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strawwritesfic · 2 years

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Bruce Banner x Female!Civilian!Reader: Oh My Dear [Ch. 13]

Summary: For [F Name] [L Name], Manhattan was nothing but a hellhole. She got out and wasn’t ever coming back. When a set of cut-rate superheroes tears the city apart, however, her grandmother sucks her back into that familiar life of loneliness and angry customers. Even worse, one of those superheroes has decided to use [Name] in another crazy plan to “help” his best friend. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Tony’s plan just might work-if only for a few months.

Challenge: “#1 AVENGERS ULTIMATE CHALLENGE!!!!“ by DancingBubbles on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (foul language; sexual references; manipulative friends who won’t take no for an answer; dead parents; difficult relationships with family members; some language that might border on verbal abuse from a family member; angst; contrived coincidences; a generally unresearched depiction of paraplegia; set post-Avengers (2012) and pre-Age of Ultron; Tony & Bruce friendship)

Pairings: Bruce Banner/Female!Reader; Tony Stark/Pepper Potts; Past!Bruce Banner/Betty Ross

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List

Chapter 13: Can’t Keep Your Demons in a Bottle

Ten minutes after arriving at the bar, and Bruce already knew this entire meeting had been a terrible misjudgment on his part. He’d known it since before he left the coffee shop, really, since you had left him there that Wednesday with a hard pulse drumming in his hands. Now he could feel the pulse of music going through him, from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head.

Why was he here? The whole situation seemed a blur. Something about Tony’s constant poking, Pepper’s obvious disappointment at losing her only entirely sane acquaintance, sure. But that didn’t mean he should have done this. You’d given him an easy out; he never had to see you again. With you on the other side of that table, though, your anger, your shaking limbs, the way you spoke so quietly after being so enraged…maybe it all just reminded him of himself.

Bruce wouldn’t even get on the subway with Betty. Here he was in a club, agitated, on edge, upset with himself; Tony suspicious; and you nowhere to be found.

His heart began to hammer in his chest over and above the beat of the music.

What would Betty have asked of him in this situation? She would have told him it would be fine. She would have told him that she trusted him. A lot of good that did her in the end. Bruce couldn’t even trust himself. From now on, that would be the image embedded in his mind when he thought of her: the fear in her eyes, the fear in his heart, seeing her with that other man and being relieved at Betty finally being safe, while at the same time feeling his heart break because it couldn’t be with him

“Bruce!”

He heard the faint call and turned almost unwillingly in the direction of its source. You weaved quickly toward the crowd toward him, not Betty. The realization gave Bruce the vague feeling of a fist connecting with his stomach.

“Shit,” he murmured before you could close the gap. That was right: He’d said you could call him by his first name. What was Bruce getting himself into? A girl showed the same familiar tendency toward anger that he felt and suddenly he was shoving away all his moral codes. Maybe Tony really was a bad influence.

“Bruce,” you called again as you skidded to halt in front of him.

Bruce pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. Should he tell you to go back to calling him Doctor Banner? He had to set his boundaries back up somehow.

“Hey!”

His hands found their familiar hold in his pockets; he felt his eyebrows lift. “Yeah, hey, [Name].”

You looked nice. Bruce had to admit that. He’d never seen you out of professional wear–or with such a genuine smile on your face, he noted. Your hair was down; your outfit clearly something you found comfortable. It took the correction right out of his mouth.

“I’m really glad you could make it.” Your smile faded a bit. Bruce thought you must have noticed his reluctance. “I’ve been looking forward to getting out of the apartment all week.”

Thankfully, the music in the club remained quiet enough that he could hear your conversation now that you were close. He could also hear a distinct rumble of thunder. That promised thunderstorm sounded as if it were rolling in. Another thing to check off on his list of reasons to be nervous.

“You’re, uh, grandmother okay with this?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I asked permission this time around. Mr. Banner is watching her for the evening, since her nurse already took off.”

“Things all right between everyone now?”

“I guess.” You rocked back and forth on your heels. “He can’t really help anymore at the store, which sucks, but he forgave me for freaking out the other day. Nana probably just agreed to let him come over so she could lecture him more.”

He nodded vaguely, but Bruce couldn’t seem to keep his focus on conversation. His thoughts kept snapping back to escape routes he could take if this situation got too overbearing. Then he realized you probably expected a response. He licked his lips as he tried to force his mind over and away from the roadblocks of insecurity. Your shoulders rose and fell and the smile disappeared entirely, replaced by a look of distinct curiosity.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

Bruce felt his pulse skyrocket. He shifted back from you. “Yes,” he said quickly. “Why?”

“Nothing. You just look…” You trailed away and Bruce watched with anxious butterflies as your eyes roamed across his face. “Peaky,” you finished at last. “You look peaky.”

He didn’t answer that. Your eyes narrowed for a split second more, then:

“Well,” you said with a clap of your hands. “You don’t want to dance, right?”

He shook his head. “I–don’t think I should get that close to other people.” A wince followed these words. ‘Yes, Bruce, that will solve everything. Just come right out and tell her you’ve probably killed enough people to rank as a serial killer.’

But you answered with a shrug. “Then let’s get a drink.”

Bruce didn’t want a drink, but at least following you over to the bar gave him something to do. Friday night meant that the wide dance floor of the club was full of dancers. Since New York City offered so many other venues with a greater capacity for wantonness, however, this particular building was emptier than most. You pulled yourself up onto a bar stool without looking to see if Bruce was still at your shoulder.

“One Corona please,“ you told the waiting bartender. Then you slid some money across the polished wood bar as Bruce settled himself in the chair beside you just in time to see said bartender nod. A few moments later, she placed glass full of amber liquid in front of you. Your fingers wrapped around it before you glanced over at him. “You want anything? My treat, since you paid for the coffee.”

“No. I–I don’t drink.”

“Really?” He nodded.

You shrugged again and then got off your seat. Several gulps of beer disappeared down your throat as you wandered over to one of the high, round tables surrounding the dance floor. As before, you took a seat and Bruce followed suit. Minutes passed as he looked up, down, around–anywhere but you. At last he heard the dull thunk of your glass on the table.

“You know, if you didn’t feel like coming tonight, you could have texted me or something.”

His attention shifted sluggishly back to you. You didn’t look angry, but Bruce couldn’t tell exactly what you were feeling. He tried to smile as he answered, “I don’t have your number.”

“Could have asked Mr. Stark.”

“Then he would have known I had plans to see you.”

“And that’s…bad.”

“I don’t want him in my business.”

“In that case, you could at least try to look like you’re having fun.”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t want to deny his lack of enjoyment being there. Maybe if this date was miserable, you’d never bother with him again. Not that had worked before.

Wait. Had he just called this a date?

You picked up your beer again. “Well at least one of us should have some fun.” The glass met your lips and you drained it. After setting it down, you licked your lips and Bruce again felt the need to shift slightly away from you. “One of the perks of not having a license,” you said with a gesture toward the empty container. “You’re never the designated driver.”

In an attempt to appear slightly less standoffish, Bruce moved one his arms to the table. “Any particular reason you don’t want to drive? Other than the alcoholic benefits, I mean.”

“Smartass,” you retorted, but your smile had returned. Your gaze turned toward the dancers in the center of the club. “I couldn’t afford it. I lived on my own in Washington. It’s not easy to do that and save up for college. A car just…didn’t seem worth it.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get to classes if you could drive?”

Your smile dried up at the edges. “Wouldn’t know. Never got to go. Finally saved up enough money, paid for my first semester…Papa died. Nana got hurt. I was needed elsewhere.”

Now the smile had disappeared entirely. Bruce thought he could see a few tears in your eyes, then you brushed them away and he knew.

“Could you–”

“I can’t get the money back. I already asked. Besides, I don’t have the time anymore. I’m not like you. I’d probably flunk right out.”

Bruce looked down at his lap, wetting his lips again, then looked back up through squinted eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my fantastic life. But I’m here to forget that and have fun. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want to know about you.”

“Me? But why?” Again, he felt that familiar rush of fear and anger. Beneath the surface of his conscious mind, Bruce could hear a whisper growing in ferocity. Fear. Anger. Protect. Run.

One of your fingers ran along the rim of your drink. “Why were you in the Arctic, for one?”

Fear. Run. The voice wouldn’t disappear, even when Bruce screwed his eyes shut. If he didn’t say something, that would only make things worse. He settled for a single word: “Research.”

“Is it the ‘If I tell you, I have to kill you’ kind?”

That earned you a wry smile. “Something like that.”

Silence fell. You stared down at the table and Bruce stared at you. He would go as far as to say he liked you, that he enjoyed your company. But that didn’t mean he could tell you his secrets. If something happened tonight–Anger. Fear. Fear. Run. Protect.–or anytime you were with him, Bruce couldn’t leave you with all the answers someone might come knocking to ask. The longer the silence went on, however, the more he could feel the excitement leaking out of you and dissipating into the dark air.

“Do you want to dance?” you asked.

Bruce blinked several times; he’d almost forgotten you were there, so loud was the clamoring in his head now.

“No. I’d prefer if we–if we didn’t dance at all.”

“I just thought,” you said without looking up at him, “that you’d like a change of pace. I don’t like it when people press me for details either.”

“You’re not…” Bruce couldn’t be sure how he had the capacity to care at this point. “You’re not mad at me?”

This caused you to look up. “Mad? No, of course not. Your business is your business. Friends don’t have to tell friends everything.”

“We’re still friends?”

The strangeness of this question made your mouth open, but before you could ask him what he meant, the other two chairs at the table pulled out and a couple of gentlemen dressed in policemen uniforms sat in them. Your knuckles turned white around your emptied beer glass.

“Well, if it isn’t my old friend, [Name],” the one to Bruce’s left said with a tip of his hat. “You remember I was telling you about her the other day, Charlie? This is the girl!”

The other man said nothing, but his gaze seemed to sharpen. All the blood had drained out of your face.

Fear. Fear. Fear. Run! Bruce shoved his hands against each other to keep them from shaking. A couple of policemen didn’t mean he’d been discovered. Besides, they seemed more interested in you than him.

The first policeman wrapped an arm around your shoulder and drew you to his side. “Not causing any trouble are you, [Name]?”

“N–No, sir. Hello, Officer Kravoski.”

“And how’s that old grandmother of yours?” You started to spit out a ‘fine,’ but the man continued over you. “Not causing her any trouble are you?”

This he wanted an actual answer to. The man pulled away to look at you.

“No more than usual,” you answered faintly.

“No more than usual!” He laughed and looked over toward Charlie, who grinned back at him. Officer Kravoski caught Bruce’s eye as he pressed you more deeply into his ribs. “This ol’ girl use to give us quite a time back in her high school days. Finished by giving her grandma quite a scare. I didn’t think I’d see her back in town! No one on the force did, did we, Charlie?”

Charlie shook his head, still smiling. “No, sir.”

“Charlie here just joined a few months ago,” Officer Kravoski said to the top of your head. “And who’s your friend?”

Bruce could not find it in himself to answer. The whisper started to roar. Every cell in his body screamed for him to run or pay the consequences, but running would certainly make these men give chase. A quavering smile graced Bruce’s features, but no answer came out of his lips.

“This is Dr. Banner, a new friend of mine,” you explained as you at last extricated yourself from the man’s grip. “Dr. Banner, this is Officer Kravoski. He’s a friend of Nana’s.”

“And an old friend of [Name]’s.” He reached out a hand toward Bruce, who neglected to shake it. “The name is Edward. Over there is Charlie Moon, my partner.”

Bruce nodded. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, a growl might come out instead of words. Your eyes darted nervously between the two policemen on either side of you. No words were spoken. Charlie, however, rubbed his chin.

“Did you say Dr. Banner? Ed, wasn’t there an incident in Harlem a few years ago done by someone with that name? Tons of damage. The director mentioned there was reason to believe the perpetrator was back in the city after that whole alien attack on Manhattan.”

The blood in Bruce’s veins heated up.

Officer Kravoski cocked his head and threw a glance at you. “Yeah, he did, but the trail went cold.”

“You ever been involved in the military, Dr. Banner?” asked Charlie.

Bruce opened his mouth. Respond! Respond! Nothing was worse than a short answer!

When he didn’t give one, Charlie turned toward you. “Your friend, Miss [L Name]. You know what he does for a living?”

Don’t answer, Bruce prayed. Please, don’t answer. But how could you know not to?

“He works with Tony Stark,“ you said flatly.

“You know, Charlie, I think that guy was with Mr. Stark that day. You don’t think-”

Clearly excited, Charlie broke in to ask you another question. “And what does he do there?”

You pursed your lips into a thin line. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, [Name],” said Officer Kravoski. “Don’t be difficult. If your grandmother finds out–”

“I don’t care what Nana thinks,” you snapped. “Stay out of my business. And his.”

You were…defending him? Bruce could hardly tell. People. Noise. Interrogation. Two officers that knew and now they were going to look for him and he was going to have to leave and they didn’t have the right and they were ruining everything and–

“Hey. Did you hear me? What do you do at Stark Industries?” Charlie asked. Bruce looked up, but he could hardly see. Everything was going red–dark, dark, dark red. A shoulder nudged him roughly. “Are you mute? I said–”

Anger! “Leave me alone!” Bruce burst out. The force of his words, timed with his leaping to his feet, made the officer’s chair topple. Charlie hit the ground. “Stop talking to me! I don’t want to answer any questions! You either get a warrant for my arrest, or you leave. Now.“

Office Kravoski stood up. He fumbled in his pockets. Bruce’s shoulders heaved up and down. No, he said to the anger in his head. Not. Here. But the Other Guy wasn’t listening. Anger. Protect. Protect. Protect.

