#but like. ‘why should I care??’ well a dead billionaire is a dead body but a living one can still make choices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

Text

Twisted 25 - The Family Dinner [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 5300

Summary: Family time can be chaotic.

Sharing secrets was difficult, but sharing secrets about one’s past was quite possibly one of the most difficult things that a person could do with who they loved. You knew how difficult it was for Spencer to talk about his past with you, but he stood by his word and told you absolutely everything, with nothing to hide. By the time you finished that conversation, it was almost dawn and yet you didn’t feel tired at all.

After that night, something changed but it wasn’t a bad change like Spencer feared.

You felt even closer to him, if such a thing was possible. In the following week, your relationship was better than ever-

Well.

Until now.

“I don’t believe this,” you shook your head, “I just… I refuse to believe this. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t even want to believe you’d put yourself in harm’s way and betray me like this. I get that you have no regard for your happiness, but doing this?” you ran a hand over your face, “This is too much, Spencer. You have no idea what you’re walking into, what kind of danger that’s going to be waiting there to ruin you!”

Spencer just raised his brows, then looked between the two ties he was holding up.

“So that’s a no to the blue one?”

“No to this whole thing!” you let out a groan, falling back to the bed, “No to this dinner with my family nonsense!”

He chuckled at your dramatics as you huffed out.

“Don’t you think maybe you’re worried about the wrong thing?” he asked, “You’re also meeting your father today.”

“But we know my father is a sadistic cruel demon sent to earth to make everyone’s life miserable,” you pointed out, keeping your eyes on the ceiling, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my father isn’t the only dangerous person in my family.”

“It’s just a dinner.”

“No, that’s what they want you to think,” you insisted, sitting up in bed, “Before you know it, they invite you to our place by the lovely countryside, and you’ll walk in thinking it’s just like any other place, there are wolves howling outside and-“

“Why are you giving me the plot of Dracula right now?”

“Because that’s what they are!” you exclaimed, “They’re like vampires! Have you ever wondered why my sister was named Mina? Dracula’s Mina!”

“Your mother loves horror books?”

“Spencer you can’t ignore the signs!” you insisted as he started tying his tie, a small grin pulling at his lips, “They’ll- they’ll suck the life out of you! By the time the dinner is over, you will be begging to see the sunlight again, and you will never be able to. Figuratively speaking.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve already met all of them,” he said patiently and you felt your heart melt, “In case you forgot.”

“Yes, and do you remember how that went?” you asked, “Nolan threatened you, my mother treated you like she was going to hire you and questioned you about everything, and Mina… Mina is a warning by existence.”

“Kenzie was nice though.”

“Yeah, she’s the only good person in our family,” you muttered, then turned your head when you felt his glances on you. “What?”

“Nolan is a part of your family?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you scrunched up your face and grabbed your lip liner and lipstick to walk to the mirror, uncapped it and started applying it, “I’m going to have a billionaire stepfather who looks like a puppy around my mother— that’s not the point.” You put the lipstick into your purse and went to sit down on the bed again while he ran his fingers through his curls as if trying to keep them under control, “I just don’t want you to change your mind because my family doesn’t know how to act normal.”

“Change my mind about what?”

“About this,” you motioned between you and that was more than enough to make him turn his head, his brows furrowed. “I love them, but they’re going to be overly prying, overly dramatic, overly….everything and the next thing we know—“

“That’s never going to happen,” he approached you to crouch down so that he could look at you better, then reached out to entwine his fingers with yours, “That’s why you were so nervous about this?”

You pursed your lips, heaving a sigh and shrugged silently.

“Do you remember what you said to me a couple of days ago, that night?” he asked, “How trust works both ways?”

“You already know almost everything about my past.”

“That’s not it,” he shook his head, “This is about our present, and future.”

“Or lack thereof,” you commented dryly, making him chuckle.

“Do you seriously believe that?”

“They can be a little intimidating.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured you, “And no matter what happens tonight, or on dinners to come with-“

“Social vampires.”

“With your family,” he corrected you, “It won’t change anything. I promise.”

You cupped his cheek, running your fingertips over his slight stubble and he turned his head to place a kiss into your palm, nuzzling there.

“Fine,” you murmured, “Let’s go see my sadistic demon father then. Should be enough of a practice for tonight.”

***

When you and Spencer got to the prison your father was held in, Luke was already by the hallway, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he said, “He’s going to be ready in five.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“And don’t worry, after you guys are done here, I’m taking him to bullpen and he will leave at 7 p.m. latest. Rossi promised, even if there’s a dead body he’s gonna attend the dinner tonight.”

You looked up at Spencer, “Wait, there was a possibility of you not attending if someone ends up dead?”

“I mean if there’s a case…”

“Please don’t kill someone so that you guys can avoid this dinner,” Luke pointed out and you made a face at him, “We took you off our suspects list way too soon.”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and one of the guards opened the door.

“He’s ready.”

“I’ll be behind the glass if you two need anything.” Luke said and Spencer squeezed your hand as if trying to assure you everything would be alright.

“Come on,” he coaxed and you nodded, then took a deep breath and entered the interrogation room, Spencer following you. Your father looked up, then raised his brows.

“Oh look at you two, together again,” he said and you rolled your eyes, trying your hardest not to show how nervous you were. You took your seat across from him beside Spencer, and crossed your arms.

“John.”

“Dr. Reid.”

“So that’s why you haven’t had the time to come and see me lately,” your father motioned between you, “I can hardly say I approve but…”

“Oh that’s good. I’d probably kill myself if I did something you’d approve of.”

“Honey, you’re surrounded by CEOs and businessmen, and you went for an FBI agent?”

“What the fuck does that have to do with-”

“How much do you make monthly?” he asked, turning to Spencer, “I mean, I need to make sure-“

“Oh shut up, will you?” you cut him off, “He’s going to be hearing all that nonsense and more tonight, I don’t need this from you too.”

“Tonight?”

You and Spencer exchanged glances and he shrugged slightly, as if telling you to continue. A small smile pulled at your lips and you turned to your father.

“We’re having a family dinner tonight,” you said, “Naturally it doesn’t include you, so there’s one good thing about this bullshit, I guess.”

“Well, if it doesn’t include me you could hardly call it a family dinner.”

Your smile widened and you clicked your tongue,

“Nah, Nolan is going to be there so we’ll be fine. The whole family is there.”

Your father frowned, “Nolan?”

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah, mom’s boyfriend.”

A silence fell upon the room as he stared at you for a couple of seconds,

“Your mother has a boyfriend now?”

You hissed in a breath,

“You’re right, boyfriend doesn’t exactly cut it,” you said, “He’s going to propose, so I guess we could call him mom’s future husband-“

“You’re lying,” he cut you off and you tilted your head.

“Am I though?”

“She wouldn’t get married,” he shook his head, “No way.”

A laughter escaped from your lips, “Why not?” you asked, “Because she loves you?”

“Yes she does.”

“The last time I checked, she called you a monster and was hoping you would die as soon as possible,” you stated, “Barely a love story.”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand,” he said through his teeth, “Your mother and I were in love, Petal. We still are, regardless of divorce, or this.” He motioned around the room and you blinked a couple of times, trying to wrap your mind around it.

“Jesus, you really are delusional.”

Spencer muttered your name to remind you to be careful, but you shook your head, keeping your eyes on your father.

“I’m pretty sure Nolan could buy this whole prison,” you motioned around, “I should suggest that, as a wedding gift.”

“They won’t get- hold on,” your father said, “Did you say Nolan? Nolan Yates?”

“Mm hm.”

“Nolan fucking Yates is going after my wife?”

“Ex-wife who hates your guts,” you corrected him and he gritted his teeth.

“I knew it,” he spat, “The first time I saw him at that gala, I saw the way he looked at your mother. They’re not getting married.”

“Okay then you lunatic,” you scoffed “I guess you need something to have delusions about while we’re out there moving on—“

It happened in a flash. One second you were talking, the next you were cut off as your father jumped on his feet, Spencer pushing you out of your chair to behind him almost automatically.

Then, something in Spencer’s eyes shifted.

He grabbed him by the arm, twisted it and slammed him down to the table in front of you, making you cover your mouth, your heart beating in your throat as the door opened with a bang and Luke and two guards came in. Luke was the first to pull Spencer off of your father, telling him to let go while one of the guards grabbed you and pushed you out of the room before he made his way to your father still trying to get out of the handcuffs and lunge at them as if he was a man possessed. They dragged him out of the interrogation room to what you assumed was the hall that led to his cell while you stood still by the wall, trying your hardest to snap out of it but your mind was almost foggy.

“Excuse me,” you managed to say as you made your way to the bathroom, your hands still shaking. Thankfully no one was there, so you rested your palms on the sink, taking a deep breath before you turned on the tap, holding your hands under the ice cold water.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “It’s fine. You’re fine. It happens, you have a fucked up family.”

You rolled your shoulders back, that crazy light in your father’s eyes flashing in your mind before you shook your head, exhaling slowly.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice reached inside as he knocked on the door, “Can I come in?”

Your heart was still pacing in your chest but you cleared your throat.

“Yeah,” you called out and he stepped inside, his lips pulled into a thin line as he offered you a small smile.

“Hi,” he said gently, still keeping his distance, standing by the now closed door. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, crossing your arms, adrenaline still pulsing through you, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and you pulled your brows together.

“Huh?”

“That you had to see that,” he said, “I know I shouldn’t have slammed him down like that, but when he lunged at you, I just…. I saw red. I understand that it was hard to watch and I apologize—“

“Hold on,” you cut him off, gawking at him “You’re apologizing because you stopped that psycho from lunging at me?”

Spencer frowned as if he was confused at your own confusion, and nodded.

“Yeah. Human mind is very complex, so even if you think you hate him, it could’ve been difficult for you to see him hurt, not to mention it was me who did that. Jung has a theory that states—“

“Spencer,” You interrupted him again, “Lock the door.”

His frown deepened but he did as you asked, but he didn’t get to ask why when you walked to him and pulled him into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes. His hand cradled your head, a sigh of content escaping him but he pulled back when you grabbed his tie to loosen it.

“Wait, here?” he asked, “Y/N, this is a bathroom.”

“Yeah, I’m aware?”

“Do you have any idea how unsanitary this place probably is?”

“Oh, very unsanitary,” you stated, “On the other hand, though…”

You shrugged your shoulders and pulled your silk blouse over your head, so that he could see you in your bra. He stared at you for a moment and he swallowed thickly, his eyes snapping up to yours when you giggled.

“You make a good point,” he muttered before he pulled you into a kiss and walked you back to the sink.

***

Unfortunately, the rest of the day wasn’t that fun, especially when it was time to get to your mother’s house for the family dinner. You had insisted on picking Spencer up from work after you were done at your work, so that you would at least try to change his mind on the road again, but when you actually arrived to your mother’s place, he still looked like he wanted to do this.

“Last warning,” you said as Spencer looked up at the house, then twirled the flower bouquet in his hand, “Not too late to change your mind professor.”

“I’ll be fine, come on,” he offered his free hand and you took it, then both of you climbed the stairs to the front door.

“I’m a little nervous, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“You hummed the Darth Vader theme for the whole road,” Spencer reminded you, “I had a feeling you were nervous, yeah.”

“Abandon hope all ye enter here,” you quoted Dante as you both reached the door and Spencer scoffed a laugh.

“Ah we went from the den of vampires into the gates of hell, then?”

“Yeah! As Dante would put it, to a place we come where nothing shines.”

“I doubt he envisioned this when he was talking about the circles of hell.” He rang the doorbell and you let out a small whine, looking up at the dark sky.

“There are worse people than me out there,” you said as the footsteps came closer, “Why am I being subjected to—“

“Spencer!” your mother greeted him as she opened the door and you frowned.

“Since when do you answer the door?” you asked and she shot you a look before smiling at Spencer.

“Hello Ms. Knight.”

“Welcome, both of you!” she gasped at the flowers, “For me?”

“Oh—yes, of course.”

“They’re lovely, thank you!” she said and took them from him, “Come in, come in!”

“No I’m serious, did something happen to Tina? You never answer the door.”

“It’s nice to see you too sweetie, I see we started our dramatics on the way.” she kissed your cheek and you smiled.

“Hi mom.”

“Let me put these in a vase.”

“Spencer!” a gleeful scream rang in the hallway as your mother went to the kitchen and Lily threw herself at Spencer who crouched down as soon as he saw her “Hi!”

“Hi there! Whoa, you’re very strong!”

“Just in time for bedtime,” Kenzie walked into the hallway with a wine glass in her hand, “Hi guys.”

“I told mommy you’re a magician! And grandma, and Nolan too!” Lily counted with her fingers, “And I told them- I told them you can make coins disappear, and that you can do magic with paper, and then—“

“Bug, breathe,” you said, “Also, where’s my hug?”

Lily hastily rushed to you to hug you, then turned to Spencer as if she wasn’t interrupted while he just watched her with a fond smile on her face, listening intently to everything she was saying, and that warm feeling spread through your stomach again.

“And then I told Bobby I know a superhero, then he told me superheroes can’t be magicians but he’s wrong! Do you use magic to catch bad guys? Because if you do, I can help you with your superhero name!”

“Alright, auntie time.” you lifted her up into your arms as Spencer straightened up, “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t,” Spencer shook his head, still smiling, “Please, I… she’s amazing.”

“Lily,” Kenzie said, “Bed time, come on.”

“Can you show me a magic trick please and thank you?” Lily said breathlessly and Spencer let out a laugh before turning to Kenzie.

“Is that okay?”

“Sure thing.”

Spencer took out a coin from his pocket and held it in her sight, “Alright Lily, this is just a coin, right?”

“Don’t let him trick you,” you whispered to Lily who giggled, then nodded fervently after checking the coin.

“Yes.”

“Okay, keep your eyes on it,” Spencer showed it to her one more time before he put it into his palm, closed his palm and when he opened it, the coin was nowhere to be seen. Lily gasped, her jaw dropping and you couldn’t help but smile at her expression, her eyes shining with awe. You pressed a kiss on her cheek as Kenzie took her from you, and she let out a whine.

“But you all will have fun here!” she murmured, pouting and you heaved a sigh.

“Lily I can assure you, no one will have fun here.”

“Don’t be like that,” Kenzie shot you a look and smiled at Spencer. “She didn’t intimidate you, did she?”

“She tried,” Spencer said as you wrapped your arms around his torso and he kissed the top of your head, “Didn’t exactly work though.”

“For some reason,” you grumbled and Lily waved at you.

“Night night!”

“Good night!”

“I’ll see you later bug!” you said and entwined your fingers with Spencer’s, then pulled him to the dining room where Kenzie and Nolan were talking. Before you could even greet them, the sight of the dinner table caught your eye and you gawked at all the food there, your mother was definitely out of control and this was the proof of it.

There was enough food for a small army.

“Oh God please don’t tell me we’re going to have live music too,” you muttered and Mina raised her brows.

“Yeah, you might want to lower your expectations,” she shot a fake smile at Spencer, “But then again, that seems to be the theme of tonight. Hi Dr. Reid.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring at her and of course the jab didn’t escape Spencer’s attention, but he chose not to respond with the same sarcasm.

“Hi again.”

“Welcome, Dr. Reid,” Nolan smiled, “Y/N.”

“Hi Mr. Yates.”

“Nolan.”

“So this is where you grew up?” Spencer asked you as you led him away from them towards the library, and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, “Right over there me and Mina got into a fight and she pushed me into a vase.”

“Ouch.”

“Spent the next ten minutes begging me not to tell mom. Over there,” you pointed at the corner, “Used to be this huge Christmas tree every year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and we used to have another room next to this, dad’s study, but after he was arrested and we all figured out how evil he was, mom grabbed a sledgehammer and smashed the—“

“Dinner is ready!” your mother called out and you heaved a sigh.

“Just saying, we could just tell them there’s been a murder.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” he smiled at you fondly and you shook your head, Kenzie entering the living room again.

“I’ve been called stubborn before.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he joked as he kissed you on the forehead and you turned to your family who was slowly taking their seats around the table, then both of you approached the table to sit down as well.

“I’m so glad we decided to have this dinner,” your mother clasped her hands, “It was about time, wouldn’t you say?”

Spencer smiled at her after thanking the maid who was filling his glass, “Thank you for inviting me Ms Knight.”

“Y/N was trying to make him change his mind,” Kenzie sang and your mother tilted your head.

“Spencer, I promise you we’re not as bad as my daughter tries to make you believe.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad,” you defended yourself, “I’m just saying you might be a little too much.”

“Define too much.”

You gawked at her and motioned at the table, making Spencer chuckle silently beside you.

“I really appreciate the effort you put into this,” he added, making your mother smile.

“Why thank you, Spencer,” she said and turned to Nolan, “Honey, Spencer works for the BAU as you know, you should introduce him to your friend.”

“Your friend?” Kenzie asked.

“The head of FBI,” Nolan said, “That’s a great idea. He might also help you in any position you want in the bureau.”

Spencer blinked a couple of times, as if he was at loss for words, then cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” he said “I already- I already have the position that I want though.”

“Ah for the future,” Nolan waved a hand and your mother sipped her drink.

“Yeah, now that it came up,” she said, “What are your future plans?”

“Mom,” you said warningly and Mina leaned back, looking between you with a smirk on her face.

“It’s just a question, don’t be so nervous,” she commented and Kenzie arched a brow at her.

“Mina.”

“No it’s okay,” Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear, “I um… I think I’d like to focus more on teaching.”

You lowered your glass, “Hm? Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I mean I do love BAU, they’re my family but seeing murders every single day, seeing all those victims, it becomes too much sometimes. But I love teaching already, so I think I will do that. In the future, I mean.”

“Oh how lovely. How about something other than your career though? In your future, would you say you’re planning to have chi—“

“New topic,” you cut her off quickly, “I saw dad today, and he knows you two are dating now.”

Your mother frowned but Nolan reached out to squeeze her hand, “It’s okay, he would learn eventually.”

“He actually thinks he is in love with you,” you told your mom and she scoffed.

“Please don’t say that, we’re eating,” she said, “I don’t want to feel nauseous.”

“It’s actually understandable that he’s under that disillusion.” Spencer said, making all of you turn to him, “Especially people in his situation, they feel this need to hold onto some outside world that’s waiting for them to get out of their minds. In a way, he hopes that because if he feels cut off from here, he will probably crash down. It’s very common in people who are imprisoned.”

“Well he can hope all he wants, I never want to see him again.”

“I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to see him again either, but she’s not that lucky, thanks to FBI. What do you think about that, Spencer?” Mina asked, and Spencer looked at her.

“I think that’s a decision left to her.”

“Is it though?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mina I need you to remember what I was like when we had dinner with Kenzie, and return the favor.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means shut the fuck up.”

“Y/N!” your mom gasped and Mina tilted her head.

“Ah well, excuse me if not all of us are in a forgiving mood unlike you.”

“None of that!” your mother said, “Both of you, honestly…”

“Spencer, you strike me as a whiskey guy,” Nolan said, attracting his attention, “I purchased a bottle of limited series in an auction in London the other day, would you like to try it after dinner?”

“Sure,” he nodded fervently and you held up your hand.

“I want to try that too. And what about that rum you were talking about the other day? Is it here too?”

“Sure thing.” Nolan snapped his fingers, “In fact, I know a great distillery, why don’t we visit there after dinner?”

You lifted your head, “That could be fun. Where?”

“Costa Rica.”

Spencer looked between you, “You—um, you want to go to Costa Rica after dinner?”

“We could take the jet. We’d be back before the dawn, obviously.”

“People,” you cleared your throat, “Has no one read the normalcy manual I e-mailed you the other day?”

“Yes but the manual said we could talk about drinks.” Nolan said and Spencer turned to you, frowning.

“Normalcy manual?”

“I just thought it’d be useful for tonight.”

“Oh it was very useful,” Mina commented, “Especially the footnote about murders, even if it was unnecessary. No one will joke about murder Y/N, we don’t want your boyfriend to arrest you again after—“ she was cut off as Kenzie kicked her leg under the table, and Spencer pursed his lips, as if he still felt guilty about that.

“I wasn’t in the city,” he said calmly, looking her dead in the eye, “I came back as soon as I heard, I was trying to get her out when you got there.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you said, “Mina , stop it will you?”

She didn’t even look like she heard you, “Get her out? Ah so that’s why I walked into that interrogation room when she was being hounded by your team?”

“Okay!” Kenzie said loudly, throwing the napkin on the table, “I’m so sorry, I just remembered something about Lily’s school that we missed. Babe, can you come with me to the kitchen for a moment please?”

Mina huffed out and put her glass down, then pushed her chair back and followed Kenzie to the kitchen.

“Honestly….” you downed your drink and motioned for another one but then Spencer squeezed your hand under the table, as if trying to assure you.

“I bet you miss the serial killers right now huh?” you mumbled and he tilted your head, humoring you.

“Drinks are better here,” he admitted and you tried to smile before you grabbed your cigarette pack from your purse.

“I’m gonna go to the backyard for a moment to smoke,” you said and your mother shot you a look.

“It’s dinner time, Y/N.”

“It’ll take like five minutes, tops,” you said and pushed your chair back, “I need some fresh air anyway. Spencer?”

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” he said and followed you down the hall until you reached the door to the backyard, opened it and stepped outside.

It was a silent night, as silent as it could be in the middle of the city. You looked up at the stars as you lit your cigarette, then heaved a sigh and leaned back to Spencer’s chest when he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I apologize on her behalf,” you said and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to,” he muttered, “She has a point. I should’ve… I should’ve been there, in that interrogation room.”

