Raven was already floating back towards her room and shutting the door behind her, leaving nothing but a peeved teammate in her wake.

But after the door slid shut and she floated onto her bed, Raven couldn't help but begin to wonder...

Her? And Beast Boy? Sure, she liked him enough to tolerate him, but that was it, wasn't it? He was just an annoying, green, obnoxious boy who never knew when to keep his mouth shut!

She managed to hold that thought for a moment, then sighed. That isn't true... She told herself instantly. He's a lot deeper than that, even if he acts like he isn't...

Her eyes became fixated on the ceiling as the memory of Terra's betrayed ran through her mind. Beast Boy had shown off some of his true, darker colors during that crisis, but despite everything, he had given the Earth-user a second chance, and Terra had redeemed herself because of it as a final act.

Then there was Malchior... Beast Boy had turned into a fly on her wall just to watch Raven, to make sure she was alright. She had taken it as him being overly nosy at the time, but now appreciated how it had merely been the green teen's way of showing concern. And, of course - it had turned out his instincts had been correct, to have been concerned.

And then there were all the times he had tried to make her laugh. It was easy enough with the other Titans, but Beast Boy tried extra-hard for her, even if she didn't appreciate it outwardly...

Raven let out a small sigh, feeling her face break into a warm smile, just at the memories of some of his more recent attempts. He could be so stupid.

Wait. A smile? Her, smiling, thinking about Beast Boy? No, no, that...that wasn't possible! He was loud, annoying, stupid...There was no way she had any feelings for him!

She sat bolt upright and scanned her room momentarily. The jewel on her forehead glowed and a nearby drawer opened, causing a black mirror to float towards her. She looked at it, inhaling deeply.

She needed to know. She's been behaving so strangely, not at all like herself. She was constantly on the verge of letting her powers loose. She needed to be honest with herself, no matter how she didn't want to, and face whatever the truth was. She needed to go inside of herself and see what she truly thought about Beast Boy...What all the sides of her thought of him.

With a final deep breath, she concentrated, feeling herself being drawn into the mirror, and found herself within the gates of her own mind...

Downstairs, the punching bag flew back a few feet into the air before falling back and causing the chain that held it to the ceiling to jangle violently. Before it even had a chance to swing back to its original position, it was punched again and flew even further than before.

Robin panted, continuing his barrage of upper-punches. He was dressed in his gi with ripped sleeves, and sweat was pouring down the sides of his face and into his mask. But the Boy Wonder didn't seem to notice as he continued to abuse the bag before him, trying to keep his mind free of thoughts: empty, vacant, clear-

...What's he got that I haven't!?

"Augh!" Robin cupped his hands over his ears in an attempt to block his own thoughts out, only to be hit in the face by the punching bag on its swing-back. The Boy Wonder was sent back and found himself on the floor before he could even think to react to the bag's act of vendetta.

"Stupid bag-!" Robin growled, rubbing his nose and glaring daggers at his inanimate assaulter. He thoroughly considered standing and giving it another beating, but after several seconds of thought, instead decided to take a short breather. He sat up and ran a hand through his spiky hair, exhaling slowly, his thoughts now free to roam again on the matters that he had so attempted to avoid.

...Why did she pick him? What did Beast Boy do to get her? Is it his hair? The jokes? What?

...Why didn't I say anything to her sooner...?

Robin groaned, another voice in his head quickly answering his questions for him.

He's not scared of telling people how he feels, and that's all he had to do to make Starfire feel special. Where as I stayed quiet, lying and telling myself she was like a sister for the past...what, three years, now?

Robin sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. Growing up with Batman had, indeed, taken a toll on him. All the constant talk about 'job first, personal matters later' had made him too jumpy to ever talk about...feelings. What drove Robin crazy was that it was EXACTLY why he had left the Batcave, anyway - to prove to him there was more to life that kist "job first" and he could still lead a team to victory, despite it. But in his desperation, all that happened was that that obsessive need to win and show Batman he could make it as a leader overtook him, and he ended up pushing most other things aside, instead, especially his own feelings. It had always been Starfire who had made Robin realize that he had to think of the whole team, not only himself or how to get the job done as quickly as possible... Which was quite surprising, considering how the two had met.