“Sir, stand down. Do you understand me?” Office Kravoski asked. “Stand down.”

Bruce whirled at him. “I didn’t even want to be here! I don’t want this to happen! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just stop talking and you’ll let me walk out of here and you won’t follow!”

“I can’t let that happen. You need help.”

“Don’t tell me I need help!” Bruce stepped closer. No, he told the Other Guy. If you touch him, it’s all over. They’ll shoot. But maybe that was what he wanted because Bruce was quite nearly nose-to-nose with Office Kravoski. “I was doing fine until you showed up. If you don’t–”

“Hey!”

A glass whistled by Bruce’s face and shattered against the wall. The surrounding people fell completely silent. Nostrils flaring, growl rumbling in his chest, Bruce wrenched his gaze toward you.

“You’re going to have to pay for that,” the bartender called. You tossed a glare in her direction.

“I’ll pay for it tomorrow! Now all of you shut up!”

The music continued; no one outside of a ten foot radius seemed to know what was going on. The Other Guy continued to howl inside Bruce’s brain but made no move as you marched over and pushed him away from Officer Kravoski.

“Outside,” you shouted. “Now!”

Another push, another two feet stumbled away. Attention began to divert. What was one more bar fight? So long as the club wasn’t getting closed, no one cared.

“[Name]?” Officer Kravoski asked.

Charlie rose slowly off the floor.

“Oh, lay off!” you snapped as you shoved Bruce again. “He’s not whoever you guys are after.”

“You’ve had worse company, [Name], and if you don’t stop, we’ll be stopping by Doris’.”

“Tell her!” You waved your hands above your head. “I don’t care. She thinks I’m a shit granddaughter anyway. I can deal. But don’t bother Bruce. He’s not one of them. He’s been in India until recently.”

“He attacked me!” Charlie protested.

“He’s drunk,” you countered. “And you can’t blame Bruce for you not being able to stay in your own damn chair.” Another push. “Goodnight, gentlemen. I look forward to speaking with you in the morning.”

By the time you forced him out the door, Bruce was gasping. He had very little space in his head now. The Hulk, having been let off the leash so easily, then locked up, was eager to get out again. Once out in the cool air, Bruce fell against the brick wall and tried to inhale and distract himself. The rain soaked him immediately; his clothes stuck to his skin; thunder rolled across the sky. But he couldn’t forget that those men were still in there. Maybe they were calling for backup. Maybe your grandmother was going to call someone. Maybe his relatively happy life in Manhattan was over.

A hand smashed into his shoulder and wrenched him toward your face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

For one wild, crazy moment he wanted to kiss you. No. The Other Guy wanted to kiss you. No he wanted to kiss you. No, it was the Hulk. It had to be the Hulk. Violence. He needed violence. No, Bruce needed to remain calm. This would pass. He could get it to pass.

“Are you drunk? You didn’t drink while you were in there. Did you drink before you showed up here?” you demanded.

He shook his head, but could only gasp.

You started to pull him toward the curb. “We’re taking you home. Before you can get into a fight with some more policemen.”

“No!” Bruce tore himself free of your grasp and stumbled back toward the building.

“What the–”

“I can’t get in a cab right now!” He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth. Not here. Not with all these–Not with you–Breaths ripped out of his chest; he couldn’t tell if the roaring was still in his head or if he was standing on the street corner acting like an animal. Having trouble keeping track of everything around him, it startled Bruce when you forced his hands down and glowered into his face. Rational thought left him entirely. He grabbed your head and pressed his lips roughly to yours.

You responded, or at least Bruce thought you did. Lips moving back against his? Fingers very hesitantly in his hair?

He tore away as soon as the iota of himself left realized what was going on.

“Oh my god.” Bruce stepped backward, trembling from head to foot. “Damn it. Oh my god.”

You closed the distance. He looked away, unsure if he was more afraid of you wanting to kiss him or hit him. Instead, you just gawked.

“You really are drunk.”

“N-No.” How was he going to finish that sentence? Just experiencing an inhuman amount of emotion? Just trying not to explode in fury and kill you by smashing you into the building until your brains spill out of your head?

“You’re drunk,” you said again. “Great. You’re drunk. You got into a fight with a policeman, and you kissed me. Jeez. Jeez.”

Maybe it was the chill temperature of the rain, but Bruce felt a coolness start to seep back into his brain. He mentally squirmed–there was definitely more room there than there had been five minutes ago. Words still didn’t want to come, but the Hulk seemed to be calming down. Bruce did not respond quickly enough to deter you, however.. Your fingers latched around his wrist.

“Come on. I’m taking you home.”

“I can’t…” Bruce managed.

“Yeah, I know. No cabs. Don’t want you murdering the cab driver. I’ll walk you.” You yanked none to gently on his arm. “Come on.”

He followed you in a daze. At the corner, he saw your eye dart toward him one more time.

“Jeez,” you muttered again. “Drunk and kissing me. Jeez. Jeez.”

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danglovely · 4 years

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Everything I learned or experienced from watching the commentary track for “Community”:

*deep breath*

The Pierce writing the Greendale song subplot had a darker version cut by NBC.

Pierce helping Troy with sneezing had a cut Chevy line: “you used to be the big man on campus AND NOW YOU’RE A JOKE.”

Chevy Chase seems to not know what ecstasy is.

Dan Harmon definitely is familiar with it.

There was a shooting at the school they filmed the debate scenes at which put the cast and crew into lockdown.

Joel McHale received emails from church groups regarding the content of his “Man is Evil” debate.

Donald Glover hits on Yvette Nicole Brown in a Barack Obama impression.

Chevy Chase loves being behind a piano.

He also loves doing prat falls.

He improvised calling his beastmaster owl “Abed” in Introduction to Statistics.

Jack Black filmed his episode in one day.

Annie having sex with a guy, him revealing himself to be gay, and her never seeing his genitalia was drawn from Alison Brie’s life.

According to Dan Harmon, Slater is supposed to be the Jolie to Britta’s Aniston.

Dan Harmon was worried people would think he was ripping of Funny or Die with Jeff and Slater’s relationship declaration form.

The cast of Derrick Comedy is Pierce’s joke team in Romantic Expressionism.

Yvette Nicole Brown came up with the Burt and Ernie tag.

Craig Cackowski is on the show because his sister wrote for the show.

JUST MY OPINION, but Chevy Chase and Dan Harmon seemed quite appreciative of each other in the first season.

The “Goldbluming” joke was a big point of contention between Joe and Anthony Russo.

I can’t confirm... but it really sounds like the show killed a frog for Britta’s prank.

The Starburns - Abed chicken scene was an intentional homage to Heat.

Abed and Jeff are both cut off from people according to Dan Harmon. The difference is that Jeff can manipulate people and Abed covets that ability.

Jeff and Britta had sex in Modern Warfare partially to make the episode important to the overall story’s structure (in addition to it being the first real high concept episode).

Abed wears a Boondocks shirt because Sony owned it and it was free to use by the show.

Dan Harmon does not respect Good Will Hunting as a movie.

The “so it begins, the greatest relationship ever known” kiss took 30 takes.

Betty White did not know Toto’s Africa before filming her rap.

The music budget for the second season was entirely spent on Abba music for Epidemiology. Dan Harmon paid out of pocket for the Sara Bareillis song they use in Paradigms of Human Memory.

In Calligraphy, Gwynnifer is named after Dan Harmon’s twitter “nemesis”. He confirmed it is a code name for Britta, who had been hooking up with Jeff since the space bus.

Dan Harmon repeatedly refers to Jeff and Britta as the inverse of Jim and Pam from The Office.

Bruce Hornsby was supposed to punch Pierce in the season one finale.

Chevy Chase was upset with how cruel Pierce was in Advanced Dungeons in Dragons.

Levar Burton changed the line from “more fish for Levar” to “more fish for Kunta”.

The joke of the tag where no one says anything to each other while they surf their phones is supposed to be that it took place on Britta’s birthday, but the writers realized that it was the wrong time of year.

Dan Harmon paid for that Sara Bareillis song because it was set over the first Jeff x Annie shipper video he had seen.

The dean’s cartoon tag exists because Paradigms of Human Memory is somehow the only episode that came in UNDER expected time.

At the end of Competitive Wine Tasting, Abed was supposed to hear a gunshot coming from Stephen Tobolowsky’s office after proving Angela was, in fact, the boss on Who’s the Boss?

Yvette Nicole Brown calls Gillian Jacobs “Stinkerton” for some reason.

No one on the commentary was happy with the Jeff calling Annie “kiddo” scene in Geography of Global Conflict. Actors, directors, nobody.

Chevy Chase told Maggie Bandur that she shouldn’t write comedy.

Dan Harmon tweeted as all the characters for #AnniesMove.

Dan Harmon realized the sound was off to Abed and Troy’s Christmas Rap while doing the commentary.

Dan Harmon said a lot of the planning in season three was about minimizing Chevy’s contact with the cast and crew.

Gillian Jacobs said she didn’t move much in Virtual Systems Analysis when Abed wasn’t supposed to be inhabiting her. (My opinion: none of the other characters seem to follow her rule.)

Alison Brie raps on set a lot.

Gillian Jacobs was in an Apple PC commercial that never aired.

Dino Stamatopoulos repeatedly requested to be killed off the show.

Jim Rash’s stand-in was bronzed to fill in for Danny Pudi who was absent while his wife was having twins.

Jim Rash was in and out for a bit while winning an Oscar for The Descendants.

Dean Laybourne was self-conscious about his appearance to justify John Goodman’s appearance for another movie.

Moses Port said the opening of season four was supposed to be a fake out to make people think the show suddenly sucked.

Annie’s The Ring entrance was filmed backwards then run in reverse.

Britta’s ham costume had to be recolored to prevent her from looking like a scrotum.

Intro to Knots was originally supposed to be filmed in one shot as an homage to Rope. The first two minutes was all they managed to get through.

Gillian Jacobs says Troy and Britta have nothing in common.

According to Dan Harmon, Chevy Chase was happy to do his scene in season five and was open to coming back for more.

According to Dan Harmon, even if he wanted Chevy Chase back, Sony would have refused his return to the show.

Jonathan Banks told Christopher McKenna that he would “punch him in the heart” which Dan Harmon wrote into the show.

It is all butt confirmed that Annie is the Ass Crack Bandit.

Advanced Advanced Dungeons and Dragons was so behind schedule that it totally rushed/altered the season five finale.

Dan Harmon says Jeff shares things with Britta that he doesn’t with Annie but feels things for Annie that he doesn’t with Britta.

Dan Harmon and Paget Brewster were good friends before she joined the show.

Frankie’s backstory is that she is moving to Colorado to take care of her handicapped sister.

Chang is actually gay.

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burytherosemarysprigs · 4 years

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of pyhrric victories and car rides | Bruce Wayne

/ Masterlist /

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 8.5k

Summary: A collection of moments from yours and Bruce’s relationship

Warnings: break ins, harassing women, stalking, etc.

“Mr. Wayne, are you with us?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Right then, I do think that the company’s stocks are headed – “

Although he tries not to, Bruce can’t help but lose track of the conversation again, and though he’s not exactly sure who the man he’s talking to is, it’s not particularly what is bothering him at the moment; what’s bothering him is you.

Well, what he thinks is you.

Because not even in his wildest dreams would he imagine that at the Wayne charity gala would he see you conversing with donors in the corner of the ballroom.

Before he has a chance to get a better look at your (supposed) face, a heavy hand is placed on his shoulder and the men he’s been having to entertain conversation with – fall silent as he turns around to see a familiar face.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting something gentlemen, but I was wondering if I could borrow Mr. Wayne, here, for a second?”

There’s a scattered murmur of compliance and the man next to Bruce flashes a bachelor-smile before they both walk away.

“I’m sure you’re aware of why I wanted to talk to you, Bruce.”

Bruce has to refrain from smiling, of course he does, for what other reason would the brother of the woman he’s been trying to seek out this whole evening come to talk to him about, except about you?

“I believe I do, but I would’ve preferred it if you had told me before this evening.”

His response elicits a small chuckle from the man beside him and he grabs two flutes of champagne from a waiter passing by before replying,

“Now what would be that fun in that. And, anyways, she told me not to tell you – or really, anyone about this.”

“About what?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s moving to Gotham.”

He passes the second flute to Bruce, who silently took the glass – still reeling from the words he just heard.

“Why is she – “

“Are you done bothering Bruce?”

Another voice interrupts their conversation, and for the first time tonight, Bruce finally gets to see you. You’re dressed in an ebony gown, with pale gold swirls tracing the expanse of the fabric – light and empyrean around you as the warm white glow casts a rosy look on the room as you stand in front of them – holding your own champagne flute, and of the pink liquid remaining, you swirled around the base of the glass.

“Of course, I’ll leave you to it.”

He casts a knowing smile at you before he leaves but not before you roll your eyes at him. Then, a silence befalls between the two of you – because it’s been 5 years and it feels a little too much like walking on eggshells between each other in this moment.

“Hi.”

You’re surprised that your voice is more breathless than you expected, and Bruce finds a small smile making its way onto his lips – matching yours.

“Hello.”

The conversation fizzles out again and you begin to fiddle with your hands, before Bruce clears his throat that you look up at him again.