You looked up at him, then reached up to run your fingernails over his slight scruff while he lowered his head to press his nose into the crook of your neck, nuzzling there.

“Spencer, you need to stop blaming yourself,” you said slowly, “I mean it. I don’t blame you for that at all— and….you know Mina. She just turns into someone else when it comes to protecting the family. She doesn’t mean it, not really.”

He nodded silently and you combed back his hair with your fingers, making him heave a sigh.

“This is nice,” he muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“So are you ready to admit that I was right?”

“Hm?”

“I said you would regret it, do you regret it yet?”

“The dinner?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head “No.”

“Why not?”

His arms around you tightened and he pressed a kiss to your neck, “Because you’re here.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours and you stubbed your cigarette before you turned to him. He smiled at you and you couldn’t help but stare at him under the dim lights of the backyard before you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his.

“God, I love you so much,” you said, making him smile, “Thank you for being here and… I don’t know, going through this absolute torture. I know it’s a lot.”

“Hey,” he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You nodded, looking up at him.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” his voice was silent, almost hesitant, “To make you happy. You know that, right?”

You could feel the burning in your eyes and you sniffled, your heart skipping a beat before you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest. The rest of the world felt like it disappeared as you swayed from side to side, inhaling his scent and you pulled back.

“I know now,” you wiped at your nose, clearing your throat and he pushed your hair behind your ear.

“Good,” he grinned, “Glad we cleared that out.”

Someone knocked on the door and you turned your head to see Mina as she opened the glass door.

“So about earlier,” she leaned sideways to the doorframe, “Apologies and remorse, etc.”

“That means she’s sorry for what happened earlier,” you said helpfully and Spencer scoffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, “I get it. Trust me, I felt exactly the same when I saw the tape, but I was trying to get her out with minimum damage.”

Mina nibbled on her lip, eyeing him up and down.

“I guess,” she said, “But just so you both know, mom and Nolan are actually planning a weekend trip to Costa Rica. It’s like what happened with Kenzie all over again, only there’s two of them now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered and Mina nodded at Spencer.

“Yeah so you might need to tell them you have murders to solve during the weekend Sherlock, because they’re not going to listen to us.” she said and Spencer looked down at you.

“I’ll be there in a second,” you said and he pressed a kiss into your hair before making his way inside. Mina lingered there for a moment, inspecting her fingernails in a complete nonchalant manner.

“I guess I could trust you to know what you’re doing,” she said, “Just make sure he doesn’t screw you over, okay?”

You raised your brows, then clicked your tongue.

“Kenzie said no sex unless you apologize huh?”

“She meant it too!” Mina whined as you walked past her, letting out a laugh.

“Unbelievable,” you shook your head with a smile, making your way to the dining room. “All of you.”

Chapter 26

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x you #spencer #reid #twisted

1K notes · View notes

wicked-mind · 3 years

Text

Soulmates

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Small bit of violence, swearing, little bit of drinking.

All Writings Masterlist

Note: This is a potential series so if you would like more, let me know! 10 points to anybody who knows what Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children is from as well as Weasel (;

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated❤️

*gifs not mine

Chapter One - Tattoos

Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children, the place where the bad and ugly went to escape. It had been turned into a bar years ago after the actual school got shut down for child abuse, and this was the main spot mercenaries-for-hire went to get jobs.

At the end of the bar quietly sat Y/N, drinking a bottle of beer. She wore black leggings with a grey guns-n-roses shirt with cut off sleeves, showing off her left tattooed arm. The tattoo had appeared one day out of the blue, stretching from her shoulder down to her fingertips. It covered every inch of skin on her arm and hand, even the palm. It was mostly black and white swirls that looked like smoke with pictures of dog tags, a freight car and some Russian words as well as the numbers seventeen, nine, and one. On her shoulder laid the only color the tattoo had, a maroon star. This was the tattoo that symbolized Y/N’s soulmate, though that didn’t matter to her. She had other things to focus on than finding someone to spend her life with.

Y/N had been hired by an unknown source to steal information from the Avengers, something to do with a James Buchanan Barnes, whoever the hell that is. They were paying her a lot of money to get the information and Y/N couldn’t pass up the amount they offered. Things had been slow for her lately, the world must’ve been running out of scumbags to take care of.

“You want another?”

The bartender known as Weasel broke Y/N’s concentration with the question, making her eyes snap to his face, “Sure. I’m going to need to be a little tipsy to fit in at Stark’s gala. I don’t think walking in there looking like a raging bitch is going to work.” She muttered out to him, sliding her empty beer bottle towards him and caught the filled one that was slid back to her.

“You got invited to the Stark gala?” Weasel asked curiously with wide eyes.

“God no, do I look like a prissy pants woman who’d be invited to something like that?” Y/N replied then took a large gulp of the beer, “I’m sneaking in, got a job to steal some information.”

Weasel shook his head, “Wait. So, you’re going to just walk into the billionaire’s gala full of super persons and just expect to steal information from them?”

Y/N shrugged at him, “Well, yeah. What? You think it’ll be hard?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Weasel blinked at her, trying to decide if she was being serious, “Nah, should be a cake walk.” He said sarcastically, “All you have to do is get past the billionaire robot man,”

“I think he calls himself Iron Man.” Y/N corrected with a scrunch of her nose

“Iron Man, two super soldiers, some bird dude, two assassins, and whoever else decides to show up. Shouldn’t be hard at all.” Weasel said with a roll of his eyes before walking away, “I’m putting your name on the dead pool!” He called behind his shoulder as he walked.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, “You must be a groupie to know the whole squad!” She yelled towards him before finishing chugging the rest of the beer. She checks her phone, almost time for the gala. She would have to change into something nice and find someone man’s arm to hang onto so she could sneak in.

——

The soulmate tattoo had appeared on Bucky’s right forearm a days ago. He thought he didn’t have a soulmate since one had never shown up, but then he woke up to a burning on his right arm as the tattoo slowly appeared. It was the queen of hearts playing card with a knife stuck through it surrounded by Marigolds. He stared at his forearm for a moment, wondering why it had shown up now instead of sooner. Something must’ve changed in his and his soulmate’s path that would bring them together. Buck reluctantly pulled on his long sleeved black jacket, having to look nice for Tony’s party. He hated these events, but had just cleaned things up with Stark and wanted to keep on the right path with making his amends and becoming a better person. He walks out of his room with a slight scowl on his face, walking to the elevator and heading down to the main floor where the party was. He quickly found a spot at the end of the bar where he could hide for the rest of the night to drink whiskey and not be bothered.

Y/N had changed into a long, tight black dress and some black heels. The dress had her arms covered so only her hands showed, the left one heavily tattooed. The back of her hand had the number seventeen tattooed on it while the inside of of her palm was just tattooed with what looked like smoke dancing up to her fingertips. She was hanging onto the arm of some man she had just learned the name of, flirting her way to get inside the gala with him. She quickly lost him in the crowed, losing her smile when she departed from him. Y/N scanned the room before spying what she would figure would be an easy target at the bar to take her upstairs. She pulled out lipstick from the small hand held purse she was holding, putting some on her lips careful not to ingest it. It had a paralyzing agent in it that would help her get to the information she needed. She approached the handsome man and introduced herself under a fake name, “I’m Michelle.” She said with a smile to him. Y/N learned his name was Sam and after a little bit of flirting, she was walking to the elevator with him giggling and holding his hand.

Bucky had watched the mystery girl named Michelle approach. He narrowed his eyes at her, something about her was different. Something drew him to her and he couldn’t figure out what. He couldn’t help but feel a slight disappointment and jealousy watching Sam take the woman to the elevator. His stomach turned slightly thinking of Sam touching such a woman and he couldn’t figure out why. He usually didn’t care about who his friends bedded but something was pulling him towards her.

Y/N waiting until the elevator doors shut, turning to Sam and pushing him up against the wall. She slowly pulled on his tie to make him lean towards her and kissed him, smiling slightly as she felt his body slump against her in a paralyzed state before falling to the ground, “Sorry, sweetness. You seemed like a good time.” She told the now paralyzed man on the floor. She quickly slid the dress off, revealing black shorts and a matching black tank top. She had a gun strapped to one thigh and throwing knives on the other. Her heels followed, being kicked to the corner of the elevator. Barefoot was going to have to work, she despised heels. Y/N pulled a queen of hearts playing card out of her bra and placed it on Sam’s shoulder with a smile towards his brown eyes that stared at her widely. When the elevator doors open, Y/N waltzed out of the elevator and towards the nearest lab she could find.

Bucky had enough whiskey that was never enough to get him drunk and watching the guests mingle. Plus he was still irritated that he couldn’t figure out why it bothered him so much that Sam had taken some woman he had never seen before up to his bedroom. He walked to the elevator doors, clicking the button. He froze when he saw Sam on the floor just staring at him with wide eyes and tying to form words from his paralyzed lips. Bucky went in and leaned down, the doors closing behind him, “What happened to you, bird brain?” He muttered out before noticing the red lipstick and the queen of hearts playing card, quickly thinking back to the woman. He picks up the card, freezing as it looked just like the one of his soulmate tattoo before seeing the dress the mystery woman had been wearing on the floor. Returning to his senses when Sam was able to mumble ‘floor three, buck,’ he quickly hit the floor three button, dropping the card to the floor before exiting.

Y/N stood in front of the computer, typing codes to shut down Jarvis’s security system and rerouting the AI whenever it tried to reprogram. She quickly searched through all personnel files, finding the one labeled ‘James Buchanan Barnes- Winter Soldier.’ Y/N pulled a flash drive out of her pocket and plugged it in, downloading the information. Hearing the door behind her open, she grabs a throwing knife from the strap on her right thigh, throwing it with her tattooed hand towards the tall dark haired man that had entered.

Bucky caught the knife with ease, leaning his head back away as the blade passed before he caught it. He kept his eyes on the woman in front of him, studying her. His eyes snaked up the tattooed covered left arm, his eyes widening at the pictures, numbers, and Russian words that painted across her smooth skin in bold black. They were his words, things that were significant to him. Then he saw the red star on her shoulder, staring intently.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the man, watching him study every inch of her tattoo. She rolled her eyes slightly, grabbing the flash drive and tucking it back in her pocket. Based on the file she just went through, this was James Barnes. Her eyes quickly moved to red hair walking up from behind the man, a smile flashing across Y/N’s features, “Ah, Natalia. I heard you were part of the super squad now. How’d graduation go?” Y/N asked the redheaded woman, her eyebrow twitching upwards for a moment. Y/N knew the woman who now went by Natasha, they trained at the Red Room Academy together. However, Y/N had left before the graduation ceremony, becoming a free-agent assassin and spy for hire.

Natasha rolled her shoulders, ready for a fight, “I was having a nice time at the party, then I find Sam and your card in the elevator.” She said, stepping closer to Y/N until the space had closed to a few feet, “What are you doing here, Y/N? Who are you working for?”

Y/N shrugs slightly at the question, “Don’t know. But they pay really well.” She smiled again before throwing out a punch towards the redhead which was blocked immediately.

Bucky watched the two women throw punches and kicks at each other. Both of them had the same fighting style which made them a pretty even match when it came to fighting. Neither were making good progress in stopping the other. It wasn’t until the rest of the team came up to stand behind Bucky, watching the two fight. Jarvis had alerted them after the flash drive had been unplugged and Y/N had stopped typing in codes to reprogram the AI. Clint and Steve rush passed the frozen figure of Bucky who was just watching Y/N, his eyes locked on her tattooed sleeve. Clint grabbed onto one of Y/N’s arms before being kicked away. Steve was able to wrap his arms behind Y/N, pinning her arms down while Natasha quickly put magnetized cuffs on Y/N’s wrist, pinning her to the closest metal table. Y/N managed to kick Natasha and Steve away, but hadn’t noticed Clint get up. He stuck her in the neck with one of Natasha’s shocking spheres, causing Y/N’s body to seize before going into unconscious.

Natasha took a deep breath and looked over towards Bucky after Y/N was unconscious, “Thanks for the help, Barnes. You were super helpful.”

Steve looked at the unconscious woman, his eyes sliding along the tattoos. He looked to Bucky then back to Y/N, “Oh my god…” He trailed off, knowing immediately what this meant.

Bucky watched Steve observe Y/N’s tattoos before walking closer his eyes locked on the face of Y/N, studying everything about her. It was like colors were brighter when he looked at her and worry melted away from his core. Everything drew him to her, “She’s my soulmate.”

______

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N.” Natasha began as the whole team stood outside the cell Y/N was in, watching her through the mirrored glass, “She was at The Red Room Academy with me. She was the top of her class, a year older than me. Y/N adopted the name ‘Queen of Hearts,’ a name I helped come up with. I thought it was ironic given that it didn’t seem like she had one. Y/L/N left the academy before she graduated, refusing to kill an innocent man. Last I heard she was doing mercenary work.”

Steve nodded at the information, looking towards Bucky who was just observing Y/N through the mirror, “What was she trying to steal?”

Natasha pulled out the flash drive she had obtained when Y/N was unconscious, “She was stealing information from us. Information of Barnes.” She said, her eyes flickering towards Bucky, “Whoever paid her, wanted to know everything about you, including all the information we know of how you became the Winter Soldier.”

_________________________________________________________

next part>

#Bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n #james buchanan barnes

255 notes · View notes

milstrim · 3 years

Text

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 8: Forgiven

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7

---

Peter wasn't quite sure how long he lay in the warm sand, his and Mr. Stark's hands lazily entwined while the vulture lay a few feet away, webbed to a crate, but he didn't really care. For the first time in days--months, really--he felt okay. He felt calm and safe, never mind the pain in his ribs and licking at his burnt skin, they didn't matter to the teenager. He'd heal. He always did.

After a few more minutes, there was the sound of sirens. Peter propped himself up, staring at the approaching red and blue lights, his heart dropping slightly. He guessed this was it. Mr. Stark would have to deal with the plane and Peter would have to deal with Mr. Fowler. He wasn't quite sure how mad the man was going to be at him being gone for two days, but glancing down at his soulmate, he didn't particularly care. He'd get to see Mr. Stark again soon, and that was all he really needed to push himself to his feet.

Mr. Stark glanced at him, picking himself up as well and placing a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder before turning to stare at where every emergency vehicle ever was arriving.

"Guess it's time for clean up," Mr. Stark said, whistling lowly. "Happy is not gonna be too please with me."

"I'm sure you'll be able to handle him, Mr. Stark," Peter responded, fishing his mask out of the sand and shaking it out.

"Eh. I'm not super up to it. However, if I tell him I'm taking care of a sick and injured child, I might get away with it for the night."

Peter laughed. "Better find an injured child first."

"I found one." Mr. Stark wrapped a loose arm over Peter's shoulder, corralling him forward. "Don't think you're getting out of this that easily. The Medbay at the compound is waiting for your burnt behind. C'mon, let's go."

"Mr. Stark, I gotta--"

"Get to medical, correct."

"No. Mr. Fowler--"

"Has already counted you as missing for two days. Your curfew is long broken," Mr. Stark countered, moving to say something else when a shiny black car slid to a halt in front of him. More cars and vehicles followed suit. Mr. Stark gave him a smirked glance. "Might want to put that mask on if your secret identity still matters to you."

Peter slipped the mask over his face, following the man as people poured out of the vehicles. Mr. Stark stepped up to a tall man with a surly face and a tightly wound posture, practically storming over to the billionaire. His first instinct was to step in front of Mr. Stark, but the mechanic didn't tense at all, instead slipping into a slightly strained smile.

"What the hell happened here, Tony?" the man asked, glancing over at Peter in confusion.

"Criminal mastermind. He's webbed up back there," Mr. Stark said. After a tired moment, the man shook his head.

"You look half-dead. Go see an ambulance. Call Pepper. I'll take care of this."

"No can do, Happy," Mr. Stark responded, gesturing to where Peter was standing uneasily. "We're gonna head to the Medbay. I'll see you at the compound."

Happy looked ready to argue, but with one last glance at Peter, he just shook his head again. He looked like he was about to burst from the stress. "Do you need my car?"

"Mine's still running."

"Good. Call me when you get there."

"Definitely, Mama Bear. Come on, kid."

Nervously, Peter circled around Happy, following Mr. Stark quickly to where the sleek car was waiting. The engine was still running, and he guessed that Mr. Stark had left the keys in in his mad dash to get onto the beach and help him out. He blinked in slightly dazed confusion, unused to being important. To being cared for.

The sound of the car door opening distracted Peter from his thoughts, drawing his attention to where Mr. Stark had opened the back door of the vehicle. The man gestured between it and Peter.

"Well? You getting in or not?"

"Am I being demoted from shotgun?" Peter snipped, but he got in nonetheless. Surprisingly, Mr. Stark slipped in after him.

"No. We're gonna make sure you're not dying," Mr. Stark said. "Friday. To the compound."

"Of course, sir," the cool robot voice responded, and the car started off, riding easily back onto the street. Peter finally took his sandy mask back off, grimacing at the grit that had slipped into the cuts on his face and watching with a sharp eye as Mr. Stark pulled out a first aid kit from underneath the seat. It was ridiculously big and, when he opened it, ridiculously well stocked.

"Okay. Suit off, Petey-Pie, let's see what we're working with."

"Hey! I just got you back on the nicknames!" he protested. Mr. Stark fixed him with a smile.

"Your AI came up with Peter-butter. My turn. Now: Suit please."

With a tired grumble, the teenager pressed the spider on his chest and peeled the suit from his skin coated in a thin layer of blood and dried sweat. He grimaced, blushing at the sight of his thin ribs. To his credit, Mr. Stark didn't say anything, didn't even stare at how gaunt he was, just poured some rubbing alcohol on a cloth and went for the nearest wound on Peter's chest.

He held back a pained hiss at the sting.

"Hold that in place," Mr. Stark ordered. Peter placed his own hand over where the cloth was, and Mr. Stark returned to grabbing more materials for more wounds. "Rate your pain. One to ten."

"Six."

"An eight, then."

"No one asked you, Doctor Stark." Mr. Stark glanced up at him from where he was wiping at a bloody slash on his shoulder, his eyes flashing. The teenager didn't notice that it was in humor and not in anger. Peter lowered his eyes, stomach churning and swallowing nervously. He had to force in a breath, remembering that the hand on his shoulder was gentle and friendly. Not Mr. Fowler. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Pete. You saved a lot of lives tonight. Saved my ass, too. Make fun of me as much as you want."

"Really?"

"This deal is limited. You have an hour."

"That's unfair!" Peter protested.

"Tough luck."

"But--" He was cut off by a hiss of pain as the car hit a bump in the road, jostling his bruised body. His ribs felt like shit now that the adrenaline was rubbing off. He couldn't remember being in this much pain, and it was all the teenager could do to blink back tears as his entire body burned.

"Drive carefully please, Friday," Mr. Stark called. "Are your ribs okay?"

Peter shrugged. "They'll heal. They always do."

"See, that's not really good enough for me. Friday'll scan you when we get to the compound and make sure all your organs weren't squished. We're not going to deal with internal bleeding."

Peter nodded dumbly, the world feeling like it was coming to a crashing halt around him. He so desperately want to lay down, to sleep and forget about Mr. Fowler or the group home and how badly he didn't want for Mr. Stark to go. But he didn't voice any of it, instead staying ramrod straight as Mr. Stark wrapped bandages around his shoulder and chest, the man mumbling about pain medicine that probably wouldn't work while Peter stared out the window with a tired blink.

After a few minutes, he mumbled, "How are we going to explain this to Mr. Fowler?"

Mr. Stark paused, glancing up at him before turning back to wrapping a thick layer of bandages around his chest. They were already turning a little red, but Peter wasn't worried, sure that they would stop soon. After a moment, the man patted the bandages into place and sat back in his seat with a tired sigh.

"See, I'm not really thinking we should."

Peter's neck cricked with how fast his head turned to look at the man from where he'd been shrugging on the tattered MIT hoodie, his eyes widening. "What? No--Mr. Stark I have to tell him something. I can't just--"

"You can't just go back to him, Peter."

His heart felt like it skipped a beat, his eyes narrowing defensively.

"...What? Mr. Stark, what the hell are you talking about?"

The man's finger thrummed against his thigh, brows furrowing as he clearly thought about what to say next. After nearly a minute, he turned back to Peter. "Kid...Fowler didn't file a missing person's report."

"...And?"

"And?" Mr. Stark repeated incredulously, "Pete, you've been missing for two days. With no reports to the police. No sort of search party or notifications that you're not okay. Nothing to keep you safe. And foster parents especially are expected to be on top of this kind of thing."

Peter stared at the man in confusion, stuffing his hands in the torn hoodie nervously. He shrugged nonchalantly, fumbling desperately for an excuse that didn't sound like shit. "Mr. Fowler's just--he probably didn't want to freak all the other kids out and--"

"Peter."

His jaw clamped shut with an audible click. Mr. Stark sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

"Look... My dad--my dad wasn't the best. He was mean and constantly disapproving, and he hit me when he was mad. I thought it was pretty normal growing up--not that I liked it in the slightest--but I was used to it. It was just what I expected." Mr. Stark paused, holding Peter's teary stare. "But that didn't mean it wasn't wrong. Adults should never hit a kid. Ever."

Peter tore his gaze away from Mr. Stark, staring at the seat back in front of him. He stuttered, "Mr. Fowler--he doesn't--he's never--"

"He took your card," Mr. Stark cut off gently. "He bought alcohol. A lot of it. I'm sure the following nights weren't very pleasant--believe me, I would know. And, I hate to tell you this, but you're thinner than a twig and jumpier than a grasshopper. And don't tell me that it's your superpowers, I know it's more than that. Kid, he's a bad foster parent, and you deserve better."