Starfire had been the one he had considered the villain at first, and in all honesty, he had been wary of her their first few months together because of it. Robin had avoided making her angry or annoyed, thinking of her as only a war-class fighting, above anything else. He learned to think of her as a friend, that much was true, but more as a friend who could break him in half than someone like a possible girlfriend. The more Robin avoided her, the more Starfire had tried to get to know him, doing her very best to grasp the concepts of kindness and love. But even she had eventually started to lose hope in ever getting Robin's full trust, in those early days.

That was, until the cooking incident. Starfire had never used a kitchen before, and had been asked by Beast Boy to make some toast. She had agreed, and attempted making them. Somehow (none of the Titans had ever found out quite HOW, as the cameras were also damaged beyond repair), Starfire had managed to set half of their kitchen aflame, as well as half of the living room.

After seeing half of the files he had worked so hard to obtain and put together burnt to a crisp, Robin had lost it. The Boy Wonder had spent almost twenty entire minutes yelling at Starfire about how she had to be more careful and ask if she didn't know how to use something, rather than risking turning their entire home into a pile of ash. He had even called her stupid, air-headed, and several other things he still deeply regretted to this day. But the moment he had finished his rant and actually realized what he had said, Robin had cringed, expecting to be hit into the next week. But to his amazement, all he had heard was a whimper. A small, weak whimper, followed by the sounds of crying and rushed footsteps.

That had been the first time Robin had ever made Starfire cry, and the first time he realized being physically stronger than him didn't mean she couldn't have her feelings hurt by him.

Robin sighed, but despite himself, he was unable to keep from smiling when he thought of the incident. True, he felt nothing but guilt for having made tears fall from those beautiful green eyes, and he absolutely hate himself for the things he'd called her without thinking and had made sure never to do that again, but it had also been the first time he had hugged her. For almost the entire night, while she cried, muttering apologies, half in Tamaranian, half in English.

After that memory, more avoided memories began to rush into the mind of Robin. All good ones, about how he and Starfire had become very close friends, how she had slowly learned more things about Earth, how he had learned to be a better person all because of her. And the more Robin remembered, the more glaring the realization became:

I'm in love with Starfire.

He breathed in deeply, the thought coming to him as much less of a shock than he would have expected. Truthfully, he really had been fooling only himself with all his excuses. After all, if he had only felt platonically about Starfire, he wouldn't have gotten jealous about her being forced to marry, and his heart wouldn't have skipped a beat when Cyborg had called Starfire his girlfriend. He could have carried on normal conversations with her without worrying what she thought of him, or have wanted to protect her as much as he constantly did. The feelings had been inside of him for so long, but he had always pushed them aside, calling them 'friendly', or mentally referring to Starfire as a sister, even though the term never sounded right.

And now, it was too late. She was with Beast Boy. They were having a good time, he had put her hand around her and she had leaned close to him. All was lost...

...Or...was it?

Robin thought back to when Kitten had asked for a date from him. He had far from enjoyed it, considering how annoying she was, but Starfire had acted very, well...jealously then. She had even dressed up just to follow Robin to the dance and make sure no harm came to him. And she had also been jealous when she had thought that Blackfire had replaced her, on the Titans, too...

So, maybe there was a chance? Maybe...maybe if he told Starfire, then she could still have feelings for him! Maybe Beast Boy and she really were just friends. Heck, maybe she'd seen one of those old 80's flicks and has asked Beast Boy to stage something to make Robin jealous. Maybe Starfire was hoping Robin would say something!

'Maybe' was usually not something Robin would dare gamble with, but for Starfire, he really had no other choice.

Just as Robin began pulling his last piece of uniform on to go find Starfire again, the door to the gym slid open and Raven and Cyborg stood outside of it. A Communicator was flashing in Cyborg's large hand and his expression was grim.

"Robin, there's trouble at that hospital from a week ago. Starfire and Beast Boy are there, but they said they can't hold out alone much longer!"

Disclaimers:

Starfire, Beast Boy, Raven, Robin, Cyborg, Silkie, and pretty much everything but the plot at hand belongs to © D. C. Comics/Cartoon Network/Kids WB

9/2019 Update:

Woof. This is kind of a fun chapter. I forgot about all the back and forth and inner acceptance and everything, haha. Hopefully it's still fun to read.

#teen titans #teentitans #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #raven #robin #robrae #cyborg #Cyborg is the voice of reason #robstar #dick grayson #BBrae #romance #acceptance #inner feelings #feelings #love

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