“I heard that you’re moving to Gotham now?”

It takes a moment for you to comprehend his question, and then you’re nodding you head in confirmation.

“Oh, yeah, I – “ You pause before continuing. “They’re planning a re-opening of the theatre and Alyse Rosovsky – who’s idea it was – asked me to be part of the cast –”.

Of course, sometimes it slipped his mind, but he remembers your fascination with theatre films, pearls, Broadway lights and your mother’s tattered avant-garde dresses that you would convince her to let you wear. Sometimes, he forgets how much you love the sweeping curtains and backstage vanity tables – the ritualistic ideal of appraisal.

So, it wasn’t necessarily a surprise when you had told him – almost five years ago, that you were going to New York to study theatre and it wasn’t a surprise either when he saw you holding a neoteric award in the newspaper – the black and white picture of you on a podium blossomed a similar emotion to what he was feeling right now.

“– of one of the stage plays they’re planning.”

“Uh – oh.” He feels a little embarrassed for losing track of your explanation and all he can offer is a dazed smile.

“It’s been so long since I saw you, Bruce.”

It’s strange how your voice still sounds the same to him – basking in its honeyed twang and soft inflections that he remembers from years ago, and he’s not entirely sure why both of you never kept in touch after your departure but he pushes that sinking feeling away and shares a nostalgic smile with you.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Mhmm, I was wondering if you – “

“Y/n!”

You’re interrupted by a blonde woman; who’s donning a black slip dress and strands of hair are slowly escaping her intricate chignon and her eyebrows are furrowed as she approaches you both.

“Mr. Wayne,” A small nod of acknowledgement is exchanged between them both before she turns around to face you,

“Vistila is here and he’s dealing with the ‘sharks’ alone, so I came here to ask your help.” She begins to chew on her bottom lip as she explains the situation to you.

“Alyse it’s no problem, I – I’ll be there in a second.”

A relieved expression takes over Alyse’s face as she squeezes your shoulder but before she can leave you stop her.

“Oh – before you go, do you happen to have a pen?”

You eye the leather shoulder bag she’s clutching, and she quickly nods her head before pulling out a blue ballpoint pen and rushing off into the crowd.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

You ask as you place your empty flute glass and uncap the pen and ready it in your hand – raising an eyebrow in his direction as what you’re about to clicks in his head and he shakes his head.

“Good.”

You move closer to him and lift his free arm in your hand, pushing back the smooth fabric of the suit jacket and shirt sleeve underneath it, your cold fingers brushing over his warm skin – causes light goose bumps to raise, but you don’t notice as you list of a series of digits and smile at the phone number you’ve written on his arm before pulling down the fabric – covering the numbers and taking steps away from him.

“Call me sometime?” Your voice is cheeky, a rosy flush on your face as Bruce only takes a sip of his drink before you send a wink to his way and disappear into the crowd as well.

And all Bruce is left with is the scent of your perfume and the lingering touch of your fingers.

It was nearly 6 pm when the clatter of dinner platter ware and Alfred’s call for them to come to dinner brought both children into that hall between the drawing room and the dining room – waiting for them was both the Butler and a woman toying with the gold pendant around her neck, her lips pulled into a thin line and sharp brows furrowed together in agitation.

“Where have you two been?”

“Mother, look!”

The little girl pipes up first, her pigtails whipping the air as she runs forward with something clutched tightly in her arms – but the dim lighting prevents the woman for seeing what it really is until the little girl reaches her. A little boy following in her steps, his face was also flushed and clothes askew.

“Look, look, look what we made for Bruce’s mom!”

The woman crouches down to see a pearl necklace in the little girl’s hands – and it clicks in her mind, as this was the reason the little girl had snuck away the faux pearls and string on their way to the manor.

“That’s so lovely, she’s going to love them,” Her voice is silky, and an earnest smile plays at her nude lips as she reaches out to smooth out the stray hairs in the girl’s hair, “But we have to go now darling, okay?”

“Okay! But wait one second.” The little girl turns around to pull the little boy along with her as they huddle away from the adults – who share a bemused look. They whisper with each other before the pearl necklace is carefully passed from the little girl to the boy who holds it with a delicate hold before they break apart from their huddle and the little girl happily wears the coat her mother assists her with.

“You can say goodbye now Y/n.”

The girl waves at the boy – who does the same and she exclaims,

“Mother, can Bruce come to our house so I can show him Jellybean?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Okay! Bye Bruce!”

The little girl is swept away in a flurry of coats and scarves and when they’re out of earshot her mother asks her,

“Now what was that for Y/n?”

“We made Bruce’s mom a present and – and Bruce is gonna give it to her when they’re going to go to the theatre!”

A small smile graced her lips and she pressed a light kiss to her daughter’s hair,

“That’s lovely, dear.”

“We were on a date.”

That silences Betty’s rant while de Vos only lets out a low whistle, which prompts a small snort on your side.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You have to try not to sigh because for the past 15 minutes all Betty has been doing is a rant on last week’s newspaper headline – which is understandable, considering it’s her job.

Ever since you moved here, your parents had insisted in more security measures, their argument being that your 6’3 veteran driver (de Vos), wasn’t enough, leading them to hire Betty – she was barely 5 years older than you but there was purpose gracing her. There was a steely look in her blue eyes – which made them seem greyer than in actuality and she always wore the same gold chain necklace – with a feeble gold coin hanging from the middle.

She had been guarded in the beginning – which had led de Vos to say ‘what’s stuck up your ass’ at her standoffish behaviour at a gala, (to which she gave him a look than caused him to not a single word the rest of the night), but it was after a week when you were at a little café south of the theatre, and you spilled your coffee and (almost) dropped your croissant on the waiter, that she had genuinely laughed. And you had believed that maybe she har started to crumble her resolve a little after that – but it seems less likely now as you watch her frown deepen.

“I – I – “

“Press work was not part of the job description, and maybe a heads-up next time?”

You nod before contemplating your next words, which hang in the air after spoken,

“Well, I guess you should know that I’m meeting him now?”

Before anyone can respond, your phone starts ringing, prompting you to pull it out of your coat pocket, and quickly checking the caller id before answering.

“Hey, Jas.”

“Hi – I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No – I was just going out for dinner.”

“Oh cool, sorry, I just saw the gazette headline and I – “

“Oh.” You start playing with the little buttons on your skirt as you listen to Jasmine and try to pretend that Betty and de Vos aren’t eavesdropping on the conversation.

“- you’re friends with Bruce Wayne?”

Friends? You’re pretty sure Bruce and you are more than just friends.

“I – I guess I am?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I’ve gotten to meet him about 2 weeks ago?” It’s not a complete lie, considering you only met him – properly after years at the gala but it’s not like your complete history with him is something you’ve wanted to share publicly, especially since it means so much to you.

But you haven’t really had the chance to tell all that to Jasmine – considering you’ve known her for about half a year, the topic of Bruce had somehow never come up, which might be ironic, seeing how much time you’ve spent around her – and how close of a friend she was.

“And you didn’t know him before?”

“I – uh, I kinda did” Your response sounds a little pathetic and she only snorts in response. “It’s just that mine and Bruce’s parents had been really close friends so we just kinda spent a lot of time when we were young.”

She hummed in response,

“Are you going to come to my house for tea this weekend?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it if I could.”

“That’s a nice sentiment for my ego.” Her voice is soft as you hear the rustle of paper in the background and you smile – not that she can see.

“Hey, I’ll call you later, okay?” You rush out, eyeing the little café shop coming into view of the windshield, and hang the line after a soft goodbye is exchanged.

As the car slows to a stop, you grab your bag and before opening the car door, you lean forward so you have both de Vos and Betty’s attention.

“Not a word.”

You try not to smile and have to bite your lips and de Vos does the same before you quietly slip out of the car. Towards your date with Bruce.

You eyed the letters again before placing them back into the bag Betty had brought into the dressing room, before an uneasy feeling settled into your stomach.

“Are you ready?”

Betty’s orotund voice rang across the empty room, prompting you to lift your head out of hands to look at her through the vanity mirror you were currently sitting at. The warm lights from the vanity illuminated the deep frown on her face and simple gold chain around her neck glinted off the light.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

You voice came out more strangled than you hoped, followed by a throaty sob which you poorly tried to disguise as a laugh.

“Just calm down,” she paused as if she wasn’t sure if she should continue or not,

“Listen, I’m taking the letters to the station to have them examined and de Vos will take you back to the apartment and then we’ll figure out what to tell everyone and - “

“God, what the fuck am I going to tell them? ‘Hey mom and dad, there’s a fucking stalker who won’t stop sending me creepy letters and might potentially kill me, but I’ll be fine.’”

You wildly moved your hands around to illustrate your point to her, but she only sighs in response.

“They’ll understand, now come on, de Vos is waiting.”

She made her way to the vanity table before picking up the bag and tapping you on the shoulder as a gesture to get up. At which you release a deep sigh before harshly wiping at your watery eyes and smoothing your hair out before deciding to put on the comically large sunglasses that lay on the table as you collected all your things but before making your way, the wilting amaryllises in the sepia vase caught your eye and a small smile graced your lips, your mind reminiscing but before you can do anything else, Betty calls for you and you hesitantly walk away and grab the coat Betty was holding out for you at the door.

“It’s ten pm.”

She quips after a pointed look at your glasses.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I love it when you’re this annoying, did you know that? It’s my favourite part of the job.” The glasses disguise the eye roll you send in her way, but she knows you well enough to realize what you’re doing.

A beat passes before you speak up.

“Do you think we can stop by Bruce’s house before going back? I just wanted to talk to him.”

“Is there a reason why you can’t call him?” You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes again.

“You don’t think I’ve tried? All of them straight to voice mail.” Your voice is bitter, and Betty can tell so she relents.

“Okay, I’ll let de Vos know.”

“Thank you.” The words come out softer than you expected, and it elicits a soft (and rare) smile and nod from Betty.

…

“Miss Y/n, what brings you here so late?”

Alfred’s usual monotonous voice is laced with (some) surprise as he opens the doors for you to enter.

“I just needed to talk to Bruce about something, and he wasn’t picking up his phone so I thought I could stop by to talk to him… if he’s here?”

You hope he doesn’t notice the nervousness in your voice, as you clasp and then un-clasp your palms, watching him hang the coat in its place and turn to face you.

“Of course, miss, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

He leads the way to the drawing room and before he leaves you there – he hesitantly pauses to face you, face unmoving but you can feel him think.

“What is it Alfred?”

“It’s just, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have you been crying miss?”

You don’t know why you’re not reacting to his question, but it takes you a painfully long moment to process his question before you respond,

“Oh – uh, yeah, well not really. I mean, I think the allergies? Well – I – I don’t have any allergies like I – I, that’s what I’ve always told everyone, I mean you know - you know how Autumn is around here, I just – “

“It’s fine Miss, I’ll send Master Bruce for you.”

His voice is monotonous again and the uneasy feeling comes back as he slips out of the room – leaving you to release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

The next few minutes compromised of you pacing the room anxiously, going through the plan Betty and de Vos had told you and thinking about what you were going to tell Bruce. And in your perpetual state of worry, you miss the familiar sound of dress shoes clicking against the hardwood floor and a figure approaching you, until you feel a presence behind you and a hand reaching to grab your arm, that you let out a small cry of shock.

“Are you – “

“Oh my god, Bruce!”

It takes a second for the cuts and bruises littering his face to process in your mind, and as you reach out to take a hold of his cheek, he pulls back,

“Bruce – “

“Why’re you here?”

Your staring at him like a gaping fish – your worries about everything that happened this evening disappear as you frown at his unkempt state.

“I – I – What happened to you?”

You try and reach out again for him, but he grabs hold of your arms so that you can’t move to touch him, and you find yourself looking at the bags under his eyes, the shadows around his nose and your hearts aches – because he looks so tired.

“Bruce, I’m serious, what – “

“Why’re you here – “

You both speak at the same time, drowning each other out and you try to start again – but Bruce beats you to it,

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”

“I – Bruce, what the fuck happened to you?”

Your staring at his face – and his jaw only clenches in response and you search for any other response in his eyes – but they feel too steely under the dim glow of the light.

“Nothing, just an accident.”

“Bullshit.” You don’t know why you’re being so defensive and pressing the matter even though the rational part of your brain is telling you to stop, you don’t.

“Y/n, it’s nothing.”

“Well, I know it’s nothing, Bruce.”

That’s not wrong because you do truly know it’s not nothing; and the rational part of your part is now screaming at you to stop – and your thudding heartbeat is deafening in the silence of the room. Bruce only looks at you in response and somehow his lack of response edges you to continue on.

“Just tell me, I – I care about you.”

“Well, I never said that you needed to.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re only running on four cups of coffee, a granola bar and it’s almost the middle of the night and today you found out that there’s an obsessive, psychopathic stalker after you that you feel something snap.

You take a step back – lips drawn into a thin line and eyes trailing the tiles on the floor and make your way out of the room with all your things tightly clutched between your hands – you try to blink away the tears blurring your eyes but when that doesn’t work you quicken your pace – your boots clicking against the floor wood and keys frantically jiggling in your hands.

“Hey – “

You hear Betty’s voice as you exit the front doors, but you make a beeline for the car – dismissing her presence and prompting her to follow you,

“What happened?”