The teenager was silent for a solid minute, avoiding Mr. Stark's gaze as a feeling of frustrated helplessness bubbled up under his skin, threatening to spill from his eyes. He swallowed, wishing desperately he could curl his knees up to his stomach and hide himself in a ball underneath the red and torn hoodie.

"I don't, really. It's my fault I'm in foster care in the first place, and I was in a nicer home before I got sent to Mr. Fowler. They caught me sneaking out to patrol and I got sent away, so. Really it's just karma or whatever."

"Karma shmarma," Mr. Stark snapped. "You. Deserve. Better."

Those words didn't make sense, not to Peter. Why should he deserve better? Why should he be allowed to go on living comfortably and happily while May and Ben were in a place so dark their shadows no longer existed? It'd been his fault, and no one else's. If he'd just paid better attention. If he hadn't been so selfish. If he hadn't been so mad.

No. He didn't deserve better. Mr. Fowler had become exactly what Peter deserved. This guilt was exactly what Peter deserved. It bubbled underneath his skin, angry and hot and painful. Peter grit his teeth as regret reared its ugly head.

"It doesn't matter!" the teenager shouted. Mr. Stark stared at him in surprise, eyes dark. There was a silence following his outburst, stiflingly uncomfortable. The anger left him immediately, leaving him slumped against the sleep with a stressed sigh. "It doesn't matter... He can put whatever he wants in my file, he already has. He has everything he needs to ship me out of the state the next time I fuck up. Which might be now, to be honest."

The thought appeared the moment he said it. Peter didn't want to go to Jersey. He didn't want to leave New York, full of memories, both good and bad. Memories of dark nights and memories of comforting shadows. It was enough for a single tear to slip through his defense.

There was silence. Tiring and stifling and awkward.

There was a hand through his hair. Soft and gentle and soothing.

Peter leaned in unconsciously, turning the look at Mr. Stark through his flopped curls. The man had shifted to sit closer to him, brown eyes sad and tired and horribly heavy.

"You deserve better, Peter," he repeated, not an ounce of hesitation about him. "Whatever happened that made you think you deserve to live with a man who hurts you, it wasn't bad enough. Nothing ever could be. Because you're a good person, and good people make mistakes. They always do."

Peter shrugged. "Mr. Fowler can still do whatever he wants. He's my guardian."

Mr. Stark pressed his chin into Peter's messy hair. He could practically feel the mechanic thinking, solving a puzzle. A bit of his snappiness returned, the Tony Stark persona flaring up.

"I'll fix it."

"But--"

"I'll fix it. Just let me help, Pete."

"...Okay," he said after a moment, just desperate to let his eyes slip close. Desperate to forget. Mr. Stark tapped his cheek as his eyelashes fluttered close.

"Thank you for trusting me, but no sleeping. Just in case you have a concussion."

Peter groaned in annoyance, but he continued to slump against his soulmate's shoulder, lazily tracing the way their shadows flickered. He liked it better when they were normal, when he had Mr. Stark's shadow, but Mr. Stark's arm against his own was good enough that he could live with it until they got to the compound.

---

Tony kept a steadying hand on Peter's shoulder as they stumbled out of the Medbay together. The kid looked dead on his feet, ready to pass out on the nearest soft surface, but Tony needed to set just a few more things in motion.

Friday's scans in the Medbay hadn't revealed anything new or horribly life threatening, just a few cracked ribs and broken bones healing rapidly. The mechanic had splinted what he could and given the kid more wraps before declaring him fit to head over to the Avengers common hall. Tony himself was resisting a heavy limp, grimacing with every painful step, but he hadn't broken any bones and there were about a million things to do before he could get some bedrest.

The door to the Avengers hall slid open for the two as they approached, revealing the shiny and empty living room and kitchen. Always empty. He pushed the thought down with a tired swallow, giving Peter's shoulder a pat and leading him forward with a forced excitement.

"You're going to love it here," he started, rambling. "It's really nice. Watch out for Vision though when you meet him, he has a problem with walls. Here, sit down on the couch right here, I'll be right back."

Peter plopped down on the leather cushions, doe eyes following Tony in complete exhaustion as he walked away. Tony stepped over to the fridge, opening it and roaming over the food inside. He frowned. It was fresh, but most of it was basic ingredients and produce for bigger meals. Spinach, peppers, raw meat, hunks of cheese. Overall, nothing that would help the teen right now, save for a large carton of juice that he grabbed.

He closed the fridge, opening the pantry instead and pulling out bags of cookies, pretzels, and a random bag of obnoxiously healthy vegetable chips. His arms full, he tapped the door closed with his foot and headed back over to Peter on the couch, setting all the snacks next to him. Peter stared at it for a second, eyes heavy.

"Eat up. I know you're falling asleep on your feet, but you need calories to heal. So eat, sleep, hang out, and when I get back everything will be fine. Okay?"

There was that doubt again, lingering in Peter’s dark brown eyes. A tired reluctance that Tony remembered in his own eyes when he’d finally escaped home.

But then Peter’s eyes brightened when they clicked with Tony’s own. A sliver of trust.

There was a ghost of a smile on the kid’s face.

"Okay, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled, ruffling Peter's hair. "Friday will lead you to a room when you're done eating. I'll see you later, kiddo."

As Tony walked away and towards his unused room in the compound, the corners of his mouth tugged, able to faintly make out the opening music to Star Wars.

---

Tony arrived at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys while it was still dark, his torn and dirty suit replaced with a sharp blazer and a matching pair of slacks thrown over a random graphic tee he'd grabbed. Once he'd popped a few painkillers and made a few calls with Pepper and his lawyers, the man had grabbed a pair of car keys and left, but not before checking on Peter once more to find the kid already fast asleep. He'd draped a blanket over him as softly as possible and walked out the door.

Peter's tired face has stuck in his mind as he'd driven over. The sharpness of the cuts healing on his thin cheeks, the faint smattering of freckles and the curly hair dripping onto his forehead. The thought of anyone being okay with hurting that kid was dangerous in his mind. The Vulture, or, Adrian Toomes, as Happy had sent him, was already being dealt with, but Andrew Fowler had yet to face the consequences of his actions. And Tony didn't want to leave the other kids in his care for one more second.

Not even bothering the lock the door, Tony stepped out of the car and up the steps of the building. He rapped on the door furiously, his anger kneading into the wood. The number on the front trembled.

Tony knocked two more times before there was finally an answer. The door swung open, revealing the stale stench of beer and a grumbled man. His pale eyes widened only slightly at the sight of the billionaire in front of him before resetting to their original uncaring position. The man took a swig of the beer in his hand.

"What are you doing here? The brat hasn't been here in a couple of days."

Tony narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw and resisting the urge to smack the bottle out of the man's hand. "You know I'm here for Peter?"

"Kid receives a mysterious letter with the initials 'TS' on it and the best excuse he can come up with is a school sponsored pen pal named Tony Smart? I'm not an idiot."

"I would beg to differ on that, but a let's agree to disagree and all that, shall we? I've got bigger fish to fry."

"Look, as long as I get a cut of the kid's pay, you can keep him as long as you want."

Tony paused from where he was pulling a folded up piece of paper out of his blazer, his eyes flashing and his stomaching sinking with an icy hatred. "Pay?"

"That shiny card must be part of his pay, right? Though I thought a sugar baby of yours would get more than three hundred dollars."

This time, Tony couldn't help himself from knocking the beer out of Fowler's hand. It smashed against the doorway into a thousand pieces, like the mechanic wished he could do to the man. Fowler opened his mouth to shout a protest, but Tony beat him to it. With an angry step forward and a dramatic flash of the papers hiding in his jacket, he cornered the man.

"You're disgusting. That is a child, that you were just willing to, what--pimp out?"

"Jeez, fine. Don't get your panties in a twist," Fowler said, but there was a drunken and fearful wobble in his voice. Still, he demanded, "You owe me a new beer."

"No. I owe you these."

Tony shoved the papers into the man's hands. Fowler spluttered in protest, but took them anyway with fumbling hands, squinting down at the paper. There was a hungry interest slowly replaced by confusion and then destroyed by horror.

"What the hell is this?" Fowler demanded. Tony managed a vengeful smile.

"A warrant and a signed court order," Tony said icily. "All of the children here will be placed in new homes and you will be placed in custody."

"You can't do that!"

"I think you'll find that I can. And I did. You did commit credit card theft after all. And being me did help. Just a little."

"I can--I have rights!"

"Oh, yes. I am arresting you. I guess I should read you your Miranda Rights, huh?" He cleared his throat. "You have the right to remain silent--and I would prefer if you did--anything you say may be used against you in a court of--"

"Shut up!" the man panted, clearly panicked. Tony let out a low whistle, not ashamed in the slightest to say that he was enjoying the way this man squirmed and sweat and fumbled.

"Well, now I have to start over. Legally, I do have to tell you this. Then again, I don't have any cuffs on me so I guess an NYPD officer could read them to you if you'd prefer."

"I can--this is fabricated! Whatever that kid told you, he's lying!" When Tony glared, a no nonsense stare of harsh anger lining his face, Fowler stumbled for a different approach. "I'll sue!! I can accuse you of shit too, Stark."

"I'm sure you can try," Tony said softly. "In fact, I invite you to try. Have fun with it. But know this--you messed with my shadow, and I don't take too lightly to people who do that."

"Your--"

Fowler was interrupted by the wailing of sirens. Tony straightened, pulling on his blazer. "Ah, that must be the police. I hope you have a good lawyer, though I'm sure they won't be better than any of mine. And--oh! Rot in hell if you would, please."

Tony patted the man on the shoulder just a little too harshly.

The billionaire left as soon as he could, but not before collected the belongings of Peter's left behind and doing his best to assure the frightened kids at the house that everything was going to be okay for them. That it was going to be better.

Everything was going to get better. Tony was sure of it.

---

When Peter woke up, it was to quiet murmuring and the rifling of papers. He tensed immediately, his brain autopiloting to Mr. Fowler rifling through the morning mail, realizing horribly that he must have fallen asleep downstairs and--

"--all the paperwork's been filed," a low voice said, interrupting the teenager's panicked thoughts. "It's just waiting for the kid's signature."

Kid? Oh. Him. Peter was the kid, and Mr. Stark was the voice, the one mumbling about papers nearby. Peter kept his eyes closed, evening out his breaths as he tried dimly to remember what was happening.

It struck him without much effort that he was at the Avengers Compound, healing after having been kidnapped and then fighting the Vulture. He must have fallen asleep on the couch Mr. Stark had led him to, and judging by the soft warmth wrapped around him, someone had draped a blanket around the wounded boy. There was a dull pain that throbbed throughout his body, but it was easy to tell that most of his injuries were well on their way to being healed. The teenager guessed that all the bandages could be removed by midday. He wondered if he'd be removing them at the compound or if he'd already be back at the group home.

"Tones," came another mumbled voice, clearly doubtful and stressed. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, I know he's your soulmate, but this is more than hanging out with or mentoring a kid. This is raising one."

Peter couldn't help the shock that made him tense and forced his eyes open. Thankfully, the two people talking were away from the couch and in the kitchen, unable to witness his small freak out. Raising? What the fuck???

Mr. Stark sighed, short and hot.

"I know, Rhodey, I know. The thing is, I could let him be placed back into the system, make sure he has a good home and let that be it, but I just... I mean, just looking at him is enough to tell me that that's the wrong move. I don't know what it is, but I see his face and I just--I just want to make sure he's okay. I want to keep him safe. It's--I don't know--it's like..."

"Like you were meant to be there?"

"Like I was made to protect him."

Peter flushed, fingers clenching around the blanket as he stared at his shadow, fixated on the tall shoulders and fluffy hair. He felt like he was choking on his own tongue, trying desperately to not say anything as he chewed on his cheek nervously.

"Maybe I was," Mr. Stark mused. "We still don't know why soulmates are soulmates anyway."

"Maybe," Colonel Rhodes responded. "If you believe in a higher purpose and whatnot."

"I don't. Usually. But for this, I think I do."

"I guess that all that's left is making sure Peter thinks you were made for it too."

"Yeah," Mr. Stark said. "Is it weird to be nervous? Like, this nervous? I've already sweat through my shirt."

Colonel Rhodes laughed. "I'll see you later, Tony. Good luck."

"Where are you going?"

"To put out fires for everything that happened last night. It happened right on Coney Island, Tones, every reporter in the city was there within ten minutes."

"Yikes. Hope you have fun, honey bear."

"You're an asshole."

"Love you too," Mr. Stark cooed. There was the sound of an elevator closing, and then it was just him and Mr. Stark. Peter wasn't sure whether to continue to pretend sleeping or not, not that he was sure he'd be able to properly fake it if Mr. Stark came over and looked up at him. He was practically frozen, stiff as a stick and staring ahead of him at his shadow with a fixed gaze.

Peter bit at his lip as he listened to Mr. Stark as he began to move around the kitchen, willing himself to sink into the cushions, relaxing with the clattering sounds of movement. He tuned into the notes of activity, listening intently as the billionaire softly clanged a pan on the stove, eggs cracked and cheese grated. There was the sizzle of cooking and the perfume of comfort. The teenager's mouth watered unwillingly at the smell of a hot breakfast.

So, of course, it was the grumble of his stomach that gave him away.

Peter winced at the loud noise, only worsened by the stifling of movement in the room for a long moment before it finally returned. He thought that maybe he'd gotten away with being awake when Mr. Stark called, "You up, kiddie?"

Seeing no point in lying, Peter pushed the blanket off of himself and peeked his head up over the back of the couch. Mr. Stark caught his eye immediately, overlooking the room from the stove in the kitchen area. The man smiled at him, and Peter tried for a small one back. It was weak, and he knew it. Mr. Stark probably knew it too.

"How're you feeling, Pete?" Mr. Stark asked.

"Ah, fine, fine," Peter said, getting off of the couch and stumbling over sleepily. After a moment of hesitation, he sat on a stool beside the kitchen counter, peeking over the polished marble to catch a glimpse of what Mr. Stark was cooking, pointedly ignoring the stack of papers on the other countertop. He was pretty sure that he was making an omelet. Just to double check, he asked, "Whatcha making?"

"Breakfast," Mr. Stark answered. So, not that helpful, but Peter didn't push. Instead, the teenager tried to sit back and make his shoulders relax. "We should check your bandages after we eat, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, sure. That's good. Real good."

"And...I have something I want to talk to you about."

Peter couldn't help the way he froze, tensing so tightly he could probably make diamonds. Terrorizing anxiety coursed through the teenager in a way that he hated with every fiber of his being. He didn't know why he was freaking out so bad, why he felt like his soul was about to leave his body and take every rational thought with it.

"Yeah. Sure, sure. Okay," he managed to say. Mr. Stark gave him a look, but thankfully didn't pry, instead grabbing a spatula and tediously flipping the bright yellow omelet. Once that was finished cooking, Mr. Stark placed it on a plate a little messily and handed it to Peter along with a tall glass of orange juice. He thanked the mechanic quietly, quickly moving to eat the food.

Mr. Stark grabbed a piece of toast with jam on it and sat on a stool next to Peter. The two sat in tired silence while they ate, nothing breaking the lull save for the slight chewing of food and scraping of utensils. Mr. Stark finished his piece of toast before Peter finished his omelet, but only barely as the teenager polished it off ravenously. He could tell that Mr. Stark was anxious to get to that talk, but the man allowed for him to finish his glass of orange juice before beginning to talk again.

"So," Mr. Stark started, tapping on the counter nervously. Peter watched him anxiously as the man stepped off the stool, continuing to talk as he walked into the kitchen. "How much of our conversation do you remember while you were concussed last night?"

"Ah, most of it. I think," Peter said.

"Do you remember when I told you you couldn't go back to Fowler? And that I'd fix it?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah..."

"Well, I've got a solution." Mr. Stark stopped, his back to Peter, in front of where the stack of papers had been sitting. There was a moment of silent hesitation before the man picked it up, turning back around to face the teenager. "It's--if you don't like it, I can figure something else out, it's all up to you. But I'm completely willing to become your legal guardian."

Peter just stared, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Shock overtook his bruised body, leaving him a restless shell that was reduced to do nothing but stare. Mr. Stark hurried on in a slight panic.

"Of course, nothing's been finalized. My topnotch lawyers and the pulling of a couple of strings got me these" he gestured to the papers, "pretty quickly. They've all been notarized and signed, but nothing's official until you agree. It's your choice, kid."

Swallowing felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done as the teenager tried desperately to reset his glitching brain.

"My... You're going to be my guardian?" was all that he could say. It came out as a squeak, barely audible even to his ears.

Mr. Stark nodded. "Only if you're okay with it."

Peter could only gape at him for a moment before sputtering, "Wha--I don't-I don't---are you okay with it??"

Mr. Stark's face, contorted into confusion and slight apprehension, relaxed as the teenager finally managed to spit out his confusedly stuttered question. The smile that appeared was a little tired, a little exasperated, but no less warm.

"I'm five thousand percent okay with it," the man said. "I've never been more okay with anything in my life."

Peter stared up at him, swallowing forcefully. He wanted to say yes, to agree and finally be safe and okay, but hope was something hard to hold onto. This kind of trusting optimism, it was horribly unfamiliar to the teenager. It had been months since a hand on his shoulder had meant the friendly guidance of a caring parent rather than the controlling demand of Mr. Fowler. Since hugs had been constant and loving and Peter hadn't had to wonder about his place or his next meal. All those months had festered up so easily, and even the thought of trusting that everything would be okay with Mr. Stark was daring.

"Are you sure? Like, really sure? Because, I know-I know I can cause a lot of trouble and I still want to stay at my school in Queens and--"

"Then we'll stay in Queens," Mr. Stark interrupted. "And I'll keep up with you and your 'trouble.' I want to. I want to take care of you." When Peter was silent, Mr. Stark chewed at his cheek and then started, "You know what they say about soulmates? And their purpose?"

"That depends on who you ask, Mr. Stark," Peter managed to mutter. Mr. Stark huffed a laugh.

"Fine. What's the oldest, craziest, old wive-i-est tale about soulmates and destiny you can think of?"

Peter thought for a moment, searching in his mind desperately for what his Aunt and Uncle had used to tell him whenever he'd asked about soulmates. About when he'd meet his shadow and what it would be like.

"That souls were attached to each other for a reason?" he suggested with a shrug. "I don't know. Aunt May used to say that we were part of the same soul, but Uncle Ben wouldn't hear a word against soulmates being different souls that were, like, perfectly matched to support each other. He believed more in the destiny part."

Mr. Stark smiled.

"They sound like they knew what they were talking about."

Peter nodded, rubbing at his nose and sniffing tearfully, "Yeah. Yeah, they were pretty great."

"Well, I've never been one for the whole destiny thing, but I can't deny what it feels like to be around my soulmate. Like a purpose just dropped on my doorstep. Which is how I know that I'm more sure than sure that I want to take care of you."

"You think that that's your purpose?"

It sounded ludicrous to the teenager's ears. This was Tony Stark. Iron Man. He saved lives and the world and he'd fought aliens. He provided affordable and clean energy for the world. He ended wars and funded charities and he was important. And Peter...Peter was just himself.

"I know it is."

Peter let that sit, eyes glancing for a moment. Something finally clicked. After what felt like years and no time at all he choked out a teary, "Yeah. Yeah, I wanna stay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly Mr. Stark was by his side, a hand draped over his shoulder and his chin pressed into the boy's hair. Peter couldn't help the tears then, silent and staining his cheeks a flushed red. He sniffled with the relieved tears, his nose beginning to run. Mr. Stark only wrapped him in a tighter hug, soothing circles rubbed into the teen's bony back.

"It's okay, Peter. I've got you."

---

After Peter signed the papers, Tony had broken out two specially ordered cupcakes, his heart practically cracking in two at the way the teenager's eyes had lit up with unbelievable excitement. The mechanic had expected for the kid to gobble up the dessert in less than a second flat, but instead, Peter savored it slowly, as if afraid that it would disappear if he took his eyes off of it.

Peter later admitted the truth about mealtimes at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys. The same meals every day (cereal for breakfast, PB&J's for lunch and dinner). One snack. No sweets.

No wonder the kid was nothing but skin and bones.

Tony kept Peter in the compound for another few days after the Vulture incident, putting out fires and making sure the kid, and himself, had both fully healed. As well as narrowing down some apartments in Queens. He and Pepper had already been picking between them for days beforehand anyway, so he'd taken the last options to Peter, not that the kid had really voiced an opinion.

Tony ended up going with the most expensive one. They moved in after three days in the compound. A small suitcase filled with Peter's meager belongings that Happy had recovered from the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys was the only thing the kid ended up bringing with him. If Tony had to guess, he would say that the teenager had maybe three pairs of clothes.

The kid kept huddled next to him, painfully close the entire time as Tony swiped the card to the building, as they walked through the lobby and into the elevator, and when they finally walked through the door. Not that he minded in the slightest, enjoying the bewildered look on Peter's face as they stepped into the apartment. There was still plenty of unboxing to do and furniture to move around, with Pepper's supervision of course, but the teenager was clearly losing his mind with the high-rise.

"Whoa..." Peter muttered under his breath. Tony hummed in agreement.

"Pretty nice, right? Of course, Friday hasn't been installed yet, and there's a few changes to be made, but I think this is good."

"Changes?"

"This building didn't come pre-stocked with a state of the art lab, y'know. I was thinking about transforming the floor below."

"This apartment has three floors?" Peter asked, his eyes widening as he turned away from the glass stairs leading up to where Tony was pretty sure a couple of bedrooms were.

"No, just two. I bought the building."

"You... What?"

"I bought the building," Tony repeated offhandedly, moving to explore the new kitchen. "We still have neighbors downstairs, of course, but I wasn't about to have a landlord tell me what to do. Besides, better for insurance."

"I don't like that that's what you're concerned about," entered a new voice. Tony turned and smiled brightly at the sight of his girlfriend stepping into the apartment. She was clearly tired from all the fallout from the plane crashing, but she held a genuine smile on her face nonetheless.

"Pep!" Tony called. "You're just in time to unpack."

Pepper rolled her eyes at him, instead turning to greet Peter, who was staring at the woman like she was God herself. When she held out a hand, it took Peter a few moments to fumble out a response and shake her hand.

"Hi--hello, Ms. Potts," the kid stuttered. "I'm--I'm Peter."

"Hi, Peter. You can call me Pepper."

"Okay. Pepper."

Tony made a buzzer noise. "Excuse me? I'm still Mr. Stark? Who's your soulmate here?"

"That's your name, Mr. Stark," Peter smiled. Tony ruffled his hair as embarrassingly as possible.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Peter-butter."

If looks could kill, he would say that Peter was trying to kill him. However, the flushed cheeks and baby doe eyes did nothing but make Tony's heart wiggle in amusement and Pepper stifle an coo.

"Stop terrorizing the kid," Pepper reprimanded. "Especially when we've got work to do. Once Peter's stuff gets here we can begin moving that into you room, but for now we'll work on the main area."

"Oh, uh, my stuff is here, Ms. Potts," Peter mumbled. Eyes strayed to the beaten up bag. Tony and Pepper exchanged a glance.

"New plan," Tony announced. "Online shopping. C'mon."

"But--"

"Nope," Pepper cut across. "You're a part of the family now, Peter. We get to splurge on gifts."

Together, the two grabbed Peter's arms, leading him over to the steadiest pile of boxes and sitting down. Tony pulled out his phone and placed it in front of Peter, who didn't even touch the phone now balanced on his leg, just stared at it in confusion.

"I--what?"

Making a face, the mechanic tapped Peter's head. "C'mon, Petey-Pie. You know how to work a phone. Whadda ya want first?"

"I don't--I don't know? I don't really care."

Tony glanced over at Pepper once more, a little bit at a loss. He would be lying if he said he knew exactly how to connect with Peter. He felt like he'd been doing a good job thus far, but not everything made sense to him about their relationship, and a teenager given basically an infinite amount of resources to get whatever he wanted and wanting nothing was confusing him more than anything ever had.

With a look that clearly said, 'Let me take the lead,' Pepper picked up the phone, drawing Peter's attention.

"How about we just start simple? We'll start on your room now, and then go shopping later for clothes, okay?"

"O-okay," Peter mumbled. Tony gave him a comforting pat on the back.

"Great," Pepper said. "What kind of bed do you want? Queen? King? Bunk bed?"

"Bunk bed," Peter said after a moment.

"Great. What sheets?" Tony asked. Peter shrugged, but Tony shook him playfully. "C'mon, my little shadow. I know you're a nerd deep down, and on the surface too. What sheets do your geeky little teenager heart desire?"

"Star Wars?"

"Star Wars it is," Pepper declared.

Peter smiled, his cheeks cherry red. Tony grinned. Now they were getting somewhere.

Ten Months Later

"Boss, Mr. Parker is back."

Tony glanced up from where he was working in the lab, looking away from his newest project to smile brightly at the ceiling. He stood up, wiping his oily hands off on his equally oily pants, finally conceding to grab a cloth and rub the slick grease from his fingers. The mechanic gave the new project one last glance before throwing the cloth down on the nearest table and stepping toward the elevator.

"Great. Tell him I'm on my--"

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Tony turned, a confused expression turning into a small smile as he caught sight of the red and blue figure stuck on the window, waving at the mechanic in excitement. He rolled his eyes, walking over and undoing the latch on the window to let the teenager finally at a healthy weight roll into the room.

"I'm gonna start putting bug spray around the apartment until you learn to use a door," Tony warned. Peter pulled his mask off, revealing hair pulled down by sweat and a bright smile. They grew brighter and brighter every day. The teenager rammed a shoulder into Tony's playfully.

"Why can't a window be a door?"

"Because it's a window."

"Old houses in the south used to be able to transform between windows and doors to evade taxes."

Tony considered him. "How do you know this?"

"Decathlon."

Tony rolled his eyes, unsure of how he hadn't guessed that. He was going to the kid's competition next week for heaven's sake!

"Well, this is not the old south. We use doors here."

"That's less fun."

"Yeah, yeah. Go wash up for dinner."

"But it's barely five! I was going to go out again."

"Should've thought about that earlier," Tony teased. "It's family dinner night. And don't you have an essay due?"

Peter mumbled, but listened nonetheless, beginning to pad away towards the elevator to go up to their apartment suite, when there was the ringing of an oncoming call. Both of their heads turned as a screen popped up, displaying an unknown number, untraceable too. Tony and Peter exchanged raised eyebrows as the kid walked back over.

"What is this, Fri?"

"It is an incoming call from the phone Captain Rogers sent you."

Peter glanced between him and the screen warily. "That means there's a problem, doesn't it?"

"Probably," Tony admitted.

He turned to the kid, patting the kid's back and fixing him with a steady stare. Peter's doe eyes attached to his, trusting in a way that had been growing exponentially recently. Tony hadn't known it was possible to look at someone with that much trust. That much love. Especially from a kid whose first interaction with Tony had ended up in him running away, but life had become steadily calm, steadily trusting, as the days had gone by. As the months had. A few bumps in the road and a couple of mishaps, some bigger than others along the way, but good nonetheless. Yeah, life was good.

Tony liked to think he was right most of the time, but even he knew he was pretty hit or miss on how to remain any kind of relationship. But this--Tony knew he'd been right. His purpose was to protect Peter. And he loved every second of it.

"But if it is, I'll keep you safe. We'll fix it together."

Peter's lips tugged in a trusting smile. He held out a fist. "Together. MacaTony--"

Tony returned the fist bump lightly with a roll of his eyes, grinning as he caught sight of their shadows switching, "--And Peter-butter."

Whatever Steve was calling for, neither would be going in alone. They were never alone.

Their shadows made sure of it.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7

@annabanannabeth

#friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker #thank you so much everybody for sticking around and reading my story!!!#:)))

73 notes · View notes

catxsnow · 4 years

Text

BARING THE BURDEN

Summary: Bruce’s death meant someone had to take the mantle of Batman.

Warning: Angst

A/N: Lmfao I wrote this a long ass time ago and it was straight up meant to be the fic Please and I still don’t know how it took such a turn and I ended up with this.

Word Count: 3k

Bruce had a lot of sides.

He had the publicity CEO of Wayne Enterprises. A billionaire, ex-playboy who spent his days working to make this city better and his nights with his wife. His picture was plastered in the news and he was constantly getting recognition for everything he did. He was a hero to Gotham.

Then there was the Dark Knight. Keeping this city safe and instilling fear into his foes. He was dangerous, deadly if he ever choose to be. Batman was the farthest thing from a team player and yet he formed many. He was the reason that the world had been saved time and time again. He was Gotham's hero.

Bruce was a parent, though no kid was his own besides Damian. He was a family man, who loved his partner and kids even though he didn't always show it. He cared for everyone so deeply that he knew he would give his life to save theirs. This side was your favourite side, he was a hero to you and your kids.

Everything that Bruce did, one thing remained constant: he was the hero the world needed.

So, when the day came that he no longer protected the city, no longer protected you, it broke everyone. The city raged with crime. Bruce was no longer there to keep everyone safe. He had done exactly what he intended to do the day he married you: he died to keep you safe.

Bruce had known you far before he joined the Justice League. Just like the great Batman, you wanted nothing more than to keep the world safe. You wanted to be a hero - and after years of agony, you had done just that. Bruce knew the second that he saw you take down Scarecrow - on your own with fear toxin running though you - he needed you.

You were partners, equals on the streets. It didn't take long for him to seduce you to his bed, and shortly after that - put a ring on your finger. You were everything he needed - why waste time? Being with Bruce was a different experience every day, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

Losing him broke you. Of course it did. For years it seemed that he was invincible, no matter what side he showed. Even if he was just human, it always appeared that he was couldn't die. Bruce was a stubborn man, death never seemed to be in his cards. Until it was.

Bruce death destroyed any ounce of hope you had left. No matter how dark your life with Bruce was, there was always a shimmer of hope that you two would get to step away from this life. Now, you would never get that with him. You would never get your happy ending.

It seemed the city knew about Bruce's death before most of his kids. Jason was off around the world, taking down criminals in a way that you and Bruce never approved of. Dick was leading the Titans, Damian now part of the team. Tim, Steph, Cass, even Duke, they all seemed to have dropped off the radar a long time ago.

No matter how much they loved you, being back home wasn't always the easiest. It wasn't easy telling them that the man that raised them half their lives was dead, never to come back. In fact, it was so hard that you hadn't. Alfred remained silent about the truth, upholding Bruce's position at Wayne Enterprises for as long as he could.

Gotham, however, suffered without the Bat. Criminals were going wild in the streets, the biggest of the bad's seemingly putting all their plans into action. The city needed Batman, they needed him far more than you ever had. Bruce never wanted you to take that title as sole protector of the city. He had told you time and time again to get out of this life if he was to die.

You couldn't.

How could you when the people that killed him were still out there. Instead of giving up being a hero, finding your white picket fence life that Bruce so desperately wanted you to have, you did the exact thing that he would have never wanted you to do.

You became the Bat.

The suit was adjusted to your size, and even though you knew you couldn't pull off being the great Batman like any of your adopted sons could, this was your burden to carry, not theirs. Losing Bruce was on you, it hadn't been their faults. You couldn't bare the thought of having to get one of them to uphold this mantle.

It had to be you, it always had been. The first time that you put it on, it had brought you to tears. Tears of missing Bruce, of doing the one thing he never wanted of you. Tears of wondering what Dick and all the others were going to think of you in this suit. Tears of having to bare a burden you never would have wished for anyone.

"How's it look?" Alfred handed over a a handkerchief. You wiped away your tear stained face, petrified of what it was going to be like when you finally put the cowl on as well.

"Fits like a glove," Alfred answered. The suit looked like you were meant for it. Being the bat was life you were destined for, even if you knew every single person would know that you were far from the original. You would never be Bruce, Alfred knew that. You weren't Batman, you weren't Batwoman. You didn't know who you were anymore.

"What was I thinking, Alfred?" You asked, turning to face him. The Batmobile glared at you, along with every other item in that cave that belonged to Bruce. "I'm not Bruce, I'm not meant to do this. It should be Dick, Tim, Damian even. I look like a fraud. No one is going to believe this."

"You were meant for this," Alfred assured. You knew he was lying. Alfred knew more than anyone that Bruce didn't want you to take this title. He had told Alfred more than once never to let you step foot back in that cave if he was to perish. Alfred had gone against his dying wish - but it was going to be his if he went against you.

"I haven't even told the kids," your voice cracked. It had been just over three weeks since Bruce's death and you hadn't even gotten the guts to tell them their father died. How were you supposed to face the city if you couldn't face the family you loved? "I'm too weak."

"You were married to Master Bruce for a decade, I wouldn't call that weak in the slightest," Alfred tried to joke. If you could put up with his crazy life, you were anything but weak. "I've known you for a great deal of time, (Y/N), if there's one person that is strong enough to do this, it's you."

Your chin trembled for a moment. You couldn't keep these tears up, Alfred was right, you were strong enough to do this and you needed to prove it. Your fists clenched at your side and you clenched your jaw. It was time. The cowl was pulled up over your head, the final seal to your fate.

You were right. Not a single person believed that you were the great Batman. Even low-life criminal scum took you as a joke. They knew that you weren't him, they teased you enough that you had broken far greater than the bat ever would. After all your years as a vigilante, wearing that suit seemed to bring out a dark side you didn't know you had.

It was easier to understand now what Bruce's mentality was while wearing it. No matter the person under the cowl, it brought an evil out that was hard to push down. It was so easy to take down worthless criminals, they didn't know who was under the suit. No repercussions, no doubts.

You could understand why Jason did what he did. Wearing this suit, it brought out a lot of things that you didn't realize were hidden away. Night after night you would come home with blood soaking through the dark material. It was enough that it made Alfred concerned, even the city concerned.

Batman disappears for a few weeks and a successor comes back even more deadly than the last? GCPD wasn't going to allow it, and neither were the citizens. Even if they didn't agree with your suddenly violent methods, the city was getting safer and no one was dead. That didn't make Alfred any less worried.

Missing Bruce had fueled that aggression. You missed him so much that each time you put on his cowl, you were blinded by the anger of those who killed him. Bruce would have never wanted this of you, but you couldn't stop it. Not until every damn person in that city knew that you were going to stop them the second they thought about committing a crime.

"You've been all over the news, Bruce," Dick's voiced echoed through the cave. The cape that covered your shoulders hid your smaller frame, the cowl hiding your hair. He was standing far enough away that he couldn't tell the difference between you and your dead husband.

Your breath caught in your throat. Dick, the others, they still didn't know. You had been so caught up in keeping the Batman mantle alive that you hadn't thought once again about telling them. Now, you couldn't hide it anymore. You couldn't hide that Bruce was dead and that it was you under the mask.

Reluctantly, you pulled the cowl down as you turned to face Dick. Tears stung your eyes and poured down as you met Dick's. The utter shock that he had from you being in the suit had caused him to step back. He was prepared to lecture Bruce, not see that it was you.

"(Y/N)," Dick whispered. You avoided his gaze, petrified as to what he was going to think of you now. The whole reason he was there was to get Batman on the right path, now he was going to get a completely different story. He rushed down the steps of the cave, meeting you where you stood.

Your body shook with sobs, knees buckling from under you. If it wasn't for Dick's hold on you, you would have been flat on the ground. You didn't need to say anything, to explain what you were doing. The second that he saw you in Bruce's modified suit, he had figured it out.

Bruce Wayne was dead, and so was every other side of him.

Silent tears slipped down Dick's cheeks. He and Bruce might not have always gotten along, but he was still the man that raised him for over a decade. His grip on you tightened, just as you had thought, Bruce always seemed invincible. Dick never thought he'd see the day that Bruce was dead in the field.

"What happened?" Dick finally managed to speak. His voice cracked and he feverishly dried his wet cheeks, followed by yours.

"I should have been there," was all you could say. You were supposed to be with him that night, you should have been with him. You could have saved him, or died right along with him. Either options seemed to be easier than the pain that you had to endure without him. "I wasn't there to save him."

"The others?" Dick asked. He didn't know how long Bruce had been gone, or how long you had been hiding this from him. He wanted to be mad, to yell at you that he should have known sooner. He couldn't, not after seeing how torn up you were about this. You missed him far more than anyone.

You shook your head, voice catching in your throat. You didn't want to be the one to tell Damian that his father was dead, and you weren't there to stop it. It was you that sent him to the Titans, claiming that you and Bruce could handle the city on your own for a while. You were wrong, so desperately wrong.

Damian would never forgive you for this.

Dick turned away from you. His hand slid down his face, trying to decipher all the emotions running through him. Everyone needed to know, they deserved the truth. He was mad at you too, you could see it in the way he held himself up. You didn’t need a lecture that night, you needed to get on the streets and keep it safe.

You let out a shaky breath. The cowl no longer hung from your neck put was placed back on your head. Dick needed this time to himself, to accept that Bruce was gone. You needed to save the city. Besides, he didn't want to be anywhere near you, not right now. You could see it in him - mad at you for keeping it from him, from everyone, mad at you for taking such harsh measures and tarnishing Bruce’s name.

"Where are you going?" Dick asked as you stalked over to the Batmobile. You certainly didn't pass up as Bruce, not even close. Between your smaller frame and completely different voice, you were nothing like him. Even your fighting styles differed. If anyone was going to pull it off, it had to be Dick.

You didn't say anything as you hopped into the car. The track spun you around and the lights shined the path ahead. Dick stood in front of you, blocking your chance of leaving. He had never seen you run from your problems like this, you were always the level headed one between you and Bruce.

Losing him changed you, a lot. Dick had been with you for less than an hour and you seemed like a completely different person. He felt like the parent right now, never did he feel like that with you.

"Get out of the car, (Y/N)," Dick urged. His gold chain shined in the bright light. It had been a long time since you had seen him in just his civvies. For a second, you swore he looked like the little boy that you had first accepted into your home, not this full fledged adult. You squeezed your eyes shut, accepting that he was right and you needed to face this.

The lights flicked off and Dick now stood at your car door. You stood at his side once more, head tilted in shame. Dick pulled the cowl off your head, the warm eyes of his adoptive mother were cold. He saw no love within them, no hope for the future.

"You don't belong in that suit," he shook his head. Dick knew that you bared the suit so no one else had to. He knew you were taking this bullet so that you didn't have to see your kids suffer in it. He could see that wearing it was killing you from the inside out. Being that Bat was something that you weren't meant to endure.

"Neither do you," You voice trembled. Being alone these past few weeks, it made it easy to block out your feelings of grief. Now, with Dick being back everything you had bottled up was spilling out like a river.

"Bruce wanted me to take it, never you," Dick argued. He never wanted to be Batman, he wanted to be his own person. Deep down, he knew that this day would come, that he would have to take up the mantle he so desperately tried to run from. "Bruce might not have been the most loving person, but he always wanted what was best for you."

"I need to do this, Dick," you continued. The last thing you wanted to see was Dick to be dragged down by the weight of the cape. He had something good going for him, and coming back to his old home would ruin that. You gestured around to the cave, “this is where I'm meant to be, even if Bruce never wanted it."

"Bruce wanted you to be happy. Wearing that suit is draining you, you can't keep this up," Dick denied. Seeing you like this hurt just as much as pain of Bruce being dead. Growing up, you were always there for him, always the one to help him back up. It seemed you had an endless ray of hope in you. That hope was gone and diminished to nothing. "You have to tell everyone, Damian... He needs to know."

"How am I supposed to look him in the eye and tell him his father is dead?" You pleaded. Dick sighed, this was going to be the hardest conversation you would ever have. It needed to be done, everyone needed to know. The world needed to know, Bruce Wayne was a public figure, they couldn't hide this forever.

Dick never answered you. He didn't know how to answer you. You pushed past him, peeling off the suit as you headed towards the computers. Dick wasn't going to let you go out that night, not in that suit. You'd be surprised if he let you go out at all again.

The screen lit up and for the first time since Bruce's death, you hovered over the emergency contacts. Everyone needed to know, The Justice League, the family, you needed to be the one to tell them. Your heart clenched as you sent the message to your family saying to come home, immediately.

Dick placed his hand on your shoulder. He was going to be the one to help you through telling everyone. You were making the right choice, this secret couldn't go on for any longer. When everyone knew, then they would decide who would take the suit, who would become Batman again.

You hoped that it would be you.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne one shot #bruce wayne x batmom #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #batfam #batmom #batmom imagines #batmom x batfamily #batfam x batmom #batfam one shot #batmom!reader #dickgrayson #dc one shot #dc imagine #dc #angst

347 notes · View notes

river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

Text

Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Two: Rarepair

Jason knew jokes about how pale Tim was, about how he was either a vampire or the perfect blue blood, about how he needed to get out and absorb some sun for God’s sake. They were met with glares, scathing retorts, smacks with a bo staff, and on one memorable occasion, a horrified Bruce as Tim barged into the house with visible sunburn all along his arms, shoulder and face. (Bruce hadn’t taken Tim’s accusation of But Jason told me to go get some sun! very well.)

Jason wasn’t joking now. Loosely covered in a hospital gown, Tim’s still body seemed to be more devoid of colour than any of the sheets, machines, and tubes surrounding him and attached to his body, keeping him alive in the most impersonal of ways.

It was quiet, the sort of quiet that muffled any attempted noise with a soft hush, an invisible reprimand at showing signs of life in a place where there should be none. The beeping of the various machines didn’t register, the hum of the fluorescent lights was ignorable. Even the rhythmic tapping of Jason’s foot on the linoleum, a nervous habit he’d never been able to break, was utterly silent.

It was quiet. At least until Conner Kent barged into the room, his heavy combat boots thudding on the ground and his breath coming out in pants, the terrified look on his face telling Jason that he thought he hadn’t gotten here fast enough.

“He’s fine,” Jason managed not to cough while speaking, the roughness of his throat a physical ache that was just now flaring up. “Full recovery, they said.”

“Good, good, that’s...” Conner dropped into the remaining hospital chair, right next to Jason. “That’s good.”

Silence blanketed them once again. Jason hadn’t ever been in a regular hospital room. He had supposedly spent a while as a patient in one when he’d risen from the dead and trembled around Gotham like a 21st century zombie, but he couldn’t remember any of it. He didn’t think Tim’s best friend had ever been in one either, given a good majority of Tim’s team was invulnerable or had advanced healing in some way.

Jason was sure Bruce was itching to take Tim to the cave’s medbay, and honestly, Jason found himself on Bruce’s side in this. As much as he liked to distrust the entire Bat clan, he knew they’d give everything they had to make sure Tim was okay, while the hospital was only giving Tim their best care because of the “Wayne” tacked onto the end of his name. Jason had been about to demand Bruce bring him back to the cave no matter what, but Oracle butted in, telling him that Tim been shot as Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne in broad daylight. Bruce couldn’t take Tim home, not without raising some very complicated questions.