You don’t respond and she trails helplessly after you, face contorted into confusion and concern – which she mirrors with de Vos as you both near the car, you slamming the backdoor closed, leaving her to stand next to de Vos’ window, both of them quiet and sharing silent looks.

The ride starts of in an uncomfortable silence – no words exchanged and the only sound that was heard was the ignition starting and the occasional sound of you sniffling in the back.

De Vos can’t see much of your face through the rear-view mirror due to the darkness and shadows falling across your face every time a streetlamp passes by – but when he catches your eyes in the mirror as you harshly rub at the tear-stained cheeks, he has to say something,

“Kid – “

“Please don’t,” your voice is small, and the words come out more softly than intended and Betty only shares a pleading look to de Vos to continue.

“We’re just worried about you,” He sounds a little apprehensive, his usually gruff voice more clear and mellow now, “You can tell us anything, ya know, we’re here to protect you.”

When there’s still no response from you, Betty clears her throat and begins speaking,

“Look, I knew he wouldn’t be happy about this situation, but you should – “

“I didn’t tell him,” Your voice is strangled and abrupt, throwing Betty of track and she looks back at you,

“W-what – “

“I didn’t tell him anything about the letters.”

“Then why – “

“I don’t fucking know, okay? I don’t fucking know why he’s suddenly acting like he hates me and telling me that he doesn’t want me to be with him, okay?”

The last word is spoken more softly and comes out much less harsh and the car plunges into silence again – but you still feel like you can’t breathe, the words dawning a painful realization over you.

“Actually, can we go to Jasmine’s tonight?”

The words slip out before you can think them over and Betty nods her head after a moment and the rest of the car ride is full of an awkward silence that no one tries to fight against.

…

“Y/n?”

Jasmine opens her door after a fourth ring, her dark curls untamed and bouncing everywhere, and her eyes full of sleep.

“Hey,”

“What’re doing here? Do you know what time it is? Wait – why are you crying?”

She sobers up almost instantly, after glancing at your red, puffy face and your arms wrapped around your body tightly – behind you Betty moves forward to say something but you pipe up,

“Can I stay over tonight?” Your voice is feeble, and you can’t help but berate yourself for sounding so pathetic.

“O – of course, yeah, come in,” She moves, allowing the dim hallways lights to illuminate the figures on her front porch.

She moves to wrap an arm across your shoulders, pulling you closer to her so that the scent of her familiar agarwood perfume fills your senses.

“There’s something I need to tell you Jasmine.”

“Thank you, Betty!”

You exclaim, voice giddy and slightly slurred as you embrace her from the back of her seat, and fail miserably, which results in you erupting into giggles in the backseat of the car – as Jasmine tries to placate you

“Right. Just hurry up.”

She sighs as you and Jasmine make your way out of the car. Both of you walking in relative silence minus the occasionally stumbles and giggles from you as you walk towards the building, and it’s Anael who greets you at the darkly lit front desk, after hazily waving him ‘hi’, the elevator ride passes by as you ramble about Anael to Jasmine as she listens with a bemused look on her face.

“Crap, where are my keys,” You rummage through your bag noisily till the jingling keys are in your grasp and you drunkenly try to unlock the front door – that is until Jas coerces the key out of your hand and opens it herself and then you’re greeted with your apartment.

“Finally!” You exclaim, spinning around until you collapse on the beige couch in the middle of the room, your bag hitting the coffee table in the centre and you take in the room, something seems a little of place but your drunk mind can’t comprehend anything else so you watch as Jas places her bag on the marble counter top all the way across the room, in the dimly lit kitchen and she disappears into the hallway as you hear her say,

“I’m just gonna pee really quickly, and then we’ll look for your bag, okay?”

You hum in response and close your eyes as the silence settles around you and the only noise are the distant cars and faint sirens.

That is until your hear a thud and heavy footsteps approaching.

“Jas? Didn’t know you could pee so quickly?”

There’s no response.

You promptly push yourself up from the couch and the person you see walking towards you isn’t Jasmine and you feel yourself freeze in your place.

The man standing in front is wearing a dark jacket and in his hands there’s an envelope you can barely make out properly and the world momentarily stops as you lock with him. They’re steely and grey and your heart rate picks up.

Your mind fails to form a coherent word and all you can do is gape as he makes his way near you.

“God, I’ve been waiting to meet you for so long,” His voice is rough and the small chuckle he lets out rumbles through the air – and you can feel the goose bumps on your skin rise as he towers over your place on the couch. “You know you’re not an easy person to find.”

“How did you get in here?”

The words tumble out of your mouth but it’s hard to process anything when your heartbeat is deafening in your ears.

He chuckles before replying, “You don’t need to know princess, but people here are a lot more gullible than I thought,” he pauses before adding in, “Told ‘em, I was here for some flower arrangements and it wasn’t a lie, look,”

He draws your gaze to the little cream envelope in his hands and takes your hand – but your body doesn’t react fast enough as he grips your wrist tight – it doesn’t feel so tight but you can see his knuckles turning white as he holds your wrist and the warmth from his fingers on your cold skin makes you numb but all you do is watch as he places the withered orange lily from the envelope in the hand he held,

“Sorry ‘s a little withered, but I’ve been waiting for a while and didn’t have the time to get a new one for you, hope ‘s okay?”

You don’t respond and he notices it.

He reaches out to graze his free hand underneath your chin and you reflexively flinch under his touch so he grabs your jaw – roughly pulling your face to face him and you want to scream, yell, shout; do anything but your voice dissolves into nothing every time you try.

“I said, is it fine?” It takes a moment – but you nod your head ever so lightly and it suffices for him, so he loosens his hold on your jaw – only a little for you breathe properly again.

“Are you always this stubborn, Y/n?” The way his mouth forms your name makes you sick, it makes you upset because he shouldn’t be able to say it like that – with a wide smile on his face, twisting the vowels on his tongue in whichever way he pleases as you squirm under his grasp.

“Even with him?” His eyes darken and so does his grip on you, “Don’t worry, I got all his things out of your room, I’ll get rid of them.”

“No.” You voice is barely above a whisper as you shake your head, “Please let me go.”

“I’ve waited so long to be here with you, I’m not leaving now Y/n.” His grip is suffocating, and he doesn’t relent as you try to squirm out of his hold, but he only chuckles.

“You can call me by my name, you know?” You don’t say anything. “Do you not remember it? I wrote my initials on the letters, I hoped you would figure it out.”

The memory of the letters makes you sick again as he reaches out to tuck the stray hairs behind your ear and you recoil from his touch, so he tries to placate you by continuing to talk.

“I sent them because I wanted to tell you how much I – “, His words are cut short off by the distant sound of thundering footsteps and you hear him swear underneath his breath, before letting go of his hold on you.

“Well, I guess I gotta introduce myself to all you friends now, huh?”

Before anything else can be said, the front door is burst open as quickly as the man in front of you pulls you up and into his chest – you back against his chest and his steely grip locked onto your arms but this time, you feel a cold blade on the base of your neck – freezing you in place.

“Stop!”

A blur of dark uniforms surrounds but you can’t see much as your mind blurs – from the alcohol you’ve consumed or the nausea building up in you, you’re not entirely sure. You can’t hear much because of the pounding in your chest and before you can comprehend the scene around you, the arms holding you in a suffocating grip – disappear. A gasp escapes from your lips as your knees give out and you fall to the floor, your mind blanking.

“Y/n, can you hear me?”

A muffled voice registers in your head as you slowly blink your eyes open. The warm white lights feel more harsh than usual and there’s an ache in your left eye.

“I – “

“Is she awake? Are you awake Y/n?”

Betty’s voice is full of panic and maybe you would’ve cracked a joke about it if you didn’t feel a growing sting on your head as you slowly regained consciousness.

“I – “

“I’ll let de Vos know, and – and, where’s Gordon,”

Betty leaves your side before you can say anything and another person – which you assume is a medic, through your hazy eyes, you can barely make out his face, let alone what he’s trying to tell you.

“I’m fine – “

“No, no you’re not, Y/n.” Betty has reappeared, this time, her glabellar lines are more deep-set and her voice firmer. She’s about to say something else, but the medic stops her this time, and diverts your gaze to his face.

“You’ve been concussed, and I just want to ask you a few questions. First, can you tell me your name?”

“It’s Y/n.” The light from the lamp next to the loveseat your splayed on is bright as you squint at the man in front of you.

“Great, now, do you know where you are and what day it is?”

“I – I’m in my house, and…” You looked out towards the French windows and door, the bleak night visible through the white, lace curtains. “It’s Saturday night, the – uh, 17th of October.”

“Okay, can you tell me the address?”

“Uh – it’s 356 Victoria street.”

He nods, and the asks,

“Now, do you know what happened?”

You really wished that you could say no to his question, but it’s all vividly clear in your mind. His face. His eyes. His hands. Him.

“Yeah.” You voice is croaky, and you shift your gaze to your hands in your lap.

“Okay, that’s great,” He turns around to face Betty, “She’s A&O4, just make sure she’s not moving and get her some water for the headache she’s probably going through right now.”

Betty nods her head before making her way towards the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and the medic besides you leaves, and you finally lift your head up to see the amount of people currently in your apartment. There’s police offers standing at the front door, some of them standing around the windows and others scattered around the living room and kitchen.

Your eyes drift around the scene and am uneasy feeling settles in your stomach as you take in your appearance in the windows. Your hair is a mess, and the spaghetti straps of your black dress and falling of your shoulders, but it’s your face – a bruise blooming near your left eye, that causes you to release a shaky breath, the shades of purple and blue are nauseous and you bring your hand up to light graze the wound, but it stings at the slightest touch from your shaking fingers.

“Y/n.”

Betty comes back but just as she holds out the glass of water, something clicks in your mind.

“Betty. Where’s Jasmine?”

You swing your legs of the loveseat and attempt to stand up, but she stops you.

“Y/n, stop, stop, listen. She’s okay.” She places the cold glass between your hands before continuing.

“Uh – he just locked her in the bathroom.”

“Well, why didn’t I hear her?”

“He also knocked her unconscious.”

“What? Where is she?”

“She’s in the bedroom, don’t worry, she’s just resting there, the medic checked up on her, she’s perfectly fine – just a bit shaken up like you.”

The conversation fizzles out as you stare at the ice cubes slowly melting into the water – the cold from the glass numbing your fingers but you can’t bring yourself to worry about it.

“I’m so sorry, Betty” You whisper, hoping she doesn’t hear you – but she does, and you try your hardest to blink away the tears forming in the corner of your eye.

“Y/n. please don’t say that.” She crouches down. “You never could’ve thought of this happening.”

“I know, I know but still – “

“Listen, it’s okay, we got him.”

That piques your interest as you raise your head to meet her hazel eyes.

“He tried to make a run for it from the open windows, but we got him.”

“How did you know – “, your voice is unsure and thick.

“I tried calling Jasmine, but she didn’t pick up, so I went to talk to Anael at the desk and he mentioned something about flower arrangements and a man, and it clicked in my head.”

Before you can ask her anything else, your moment in interrupted by a clearing of a throat and both you and Betty turn around to see Gordon standing in the middle of the room.

“Y/n, I just wanted to ask questions – “

“I’m sorry Gordon, but we’ll have to do that tomorrow, if that’s alright?”

Betty cuts him off and Gordon only nods and smiles sympathetically at both of you before moving to converse with the other detectives. You clear your throat before asking,

“Uh – Betty, can I please go outside?”

“Y/n, you know what he – “

“Please.”

Betty mulls it over as you look at her with pleading eyes and she nods before extending a hand for you to help stand up. It takes a moment but as soon as you’re on your feet, you feel your legs wobble and you regret wearing heels tonight but you wrap your arms around your body and Betty guides you out of the front door, and the emptiness of the beige hallway and the starchy air causes you to properly breathe as you move towards a corner not swarmed with people – the window that faces the streets is the same. The distant sirens and cars sound the same, but it all feels so different.

Emerging footsteps rounding the corner of the hallway pull you out of your train of thoughts and you turn around to see -

“Bruce?” Your voice is feeble and his head snaps towards you – standing at the end of the hallway, dishevelled and you feel small under his gaze as he walks towards you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You should be surprised that that’s the first thing he says to you but you’re too focused on him that you don’t process the question. Somehow, the bags under his eyes are more prominent than Wednesday, he looks gaunter and his hair is almost as dishevelled as yours but the cuts and bruises on his face have faded now.

“Y/n.”

“Bruce I – “

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Bruce, I fucking tried, okay.” Your voice is snappy, and you’re surprised you have the energy for this.

“Remember the night I came to your house, and you fucking said you didn’t want me there? I came to tell you that I’ve been receiving letters from an unknown stalker and that I was fucking scared! But, no! I – “

You feel tears pool in your eyes, and you have to stop yourself from breaking down again. You cast your eyes down to the linoleum floors and there’s no response from Bruce or there isn’t a response until a voice calls out your name and you turn to see Jasmine standing at the entrance of the apartment.

“Jasmine!”

A wave of relief rolls over you as you quickly make your way past Bruce, towards Jasmine, whom you engulf in an embrace as soon as you reach her and let the familiar scent of warm agarwood overtake your senses.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Jas.”

She’s taken aback at first but then pulls apart to reassure you,

“Y/n, please don’t say that. It’s okay, I’m okay, you’re okay.” She draws circles on your shoulder blades as she whispers, “We’re both here.”

You want to keep on apologizing, thanking and basking her presence but it’s cut short by de Vos rounding near the hallway and exclaiming your name – his Jersey accent boisterous.

“God damn it, kid, thought I was gonna have to punch some fucker’s face today.” In complete de Vos fashion, the man is still wearing his coat and gloves and his hair is gelled back and his enormous figure fills the door frame he’s leaning against and you follow the curve of his hooked nose and watch the deep-set lines of his forehead crease before wrapping your arms around him.

“It’s always good to keep you on your toes, de Vos.” Your voice is croaky still and you don’t know how you managed to crake a joke all of a sudden but the weight in your chest feels a little lighter now that you’re not stuck in the apartment anymore and surrounded by fewer police officers.

“Okay, if you’re ready to go now then we can head out – I’ve asked Gordon to arrange for a safe house for you to stay in for the night as we work out the safety details – “

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Bruce’s low voice causes the little circle (you, Jasmine, Betty and de Vos) have formed – to turn around and see his figure approaching yours.

“Bruce – “

“Oraine, I’m sure you’re aware of how safe Wayne Manor is, Y/n can stay there for the night.”

The conversation falls quiet as Betty silently assesses the proposition before nodding and you find yourself interjecting,

“Betty – “

“No, Y/n, he’s right,” She cuts you off and steps closer. “This time, please trust me.”

You can’t argue with her now – not while you feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you, so you just nod and train your eyes back to the floor.

The rest of the trip down to the car is silent – besides from the uncomfortable weight that nobody addresses until you’re outside the building and the crisp air causes you to release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and the October breeze causes you to wrap your arms around your torso tighter split into cars.

“Right, me and de Vos we’ll go in that car, you and Bruce in his and Jasmine – “

“I’ll come with you guys, Betty.”

Before you can protest Jasmine leaving you alone with Bruce, they’ve all made their way to the car near the curb and you’re left with no option but to begrudgingly follow Bruce into his car – which had been haphazardly parked, almost climbing onto the sidewalk.

Neither of you say a word as you climb into the passenger seat and he buckles into the driver’s seat and you both drive in complete silence – except for your anxiety ridden heartbeat thudding in your chest. You watch the streetlamps pass by the dark shadows, the apricot orange light falls solemnly on the gravel roads and it invokes a sense of déjà vu in you, to last Wednesday and a humourless laugh almost escapes your lips but you manage to keep the silence – and it’s still stifling.

By the time, you reach the Manor, it’s almost 2:30 am on the digital clock in the car and Bruce stops the car and neither one of you makes a move to get out. Instead, Bruce puts his hand into his breast pocket and pulls out an envelope. It’s the same cream colour as the ones you received in the dressing room and the one, he gave to you tonight.

“Bruce?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you hesitantly take the envelope – your fingers shaking as you open envelope – the seal was already broken and your fingertips against the hoarse paper is the only sound you can hear – and you watch the moonlight frame shadows on Bruce’s face as he looks at you.

“What is this.”

A beat passes before he speaks.

“That night, uh, before you came to my house, Alfred gave me this letter that he found, and I read it and it said – “

“That ‘this is a warning to stay away from her’”, you completed his sentence, reading off the letter. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You know I’ve been asking you the same thing for the past couple of days.” His voice is oddly strained, and you pretend you didn’t hear what he said.

“You shouldn’t have told me to leave that night,” You don’t look at him when you say this, head looking out towards the window and the peak of sunlight edging off the horizon and you wait for him to say something.

“I know.” There’s a slight tone of bitterness in his voice but you don’t dwell it for long because his hands come out to guide your face towards his – his cold fingers resting gently under your chin, and a chill goes down your spine as you match his gaze.

“I’m sorry.” You don’t say anything, but you don’t make a move away from him either. “You know that I never want anything terrible happening to you and I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

A beat passes.

“I didn’t mean anything I said that day and I just didn’t know what to tell you.”

“Just like you don’t know how to tell me you’re Batman?”

You bite your lips in anticipation as Bruce’s eyes grow wide – his hold on your face disappearing and it takes him a second to process your confession.

“Y – You know?”

“Well, at least you’re not denying it.” You try to lighten the mood, but his face is still shocked. “Remember when I came over to your house for my 17th birthday? I heard you and Alfred talking about how you should be more careful on patrols.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you take your hand in yours and draw small circles on it before continuing.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to do anything stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“Like stop talking to me or I don’t know, erase my memory?”

“I can’t do that, you know.”

“Yeah, well I was scared and that’s why I kinda stopped talking to you after that visit.”

You intertwine his pinkie finger with yours and lift your joint hands above the console and he looks at you with a confused look.

“No more secrets after this,” You squeeze your hand. “Promise?”

He moves to press a light kiss against your temple before whispering

“Promise.”

Currently facing the large manor windows out-looking the gardens and entrance, you watch rain pour down copiously – making the view almost incomprehensible and a small frown makes it way on your face as you fidget around with the gold locket around your neck.

“Are you alright, miss?”

Alfred’s monotonous voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you look at him in confusion before he speaks up again.

“Master Bruce is in the study,” He studies you for a moment. “I though you would like to know.”

“Oh – yes, thank you.”

With a small nod in your direction, he turns around and you wait for the footsteps to fade away before you start to move away – on your way, you stop by the gold accented hanging mirror and adjust invisible creases in your dress – which was a soft pink, and off-the shoulder, before padding through the silent halls.

“Alfred says that you ‘seem sad’?”

Bruce doesn’t even lift his head when he questions you as you enter the study and watch the unnerving amount of bookshelves and sharp woodwork surround his hunched body over piles of papers in the corner of the room and you only roll your eyes as you make your way to the large, velvet armchair he was sitting at.

“Does he now?” You mutter under your breath – slightly embarrassed at the prospect of Alfred telling Bruce about your sadness over something so trivial.

“Well, are you sad?”

“I don’t know Bruce, am I?”

He doesn’t say anything but raises his eyebrow in response – at which you motion for him to move so you can make yourself comfortable in his lap – confined by the oak table in front of you and his arms wrap themselves around you as you burrow your head in his neck, enveloping yourself in the scent of his sandalwood cologne and body warmth.

“What happened?”

You incoherently mumble into his neck, which prompts him to nudge you and you slowly lift your head out and look at him with slightly red eyes and a pouty face.

“Love – “

“I really wanted to go out to the lakes today.” You hope he doesn’t hear you, but he does, and you can see his eyes light up in humour and he barely contains a smile as you shake your head.

“I had it all planned!” You start to move your hands as well now, making exuberant gestures to accentuate your point. “I was gonna bring these picnic blankets, and this wicker basket and I wore this dress and – and I made mini cherry pies and this fucking stupid rain just ruined your surprise.”

You finish off your rant by burrowing your head again and leaving Bruce with a small smile on his lips as he tries to get you to life your head, but you just shake your head and a small chuckle escapes Bruce’s lips and you let out a small whine.

“It’s not funny!”

“Certainly not.”

You raise your head to stare at him unamused as you watch him follow your movements before he asks,

“Are you going to be upset this whole evening?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, what would cheer you up?” His voice is bemused as you contemplate his words in your mind before scanning the expanse of the room before something clicks in your mind.

“Can you play me the piano?”, your voice is soft and barely above a whisper, and Bruce comprehends your request, playing the piano? It seems simple enough and Bruce is a little confused.

“Y/n, I don’t really – “

“Please,” You move your hands to play with the buttons on his shirt. “Remember, when we were kids, and we had those piano lessons and I was so fucking bad. Like really bad,”

Bruce smiles a little as you laugh at the memory.

“And Mr. Lebedev was a terrible teacher and I hated him, and you used to try and teach me, but I was so bad.”

“So?”

You don’t stop the eye roll before responding.

“So, can you play the piano for me because I can’t – and I’ll feel less bad if you do.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, before nodding his head and trying to stand up to leave but you stop him, motioning him to pick you up.

“If you can bench-press a thousand pounds, then honey, you can lift me up.”

There’s a satisfied smile on your lips as you picks you up with a roll of the eyes before walking across the room, towards the grand piano set in the room, facing the large windows.

“What do you want me to play?” He asks as you both sit on the leather bench,

“Anything you want.” You shrug in response as he concentrates on the piano, deep in thought before moving his fingers – shakily – over the keys, and a delicate sound fills the air as his fingers glide expertly over the piano and you hold in your breath without realising as he plays his mother’s song.

You can remember it quite clearly because every time, she would ask Bruce to play a piece, she would always ask for this one.

You don’t want to say anything to disrupt his concentration, so you only closed you eyes and moving to softly rest you head on his shoulder, the intricate melody tangent to the patter of rain against the window and it feels a little ephemeral, and you feel yourself melt a little sitting there – wrapped up in the quite atmosphere.

le fin

how was it? part 2?

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagines #dc #batman #batman x reader #batman imagines #dc fanfic #alfred pennyworth #gotham #fanfic #robert pattinson

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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 3 years

Text

RWBY / MCU AU (2.0)

(reposting since Tumblr is being weird)

The Avengers

1) Ruby Rose as Tony Stark / Iron Man (reasoning: weapons nut, expert inventor, red color scheme, main protagonist)

2) Jaune Arc as Steve Rogers / Captain America (reasoning: awkward blonde guy who is always trying to prove himself, forged his papers in order to get into Beacon, team leader of JNPR)

3) Weiss Schnee as Thor Odinson (reasoning: yes, I know that Nora is the more obvious choice. I went with Weiss since I felt that she fit Thor’s story better. Nora doesn’t really have good parallels for Loki, Sif, Odin, Hela, and the rest of the Thor cast. As for Weiss, she started out as an arrogant heiress with a terrible father and brother. She later lost her inheritance and was humbled by her experiences in Beacon and with Team RWBY. To me, her character arc fits Thor to a tee)

4) Yang Xiao Long as Bruce Banner / The Incredible Hulk (reasoning: prone to anger, known for brute force and punching. Also, since she’s Bruce, she would be close friends with Ruby, which could mirror their sisterly relationship)

5) Harriet Bree as Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow (reasoning: if the Atlas Military and Ace Ops are S.H.I.E.L.D. in this AU, then I felt that a member of Ace Ops should be Black Widow and Hawkeye)

6) Clover Ebi as Clint Barton / Hawkeye (reasoning: if the Atlas Military and Ace Ops are S.H.I.E.L.D. in this AU, then I felt that a member of Ace Ops should be Black Widow and Hawkeye)

Guardians of the Galaxy

1) Mercury Black as Peter Quill / Star-Lord (reasoning: douchey guy who always feels the need to overcompensate. Hates his biological father)

2) Emerald Sustrai as Gamora (reasoning: she’s partners with Mercury, green color scheme, can be said to be in league with Salem due to her association with Cinder, black character)

3) Roman Torchwick as Rocket Raccoon (reasoning: loudmouthed thief who mocks everyone, partners with Neo who is Groot)

4) Neopolitan as Groot (reasoning: characters known for their distinct way of “speaking”, Roman’s closest associate, cutest member of the team)

5) Cardin Winchester as Drax the Destroyer (reasoning: big, muscular guy who is not really known for his brains)

6) Cinder Fall as Nebula (reasoning: she’s one of Salem’s main followers, Salem being our Thanos. Also, her connection to Emerald)

Wakanda

1) Blake Belladonna as T’Challa / Black Panther (reasoning: daughter of Ghira, our T’Chaka. Her story is all about discrimination and finding a way to bridge the gap between humans and faunus. Technically, she’s of royal blood. She’s also part cat)

2) Adam Taurus as Erik Killmonger (reasoning: anti-human/pro-faunus extremist who is obsessed with Blake. His main plan is basically to kill everyone who he feels is a threat to his people. True, the origins of his obsession with the Black Panther is different in this AU but still)

3) Kali Belladonna as Queen Ramonda (reasoning: Blake’s mom)

4) Ghira Belladonna as King T’Chaka (reasoning: Blake’s dad)

5) Sun Wukong as Nakia (reasoning: Blake’s love interest. Don’t come at me Bumbleby stans, he’s a faunus and Yang’s already cast as Hulk)

6) Ilia Amitola as W’Kabi (reasoning: since she’s a White Fang agent, I felt that she should be the member of T’Challa’s inner circle who ends up siding with Killmonger)

7) Sienna Khan as N’Jobu (reasoning: this is to act as a parallel to her relationship with Adam. N’Jobu was Killmonger’s father, Sienna was Adam’s leader. Also, just like N’Jobu, Sienna was a radical who wanted to fight against discrimination towards her people)

The Black Order

1) Salem as Thanos (reasoning: main villain of the series)

2) Arthur Watts as Ebony Maw (reasoning: member of Salem’s Inner Circle)

3) Tyrian Callows as Corvus Glaive (reasoning: member of Salem’s Inner Circle)

4) Hazel Rainart as Cull Obsidian (reasoning: member of Salem’s inner circle)

Asgard

1) Jacques Schnee as Odin (reasoning: Weiss’ father)

2) Willow Schnee as Frigga (reasoning: Weiss’ mother)

3) Whitley Schnee as Loki Laufeyson (reasoning: Weiss’ brother)

4) Winter Schnee as Hela (reasoning: Weiss’ sister)

5) Klein Sieben as one of the Warriors Three (reasoning: associate of the Schnee Family)

6) Nora Valkyrie as Valkyrie (reasoning: besides the obvious naming reasons and Viking symbolism, Nora is also headstrong and stubborn)

7) Lie Ren as Heimdall (reasoning: okay, to be honest, Ren is Heimdall mainly so that he can have some type of connection with Nora. In terms of personality, Ren is also stoic and honorable)