So that led them here. Jason being slammed full-force in the face with how much he’d let himself care about the tiny little toothpick, unable to make himself move for fear that Tim would slip away in the one moment he was gone. (Once he’d come back to life and seen how chummy Dick was with Bruce all of a sudden, he’d always expected Dick to drag him back kicking and screaming. He never thought Tim’s unobtrusive yet steady presence, doing his tech work in exchange for food, would lead to the word brother coming to his lips as easy as a breath.)

Next to him, Conner shuffled, and snapped Jason out of his thoughts. “I thought Nightwing would be here.” A statement, subtly posed as a question.

But, still one Jason had an answer to. “Deep cover. A mission he’d been planning for weeks. He doesn’t know.” And he would probably throw a fit about it too, when he came back. Even Jason had to wince a bit at the horrible sense of déjà vu Dick would end up feeling.

“So they sent you instead,” Conner said, and his tone was simple, but Jason found himself getting heated anyway.

“What, you thought the fill-in for Big Bird would be a little better?”

Jason was just burning for a fight, the helplessness he felt at being able to do nothing but sit in a low-quality plastic chair skating up his body and down his arms, forcing his fingers to curl in a fist. He expected the other boy to rise to the bait, having heard Tim’s complaints on how hot-headed Superboy was.

But something about their current situation caused Conner to just turn and glare at him flatly instead. “You once put him a hospital bed, too. Don’t act like you care about him now when you would’ve celebrated this a couple years ago.” His tone was dismissive, and that dug under Jason’s skin much more than he expected.

“Well then, it’s a good thing time travel’s reserved for the speedsters, huh? ‘Cause lucky for you, I’m not the same guy I was a couple years ago,” Jason replied scathingly. The next words were ripped from Jason’s throat, and he could almost see the blood splattered on them. “That’s my brother in the shitty hospital bed right there.”

“Yeah? And how long have you even cared about that ‘brother’ of yours?” There it was. Jason could see red trickling into Conner’s cheeks as he let Jason’s words get to him, and found himself oddly curious about that flush.

Still. Argument to win. “Long enough to know him,” Jason shot back. “Long enough to help piece him together after he almost broke. Where were you during that time? Fucking around with your friends or dead?”

“Trying to hold together the team that Tim helped build,” Conner shifted a bit to face Jason more directly head on. “All you’ve done is tear people apart. News flash: having a sort-of truce with Tim doesn’t automatically mean your family loves you again.”

That one hurt. Years of training to keep his emotions hidden was the only thing that kept him from flinching back visibly, but Jason still felt like he’d been slapped. Because the boy was right; just because Tim liked dropping by one of his safehouses every other week doesn’t mean the rest of the family was anywhere near comfortable with him, not after all the pain he’d caused them. And he couldn’t even fault Conner on it, because it wasn’t like he was wrong and it wasn’t like it wasn’t Jason’s own damn fault.

Still. He couldn’t just let that slide. “At least my family loved me to begin with. What do you have? Megalomaniac scientists who built you from an evil billionaire who thinks of you as an experiment at best and supposedly one of the best men on Earth who still thinks you’re not worth his time.”

Too late, Jason realized his insult came out a little too scathing. Conner’s eyes widened, and Jason saw him blink back pinpricks of tears...fuck. He didn’t know when mutual antagonizing had turned into a caustic competition, but he was pretty sure Tim wouldn’t be very happy with the two of them biting each other’s heads off. And Jason was the one that goaded Conner into this to begin with, to let some of his own helpless anger loose. Conner just wanted to make sure his friend was alright.

So, slightly reluctantly, Jason said, “Sorry. That was a bit too far.”

Conner shot him a grimace. “S’okay. You’re keyed up ‘cause of Tim. I get it. You’re still a jackass, though.” After saying his bit, the other boy turned away, taking up another vigil by Tim’s bedside.

...What the hell. It wasn’t like Jason had lied, anyway. If there was one person that had worse daddy issues than Jason did, it was this poor son of a bitch. Back when he was first catching glimpses of updates on what happened in the larger superhero world while he was letting green overtake his mind, he’d marveled a bit at Superboy, and the way the Justice League seemed to speak about it. How bad do you have to be to be Superman’s own son, (sorta), and still have him hold you at arms length. But after Tim’s stories, and after meeting him now, Jason was pretty sure Superman was in the wrong.

You really couldn’t trust anyone, could you?

“Nah. You’re right,” Jason said. “God knows none of the Bats want anything to do with me, so this stupid sort-of truce with this stupid brother’s all I got.”

Conner glanced over at him, surprised. Jason couldn’t blame him, he was a little taken aback at how easily the confession had spilled out of him too. They both knew how closed off people in their line of work were, but Conner seemed to take Jason’s words as an olive branch.

“You were right too. Found out the fun way that parents aren’t worth shit. So the team’s all I got, and Tim’s a big part of that.”

“The kid fucking hates you,” Jason said, putting some good-natured humor into his words to let Conner know he wasn’t entirely serious. “Loves you to death, but complains about you to me all the time.”

Conner snorted. “Look who’s talking. Every week at Titans Tower, it’s all ‘Jason won’t stop scaring off all my informants’ and ‘Jason spit on my copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.’”

“You can’t blame me for that last one, aight?”

“No, I agree with you,” Conner said. “That movie was terrible. I don’t know why Tim likes it.”

“Because he’s a goddamn loser,” Jason said. He couldn’t say he was expecting Conner to know who he was, much less from stories Tim had told him. But it felt...good, in a way. Nice to be recognized by his media tastes instead of his bone-chilling reputation. Nice to know that the guy Tim wouldn’t shut up about to him knew who he was.

Silence fell in between them again, but it was comfortable, mutually acknowledged and let rest. Jason didn’t break it when Conner stood up, brushed a kiss to Tim’s hair, and left the hospital much quieter than he came. Jason didn’t break it when he made to leave either, squeezing Tim’s hand and mentally willing him to heal faster. Jason didn’t break it all the way home.

The next day found Jason in a similar position. The positive side of being a mob boss: he didn’t have much in the way of a day job. He didn’t know why cramming himself into an uncomfortable position to stare, with a tight throat, at a kid in a medically induced coma was what he decided to do with his day.

Maybe because the kid had grown on him, latched onto his heart like a leech and didn’t let go until Jason could ruffle his hair and think of him as a little brother without physically throwing up.

And maybe because he wanted to see Conner again. He didn’t know why, but their brief talk yesterday had loosened something inside his chest. He was used mulling over his regrets, used to Bruce condemning him and giving up on him as a lost cause, used to Dick trying to brush everything aside and form a bond with him again. He wasn’t used to someone staring his sins in the face, then shrugging and forgiving him.

Forgiveness was much lighter and much less guilt-ridden than Jason expected, and he wanted more of it. From the way Conner had sunk into the same line of thinking as Jason, he wanted more of it too.

Conner didn’t disappoint him, but Jason wasn’t sure when he’d gotten his hopes up high enough to be disappointed in the first place. Calmer, now that he knew Tim was doing better, Conner leaned against the doorframe of hospital room, staring at their resident comatose with a little frown on his lips.

Jason took the time to study him. A black leather jacket stretched across his shoulders, a little more showy than the practical brown one draped across the back of the chair Jason was sitting on. He supposed it fitted in with Superboy’s theme, because anyone who wore that pinwheel-bright costume with the fucking thigh holster Jason saw pictures of online was more than a little showy. There wasn’t much proof of in his simple t-shirt and jeans, though, and Jason almost would’ve been disappointed if it weren’t for the earring hanging from his left earlobe and the tall black boots with glinting metal lace hooks that stretched up their length. Jason bet he owned the exact pair of fingerless gloves that were wrapped around Conner’s wrists right now.

In all of Tim’s vivid descriptions of the guy, Jason never realized how much he had in common with the guy, at least cosmetically.

“How’s he doing?” Conner asked, and jolted Jason out of his reverie. He didn’t make any indication he caught Jason looking, but Jason eyed him in slight embarrassment just in case.

Realizing that Conner was actually waiting for an answer, Jason cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit from his relaxed sprawl. “They say they’ll bring him out of it tomorrow, then a week here before he can go home. That is, if he doesn’t wake up on his own. The doctors say they’re astounded at how fast he’s recovering.”

Conner snorted, then stepped fully into the room. “Can you build up an immunity to injury? Or, like, have your body develop a mini healing factor or something? Just based on the kind of shit we’ve gone through over the years?”

Jason didn’t miss the way Conner put feather’s touch more emphasis on “we,” or the way his eyes flicked over to Jason. “At this point, I’m sure it’s the only way we’ve stayed alive so long.”

“No you didn’t,” Conner chuckled.

Jason’s head whipped up, staring at the other boy with disbelief threading through his mind. It had taken months for Dick to start making death jokes, and even then, he hesitated a bit, as if making sure Jason was okay with it. But after one meeting, Conner just steamrolled ahead, every bit as confident as he appeared to be. Jason found himself laughing too, with genuine amusement albeit a little punched out.

Crossing the room to seat himself in the remaining plastic chair, Conner sunk down with a sigh. “I just want him to wake up already.”

“Yeah, well. Who doesn’t?” Jason said, feeling unreasonably a little disappointed. Of course Conner wanted to talk about Tim, that was the whole reason he’d come to the hospital in the first place. He’d only known Jason for an hour, and a large part of that was spent trading insults back and forth. Of course he didn’t want to talk about how Jason was doing.

“So,” Conner said, turning away from the hospital bed. “How are you doing?”

Or maybe he did. Jason didn’t know what to call the little bubble of satisfaction that flew up his throat and popped in his mouth. “Not bad. Life as a mob boss is kinda boring, whaddya know. You?”

“Playing den mother for a bunch of hypercompetent yet cluelessly stupid baby superheroes is not how I imagined my life going.”

“Playing den mother?”

Conner wrinkled his nose, in a motion that was in no way cute, honestly kind of gross and flat. Jason found himself staring nonetheless. “Bart used to call me Team Mom back when we founded the team, and it caught on. Now, Cassie leads, but since even she says it, everyone fucking says it. They ask me for granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“And?”

Conner sighed. “I give them granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“There you go,” Jason said, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

“I swear I’m not usually this lame,” Conner pleaded, and his half-smile was aimed straight towards Jason.

“No, no, I believe you. Tim’s told me stories,” Jason said. “Didn’t you once throw some guy into a police car so hard, the car dented and they had to call in a helicopter so the guy didn’t die on the way to the hospital?”

Conner flushed, and Jason found it just as entrancing as last time. “He tried to touch Cassie,” he explained. “And she can take care of herself more than well, I know. I just got a bit...overprotective.”

Jason just laughed. “Don’t worry. I thought it was badass.”

“Really?” Conner’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “Because the League thought it was proof of my, fuck, what was it? Violent, destructive tendencies mirrored on a smaller scale of the schemes of Lex Luthor. Something along those lines.”

Shaking his head with desideration, Jason scoffed. “Sounds about accurate. Besides, you don’t wanna know what the League thinks of me.”

“What?”

“Aside from, like, Joker and Two-Face and Mad Hatter and shit, Red Hood is one one of Batman’s most powerful and dangerous rogues, and must be stopped at all costs.”

Conner was laughing before Jason even finished talking. “I love that for you,” he said. “You’re just so powerful and dangerous. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Jason shoved him lightly, and felt Conner give way on purpose, ignoring how natural and easy the motion felt. “Whatever you say, Luthor Lite.”

“Well, guess I found my new superhero name,” Conner said, finger held up to his chin in mock-thought as if musing something extremely important.

“It’s perfect,” Jason said. “And here we have Conner Kent, ordinary punk-rock farmer. But he’s hiding a secret! When his ‘violent and destructive tendencies’ come out, he turns into...Luthor Lite!”

The two of them collapsed into muffled laughter, Jason stifling his noise by biting his lip and Conner putting his head in the crook of his arm to hide his red face. Pity, Jason liked that flush.

Straightening up with a sigh, Conner offered Jason a little grin. Crimson was still creeping along his cheekbones and the edge of his jaw, and Jason was suddenly struck by the urge to trace it.

“Kon,” Conner said.

“What?”

“Call me Kon,” Conner said. “Everyone does.”

“Kon, huh? With a K, right?” Jason asked, then nodded thoughtfully when Conner made a noise of affirmation. “Is it Kryptonian or something?”

A rueful expression stole it’s way onto Conner’s face, mischievous lips and daring eyes staring at Jason as if challenging him. “Yeah. Kon-el. Kryptonian for ‘abomination’. It’s what they thought of clones.”

A pause. Then, “Wow.” Jason bust out laughing for the second time. “That’s metal as fuck. Good for you, Kon.”

“Says the guy who took the name of the person who killed him, then twisted it into something so horrifying that now, no one else associates it with anything other than you.”

“Is that judgement I hear?”

“Respect,” Kon said, and his smile was oddly shy, the first time he’d shown that emotion since he’d met Jason. Jason liked the way it looked on him; it suited him oddly well.

They were quiet for a minute, grinning at each other like buffoons, but Jason couldn’t find the heart to stop. Eventually, Kon stood up and rolled out his shoulders to stretch. “I gotta get going. I’m meeting Bart and Cassie, updating them about Tim.”

“They’re waking Tim up in the afternoon,” Jason said. “Bruce is gonna be here, plus Steph. So I’d stay clear.”

“Gotcha, thanks. I’ll come in the morning.”

A proposition, if Jason ever saw one, and there was no way he could have refused. “I’ll be here,” he said, and kept his eyes on Kon until he rounded a corner, away from sight.

Kon was already there when Jason came to visit Tim the next day, and he gave him a friendly, if a tad flirtatious, smile. Jason responded, accidentally putting too much emotion into the greeting than he would have liked, but it made Kon brighten, so Jason didn’t feel too bad.

Dropping heavily into what had become “his” chair, Jason shrugged off his jacket. He gave himself a mental high-five when he noticed Kon staring at his shoulders, but made no motion to address it.

“If all goes to plan, he’ll be the same annoying little prep boy that’s always annoying the hell out of me by tonight,” Jason said.

“He’ll be fine,” Kon said, and his voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of confidence curling around his words. He sounded like he had utter faith in Tim. Jason wished some of that would bleed over.

“He’s a tough little shit,” Jason said, then repeated Kon’s words. “He’ll be fine.”

“How ‘bout you?”

“Hm?” Jason raised an inquiring brow. “Oh, I’m all good It’s not me that’s hurt.”

“Jason,” Kon snorted. “If I have learned anything over the past two days, it is the fact that you are most definitely not ‘all good.’”

“Yeah well,” Jason said. “You’re one to talk.”

Kon made a noncommittal noise, and shrugged as if to say what can you do? “We’ve all got issues. But I get the feeling that you’re not as closed off and angry as you let people believe. Or maybe you are, but you don’t want to.”

Jason bit back the first response that came into his mind, telling Kon that no, he was closed off and angry, just not with him. But that wasn’t the truth, and he definitely didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. So instead, he said, “Maybe. Not gonna lie, from the way Tim and everyone talks about you, I was expecting more...”

“Cocky little frat boy?” Kon asked, smirking.

“More or less.”

Kon sighed, then looked down to where his hands were fiddling with each other. “Superman doesn’t act like a cocky little frat boy. Neither does Lex Luthor.”

“You’re not either of them,” Jason said, realization pouring into his mind like spilled oil. “You’re not either of them, but no one else seems to get that, so you make it as obvious as possible.”

“A couple people got that eventually,” Conner said, looking up at Tim with a soft smile. “Not many, though. And none as quickly as you.”

Kon leaned back, level with Jason now, turned to face him, something on his face that Jason couldn’t read. The chairs seemed much closer than Jason could remember, but he wasn’t very much banking on his memory right now.

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, feeling a little lame. “What can I say. Misery likes company, and companies read each other through water.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“I came up with it,” Jason said.

“I like it,” Kon smiled, then leaned forward with an ease Jason had been determined to build up first.

A little peeved at Kon beating him to it, Jason closed the distance first, the kiss probably a little too rough. But given the way they’d met, Jason felt like the bite he gave Kon was justified, even if the other boy was invulnerable.

Jason had made plenty of bad decisions in his life, and he knew exactly what they felt like. This wasn’t one of them. There was no chance that the way Kon’s hands coming up to cup Jason’s face, dragging his nail down Jason’s jaw, was anything other than good. No chance the way Kon’s soft hair suddenly threaded through his fingers was anything other than soft, no chance the soft noise Kon made in the back of his throat was anything other than delightful.

Yeah, Jason knew bad decisions. And despite the avalanche of bad decisions that seemed to make up every inch of Jason, from his scarred hands to his chipped nails, despite the pile-up of thoughtless ideas that led to this boy being made, despite how intimately familiar Jason was with regrets, he was certain Conner Kent wasn’t one of them.

------------

this was almost 4k what the fuck

also. please imagine tim waking up to see his best friend and older brother aggressively making out in the plastic hospital chairs next to him.

anway, suddenly i have a new ship.

imma post this on ao3 later, it got a bit long

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

132 notes · View notes

sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Saved

Summary- 2.6k Bucky x You. Based on a ASK from anon-Hella Bi Bitch. Hydra tramautized you and you go to Bucky for comfort. Angst/Fluff. Also written for @jtargaryen18 4k Challenge.

“Sweetheart. They are not coming.” Brock leered over your face, his hot breath washing over you, and it was almost impossible to miss the leer in his brown eyes as he cupped your face. If you had the capabilities, you would jerk away, but you were strapped down. All over, even your head was strapped flush to the hard metal table. The only thing you would do that would be satisfactory was work your mouth, draw up that last bit of spittle you had left and spat at him, making him curse while jerking back.

It would be worth the pain he would cause next, knowing that at least he couldn't break you, just tie you down. Captain would be here soon, Iron Man, Natasha, Bucky… someone, someone would come for you.

Brock retaliated by slamming an open palm across your face, biting back a cry, a burst of blood interrupted from your nose, racing down your face.

As parched as you were, you welcomed the hot iron taste swarming your mouth, even through the pain.

“Rumlow! You will step away from the girl. We need her.”

Dread filled you as his face went from rage, to a cold smirk, pulling away from you. “Don't worry sweetheart, once they are done breaking you, you and I are going to do great things.”

Your eyes flickered to the Hydra Agent, laying out his supplies, tools of pain and vials of poison to flood your system. Nauseated, you looked back up to the ceiling, and squeezed your eyes shut, clamping your mouth shut. Tears welled up, you would probably be gone, dead before the team would find you. It was what you hoped for now.

You would rather die then let them turn you evil. Wasn't there a saying? You either die a hero or turn into a villian. You prayed, prayed for death instead.

A year you were tested on, preyed on until you became a shell. Moved from base to base, handled by various people. None had a shred of kindness, and Brock especially took joy in your torture.

He was able to use the various instruments, had access to your cell whenever he wanted. Your personal bodyguard, your personal hell. In these times you sink away from yourself, your body started to work on their command, your mind an empty shell of your former self. Intelligent? Yes, but yourself, no.

It wasn't complete yet, there was still a shred of you left. Holding on, barely.

Your rescue happened one sunny afternoon, but you weren't to ever know this. You were deep underground, away from air and light. They had just dumped you in your cell when there coms went off. To weak to pay attention to the Hydra agents fear as they hurriedly locked you in, you crawled to your cot and folded yourself onto it. Another day of survived hell. Squeezing your eyes shut, you really just wished for it to end. At this point in any manner. So much pain. To much.

Alone for a while, you start to drift off into nothingness when metal on metal jolted you awake with a terrified whimper. You heard the clang on your bars and lifted your head up to see Bucky trying to see who was curled up on the cot.

“B-b-bucky?” You eased up slowly to make sure you weren't seeing things, and then right next to him Steve stepped up, flipping his shield to hang on his back.

“Doll, we finally found you.” Bucky exclaimed with relief, grasping the bars and wrenching them as hard as he could, the metal whining in protest, but it wasn't strong enough to hold him back from what he wanted.

Steve kept a watch of Bucky's six, speaking into the com at his ear. “We got her, Bucky is collecting Y/N now, have the jet ready Clint. Nat, you just about done? Sam, cover us when we come up."

“Five more seconds and data is secure, Tony can blow this hell hole to dust.”

Bucky's arm went around you for support as you went to stand, sore from earlier, he saw you hobble forward and he swept you up.

“Just faster this way Doll, come on Steve. Before Stark gets trigger happy.” Bolting for the nearest set of stairs, everything became a blur as Bucky and Steve bolted from the building. Hiding your face in Buckys shoulder, you never did see that sunny afternoon.

A shadow passed over Bucky and Steve bolting across the ground, and when you glanced up, lifting your head off Buckys shoulder, the flash of red and silver covered out the blue sky above, and you smiled to yourself, between Sam, Steve and Bucky, you were safe. Exhaustion dipped your head back to Buckys shoulder.

It wasn't long till you were back at Stark Towers, which hadn't been your home in a year. Bucky carried you down into the medic bay with Sam close by. The rest of the team went to debrief on the mission, knowing you were taken cared of. Bucky easily set you down on the table, hovering nearby, he seemed hesitant to leave you, you who were so quiet, so shut down. Sam hovered close by, his jaw clenched. Quiet at well. Not knowing what to say or do, You just stared at the floor till Bruce came in.

“Give us some privacy Bucky? I need to give her a full examination.” Bruce said softly, and your eyes welled up with tears, hiding away from them both. Bucky shook his head in refusal. “I'm not leaving her alone.”