Stark Industries

1) Qrow Branwen and Summer Rose as Howard and Maria Stark, respectively (reasoning: going with the fan theory that Qrow is Ruby’s biological father, then it made sense to have Qrow and Summer as the Starks. Also, Qrow being Howard oddly fits if you picture him as a raging alcoholic who unintentionally neglects Ruby while she was growing up)

2) Penny Polendina as J.A.R.V.I.S. / Vision (reasoning: A..I. and android who is close friends with Ruby)

3) Pietro Polendina as Ultron (reasoning: okay, so this one is a bit of a stretch. Since Ultron is the “father” of Vision, then it made sense that Penny’s father would take this role. Just imagine that Pietro is a rogue A.I./killer robot made by Ruby and Yang in this AU)

4) Oscar Pine as Pepper Potts (reasoning: Jaune and Weiss have already been cast, so I guess this AU is a Rosegarden fic)

5) Coco Adel as James Rhodes / War Machine (reasoning: I was running low on characters. This is literally just because her main weapon is a minigun)

Other Major Characters

1) Raven Branwen as General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross (reasoning: so instead of Ross being Betty’s father, Ross would be Bruce’s father in this AU. The reason for this change is that I really wanted to include Raven in this AU and casting her as a power-hungry general chasing her daughter around the world in order to control the Hulk felt appropriate)

2) Vernal as Betty Ross (reasoning: to keep the General Ross-Betty Ross relationship to some extent, then Vernal as Betty made sense. Instead of being father-daughter, it’s “mother figure-daughter figure”)

3) James Ironwood as Nick Fury (reasoning: big military guy and the head of Atlas Military and Ace Ops)

4) Glynda Goodwitch as Maria Hill (reasoning: this would’ve been Winter...but I have Winter cast as Hela. So Glynda, being my second choice due to her past relationship with Ironwood, gets this role)

5) Neptune Vasilias as Jane Foster (reasoning: closest character we have for Weiss’ love interest. Don’t come at me Whiterose stans, Ruby’s already Iron Man)

6) Bartholomew Oobleck as Erik Selvig (reasoning: it’s mainly because he’s a professor)

7) Pyrrha Nikos as Peggy Carter (reasoning: warrior, closest character we have for Jaune’s love interest)

8) Saphron Cotta-Arc as Bucky Barnes / The Winter Soldier (reasoning: there was literally no other character who I could think of that could fit this role, so I went with Saphron since you have the sibling relationship element with Jaune. This is obviously not a romantic-Stucky interpretation, this is more along the lines of Steve and Bucky being spiritual brothers)

9) Ozpin as Stephen Strange / Doctor Strange (reasoning: Earth’s protector, one of the guys leading the charge against Salem. Also, Ozpin looks like the kind of guy who’d be a mysterious sorcerer)

10) Marcus Black as Ego the Living Planet (reasoning: Mercury’s estranged, biological father)

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

Through flames and oceans (for the fic title)

u know. this was supposed to not go the direction it did. but it did.

People say they will do a lot for love. They will walk through flames, cross an entire ocean for love.

Bruce tells himself that that’s the stupidest fucking thing people say. He, for one, will not do that. There is also the unspoken reason of that love really isn’t in the cards for him.

Currently, he’s running away from his ex-girlfriend’s dad, General Ross, because he may or may not have done some experimentation and turned into a rage monster, but also revealed some state secrets.

Come on, can you blame him? Cosmo said twenty-year-olds need to accomplish something before they hit thirty. And he’s quite sure he just made the list.

But as for love, he is thinking about it right now because his ex-girlfriend found a very nice girl named Valkyrie, and they’re kind of set to have an engagement party, and “would you please come to the United States to help us celebrate?”

Betty is a wonderful woman, really and truly. And Bruce is okay with how their relationship ended, because it’s not like Bruce could come to family dinner and expect anything besides murder or maybe cold potatoes. And Betty deserved someone far better than him, and from the picture that was sent, it looks like Valkyrie is an amazing catch.

But there is the small matter of making it to the States without getting caught. He is on quite a lot of “no-fly” and “travel restrictive” protocols. This sucks, by the way. He had frequent flier miles saved up and everything.

It sucks, at least, until he remembers Tony’s number and calls it.

(Tony had given him his number, but sometimes he forgets that four and nine are two distinctly different numbers.)

“Brucie, baby! What can I get for you? Don’t worry, the government hasn’t been able to tap my phone calls since I was seventeen and mostly joking about finding out where their secret weapons storage is.”

“Betty’s having her engagement party, and I’m invited. I kind of need a ride home.”

“Where are you located at, right now?”

“Buenos Aires.”

“You lucky son of a bitch, god I miss it there. You having a good time?”

“When I’m avoiding government agents, yes.”

“Hm, well i’m sending a new employee of mine to go and get you. Big guy, probably Swedish.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t presume if someone’s Swedish or not, Bruce. I’m a terrible person, but not that terrible.”

“I...I don’t follow your sense of humor.”

“No one does, that’s why celebrities call me avant garde and ahead of my time.”

“Good to know. What’s your new guy’s name?”

“Thor.”

“Are you...are you fucking with me?”

"Darling, you’d be having a much better time if I was.”

“I don’t like the energy we’re manifesting here,” Bruce deadpans.

Tony snorts. “Okay, hippie. He’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Just stay tight where you are, sugar.”

Thor is a gigantic man. He parts crowds like it’s what he was meant to do, and maybe it is. Bruce stares up at him.

“Hello Dr. Banner,” Thor says, smiling gently. “You are Dr. Ross’s friend, right?”

“Um...yeah. I am.”

“Excellent. I’m a friend of Valkyrie’s, is it okay if I go ahead and fly out to the airport nearest their house?”

“Uh, is Tony okay with that?”

“Of course. And we can stop at your house if you need anything.”

“Oh, I don’t have a house. Or an apartment. You would not believe how much the US government hates my credit score.”

Thor chuckles a little bit, leading him back to a nondescript car.

“Right this way.”

Thor is cool as a cucumber on the outside, as they’re driving. He’s mindlessly tapping on his phone as Bruce stares out the window.

Inside? Oh, Thor hates Val for this. So much.

so, you didn’t think to send me a picture of dr. banner? just the address?

lmaooooo called it. betty owes me something now. fuckin nerd. just ask him out.

no. we still have to bypass american security

which you are “old hat” at. or did i forget that you nearly almost charmed the pants off of one of the airline people?

we don’t speak of that.

relax. stark’s taking care of it anyway.

The airplane ride home is uneventful, thank god. One of Tony’s jets awaits, and the pilot is very surprised to see a man who ranks number four on America’s Most Wanted List to be there.

“You...you know Tony?”

“And you know what an NDA is,” Tony announces over the intercom. “Bruce, welcome. Mimosas are premade, in stock. Sit back and enjoy the ride! Thor, you do what you gotta do to make sure Bruce stays safe. Enjoy the bridal shower!”

The pilot is a bit apprehensive. But mostly okay. Bruce promises nothing’s going to happen, he’s just going to drink tea and catch up on news about the current state of things.

Bruce gets bored with finding out that things are still terrible, so he talks to Thor.

“So...are your parents just really into Norse mythology, or did they know you’d come out a huge guy who has the potential to probably stop Ragnarok?”

Thor chuckles, the laugh rumbling and deep.

(Okay, that’s hot.)

"My parents’ names were Odin and Frigga. You could say they were traditionalists when it came to my brother and I.”

“You mean...?”

“He embodies the name a bit too well for my taste, but yes.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. Let me tell you about the time we accidentally crashed a fashion week thing...”

Bruce laughs a lot about that story. Thor’s laugh is majestic, and they sit a little bit closer.

By the time the plane lands, they’re great friends and Thor reaches over Bruce in the baggage area and wow that man has very defined muscles.

Not that that’s important. No, that’s like. Not important at all. So what if Thor is very well-muscled and maybe this will play into Bruce’s intrusive thoughts/daydream thoughts at later intervals? Does not matter. At all.

(Oh god the man smells like salty ocean air Bruce has got it so so bad. So Bad.)

Tony greets them at the landing pad with a wide grin, eyes lighting up.

“Well, don’t you two make the happy couple,” he teases. Bruce turns red. This does not go unnoticed.

“Bruce, honestly, you run away from government and my friendship, and this is what gets you--”

“A bridal shower? To get me home? Yes,” Bruce says, cutting in not-at-all smoothly. “Now, where are Betty and her bride staying at?”

“Oh, they’re staying at the cutest little bed and breakfast for their bridal shower. Rented out the whole thing--well Pepper did, it was our wedding gift to them, and of course I mean Pep’s wedding gift, because I have something else planned-”

“Please tell me that you do not have a house bought for them,” Thor says.

“Complete with a laboratory and gymnasium,” Tony says with a wink. “I’m kidding, they already have a house. I just kind of kicked them out for a week while I remodel their entire kitchen. Val gave me the colors, I was surprised that she has taste.”

“If she hears you say that, she’ll kick your ass.”

“Which is why she won’t,” Tony reminds Thor. “Now, let’s get to unpacking. Bruce, I’m getting you some good shampoo, holy shit your hair sucks.”

“Thank you Tony, I love and value our friendship and our kindness towards each other as well,” Bruce deadpans.

“Oh come on, you have to look good. It’s your ex’s wedding party!”

“You make us sound so dramatic,” Bruce says with a snort. “We broke up. Big deal.”

“You and Betty...?” Thor asks.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. We were dating, and then I pissed off her dad, who happens to be a general. I mean, also the government. But mostly her dad.”

“Wow.”

Thor’s type shouldn’t be feral scientist. But it is.

They’re led inside, and Tony bids them goodbye.

“Duty calls,” Tony says airily, waving. “Make yourself at home, don’t put coffee grounds down the disposal or I will kick you out. Rogers is still nursing his wounds.”

“Noted,” Bruce says.

“I drink tea,” Thor answers.

Bruce shares a look.

“You too?”

“Yeah, I prefer it over coffee most of the time.”

Bruce smiles.

“I think we’re going to get along.”

They have a couple of days until the wedding party, and Thor has never seen New York. Bruce is fairly sure that no one will even see him on the CCTV footage as long as he’s walking next to Thor, so he deems it good enough to go and get a bagel.

Thor is a very gentle man. That’s a good quality.

He smiles at a little girl, who is staring, open-mouthed. Even gives her a little wave. Bruce grins.

“You like kids?”

“I do. They mostly just want to have fun, want to see what the best of the world is. I think we all need that occasionally.”

“I’ve never thought of that,” Bruce confesses. He takes a sip of his coffee.

“I love watching my cousins,” Thor continues. “The way they grow and figure it all out, it’s rewarding. What about your family?”

Bruce freezes.

“Um. I don’t exactly have a family.”

“Then you’ll just have to meet some of my cousins,” Thor amends, smiling as he sips his drink. “You’d like them.”

“I’d like that,” Bruce says, grinning. “What’s next on our New York agenda?”

"I told Loki I’d visit some stores for him and pick up some items he’s been wanting.”

Have you ever seen a sales associate from Chanel be terrified at your presence? No? It’s worth it.

Bruce is kind of concerned.

“I...are you...?”

“My name is Robert, uncanny similarities,” Bruce responds. “We both were born in Ohio.”

“Why is it always Ohio,” Thor mutters. “You reckon my brother would want this shoe or that?”

“Ooh, definitely go with the heel. I think that’s good.”

“Gotcha.”

Next shop is Dior.

This goes a bit out of hand. His whole line about being Robert with Incredible Similarity does not go as planned.

He and Thor are on a subway, currently running away from some authority figures and calling Tony.

“I was in the middle of learning drama about high society that I can use in my next romance novel, are you joking?” Tony hisses.

“You write romance novels?” Thor asks.

“Now is not the time to question that, I’m in the middle of making sure you get a car to your next stop. How well do you both know what a Chrysler is?”

“The building, right?”

“God, I hate you so much,” Tony groans. “No, um...it looks like the wing things that they give army people when they do something that I guess they think is cool.”

“Oh. Okay. Get in that car?”

“Yes. It’s gonna be red with silver detailing.”

“Tony, they’re gonna know it’s us.”

“Believe me, they won’t. Trust me.”

So as it turns out, it’s not the most ostentatious vehicle.

Because Tony pulls up in a lifted pick-up truck, painted a sparkling, neon green with bright orange wheels.

It is the ugliest goddamn thing Bruce has ever seen. Also the most effective.

Thor nearly shoves Bruce into the car, and they’re sitting too close, and Bruce probably shouldn’t be focusing on the fact that Thor’s hair is now artfully messy, but here he is. Doing that.

“So, sorry that before the wedding shower we’re being hunted down by the government.”

“Not the worst thing that I could be doing on a Friday,” Thor says with a shrug. “I think you’re just about the most interesting person I’ve met, Bruce.”

He smiles at him. Bruce’s heart skips a beat. He can’t tell if it’s because of the eye contact or the fact that they’re in close proximity. Maybe both.

“You wanna go on a date after all this?” Bruce blurts out.

He does. And as soon as he says it, he kind of regrets it because they’re in a car with glittery silver interior seats and he’s also in pants that have seen better days, and his hair is a Mess.

(Also self-esteem issues, but Bruce is used to that so he’s not counting it.)

“Like, after we get home or when the government gives up on finding you?”

“I don’t know. Whichever one comes first?”