“Okay, but on the other side of the curtain, if Y/N needs you, she will call you.” Bruce looked over at you to confirm that was okay, and you nodded, still unable to look at any of them. Your shame and fear pounding at you. Sam clasped Buckys forearm, nodding his head to the door. "We will just be on the other side." When Bucky stepped on the other side, you could see the worried look flashing across his face, somewhat in recgonition to your pain. Sam gave you a slight nod, and a smile of encouragement.

Why couldnt you be stronger?

The start of your recovery was rough, locked in your room a lot. It took some time for you to open back up to the team. Bring a sense of normalcy to you again. Your normal for the past year has been to be tortured. Everyday life was a lot. Things so simple, like going to get a glass of water, took all your willpower to do. The team, they did everything they could to make it easier. Natasha and Clint immediately made you a part of their movie nights. At first you would sit stiffly away from them, not wanting to be touched by anyone. But soon you loosened up. Curling up against Clint while his arm draped over you, your feet in Natasha’s lap while she painted your nails. “How are the nightmares Y/N?” Natasha would ask, and you could feel Clint tighten his arm around you slightly, listening. It was no secret, your nightmares were a nightly occurrence, often waking up screaming and trying to hide somewhere in the room.

“They are fine, fewer and fewer every day.” You lied, covering your shame.

Steve, you often went with Steve out for walks where he would find some subject to draw. You would lay in the sun, while your friend sketched away at some piece of nearby building, sometimes a landscape. Once he even did you while you were sitting a bit away, catching your profile watching the clouds above. Often you two would sit in easy silence, not needing to have long intense conversations, you were just happy to be with your friend. Once in a while you would ask him. “Steve, you think I can join the team soon?”

The blonde man would hum, and his blue eyes would shift over towards you a moment before going back to his paper. “Y/N, don't rush it. You were there for a year. I'm not putting you in the field before you're ready. Here, what do you think?” He would flip his pad around and of course it was his way of saying, No. Not Now. Maybe not ever.

Sam often had you over to his apartment to help with meals. You figured it was to make sure you were eating properly. At least one square meal. When you asked him, he scoffed. "Actually taking these cooking classes, I make enough for two. Lets face it, your better company then I could ask for. Besides Steve and Bucky are not adventurous like you. They wanna boil everything." Sam snorted, stiring his jambalaya. "Chop this up." He said quickly, handing you a knife. You always felt safer with something, Sam noticed this the first time you joined him, and you flinched when he drew out a butchers blade. From then on, you were set on chopping duties. You began to really look forward to cooking nights with Sam.

"No girlfriends to have cooking dates with?" You would tease when you set to chopping and Sam would give you that grin of his.

"Sure, I just test them on you first Precious. Gotts make sure they are decent enough to feed to others."

"Yea, I'm real Precious if your using me as a gineau pig." You stick your tongue out st your friend, but secretly you don't mind.

Tony, he was more energetic. Often you would be sitting down in his workshop, laughing at his attempts to improve the Ironman suit. It became a habit to keep a fire extinguisher nearby. “Tony, I don't think you should try this.” You said warily as he put on his new thruster boots. “Aww come on, what's the worst that can happen?” He grinned, and winked.

He ended up shooting around the room like a balloon just untied, crashing into walls and bouncing off the floor. When he finally came to a stop, his feet were on fire.

Jumping down with the extinguisher, you yelled “Tony!” and covered him with the foam, once it ended and the billionaire blinked it away, swiping the foam off his face.

“I had it under control Y/N.”

“Sure you did.” You squirted him one last time to retaliate before putting it away, and holding your hand out to him, helping him up.

“Payback Y/N, payback.” Tony glared before pulling you into a hug, getting you covered to. At first it was fine, until you didnt feel Tony anymore and you struggled. Tony immediately let go, and you covered your face in shame. “Im sorry, I'm so sorry Tony.” He shook his head and gently grasped your wrist just enough to uncover your face. “Y/N, it's okay to feel like that. I should have asked first.” You gave an apologetic smile and he winked. The good thing with Tony was that he moved on from your attacks like they never happened, and for that you were forever grateful to your friend.

Bucky, he was the only one that you would find wandering late at night, like you were. When everyone else was fast asleep, you would be pacing the tower, afraid of sleep. It would happen, eventually. Your body would give into its demands, and you would go under into your nightmares. But until that happened though, you found ways to distract yourself. Sometimes it was video games on mute, you would bake muffins for the teams breakfast, get lost in Tony's library he allowed you access to. It was in these wanderings you found Bucky, bumping into him in random places.

Eventually you two started to really get to know each other. Your late nights would be spent together. You opened up more and more, talking about what Hydra and Brock did to you during that year, Bucky making similar confessions while you two sat outside, away from the confines of the building. Quite a few times you both watched the sun start to come up far off to the east, and Bucky's arm would settle over you while your head tipped onto his shoulder.

“Buck, I don't know if I will ever just be okay. Steve doesn't seem to think so.”

“Doll, I came back from it.” He simply said, and you looked up at him, giving a half smile.

“Your stronger than me.”

His brow arched as he looked down at you. “That's not true. I had help, Steve, Shuri. I could have never done it alone. Why I know you will come back from this. Your not alone.”

It gave you something to think about the rest of that day.

You were so tired after two days going, you couldn't help but pass out, exhausted. You fell into bed in your sleep shorts and a tank, curling up while the world faded away.

The nightmares though, flashbacks of all those times you were helpless, unable to fight back and could do nothing more than hold back your screams. It never helped, they still fell from you till you were horse from it, rolling from your bed as visions of various doctors plagued you, Hydra Agents beating on you, and Brock he was always in the darkness, watching with anticipation. When he would finally step from the shadows, you knew it wasn't just a nightmare anymore. It was hell. It was what sent you hiding while you were still sleeping.

This night the jarring motion falling from your bed woke you, before Brock could get to you. Covering your head, you sobbed into your knees, so completely at a loss of how to fix yourself. Your shoulders shook, and you huddled there on the floor for a moment till your legs and back started to ache from being hunched over. Sniffling, you grasp the side of your bed and pull yourself to sit on the edge, wiping the tears from your face. The room felt cold. Reminiscent of your time with Hydra. No warmth, dark shadows stretching like they were reaching to claim you, in which you withdraw your feet off the floor, trying to talk yourself through what you felt was another oncoming panic attack. You had to get out of there, there was no way you could sleep in here tonight.

Grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders, you edge around your bed, trying not to let yourself get psyched out that Brock might be hiding in your room, he wasn't. He couldn't. It was impossible to break into Stark Towers, right? Into the living room you went, looking over your shoulder at what was your bedroom. Even your couch felt too close to the memories.

It wasn't even a thought, you eased into the hallway and started down familiar doors. Steve, Natasha, Wanda… when you paused in front of one. It had no special markings, nothing to signify to any other that it was a special door, but for you it was. Hesitating for a second, you reached out and gave a quick rap of the knuckles, waiting.

Bucky heard it, that quick knock knock. He never slept deeply, always aware of his surroundings, years of training and his own deep rooted fears that something was going to happen. When he opened his door to you, the blanket you had on you just about swallowed you, and your face peeked out, red rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. He knew you had been crying, were about to start crying as you were standing there. Bucky stepped back to let you in.

“Sorry Bucky, I just… don't want to be in my apartment tonight.” Your head dropped as you stepped in, and he softly shut the door behind you.

Standing there for a moment, you didn't know where to go from there, and he stepped in closer, encircling his arms around your cocooned blanket and you could feel the rush of a sob squeaking from you, pressing in against his t shirt. Bucky tucked you in close, feeling his own eyes prick with tears feeling you break in his arms, your shoulders shaking and even the blanket couldn't seem to keep you feeling safe now. But his arms did. They were strong and hard, encircling you. “Come on Doll, your exhausted I can feel it.”

You didn't struggle as he led you down the small hallway to the back bedrooms, and expected him to put you in a guest room that you knew all these apartments had. But he didn't.

He brought you right into his room, and sat you on the edge of his bed.

“Are you okay unwrapping from this?” He questioned, his hands resting on the blanket where you clutched it around you like a protective shield. You sniffled and dried your face on it momentarily before nodding, letting your grip go. He eased it off, and folded it. Resting at the end should you want it back.

“Give me two seconds Doll.” He disappeared into his closet and with the door half shut, pulled on a pair of sweats over his boxers, and switched out his tear wet shirt for a dry one. When he came back out, you were right where he left you, feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and your fingers clasped in your lap. When he came around and stretched out, half propped up on pillows, you looked over your shoulder at him. “Can you leave the light on Buck? Just a little bit?”

“Of course Y/N. '' Reaching to the lamp, he turned it on a softer setting and saw you visibly relax your shoulders as you looked around, and could still see all the corners of the room. Pushing back to get in the bed, you tucked yourself in against your friend's side, letting your head fall to his shoulder.

“They must have been pretty bad this time.” Bucky said as he lifted a blanket over the two of you, and you nodded. “I kept seeing Him in the dark, coming for me.” Bucky was well aware who you were talking about, having shared with him before some that had happened to you. You lifted Bucky's arm and placed it around your shoulder, his palm pressing against your arm and tucking you in closer, dropping the softest of kisses on top of your head. “Even when I was awake, it was like he was just out of sight, waiting for me to drop my guard.”

“We won't let him get to you Doll, not again.”

There was a soft shuffle of blankets as you got comfier against him, and your arm locked around his middle, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“I know Buck, that's why I came to you.”

#jtargaryen18s4k #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #marvel #marvel fan fic #bucky fic #bucky fanfiction #trauma #sam wilson #tony stark #natasha romanoff #clint barton #steve rogers

382 notes · View notes

sanchoyo · 3 years

Text

danny phantom episode 4-7 Thoughts: (under a readmore because, these got kinda long!)

-the outfit danny had to buy for dash's party. CLASSIC 2000S i cannot stop laughing. And also showing up to the party and everyone is dressed like the trio is hilarious. and further proof that everyone looks good dressed goth.

-dash has a closet full of cute lil bear plushies?? LOVE that. adorable. also his response to danny trashing his room fighting a ghost was SO valid if somone BROKE MY BED IN HALF ID BE PISSED TOO.

-technus being like 'oh smart, u should be a tutor!' then later being like 'forget tutor, be a teacher!' :) supportive king <3 I also really like his upgraded suit/design. AND SPOCK CAMEO??? HELLO??

-the music in this show is super. its so funky. I looked it up and the guy who does it, guy moon (awesome name) also did music for other cartoons like fairly odd parents, barnyard, chalkzone, billy & mandy, AND some actual movies like FIGHT CLUB??? the whiplash I got from reading that)

-sam being rich explains a lot about her, actually.

-I know the moral of the episode was supposed to be 'dont ditch your friends for popular people/spend a lot of money on clothes that arent You to Fit In'. but tbh. it wouldve been easy for danny to have been like 'well, okay, ill come but only if my friends can!' but I get. that hes 14. so. not a lot to say there.

-BOX GHOST IS BACK!!!!! also, danny sitting up and wearing the dress/wig/makeup. umm thats how I dress everyday LMFAO. unironically me. (hate the jokes that boil down to 'haha funney man in dress' tho. but this is a look)

-jazz being protective of her brother once again being like NOOO YOU GUYS BETTER NOT STAKE OUT HIS (actually haunted) LOCKER!! shes aware of how people perceive him and she wants to help :( which is also probably why she told dash to invite him to that party even tho she had no interest in going!! she wants to help him out :(

-gotta say im with tucker on the whole 'should danny use his powers to get back at bullies' debate. 100% yes. let him teach kids to fight back. making dash throw his food at paulina out of the blue? no. but when hes actually about to pick on someone? yeah! for self defense? YEAH! if dash and his friends just threw food at him, I think rather than. idk doing sneaky shit with frogs he couldve just threw it back and not pulled punches if they tried to fight. I kNOOWWW its a kids show so they are like 'if u fight back ur just as bad!! violence bad!!' but. theyre HIS POWERS. WHO CARES.

-like my only gripe is that dash really isnt LEARNING ANYTHING WHEN DANNY GETS BACK AT HIM IN THE MOST PETTY INDIRECT WAYS. whatever they had to add a bully psa episode I guess. I hate it and I hate the way cartoons usually handle it because these methods simply Do Not Work. 'aND YouRE USinG YOur poWErs FOR EVill???!' this is Not Evil. even when poindexter takes dannys body, theyre only being 'nice' bc hes stealing soda for them!! bitches deserve what they get (nothing too brutal bc theyre high schoolers but damn, if they pick on danny he doesnt need to be the 'bigger person' he needs to start biting people)

-SAM TRYING TO SMUGGLE FROGS OUT OF THE BIO LAB?? girl in middle school when we had to dissect frogs we could opt out, also, they came to us already dead and preserved...

-sidney's lingo and the fact hes in black and white is sending me. also, danny is a ghost celebrity apparently for being a halfa?? ok. thats interesting to know

-the DENTIST BEING EXCITED ABOUT THE COTTON CANDY FLOOD IS THE FUNNIEST THING SO FAR.

-I LOOOVE the trope of 'wishes gone wrong'. not crazy about the stereotypical genie, or the use of the dreamcatcher looking design. (also, I KNOW theyre scientists but the way theyre handling a cold...are the fentons ANTIVAX)

-the genie. she. whitewished paulina. JKASDFHKJ. (the ghost literally just being hello kitty???? im dying) 'why do i feel that im special and wonderful? because I AM! <3' paulina ilu self worth queen. felt bad for her also getting possessed by (2) boys later who were arguing INSIDE HER. WTF.

-imagine being the guy trapped in his now flying car. he thought danny and tucker were HALUCINATIONS. imagine being trapped in a flying car with two, what you think are imaginary arguing 14 year olds convinced ur gonna die. i WOULD say this dude is gonna need so much therapy, but he seemed totally fine and excited when they landed (I would be happy too if a chicken was on my head. chickens rule) stoner rights

-sam's bat slippers??? iconic. SO cute.

-I think desiree's backstory is so :( do all ghosts have messed up sad backstories?? poindexter's was sad too...cannot imagine box ghost has any kind of fucked up backstory. but what if. his mom got pushed off cliffs by boxes...........a la cruella... anyway her 'no man may lay a hand on me' iconic. ilu

-I know danny has no concept of how much bras cost but my god dont attack tucker with some girls bra. those are so expensive.

-its really. well its not a GOOD THING he went into the portal and got fucked up, but its good danny was the one to do it rather than sam or tucker. because even tho he was being influenced by desiree and kept getting more malicious and it prob wasnt 100% him...he sucked as a ghost like most the people he 'pranked' were innocent ppl just Chillin and he didnt want to help anyone at all. I think danny is the most responsible out of them but also, hes 14 and shouldnt HAVE to feel obligated to fight every ghost. hes a good kid and wants to, but I also feel like he feels like...responsible for the portal turning on?? because his parents did give it up,, but it was an accident and not his fault (if anything, why was the on switch on the inside. why was it that easy. why was there no safety measures. that seems like smth OSHA needs to hear about). like thats my son. hes a good boy. and hes never done anything wrong in his life, ever. if anyone hurts him im killing everyone in this room and then myself. etc.

-danny's curfew is 10PM????? DUDE. when I was 14...shit I couldn't be out that late, I had to be back at like, 8 at the latest, and my parents had to know exactly where and who I was going with, AND i had to call/text them regularly...is this a case of my parents being overbearing, or the fentons sucking??? the only time i could EVER be out that late was if I was at an overnight sleepover or smth...

-the vultures have lil fezes. why do they have fezes...theyre so fuckin funny 'ask him for directions' 'I KNOW WHERE IM GOING' these ghost vultures are my new grandpas. pick them up, put them in the adopt box.

-'I wonder why those guys were trying to waste dad!' THEYRE GHOSTS. YOUR DAD HUNTS GHOSTS. why is that not a conclusion you'd immediately jump to??

-*jazz voice, clearly disgusted* WISCONSIN???

-mrs fenton with the lab coat and leg warmers and PERM. YESSS STYLISH.

-was going to say 'ew billionaire' @vlad but. super valid he used his powers to assumedly steal and cheat to get that money, thats how all billionaires do it! but ew hes a SIMP. and spending your billions on FOOTBALL STUFF?? you are Not Valid overall. I DO respect the fact you have a castle instead of a mansion. in wisconsin. if youre going to be stupidly rich might as well go all out, torches on the wall and all. I DO like his ghost form's little kitty ears. catman. and his cape! every design can benefit from a cape. and how different his forms look, like danny looks the EXACT SAME IN BOTH FORMS ASIDE FROM COLOR CHANGES. vlad's is like,, I could believe they were different people!! also I love the drama. but dude you are fighting a 14 year old. lame. also he was like, telling danny he wanted his mom and him and like, wanted him to renounce his dad?? WHAT ABOUT JAZZ?? bitch. those r MY kids and they are both important and special. I do agree they need better parents but thats not u sir <3

-I thought vlad's 'little badger' nickname for danny came from the football mascot of the packers, but google says they have NO MASCOT?? so now I'm like?? is it because his hair is sometimes black and sometimes white?? I hate to give him props but thats a PERFECT NICKNAME. theyre also tiny and vicious!

-why did I get so excited that Skulker is back!! its been like. 2-3 eps LMAO. AND THE DAIRY KING. ICONIC I LOVE HIM. hes the nicest guy ever :) more nice ghosts please. danny cannot be fighting alone everytime with no ghost buds like every ghost being hostile sucks :(

-mr. fenton knew vlad was controlling him, but a few episodes ago he had no clue danny was doing the same thing...is it something about how malicious the ghost is?? he just seemed to think his memory had gaps the first time, this time he was INSTANTLY LIKE 'GHOST'. then again in this ep when danny did it again he was just slightly confused but not immediately freaking out like he did with vlad possessing him!!

-'my parents will accept ME NO MATTER WHAT' so. so why haven't you come out to them yet, danny?? if you really think that?? if theres no harm, and you're sure??? if vlad is a real problem, wouldnt that make dealing with him easier, to expose him???? SO WHY HAVENT YOU COME OUT YET?? COULD IT BE,, MAYBE YOU HAVE DOUBTS ABOUT WHETHER YOUR PARENTS ACTUALLY WILL ACCEPT YOU??? 🤔 ... 🏳‍🌈 I get why people say He Is Trans. I totally totally get u danny.

-sorta unrelated, but it just occurred to me in one of these eps they go to casper HIGH not casper middle school??? theyre 14?? dont highschools usually do ages 15-18? (I didnt go to hs so I might be wrong, if I am ignore this...) freshmen are usually 14-15, could just be a case of them not turning 15 yet but they will sometime in the school year (I say they because tucker said he was 14 too)? I know the show has 3 seasons, so by the end of it will they be older? thatd be neat but usually cartoon characters stay the same age...I love shows where you can see the characters age and grow up, though...three seasons seems like a long time to spend on like, 1 year...

#sanchoyorambles #danny phantom #me on the first post:#its not a liveblog!#me this time: it kinda is. but not in the same format as my tmm one #i like doing one post for a handful of eps bc it saves time #and crowds my blog less #and also i just like talking abt what im watching lol #dp thoughts

20 notes · View notes

derivativealigner · 3 years

Text

Well, I’m done rewatching season 2 of south park and I’ve taken plenty of notes and screenshots to document all the facts and tidbits I thought were interesting or just funny. Under the cut is a collection of notes where I progressively start caring more and more about fake children

Kenny’s house is full of empty bottles, his family eats frozen waffles for dinner, and his dad is drinking at the dinner table

Kenny’s and Kyle’s dads have some history. They were best friends as teenagers

Kenny’s dad is kind of anti-Semitic, he says Kyle’s dad was successful because he’s Jewish

Cartman kind of expresses agreement with Stuart’s anti-Semitism, which I think is the first time Cartman’s been clearly anti-Semitic

Kenny’s house has rats, but his room has lights that shut off when you clap twice

WOW KYLE wtf he says “Kenny's not really my friend, Ma. I don't give a rat's ass about him.” FUCKING RUDE

Kyle and Kenny have a fun little sleepover where they play “ookie mouth”, a game where they take turn spitting in each other’s mouths. This episode (S02E10 Chickenpox) is great for fans of K2 despite how absolutely disgusting ookie mouth is

The McCormick house was something Stuart and Gerald built as teenagers. A fort in Stuart’s mom’s backyard

Gerald went to community college

Gerald and Stuart have a fun fist fight by a pond

Kyle makes a haiku: Fatass Cartman was / not on the school bus today. / What a big, fat turd.

Kenny makes a haiku: When you rub your dick, / you might find a discharge that / winds up on the floor.

Kyle makes another: Ass full of pork fat / jiggles like a Jello mold. / Mouth is flapping, too.

And another by Kyle: I bet you don't win. / They don't let big fat asses / perform on TV.