“Technically, I think I count as army jurisdiction, and military budget is a fountain of money.”

“Ah. Then home it is. How do you feel about ordering in?”

“Mm, sounds good,” Bruce says, grinning. “You’re the best.”

“Well, I certainly try,” Thor says, grinning right back. “You wanna go to Betty and Val’s shower together?”

“Yes. Do we have to amend our ‘how-we-met’ story?”

“Not at all. Valkyrie used to run an underground fight ring. She knows the feeling.”

“How has that not come up in conversation?”

“We were kind of preoccupied trying to figure out what a Chrysler car looked like.”

“Oh, true.”

At the wedding party, Bruce and Thor are very happy. Betty and Val roll their eyes and laugh as they talk.

“Leave it to my dad to ruin everything,” Betty gripes.

“Well he didn’t ruin this party or my meeting Thor,” Bruce defends. “Besides, you know what happens if he steps a foot near you.”

Betty grins.

“You serious?”

“Can’t promise you’ll get your security deposit back, but yes.”

Betty pulls him into a hug.

“You’re too sweet to me.”

“Yeah, tell me that after he steps on the limousine.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry,” Thor says, grinning. “I think Tony has some sort of security feature worked in.”

“Oh, he does,” Val says. “He’s threatened to pull some of the contracts for safety gear. Won’t go through with it, but Ross can’t touch the wedding. Best gift ever.”

When the party gets late, Thor and Bruce are sitting out on the porch. Clean-up is happening, and they’re taking a break. Thor thinks that Bruce has never looked more beautiful in a rumpled yellow shirt, soft lights making his face glow.

“I’m glad I met you,” Thor murmurs, moving a stray curl.

“Really?” Bruce asks, smiling softly. “I think I’m glad I met you too.”

Bruce grins behind his door when they make it home. Thor had kissed him on the cheek, and while that wasn’t too big of a deal, it was a big deal to him.

“See you in the morning, dear,” Thor had told him.

He was going to be up half the night with that line running through his head.

A lot of people do a lot of things for love. Bruce still wouldn’t walk through flames, or swim across an entire ocean, but he’s starting to understand.

#lovelyirony writes #GOD. this was supposed to be sad and now it isn't only because i had a funnie thought #thorbruce #bruce banner #thor #tony stark #betty ross #valkyrie #OF COURSE I PUT A RAREPAIR SHIP IN THERE WHAT ELSE WOULD I HAVE DONE?#valbetty #idk what the ship is called but i like #thor is In Love #Bruce is Awkard but u know what. okay #go him #best line is about the chrysler

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

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National Enquirer, March 15

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Tiger Woods' car crash

Page 2: Bruce Springsteen has beaten the DUI charges leveled against him after federal prosecutors couldn't find a drop of evidence he had been drinking over the legal limit -- with an acceptable blood alcohol level of 0.02 well below the 0.08 threshold at the time of his arrest in Sandy Hook, New Jersey, prosecutors backed off two of their charges for drunken and reckless driving -- the rocker did plead guilty to a third charge, admitting he had two small shots of tequila on federal parkland and for that, he was fines $500 plus $40 in court costs

Page 3: Patrick Dempsey's dreamy return to Grey's Anatomy was a big hit with fans but his well-received cameo left series star Ellen Pompeo seething with jealousy -- Ellen may have permitted Patrick to revisit his old stomping grounds in Meredith Grey's fever dreams in season 17 but she doesn't want him coming back permanently and swiping her hard-earned glory and she considers herself the anchor of the show and thought she was rid of this guy after making the show her own, but now fans are begging for him to be brought back and Ellen is furious -- it's no secret Ellen hated the first 10 years of the show when Patrick was the star and she feels the series got better after he left and she became a big-shot producer, something she'd been demanding for years -- she likes being in control and calling the shots and clearly thinks she got this deal on her merit alone but it's also because she's the star who's lasted the longest; most of the original cast had already left and bosses had to cave in to keep her -- unfortunately being in charge hasn't amounted to better ratings and show has been slipping consistently in recent years and the main reason they brought Patrick back on was to spike the ratings, which it did and now producers are considering offering Patrick a full-time gig but Ellen will do everything in her power to prevent Patrick from stealing her thunder again

Page 4: Home reno gurus Chip and Joanna Gaines are clashing over his wild spending, and she's desperate to rein him in before they land in the poorhouse -- Chip and Jo are rich on paper and worth $20 million in property and assets but they were hit hard by the pandemic like everyone else and recovery has been sluggish to say the least -- they're just getting back on their feet and under a ton of pressure to get their Magnolia network off to a running start but Chip, as usual, is casual when it comes to money and it frustrates Jo to see him buying things they don't need, like new tools and equipment when the old ones work just fine and overpaying on lumber and masonry -- Chip is always shopping and not always for the house; he's got a boot fetish and has dozens of pairs, plus he treats the crew to free cappuccino and treats from their coffeehouse several time a day and Chip wants the best of everything for himself and everyone else

* Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds are ready to welcome baby number four through adoption -- the couple who are parents of daughters James and Inez and Betty hope to find their next child in South America and they've invested time and money sponsoring immigrant children and they're warming up to the idea of providing an orphaned baby or toddler with a forever home -- a 16-year-old girl they sponsored through the Young Center for Immigrant Children's Rights was deported back to Honduras and they were heartbroken, and Blake and Ryan are now determined to provide a child with a happy home and opportunities he or she wouldn't have in their native country

Page 5: Newlyweds Pamela Anderson and Dan Hayhurst are itching to start a family and are already trying for a baby of their own -- 53-year-old Pam tied the knot with the 40-year-old handyman on Christmas Eve at her Vancouver Island home and she's been telling pals they hope to have happy news soon -- Pam wants to build a whole new clan with Dan and he's on board even though they each have kids with their exes and Dan's two kids from a previous relationship are living with the couple at Pam's pad -- the couple love the idea of adopting or going the surrogate route and it's not something they want to waste any time over

Page 6: Weary Kelly Clarkson is juggling her skyrocketing career and brutal divorce battle with estranged husband Brandon Blackstock on less than six hours sleep a night and Kelly has also been pushing to sell her homes in Nashville and Encino, while running her L.A.-based talk show and recording new music -- she's been running herself ragged for months and she's feeling the burn in a big way but despite her exhaustion, she can't sleep and nothing she tries works and the most shut-eye she catches is two, three hours at a time; she lays awake in bed at night worrying and crying

* Suddenly remorseful Kanye West has spiraled into depression and despair since soon-to-be ex-wife Kim Kardashian filed for divorce -- for all their problems, Kanye realizes she was the one person who was there for him whenever he went off the deep end and now he knows he's alone and seriously doubts he can hold his life together -- without Kim and her family to keep his wild impulses in check, he may succumb to the poor judgment and wild mood swings that have marked his chronic bipolar disorder as they were the ones who reminded him to take his meds and steer clear of recreational drugs and now all he has is a circle of yes-men he doesn't listen to anyway -- since the split, Kanye has shuttled between his ranch in Cody, Wyoming and a hotel in L.A. near the sprawling mansion he once shared with Kim and he's been blowing up her phone to beg forgiveness, but she won't take his calls and it's driving him off the deep end again

Page 7: Kourtney Kardashian is fed up with Shanna Moakler's online barbs and is plotting her revenge against the ex-wife of her new squeeze -- since Kourtney and Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker went public with their romance last month, former pageant queen Shanna has been throwing social media shade and Kourtney's tired of taking Shanna's crap and she's going to fire back soon and Kourtney's using her wide network of contacts in Hollywood to bad-mouth Shanna and she's placing calls to casting directors and perspective suitors to put as many potholes in her love rival's path as possible and she plans to make Shanna regret messing with her

Page 8: Nearly two years after Johnny Depp was forced to exit Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean franchise following ex-wife Amber Heard's allegations of abuse, the company has kicked him while he's down by considering her for a plum part -- Johnny is fuming over news that Amber is reportedly in contention to play fairy-tale heroine Rapunzel in the studio's upcoming live-action remake of Tangled -- for Amber to be in the running for a Disney pic is the ultimate insult to him especially because he believes the company made millions of dollars off his name

Page 9: Prince Harry and his wife Meghan Markle had a whopping $500 million motive to betray Queen Elizabeth -- outraged at being cut loose by the British royals, the couple retaliated by secretly negotiating backroom Hollywood megadeals and going public on TV -- Harry and Meghan see themselves as victims of an out-of-touch monarchy and want revenge and selling out Harry's family is the way to get it and cash in big-time; Meghan's convinced they'll have deals totaling $500 million by the end of the year but they better act fast because Hollywood is a fickle town where even royalty can be chewed up and spat out

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Amelia Hamlin stuck to the shore while pink-haired beau Scott Disick made waves in Miami, Steve Martin nibbled on a pretzel while filming Only Murders in the Building in NYC, Floyd Mayweather turned 44 and celebrated with a birthday bash in Miami, Bachelorette reject Tyler Cameron showed off his toned tummy in Florida

Page 11: Drew Barrymore feels deeply for dad-controlled Britney Spears because she's been there: she said her mom locked her away in a loony bin for over a year when she was just 13 -- Drew said it's hard to grow up in front of people and she empathizes with Britney and Paris Hilton and any star who can't escape the glare of celebrity -- Drew's mom put her in a place that was a full psychiatric ward and says she used to laugh at those Malibu 30-day places because she was in a place for a year and a half called Van Nuys Psychiatric and you couldn't mess around there and if you did, you would either get thrown in the padded room or put in stretcher restraints and tied up

* Eddie Murphy famously bragged he has never changed a diaper in his life despite having so many kids and now he's set on having another baby with fiancee Paige Butcher and this will make baby No. 11 for Eddie -- he says his genes are incredible as ever, so why stop; he's super fit and Paige is in amazing shape at age 41 and wants at least one more baby so they're going to go for it and are already trying

Page 12: Straight Shuter gossip column -- CNN could blitz news veteran Wolf Blitzer as the network revamps its lineup and TV is a young person's game and no one knows that better than Wolf and after 31 years at CNN, he sees new faces getting promoted and knows his days are numbered and Jim Acosta and Poppy Harlow are the future of CNN, not Wolf -- although Wolf's airtime has been cut as Jake Tapper's role expands, he isn't bitter or angry but instead he's grateful for an amazing run

* Love It or List It star Hilary Farr is moving on to her own show and leaving partner David Visentin in the dust -- Hilary's new show is basically the same one she and David have been doing for years, with him edited out and David was blindsided by the news and he knows HGTV has sent out a casting notice for the new show and he's hurt and angry especially because Love It or List It hasn't been renewed yet

* Sacked Dancing with the Stars host Tom Bergeron has reached out to Chris Harrison after he stepped away from The Bachelor amid a racist scandal -- Tom wasn't fired over a scandal, but he knows exactly what Chris is going through because both of them thought they had a job for life, but nothing lasts forever -- Tom is a good guy and wants Chris to know he's around if Chris needs anything

* Tom Felton, who played Draco Malfoy in the Harry Potter films, spruced up for the camera (picture)

Page 13: Brooke Shields isn't letting a busted leg keep her down but she's taking her recovery one step at a time -- she shared an Instagram video showing her cautiously hobbling on crutches and explained she broker her femur and she was beginning to mend -- she didn't reveal what caused the unlucky break

* Outspoken actress Rose McGowan is living a charmed life in Mexico and the Harvey Weinstein accuser has headed south of the border and vows never to return to the United States -- she got her permanent residency card from Mexico and is grateful to have it and says it's a really healing land and it is truly magical -- she moved at the dawn of the COVID-19 pandemic because she knew it was going to get really bad in America and she had a moment to figure out where she wanted to be

* Picky perfectionist Blake Shelton listens to around 300 songs to choose what to record for each of his albums, according to his longtime producer -- music pro Scott Hendricks said he wades through nearly 3000 tracks by professional songwriters to select tunes for Blake to consider and then Blake methodically whittles down the nominees until he's certain which songs he wants to record but Scott admitted that process is more difficult for him culling the 300 from the 3000 -- Scott, who has worked with Blake for most of his career, said of their close professional relationship that the chemistry works and they have recorded several hundred or more songs together and they are getting ready to go do some more

Page 14: Crime

Page 15: Killer kingpin Joaquin "El Chapo" Guzman's busted beauty queen bride will be marked for death behind bars -- if Emma Coronel Aispuro snitches to the feds about the bloodthirsty Mexican Sinaloa drug cartel long run by her caged husband, she'll put a big fat bulls-eye on her back -- according to a federal complaint, Coronel was intimately involved in her husband's multibillion-dollar drug-running racket and acted as his criminal agent while he was on the lam and the mother of El Chapo's two young daughters helped mastermind her spouse's daring 2015 tunnel escape from a Mexican prison and also paid him $100,000 for another failed bust-out a year later -- they are going to put the heat on her to spill more details on other top operatives in the cartel and take them down, too, but if she spills, it will be open season on her on the inside

Page 16: Dr. Dre appears to rap about estranged wife Nicole Young in a song filled with angry, explicit lyrics calling someone in his life a greedy bitch -- DJ Silk previewed part of a new track from Dre full of digs presumably at Nicole, with whom he has been locked in a nasty divorce -- his lyrics include: Trying to kill me with them lies and that perjury/ I see you trying to f--k me while I'm in surgery / In ICU death bed on some money s--t / Greedy bitch take a pic / Girl you know how money get