Cartman responds: Shut your God-damned mouth / or else I'm... gonna... kick you / square in the balls... asshole

I spy with my desperate eye the beginnings of Craig’s gang, featuring Kenny with wonky eyes

Bebe thinks Kyle has a hot ass and she’s not shy about saying it

Bebe writes a note to Kyle, and Stan tries to pass it on but Mr. Garrison thinks it’s Stan’s note for Kyle and makes him read it out loud. So he reads: “Dear Kyle. You have got such a great ass. I could sleep for days on those perked cheeks, let me tell you. I'd like to live with you and wear your ass as a hat for all eternity.” (If that happened to me I’d be embarrassed forever)

POV: You’re Stan and you just said you love Kyle’s juicy ass in front of the whole 3rd grade class

The first time Stan’s mom and dad get a divorce is in S02E12, way sooner than I remembered

Bebe kisses Kyle when they’re playing truth or dare in their clubhouse, probably Kyle’s first kiss. Kyle thinks it’s disgusting (despite having played ookie mouth with Kenny which is arguably more disgusting)

Bebe breaks up with Kyle and goes off with Clyde, who says “Bitchin’ 😎”. Later Clyde is with Bebe, Stan, and Wendy at the club house

Cartman and Kyle have a fist fight once again. Kyle hated Cartman way more than Stan did very early on, kind of all along really, they truly were destined to be arch enemies

Kenny has food stamps

Oh, and Cartman’s made poor jokes about Kenny and twice (I think) Kenny has punched him in retaliation in the past 2 seasons. Kenny’s family is probably a bad and violent example for him

By the way, if you’ve ever wondered what Kenny says in the theme song but never looked it up, in seasons 1-2 he sings “I like girls with big fat titties, I like girls with deep vaginas” but in the remastered versions of seasons 1-2 (which is the version I’m watching) they changed it to the season 3-5 lyrics: “I have got a ten-inch penis, use you mouth if you wanna clean it”.

When an evil twin version of Cartman says nice things, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny stare at him in horror. Stan says, “Dude, this is creepy.”

Also, the boys say dude a lot. At least Stan, Kyle, and Kenny do, Cartman not as much

Kenny’s mom hits him when he’s hogging the blanket from his brother. Kenny makes a sad face and it made me feel bad :(

When evil twin Cartman comes to give the McCormicks some supplies, Kenny’s dad asks if that was his “fat, racist, foul-mouthed friend” so Cartman clearly has a reputation

When Stan gets scared of his evil fish, he wakes Shelly up and she slaps him. Their mom sees it and says nothing

But on the other hand his mom buries a body that Stan’s fish killed because she thinks he killed it so I guess she’s not entirely a bad mom

Kenny was supposed to buy a pumpkin for Halloween but he could only afford a squash and his friends are really mean about it. The more I watch the more I feel bad for Kenny (and Stan)

Cartman kind of has a shitty friendship with Kenny. He says “I hate you Kenny” because of the squash

Kyle is really annoyed by Cartman saying “hella” all the time, nobody else is as annoyed

Evil Cartman sings a cute little song while wielding a knife: You guys / are my best friends, / through thick and thin, / we've always been together! / We're four of a kind, / having fun all day, / palling around and laughing away. / Just best friends, / best friends are we!

Stan still has his dog, Sparky, in season 2

After Stan’s fish kills Kenny, Kenny’s mom comes over to ask about her son and she’s drunk and upset. Honestly seeing Kenny die all the time makes me kind of sad

Stan says Kenny’s squash isn’t a bad little squash. Very heartwarming. The squash gets first prize at the pumpkin carving contest :)

Cartman’s grandma and extended family live in Nebraska

When the boys go to Cartman’s family to have Christmas dinner, Kenny’s dad tells him to take any leftovers and bring them back home (he does it very gently and Kenny just says “okay” and why do I care that this fake child dies all the time and barely has food at home, like why the fuck do I care so much???)

Cartman’s mom is wearing glasses when she drives. She doesn’t do it in the later seasons but maybe she has contacts

Cartman and his mom sing a road trip song for 4 hours. Kyle says “please stop” but when they ignore him, he kicks Cartman’s seat and makes Cartman hit his head

Stan has a complicated relationship with his family, he says they’re dead to him because they didn’t want him to go on a road trip to Nebraska so Stan went without telling them

Kenny doesn’t eat at the dinner table with Cartman’s family, he just shoves the food in a bag :( I feel so bad for him

Stan, Kyle, and Kenny all hit Cartman after they wake in the night to make sure they’re not dreaming

Under his coat, Cartman wears a pink tank top that says BEEFCAKE. He wore it in S1E02 Weight Gain 2000

Charles Manson invites Kenny to go to a more secluded location and Kenny just says okay and goes, but honestly he should know better since he’s aware that he keeps dying

Cartman bonks his cousin Elvin on the head and gives him brain damage. Elvin gets better though

THE NEXT EPISODE IS GNOMES!!! TWEEEEEK!!!!

Token gets named when he’s put in a group with Wendy, Bebe, Clyde, and Pip. Craig’s gang is getting closer to becoming a thing!!

IT’S OUR FUCKING BOY TWEEK TWEAK BITCH YEEEEAAAH

Tweek says he’s awake at 3:30am because he can’t sleep, ever

Jesus, Tweek’s dad kind of sucks immediately. He says he might have to sell Tweek to slavery if his coffee shop goes out of business

Cartman says Kenny’s family is happy being poor and on welfare, “right, Kenny?” and Kenny says “fuck you” which is completely justified

When the underpants gnomes don’t appear, Tweek is worried he’s going insane and pulls on his hair

His parents say Tweek is jittery and anxious just because he has ADD (but the kind of severe jitteriness and anxiety Tweek has isn’t a symptom of primarily inattentive ADHD, even though people with ADHD do experience restlessness and can even have some tics and are more likely to have anxiety as a comorbid disorder than a neurotypical person is, but I mean come on, we all know Tweek’s slurping way too much coffee so even if he has ADHD beneath all that, his parents should stop giving him coffee and they definitely should not start lacing it with meth. Basically what I’m saying is that Tweek’s parents are full of shit)

Actually Tweek’s mom is kind of okay. She tells Tweek’s dad that he’s being shitty for using kids to advance his agenda. But… the agenda is against big corporations and I hate to say it but Tweek’s dad kind of has a point

Ew, the boys are giving a pro big corporations speech. That aged really poorly considering how shitty billionaires are

Aww, look at Kenny! He got scared of a crocodile that Steve Irwin is about to bother by jamming his thumb up its butthole

The boys are really excited about Steve Irwin jamming his thumb up a crocodile’s butthole

Oh my God, Kyle calls Cartman a fatass penis

Kenny is a mediator between Stan and Kyle. They ask him which one found this ice man in a cave first, but Kenny just deflects and agrees with Kyle’s name suggestion (Steve) for the ice man

I kind of like Dr. Mephesto. I’m glad he came back for Fractured But Whole

Stan and Kyle are having a terrible fight about who found the ice man. Kyle says they’re not best friends anymore and that Cartman is his new best friend and Cartman says “Sweet!”, then Stan claims Cartman as his new best friend and Cartman says “Killer!”

This prehistoric ice man episode is actually funny, I love it

Stan and Kyle are having a fight to the death

They reconcile and become best friends again. They both agree that Cartman’s a sucky best friend

Well, that was the last episode of the season. This was fun. South Park is actually a fun show

Kenny deaths:

S02E10 Kenny is in the hospital because of chicken pox. He laughs at Cartman’s joke so hard that his heart flatlines like beeeeeeeeeeeeeep

S02E11 Kenny’s head explodes after Stan and Kyle make him watch planetarium lights at a high intensity

S02E12 Kenny gets trampled in a mosh pit

S02E13 A cow impales Kenny’s head with its horn

S02E14 Ozzy Osbourne bites Kenny’s head off

S02E15 Kenny is killed by Stan’s evil fish, he gets spun in the fish tank until the water’s red

S02E16 The police shoot Kenny who came outside with a white flag during a hostage situation, then the police hit his dead body with a baton and handcuff him

S02E17 Kenny gets crushed by the underpants gnomes’ mine cart. The gnomes are horrified but Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Tweek are kinda like whatever

S02E18 Kenny gets squished underneath a conveyer belt

Onto the next season I go. I’ll watch the movie too since it was released around halfway through season 3

#south park #sp rewatch #this was supposed to be a quick little thing but i'm taking it too seriously #i feel like i'm screaming into a void

19 notes · View notes

honeyimthedevil · 4 years

Text

Canceled wedding and new boyfriend

Pairing: Peter Parker x Tony Stark Word count: 2K Warnings: Sad Tony in the beginning (It’a not a starker break up)

ALSO this is gonna be multiple chapters

***

May rushed to the front door of the apartment. Who can it be? Peter didn’t say Ned was coming over, neither the woman was expecting someone. She swung the door open and in front of her stood a man, a good black suit on with shades. “Mr. Stark?” May was confused why the man, this exact man was at their tiny apartment in Queens. “Yeah. Is Peter here?” he asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. “Are you okay, sir?” she questioned when she looked at him more closely. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Peter?” “He’s in his room. The first one in the left” the woman pointed in the direction of her nephew’s room. Tony walked to said room and knocked lightly. “Come in” came in reply.

He got in the room and made sure to close the door before he looked at the boy. Peter looked back at him and stood up, moving closer to the man. “Tony, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” he asked and when he didn’t receive a reaction and didn’t get an answer he reached forwards and took off the shades. Peter set them aside and looked into the red, puffy eyes. He put a hand on the man’s cheek and wiped of a fresh tear that decided to escape. “What happened?” he asked. “Pepper, she canceled the wedding. She broke up with me. She said she found someone who was treating her like a queen. She says it like I didn’t treat her like one. And she gave me this” Tony reached in his pocket and with a shaky hand showed Peter the ring that used to sit on her finger just an hour ago. “You know what? She doesn’t deserve you. You’re the best man a woman or man can ask for. Gimme this,” the boy took the ring from Tony and put it on his desk, “she doesn’t deserve it"

Peter dragged Tony to his bed and ordered, “sit”. The man obeyed. “Now, I know you love her but it’s over now and you have to accept it. This is not the end, you’re gonna find someone else, and you’re gonna marry them and have family" “She cheated on me” just the thought of it made some more tears escape. “Hey, don’t cry,” Peter wiped away the new tears, “it’s gonna be okay” “We were supposed to get married” Tony buried his face in his hands. Peter moved closer, enveloping the man in a tight hug, which he gladly returned. “She doesn’t deserve you, Tony, she doesn’t deserve your tears" “It hurt me” “I know, I know it did"

They stayed in the hug for a little while, just enjoying each other’s company. Then they just stood in silence for some time. “Peter, is everything okay there?” May asked from outside of the door. “Yes, aunt May, everything is fine” “Are you sure?” “Yes” “Well, I’m not. I’m comin’ in” Tony scrambled for his glasses and quickly put them on before May can see him like this. The woman stood in the doorway, looking around the room and over the two boys suspiciously. “I should better get going” Tony said and stood up, straightening his suit. He walked past May and to the living room. Peter followed him close by. “I’ll come to he tower to check on you after dinner” the boy said as he hugged Tony. “No, you don’t-” “You can’t stop me” Peter interrupted. “Fine. See you later then?” “See you later”

The boy closed and locked the door behind Tony and turned around to meet his aunt’s gaze. “What?” he asked. “What was he doing here? You said you have never met him personally” the concern in her voice was showing. “I lied about that. I know you’re not a big fan of him” Peter said. “Okay, but what was he doing here?” she tried asking again. “I can’t tell you. It’s personal” “Personal? How close are you and him?” “Pretty close. I’m, actually, his personal intern, and friend” the boy explained. “Does he make you do things you don’t want to do? Does he touch you?” “NO! He’s not a cheater, May. And he would never touch someone without their permission” “Whatever you say, Pete. Just be careful” the woman warned. “Okay, May”

When they were done with dinner and had cleaned off the table Peter turned to his aunt and said, “I’m going out. I don’t know when I’ll come back” “Where are you going?” May asked. “To the tower” “Okay. Be careful” “Bye May. I larb you” the boy said. “I larb you too” Peter took the subway to stark tower. The lobby was quiet. He took the elevator up to the penthouse. When he got there he looked for one in particular genius, billionaire. That was when he saw a hand dangling from the side of the couch. Peter crunched down in front of it and softly said, “Hey, Tony”. The man turned his head so he can look at the boy and a little, “Hey” escaped his lips. “I guess you’re not feeling any better?” “No, not really,” Tony mumbled, “Do you wanna sit?” “Uh, okay” The man turned around and lifted his upper body so Peter can sit down and then laid back down, his head in the boy’s lap. His hand went to the dark locks almost immediately. “I still don’t know why she did it,” Tony looked up at Peter, “I treated her amazing, I gave her everything. And she went to some other guy! I mean, it’s not like I didn’t like someone else during our relationship. But I would never, ever, cheat. And I never acted on my feelings”

Peter let Tony rant and say whatever he had on his mind. “Do you still have feelings for them?” He asked when the man was done. “Who?” “The person who you liked while still with Pepper” “Yeah, I still have feelings for him” “Then call him” “What? No, no way I’m even texting him. He probably doesn’t even like me” Tony moved to a sitting position. “C’ mon Tony! Who doesn’t like you?” “He doesn’t” “You can never be sure. Now, text him, call him, whatever. I want you to do it” “Fine!” the man got his phone from the coffee table and got into his contacts.

He clicked the calling button and waited. A few seconds later Peter’s phone started to vibrate. He looked at the name and then at Tony. “I told you to call the person you like” Peter said. “I... I like you” Tony looked down. The boy kept quiet, mind blown out with surprise. “Please, say something” Tony pleaded, looking up a little. “I like you too" “Don’t lie to me, Peter. Just because I have feelings for you doesn’t mean you have to return them” “No, I’m not lying. I’ve had a crush on you since I was like ten” “Really?" “Yeah"

Tony looked into Peter’s eyes and moved slightly closer. “Can I- can I kiss you?” he asked, looking at the boy with hopeful eyes. “Y- yeah" Tony leaned forwards and lightly pecked Peter’s lips. He then looked back at those honey brown eyes. His pupils were blown wide with lust, lips slightly parted. The boy leaned in again, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders. Said man already had a grip on Peter’s hips. The kiss was passionate and long, full with love. One that you won’t be able to forget for the rest of your life. When they separated they just gazed at each other, remembering every single feature of the other. “Will you go out with me, on a date?” Tony asked. “Of course I will” “Maybe in Saturday?" “Yeah, let’s do it in Saturday” Peter confirmed. “Do you wanna watch a movie? Maybe order pizza?" “Yeah, why not. And I guess you haven’t eaten anything tonight so pizza will be good” “Yeah, je suis very hungry,” Tony said with fake French accent. They laughed, “FRIDAY, please, order the usual”

They got comfortable on the couch. Peter was leaning on the older one and Tony had his arm wrapped around Peter. They had to move when the pizza arrived but snuggled back together after. It was a few hours after when Peter yawned and said, "I should better head back, it's getting late". Tony just looked at him like he had grown a second head. "There's no way I'm letting you go this late. It's dangerous. You're staying here" "No, I don't wanna bother you. I'm just gonna go. I don't see what can happen to me" "You're not bothering me, Pete. I'm gonna be more bothered if you leave" Tony explained his point. "Well, I guess, okay. I'll stay" he cuddled back close to Tony, who wrapped his arm around the young one.

And soon Peter started to feel sleepy. "Tony?" he whispered, "can you show mw where I can sleep for the night, please" "Of course Pete" he picked Peter up who's eyes shot open in surprise. Tony walked in a room and gently lowered Peter down on the bed. "I'm gonna get you something to change into" the man said and then disappeared in the walk in closet. Peter looked around. It was clear that wasn't a guest room. It looked like it was Tony's personal room. Anxiety started rising in Peter's chest. "I don't wanna have sex" he said when Tony walked out of the closet. "What? Who said we're gonna have sex?" he asked. "You just brought me in your room and you said you like me and I thought you'd want to…" he didn't have to finish, Tony already knew what he wanted to say. The man sat down next to Peter and said, "Pete, we don't have to have sex if you don't want you. I didn't start liking you because of sex, and I won't stop liking you just because you don't want sex"

Peter hugged him tight, "Thank you for understanding. And just so you know, I'm not ace. I'm just not ready" "It's okay Pete. Like I said, I'm not with you for sex. And I'm gonna sleep in the guest room, don't worry" Peter pulled away and looked his dead in the eyes, saying, "There's no way I'm letting you sleep in the guest room of your own house, well tower, but you got the point… And we can cuddle" he blushed. "Okay, but as long as you're comfortable" "I'm gonna be comfortable Tones. Cuddles are the best" Peter stood up and walked in the en suite to change in the clothes Tony has given him, while the man himself changed in a pair of pajama pants that had little cats all over them. When Peter walked back out his eyes were glued to Tony's chest. He knew the man was build but fuck, he looked amazing. "I can put a shirt on if you want to. I usually sleep naked but I guessed it'll make you uncomfortable so I dig out some pajama pants" "Nah, it's okay, you can stay shirtless. I don't mind"

Peter pulled the cover off the bed and when Tony lied down he cuddled in the man's side. Tony pulled the covers over them and kissed the top of Peter's head. "I like your pants," the boy whispered, making Tony roll his eyes and chuckle, "Good night, sweet dreams" "Night Pete. Sweet dreams to you too" Peter was the first one to drift off. Tony stayed up a little more, watching the beauty sleeping on his chest and enjoying the peaceful moment. When he fell asleep there was a small smile on his face. Maybe the break up with Pepper wasn't that bad of a thing after all.

58 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.10

...and Drink It with Gusto

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?) Word count: 3400

Summary: Steve’s a bit difficult (poor baby), not that anyone blames him. Sam Wilson makes a confession – sort of.

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood and death, alcohol, unhealthy coping mechanism, sad sad Steeb

A/N: dropping the chapter early, because I won’t have time to post for a bit

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

The mission hadn’t been a shitshow, surprisingly enough, but the reports to Fury had been. Natasha had spent the rest of the day, whole night and a better portion of the next day at the SHIELD HQ, having to deal with everything, because Stark had quite literally fled. To be fair, he had at least taken care of Steve’s still unconscious and very much muscular (read ‘really fucking heavy’) form.

Tired and annoyed, Natasha finally landed with small jet at the Tower, making her way to her room, wishing nothing more but to shower and get some fucking sleep.

Of course, walking through the common room, she should have known she wouldn’t be that lucky.

She heard his icy yet somewhat cheery voice before she even saw him and it made her stop in her tracks, dreading facing him. She was too tired for his reproaches now.

“AH! There she is!”

Natasha took a deep breath, closing her eyes and mentally counting to three.

“Here’s ‘ur soulmate ex-pert!” Steve howled again, making her heart clench.

Black Widow was not a coward, but neither her nor Natasha liked dealing with feelings too directly – the jet was enough to get her fill for several years prior. She scanned the room before she would settle on him – and sure enough, she and Steve weren’t alone.

Bruce was standing indecisively by the door, torn and helpless expression on his face, his eyes one big question mark, asking Natasha how the hell he was supposed to deal with that.

Good question, Bruce, good question.

The smell of booze and Steve’s demeanour were unmistakable, but she silently asked anyway.

“Is he…?”

“Yeah. He… uhm… he found Thor’s stash,” the scientist answered her in equally hushed voice, inconspicuously pointing towards the counter where three flasks lay, emptied. Jesus.

Steve apparently heard and saw them anyway, because his voice bellowed again in reaction to their conversation. His words were slurred.

“Goooood friend Thor. Thou’ he t’ied to take my g’l. Nooot a g’d friend. Baaaad, bad friend.”

“Oh bozhe moy…” Natasha whispered under her breath and Steve turned to her, looking almost excited to see her.

Which didn’t mean he didn’t look like absolute shit. He had a t-shirt stained with the alcohol, his eyes red-rimmed, bruise-like dark circles under them as if he hadn’t slept for a year.

She hadn’t thought he could get worse than in the quinjet. Clearly, she was wrong.

“’tasha! Greeeeat ‘dvice you gave me,” he exclaimed, trying to rise from his spot on the couch where he had been half-lying like a dead fish casted ashore.

Natasha resisted the urge to massage her temples as the headache started to build. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach at the audible edge to his voice, the accusation glaring at her from his eyes.

“Steve…”

He finally stumbled to his feet and she noticed another flask secured in his right hand. He held it out as if he was pointing at her.

“Tried wat’ you s-said. Hurts,” he hiccupped, the sound blending with a sob. He cleaned his nose with the back of his hand hastily. “S-saw her grave. Fuck it hurts… ‘dis thing’s good ‘ough.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, her mind racing. She didn’t need to call anyone for advice now. Her friend was shitfaced. The only thing she could do was to get him to bed and try not to antagonize him or trigger something worse than… whatever this was. She wasn’t sure if moving on from being snowed under work – voluntarily – was more or less healthy than drinking himself into oblivion. But she counted any change that wasn’t a step towards a suicide (possibly assisted by the last of Hydra goons) like a progress.

“Is he drunk?” Tony’s incredulous voice ringed from the doorway and Natasha didn’t even bother spinning on her heels to him, hearing him enter and close the distance between them as he stopped at her side. “Cap?”

Blood froze in Natasha’s veins and she was swift to call out, but it was too late. “No- don’t call-!”

So much for not triggering him and making it worse. She could see how he suddenly stood straighter as if he swallowed a wooden ruler, and an indefinable expression appeared on his face.

She gulped in anticipation of a storm.

“Cap!” he called out, mimicking Tony and the billionaire realized his mistake, judging by the silent dammit that left his lips. Steve raised the flask in a mock toast, turning around and nearly tipping over his feet. “Captain ‘merica! What a heeero! Cheers to him!” He took a long sip before continuing, his gestures animated. “Swin’ in, safe th’m all! Kill his g’l, why ‘ven care… hero, murd’r, potato, tomatho…” his voice slurred into a murmur, until he spotted a newcomer and came to life again. “Ah! Hey, Clint!”

Clint was quick to understand the situation and it took one glance at Natasha for them to agree what needed to be done. He approached Steve cautiously with his features emotionless.

“We should get you to bed-“

“Nope! No!” Steve howled instantly, taking several steps backwards to get out of Clint’s reach. His expression was dark, tears welling in his eyes. “Smell like h’r. Not ‘nymore. Hurts!” he sobbed, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, his figure swaying dangerously as he closed his eyes and lost the visual control of his balance. “Hurts!”

“Come on, Steve…” Clint coaxed him gently, attempting to close the distance between them again. His gaze flickered to Bruce and Tony and they took few steps towards Steve as well.

“Nope! Gotta-ta sssay sm’thin’!” Christ, Natasha had never seen him like this and she wanted to bleach both her eyes and ears. He pointed the flask at Clint resolutely. “You knew. You warn h’r. Fuck-fuck up. Shouldva told- I ain’t gettin’ killed. I kill h’r.”

“Steve…” Natasha approached him as well, grimacing when she saw the flash of emotion on Clint’s face.

Steve spun to her immediately, this time accusing her. “And you! Gooood job. Pushin’ us togthe’. You kill h’r too.”

“Hey! Watch it!” Tony snapped at him, running out of patience, but Natasha knew Steve didn’t quite mean it. Pushing them together wasn’t her fault – the fact she had tranquilized him was her sin and she was aware he had the right to be mad at her.

“Your friggin’ ‘stem! You too- n’t fly fast ’nough!“

“Steve, you’re wasted. You’re going to bed before you say more things you regret,” Bruce said calmly after Steve managed to finish his roll and blame another person.

Bruce speaking up gave the captain a pause and he looked like his brain froze. His brows knitted together and he nodded, another sob erupting from his throat, his inhale shaking his whole being as he crossed the distance to Bruce, murmuring.

“Regert. Her. My folt, no yours. Kill h’r. Miss her. Shouldva s-s-saved her. Pick h’r… love h’r. Hurts. Hurts s’much…”

Steve’s large frame enveloped Bruce, resting his whole impressive weight on him. The scientist was nearly tripped over – except a hint of green flushed his neck, Hulk coming to rescue before the other men and Natasha rushed to help. Steve went completely limp, the flask falling to the ground, the little liquid remaining in it spilling and staining the carpet. No one cared as they tried to support the supersoldier’s goo-like body, exchanging desperate glances.

“Well, that was… enlightening,” Tony summarized, his poor attempt at joke that not even he apparently believed in barely gaining any reaction.

Clint sighed. “Please, this is hardly any news. We knew he blamed himself.” He readjusted Steve’s arm he had slung around his shoulders and Tony’s right side of suit came to the rescue, taking most of the weight off from the billionaire. “I hate this, but I think he needs this.”

Natasha wasn’t so sure about that, but yeah, Steve definitely needed to start accepting the reality. It was probably a natural reaction to want to dull the pain with something else when work was off limits. She pressed her lips together as their whole grouped slowly made their way to Steve’s room.

“Let’s just get him to bed.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Not many people could probably brag they had Black Widow’s number. Well, probably no one could, because if they told a living soul, they’d meet their end. So Sam Wilson didn’t brag. And he sure as hell didn’t call her first.

That said, he did not hesitate when she called him with location and time to meet, no greeting, no goodbye. Rude, but he’d take it. He had more than one reason, not that he would advertise it.

So there he was, sipping coffee from a take-away cup as he sat in Central Park with Black Widow, both of them having the best super-spy disguise; sunglasses and baseball caps.

The silence between them was getting awkward and Sam couldn’t take the tension anymore.

“Well, this is much more… civil than our last meeting,” he noted casually, hating to admit he was… nervous.

“I’m not gonna say sorry,” Ms.Romanoff hummed back, sipping her latté.

“Guess I wouldn’t expect that…”

He didn’t expect her to face him either but she did, a reminiscence of a sad smile gracing her lips. The warmth around his heart was familiar and not entirely unwelcomed. He found himself longing after seeing her whole face.

“I’m saying thank you, though.”

Huh.

“Didn’t expect that either,” he admitted and one corner of her lips rose higher in a smirk. Sam had a hunch she loved surprising people – or rather shocking them. “How did it go?”

She huffed out a sound that could only mean frustration and Sam grimaced. Confrontation usually didn’t go very good, but this sounded awful.

“That well, huh?”

“No, no…” she shook her head, red curls swaying around her head elegantly. “He’s… an asshole. He fell asleep on a mission. In a cockpit. When he was piloting. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but God bless Stark’s inventions and auto-piloting,” she grunted and removed the cap of her cup before taking a long sip of her coffee.

She seemed to be gathering thoughts. Sam might not be able to see her eyes, but he did learn to read people. She didn’t like talking about feelings, but she was making an exception. Whether it was because of him, because of his job or because she wished to help her friend so badly, that remained a mystery. Either was pleasing though, the action itself intriguing Sam.

He had given her a lot of thought after their first unconventional meeting. He could not get her out of his head and for a good reason, of course.

He came to a conclusion that… despite her manners, she probably wasn’t a bad person. There were rumours about her past, but everyone had one. She was with the Avengers now, getting clean and the present and willingness to fix mistakes often mattered more than what had been done – especially when it came to a past like her own. Sam had made living by helping people dealing with their past actions and failures; judging her would be a hypocrisy and as far as he knew, he was a killer too. And if it came to it, he would punch, sliced or shot his way out again.

“It’s just… he’s… he’s really at the bottom,” she Natasha spoke softly, emotions lacing her voice. Regret. Compassion. Helplessness. Sam knew all those too well. “Seeing him going from one mission to another just to pass out in exhaustion was bad enough, because I knew it was wrong, but… seeing him drink himself into oblivion? One time only, but it was a nightmare. And seeing Steve doing nothing? Struggling to find a purpose, himself… that’s just…”

“It sucks. But he has a good friend in you. He needs time.”

“I know that, it’s… I wish there was someone hurting him so I could just punch them in their face and call it a day. But that one guy blew himself to hell and the others just… don’t really matter, getting them doesn’t do much help to Steve.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile softly as she said Captain’s name. It held a meaning – he was clearly dear to her and it went way beyond professional relationship. Not that the fact alone that she had shown up at Sam’s apartment the way she had wasn’t enough of an evidence. Not to mention her surprising openness.

“It’s a long way to recovery, Natasha.”

Her first name just slipped past his lips unwittingly, but he didn’t feel like apologizing. The informal space they found themselves in, the honest open conversation… first names suited it better. He was aware he sounded like he was speaking from experience on top of that, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know. She had done a thorough research on him.

As if she agreed with him feeling his surroundings and the atmosphere, she put away her glasses, her green eyes burning with honesty when she met his – he automatically lost the barrier too, because it felt unjust for her to be left… vulnerable like that.

“I’m truly sorry about poking at your past, Sam,”

Sam felt the last remains of hostility towards her resolve. That apology meant more than he had realized it would.

“Thanks. I get it, you know. Being worried for someone so much… he’s gonna be okay, eventually. Scarred, but okay.”

“He could be better than that…” she sighed, leaning onto the backrest of the bench tiredly.

“What was that?”

“When I confronted him on the plane… he told me he had another words,” she revealed hesitantly as if she wasn’t sure if it was her secret to tell.

Sam’s heart positively stopped. Was she telling the truth or was this a game? Did she know about his own too? He swallowed the panic when he saw her resigned gaze.

She wasn’t playing no game.

“Two soulmates. That’s rare,” he remarked, a lump growing in his throat. His palms started sweating and he hated it. Fortunately, Natasha didn’t seem to notice – or she politely ignored it, her voice dry and laced with a bit of irritation.

“He never wants to meet her.”

“That’s not rare.”

Sam would know. He had struggled with the same feeling, after all. He wanted to forget the world existed. He wanted to live peacefully and alone. It was probably no coincidence fate sent him Black freaking Widow as the one – if she was willing, Sam would not be alone. And definitely wouldn’t get ‘peace’.

If he was being truly honest with himself, he wouldn’t be able to say he minded.

“He thinks… he thinks he doesn’t deserve her or something.”

Sam sighed, mentally chuckling at the irony of fate once more. The Universe did have a messed up sense of humour, didn’t it?

“Because he thinks he blew his chance. Because he thinks that he will mess it up again and fail her. And it feels like being unfaithful,” he offered, venting his own feelings for the first time.

He had never told that to anyone, ashamed of the set of words sitting on his other collarbone, appearing shortly after Riley’s death. Why did he tell her of all people? He wanted to question his own actions, he barely knew the woman, but… there was a significant but, wasn’t there?

Her emerald eyes were searching on his face, recognition lighting them up. She fidgeted, something he hadn’t seen her do before and he was sure not many people had either. It was a privilege and while his heart started racing, seeing her nervous eased his own nerves the tinniest bit.

“…yeah. I guess. You… uhm, you dealt with someone like that too?” she asked, looking away, seemingly intrigued by something in the distance.

Sam didn’t buy it and swallowed loudly.

“Just one case in my whole carrier.”

“What did you tell them?” she queried gently, her shoulders tense.

Sam shrugged. He told himself a lot of things, but he wasn’t certain they were all presentable.

“Never figured it out. First, the meeting with his other soulmate was a bit unconventional. He kinda hated her,” he admitted, glancing at her with the corner of his eye. She gave almost an inconspicuous nod, her gaze casted down. She took it as a rejection, he realized. “Then he started thinking and realized she wasn’t too bad. He’s still struggling to make up his mind – whether he should try. Whether she would want to. She would be a catch though, no doubt,” he lighted it up, biting the inside of his cheek right after.

Was he really trying to flirt now?

One corner of her lips rose in a smirk. “Somehow I doubt that. Sounds like a bitch.”

Sam wanted to chuckle at the joke, but then her eyes lifted to him and his heart just… stopped, the amused sound stuck in his throat. He had to clear it to be able to speak up, but it did nothing under the intensity of her gaze.

“Not to me. Not anymore.”

Natasha licked her lips – and Sam would lie if he claimed he did not mirror the motion instinctively – and finished her drink.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, huh? That must have been a pleasant surprise when it appeared,” she stated, a hint of amusement along with relief that the secret, the whatever that had been hanging between them, was finally addressed.

Sam snorted, not necessarily because he found his next statement funny.

“Yeah and I bet growing up in Russia and have an English soulmark must have been walk in a park.”

Good, there was so much sarcasm in his voice he might even feel ashamed. But the redhead – his second soulmate, holy shit, it really happened – didn’t seem to be offended.

“Wow, this almost beats the way Steve met his and that was some story….”

“Yeah, I bet.”

Silence fell on them then, both of them unsure how to continue and where to go from here. They found each other – their other half, supposedly, but no one could tell the outcome.

She was an Avenger. Sam was a therapist, a veteran at ridiculously young age, because he had lost his partner. They had a perfect example of how wrong it could go, served on silver plate – it was how they had met for God’s sake. But once again – Sam would lie when saying he didn’t miss some of the adrenalin. He did. A lot, actually.

The reason he had left the field was his soulmate. Was there any better reason to get back in when the need would rise, than another soulmate?

“Do you want to explore this?” Sam broke the uncomfortable silence, lacking the courage to look at her expression. The tension in her shoulders he could almost feel told him enough. He didn’t want to see her rejection. Did he want to see her agreement though?

“Do you?” she hummed back, staring ahead just like him.

“That’s the million dollar question.”

Riley had been… his everything. But could he ignore something like this? Could he ignore the opportunity, a woman who was no doubt fabulous and he was already finding interesting and that apparently was matching his sense of humour? Did he believe in fate? Did he have the right to try again?

Deep down, Sam knew he had already made his mind about it. Now it only depended on her.

“But I keep telling everyone to move on,” he mused out loud, catching her gaze. “Try to live. Some do. Neither of them had the… advantage of having another soulmate if we can call it that.”

Small smile appeared on Natasha’s lips, new twinkle lighting up her eyes and Sam knew he had made the right decision, no matter the outcome.

He didn’t complain when she rose to her feet to clearly leave though – they had enough to deal with today, they needed more time to think of how to approach this.

“Okay. Okay then… You have my number. Call me,” she offered simply, saying goodbye only with a nod and spun on her heels.

“Oh, I will!”

She casted a flirty grin over her shoulder and Sam found himself smiling.

“Hey, you bowl?” he blurted out the first idea that came to his mind and this time she stopped in her tracks, her smile turning almost wolfish. It might have done a thing to his crotch.

“I do, but you can’t run crying when I beat you!” she smirked and gave him a wink, hips swaying as she left him behind.

His laughter sounded like a soundtrack to her catwalk.

Cheeky lady. Sam kinda liked her.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 11

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Thank you for reading!

We’ll be leaving Stevie next time, coming back to our wayward sons and daughter (...that’s a spn reference, if any non-fan is confused). We’re getting closer, y’all!

81 notes · View notes

maggyme13 · 4 years

Text

The last Mission (11/11)

AN: HERE WE ARE AGAIN for the last time of this story.

First I own you a reason for the long wait: just after the last chapter, both my sister and best friend became pregnant. Call me crazy, but I feared to jinx it if I continued this story. So I waited until both babies were born and a few months old.

So here we are and I hope you like it.

Wordcount: around 1800

Warnings: mention of misscarriage, asshole general, cursing

Masterlist

TLM-Masterlist

Part 10

Plumbs.

It all started with plumbs and a trip to the market. It ended with them sitting in some prison-cell- interrogation-room- thing.

Obviously it was quickly prepared to keep him and if they would get enough energy they would be able to get out easily.

That much they knew.

What they did not know was what had happened to you. With the last time they had seen you was when Bucky had returned from the market and found Captain America in their hideout.

It was then that the soldier had taken over who tried to lead him away from you to later return to in safety.

Unfortunately it would not come to that: after an hours long chase they were caught and locked away.

Then, two days ago they had been moved and were now locked away in Berlin, Germany. If he was able to trust his knowledge and memories.

At one point well armed men had entered the room that held his glass-cell to give him food and water using a tube for him to drink the soup out.

They were treated better than the soldier had ever been by Hydra when he had been locked away. Apart from the occasional food they were left alone with no word ever spoken to them.

It was irritating and antagonizing.

Just like the rest of the time, they were musing about what might have happened to the two of you, when five well armed men entered. He recognized the patches to belong to the German police special force GSG9. They were followed by a General of the United States and some spec ops guarding him.

“Mr Barnes. This Gentleman wants to ask you a few questions.”, one of the police officers spoke and they nodded in understanding.

Doesn´t look like they like the General much.

“Well, you probably wonder why you are here. Well, we arrested you for the attack on the UN that resulted in a few important people deaths; but unfortunately you have an Alibi. Even though I am not trusting the words of your little whore much. But the Germans do-”

Anger started to burn in their veins. His opponent was speaking about you, that meant he must have met you; spoken to you. And they did not like it one bit.

“- Because of that they are thinking about releasing you. I say it is because they feel guilty. Who wouldn´t after not being able to save a baby.”

A Baby? Their eyebrows rose- First in shock, then confusion.

“Well, I would not in this case. The child of a monster can only turn out as one as well. And it is not like anyone would be loving it, right? You are unable to feel positive things and she will only treat it out of fear.”

Until that moment, Bucky and the Soldier had been coexisting inside the body and mind ; now Bucky stepped back on his own and handed his half of the reigns over to the soldier.

With their combined anger the soldier was able to break out of his restrains within seconds. Much to the surprise of the General and his guards.

Just as quick as the soldier had freed himself, his fist connected with the Generals nose breaking it and the surrounding bones upon impact. His security detail regained their bearings to late and were knocked out quicker than they were able to reach for their guns.

With his new goal in the back of his mind, the soldier made his way over the bodies of the detail (stealing their guns on the way) and dragging the generals body behind him. Now he had to find you and become sure about your condition.

Using one of the stolen guns, he shot the lock to his cell open and stepped outside with the general as his shield.

Outside, he was greeted by the German police officers with their guns drawn and pointing at them.

“Drop him and your weapon!”, the leader ordered once. Twice. Three times in total until he did as he was told. With a loud crack the head of the hostage connected with the floor, cutting the tension for a second.

He knew, unlike their American counterparts, German police officers were taught to shoot as a last resort and as long as he wouldn´t shoot at them, they would not do so as well. So he kept his weapon aimed at them.

“Why don´t we calm down and lower our weapons? If you do that we can arrange for you to speak to Ms (y/n). That is what you want, right? But first you need to lower your weapon and let us take you into custody-”

“SHUT UP!”, the soldier growled, “What did he mean you were not able to save a baby?”

He underlined his question with a kick to the knock out general´s gut.

“Sir, we can talk about-”

“Answer my question.”, he demanded again adjusting his weapon. The soldier knew he was skilled enough to kill or injure at least two of the officers before they would be able to kill him. And he hoped they knew so as well and would disregard their training and answer his demands.

“Due to an incredible unfortunate accident Ms (y/n) had a miscarriage. I am deeply sorry.”

Acting on pure instinct and anger, he was about to take the shot, when the sound of naked feet on tiles caught his attention. And there you were. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw you running towards him. Your hair dripping wet and only a towel around your body.

“I was just taking a shower.”, you told him and a short gush of relieve float down his spine. Taking your appearance as a distraction, the police changed their positions, catching the soldiers attention.

Not wanting to lose you as well, he skillfully moved you behind his body to shield you from any bullet that might come their way.

“Sir, please lower you weapon.”, the leader called out again, “Sir, we have proof that you are innocent of the crime they say you committed. Lower your weapon and we can talk about it. No harm will come to you or Ms (y/n).”

“Soldier.”, you hummed, “They treated me well. Made sure I had food and medical care. Can we take their offer? I am getting cold with only the towel and my wet hair… please?”

Slowly he lowered his weapon and swirled it around so he was griping the muzzle before placing it on the floor and kicking it towards the police.

“If you lie. I will kill every single one of you.”, he promised.

“We know. We will lower our weapons now as well. Ms, do you know the way back to the room you were in first?”

You nodded a yes.

“Then please lead the way, we will be following you. Helmholz has already organized a change of clean clothing for you.”

“Come.”, you whispered and did as told, the soldier hesitantly doing so as well.

Back in ´your´ room, you quickly got changed in the offered clothing and took a seat on the bench again while the soldier was pacing the room like a caged lion.

“I am sorry,”, you finally hummed, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“No. We should be sorry. We failed in protecting you. We caused this. We-”

“To be honest, the General you knocked out caused this whole dilemma.”, Tony Stark piped up from the door, “Easy Iron fist, I am here to offer a peace-treaty. You see. We have evidences that you are in fact innocent of placing that bomb. And that you were controlled by Hydra. We believe you know a lot about them and their plans and so on, and on and on. Because of that I want to offer you a deal: the two of you return with me to the USA and stay at the Avengers-compound where you will get treated for any injuries , be it mentally or physically, and be rehabilitated as much as possible. And with the two of you, I don´t mean Mr Split Personality here, but the two people staring at me right now.”

“Thank you but no thank you. I would rather end up in Jail than to live in the same house as the two people who got me into this situation in the first place.”, you growled, having no desire to have to see Captain spangled latex and the black bitch more than needed.

“Understandable. I am sure we can find a solution to that problem. But can I say that at Steven felt horrible and was trying to find you ever since?”

“Doesn´t change the fact that they made me go to that heli-carrier and didn´t allow me to get my ass out of there once they had what they wanted.”

The billionaire had nothing to answer to that.

“She decides.”, the soldier rumbled and you sighted.

“The compound is huge, I am sure I can find an area suiting your demands. FRIDAY, can you check for me?”

“There three apartments that are at the far east and north of the compound that have their own entrances and can be locked off the rest of the compound.”

“Thank you. FRIDAY.”

“My pleasure Boss.”

“Your call Ms. I will personally make sure that neither of the two will bother you. I will even make sure you have a job. You were a secretary before right? I know someone who could need a new one.”

“Fine.”- Back into lock- down I guess. Not that I am already used to it by now. And it really would be best for Bucky, and the soldier as well. Why did I had to take that damn job in the first place. Screw you benefits!

“Awesome. I will get everything ready and we will depart as soon as possible. Why don´t you order food on my tab.” And with that he was gone.

______

Three month had gone by since then and you had started to feel comfortable in the apartment you were living in now. There had been a small , very small funeral for your dead boy, where only the Soldier/ Bucky had been present and Wanda, who turned out to become a wonderful friend of yours.

Once you crossed path with the Black widow and to the surprise of the two of you, you broke her nose with a punch to the face. Both of you were shocked, but you could not see her reaction, because as soon as your fist had connected with her nose, the soldier had taken over control, thrown you over his shoulder and walked away into a different direction than you first had been on. Captain America was different, Wanda had shown you proof that he had really been trying, with an endless number of sleepless nights to find you, and so you had had decided to at least give him a chance.

Now only time would tell your future and what it brought for you. One thing you new though. I would not be boring.

AN 2.0:

Thank you all for reading :)

~MaggY

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey

@thankyoukarenclifford

@thankyouforanonymity @punkrockhufflefluff

@scarletraine

@ambrosialyn

@markusstraya

@graveyard-groupie

@buckycaptspideypool

@markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil

MCU:

@yknott81 @banner-and-bucky-are-life @forext20 @dyanlzbb @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4 @caplansteverogers @bitchwhytho @ladyofmyst @jilldsumner @momc95 @appreciating-fanfics

Last Mission:

@eyesfixedonthesun22 @sherrybaby14 @lazilysuperbbucky @lizblinder @queen-aerie @demonlover87 @simplyhemmings-blog @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @lulasdaughter @lilly-evans-and-the-kpop @past-perfect-future-tense

#The last mission #dark wintersoldier x reader #dark bucky #wintersoldier x reader #bucky x reader #misscarriage #mcu

32 notes · View notes