* Hollywood Hookups -- Lorenzo Lamas is set to wed for the sixth time to model Kenna Scott, Justin Hartley and Chrishell Stause are officially divorced, Adam Rippon is engaged to Jussi-Pekka Kajaala

Page 17: Former Home Improvement kid Zachery Ty Bryan has pleaded guilty to two felony counts of domestic violence -- Zachery, now 39, has been sentenced to three years of probation and will also have to take part in a batterer intervention program

* John Mayer has dated a succession of famous singers including Katy Perry, Taylor Swift and Halsey and he hopes they write chart-topping songs about him and admitted he'd be jazzed if his exes enshrined him in song, saying sometimes a song is so good he hopes it's about him and he even scours their lyrics for clues -- Taylor already has several tracks that have been linked to John including Dear John

* Ruthless chef Gordon Ramsay said he's cooked up his own plan to keep his kids humble -- he has five kids with wife Tana: Megan, twins Holly and Jack, Tilly and Oscar but said he plans to leave most of his reported $200 million fortune to charity -- Gordon explained his kids must tidy up after dinners, can only fly coach and are expected to learn how to cook for themselves and he's forbidden them from taking costly taxis and the foulmouthed foodie insisted they don't swear

Page 18: American Life

Page 19: Roseanne Barr was blindsided by a humiliating new scandal after risque photos from the early '90s recently emerged which appear to show her teenage daughters licking her boobs -- Roseanne posed for the shots with her two youngest girls at a Glamour Shots studio in Iowa more than 25 years ago and the photographer who claimed he snapped the fake lesbian lovefest but did not want to be named dished Roseanne and daughters Jessica and Jennifer who are now in their mid-40s happily hammed it up for the camera but decades later Roseanne and her daughters are all mortified and embarrassed by these pics; they were horsing around years ago and never thought they'd see the light of day

Page 20: Cover Story -- Still recovering from agonizing back surgery, Tiger Woods was pushing himself to the limit when he flew off a California cliff into a career-crushing car accident -- lawmen said the golf legend was lucky to be alive after the horrific wreck that shattered his right leg -- the accident only added to Tiger's physical problems; his movement has been restricted since a fifth back operation in December and he was unable to play golf despite an appearance at a local tournament the weekend before the bloody wreck -- at a press conference days before cheating death, Tiger admitted he was worried about his physical condition and his ability to play again, saying a lot of it is based on his surgeons and doctors and therapist and making sure he does it correctly and he doesn't have a lot of wiggle room left -- Tiger could barely move, and it seemed to get him down and his back rehab has been brutal and he was hobbling around and distraught but he refused to give into his condition and his tough-as-nails mindset could have contributed to the crash: when a person is overwhelmed by physical pain, that dominates everything they do and if you're behind the wheel of a car and in physical pain, it can distract you and likely lead to this kind of disaster -- Tiger was eager to get to a TV taping on the morning disaster struck and he seemed impatient when he left the Terranea Resort in Rancho Palos Verdes, an L.A. suburb, just after 7 a.m. and although traffic cameras show he was driving within the speed limit, his Genesis GV80 SUV crossed the center median onto the opposite side of the road and flipped -- authorities said Tiger appeared lucid to first responders and there were no signs the recovering addict was under the influence of alcohol or drugs and they did not request a blood test when Tiger was rushed to the hospital from the crash site and the incident was an accident -- Tiger was taken to nearby Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, where doctors said his broken bones protruded through his right leg and they put a rod in his leg and used screws and pins to stabilize the break and his ankle -- it will take three to four months to heal and then eight months of physical therapy and it is unlikely he will ever run again and he may have a limp and in terms of golf, just walking for extended periods of time will be a big deal and recovery will be agonizing; it's a very real possibility that Tiger's taken his final swing

Page 21: Addiction experts warned Tiger Woods' recovery will test his sobriety after his stint in rehab for prescription painkiller use and it is very, very common for a patient in recovery to relapse after a trauma like the one suffered by Tiger and exposure to painkillers administered directly or prescribed after a physical trauma is highly likely to trigger a relapse -- Tiger will probably need painkillers to get through this, but he'll also need to be connected with like-minded people to keep him away from his old thinking that pills are the solution to his problems

Page 22: Desperate Ghislaine Maxwell has offered to renounce her British and French citizenships in a new bid to get out of jail -- the disgraced socialite's last two stabs at freedom including one package offering $22.5 million as bond money were rejected by a judge who deemed her a flight risk -- now according to her lawyers, Ghislaine will formally commence the procedure to renounce her foreign citizenship to satisfy any concerns the court may have that she may try to seek a safe haven in France or the U.K. -- Justice Department officials were concerned Ghislaine would flee to France, where she was born, since the country has no extradition treaty with the U.S.

* Woody Allen claimed his own words are being used to attack him in the bombshell Allen v. Farrow documentary -- Woody has repeatedly denied adopted daughter Dylan Farrow's claims he sexually abused her when she was seven at her mom Mia Farrow's home -- Woody blasted the documentary which rehashes the claims as a shoddy hit piece and a hatched job riddled with falsehoods adding the filmmakers stole from his autobiography

Page 26: Twice-divorced Ricki Lake's engagement to California attorney Ross Burningham has insiders fearing she may suffer yet another heartbreak -- she announced her happy news on Instagram but Ricki has seen far more than her share of bad luck in the romance department and everyone is praying this final shot at love doesn't end in despair and it's never Ricki's fault, but she's never found a man who could keep her happy

Page 28: A lurid landscape of drug-fueled orgies, suicidal thoughts and fake sexual enthusiasm will play out in a new television series based on model and reality star Holly Madison's X-rated confessions from her shocking 2015 biography Down the Bunny Hole -- Madison first exposed the sleazy details of how she and other young women were plied with drugs and coerced to participate in sex parties with Playboy founder Hugh Hefner in exchange for acting as his girlfriends and getting to live inside the iconic L.A. mansion along with a weekly $1000 stipend -- the limited series will star actress Samara Weaving as Holly, who was a member of Hef's harem between 2001 and 2008 -- Holly, Kendra Wilkinson and Bridget Marquardt became the notorious stars of the reality show The Girls Next Door which debuted in 2005 and focused on their seemingly glamorous life with Hef but glossed over the dark secrets behind the scenes -- in her bombshell confessions, Holly revealed the 22-bedroom manor was actually a foul pigsty filled with stained mattresses where Hef's live-in ladies were forced to perform weird bedroom rituals and look excited by it

Page 29: Jack Osbourne has listed his sprawling California home for rent at $16,500 a month -- the 35-year-old son of Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne is offering the five-bedroom, 5600-square-foot home in Studio City unfurnished -- Sharon was recently seen outside the home with moving vans helping Jack prep the property -- Jack, who suffers from multiple sclerosis, bought the home in 2014 when he was married to Lisa Stelly; the couple divorced in 2018 and share three children: Andy, Pearl and Minnie

* Heidi Klum has snipped all threads tying her to dad Gunther Klum after the cosmetics and modeling honcho skipped her wedding -- Heidi dumped her manager dad after he snubbed her August 2019 ceremony in Capri with guitarist Tom Kaulitz of the band Tokio Hotel and she has also ended her German enterprise Heidi Klum GmbH, originally overseen by Gunther -- Heidi and her dad had a falling out over Tom and Gunther never really approved of him and was dead set against the marriage and it drove a wedge in their relationship

Page 32: Health Watch

* Ask the Vet -- an African Gray Parrot with a feather-picking problem

Page 34: Barack Obama broke a buddy's nose over a racist remark -- he revealed the two classmates were playing basketball when his friend hurled a racial slur and he popped him in the face and broke his nose, Obama told Bruce Springsteen on their podcast Renegades: Born in the USA -- Obama said he doesn't think his pal even knew what the word meant, just that it was meant to be hurtful

* Country singer Keith Urban has shrunk to 140 pounds as the former addict is hooked on a bizarre diet of nuts and berries and even worse, the five-foot-ten crooner appears to be growing thinner and friends are worried the stress of his demanding career and his desperate desire to be a good husband to Nicole Kidman may push him over the edge -- no one sees him eating much more than handfuls of raw almonds or sunflower seeds and berries washed down with gallons of water -- though he's been sober since 2006, pals fear the struggle to avoid giving in to temptation as well as hearing Nicole purportedly mended fences with ex-hubby Tom Cruise may be weighing on the star -- despite his bony appearance, Keith thinks he looks great

Page 40: Evil ISIS terrorists are using the COVID-19 pandemic as cover while they rebuild their network and mastermind new attacks and both Iraq and the U.S. are in their crosshairs -- because the West has been focused on dealing with the pandemic, ISIS and new groups sprung from their shattered forces have been reloading and plotting revenge, according to Ryan Mauro of the terrorist-monitoring Clarion Intelligence Network -- the pandemic has brought decreased confidence in Western governments, which has emboldened the terrorists to launch sleeper cell attacks on foreign soil

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Anya Taylor-Joy

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daydreamerdrew · 8 months

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The Incredible Hulk (1968) #269

#so Rick’s defense of the Hulk here is immediately undercut by his envisioning of a good outcome being Bruce’s mind in the Hulk’s body #but that itself is interesting because is framed as not coming from a place of concern about the Hulk directly #but anxiety about Rick’s own identity and place in the world when he’s defined himself as the Hulk’s sidekick #his daydream values the Hulk only for his strength and wants to combine that with Bruce’s intelligence #there’s nothing about the Hulk’s personality that’s brought up when thinking about the Hulk’s right to live #and then at the end of the issue he tries to turn himself into a Hulk and says then that it's fine for Bruce to be cured #really making it clear that he was not actually concerned about the Hulk #I really do think that the fact that the Hulk isn’t intelligent makes the idea of eradicating him a lot more palatable #not just from the problems that causes but that it devalues him in people's eyes both in and out of universe #no he does not have a right to live because other people are clearly worth more #and I like that Rick is falling into that because I really don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t #like Jim Wilson is the one that I think actually understands and likes the Hulk and supports him for that reason #whereas Rick is motivated by his debt to Bruce #and I like that Betty is coming out and saying that she’s against Bruce identifying with the Hulk #I honestly prefer her disliking the Hulk over her liking him #because again it doesn't really make sense for her to feel positively about him #I like that the narration describes Bruce as ‘thoroughly obsessed with himself’#and that Bruce couldn’t even give Betty a nice moment out in the desert without freaking out #it’s been a while since Bruce and Betty have been in a relationship so it’s good to see that drama again #to think that I was frustrated with Rick and Betty’s return to the book #because I thought the approach to their feelings about the Hulk and this arc about trying to cure Bruce was simplistic #I've been in a bit of a slump with my Hulk readings but I genuinely think the Hulk's 'friends' treating him poorly is turning that around #because I really like this #marvel #bruce banner #betty ross #rick jones #my posts #comic panels

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northoftheroad · 3 years

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The very large, extended Bat-family

“Batmans Greatest Case”. Detective Comics # 1000. By Tom King, art Tony S. Daniel and Joëlle Jones.

As of April 2019, this is the latest Bat-family photo (disregarding the inconsistencies about the characters current suits and whereabouts and relationships...) But have you seen the earlier Bat-family portraits – and do you know all the people Batman has had as partners or protégés? If not, read on for a list of people (vigilantes or people permitted in the cave, so no police officers) that Batman has trained and/or worked with in Gotham.

Art by Norm Breyfogle (early 1990s).

Art by Dick Giordano (late 1960s or 1970s´).

Art by Sheldon Moldoff (early 1960s).

(The date mentioned in the following list is the character’s first appearance in DC, it’s not always in connection with Batman.)

Dick Grayson (Robin, Nightwing, Batman, Agent 37). Cover date is April but the issue was released March 5, 1940 (source: heykidscomics.fandom.com)

Batman: Prelude to the wedding. Nightwing vs Hush. By Tim Seeley, art Travis G. Moore.

Selina Kyle (Catwoman). Spring, 1940.

”Claws of the Catwoman.” Batman # 42. By Bill Finger, art Charles Paris.

Basil Karlo (Clayface). June 1940.

Used to be a villain, but has worked with Batman’s team in Detective Comics recently.

Detective Comics # 942. By Steve Orlando and James Tynion IV, art Andy MacDonald.

Alfred Beagle/Pennyworth. April 1943.

Alfred’s first surname was Beagle. That Alfred was later explained as the Alfred of Earth-Two, the universe of the DC Golden age stories (though we have seen Golden age stories being canon in the main DC universe, too). On Earth-Two, Bruce and Selina married and had a daughter, Helena. Dick continued as Robin as an adult. Alfred was first called Pennyworth in November 1969.

”Here comes Alfred.” Batman vol 1 # 16. By Don Cameron, art Bob Kane, Jerry Robinson, George Roussos.

Nightwing vol 2 # 86. By Devin Grayson, art Patrick Zircher, Andy Owens, Sean Parsons.

Dinah Drake Lance/Laurel Lance (Black Canary). August 1947.

Member of the Birds of Prey and Justice Leauge. The Golden age Black Canary was, at least for a while, considered the current Black Canary’s mother but I’m not sure what the story is after Flashpoint.

Birds of Prey # 22. By Chuck Dixon, art Butch Guice and Bill Sienkiewicz.

Jimmy. December 1948.

A blind boy that Batman trained in secret for one adventure, making Dick fear that he was going to be replaced.

”The Second Boy Wonder”. Batman # 50. Art Bob Kane, Lew Sayre Schwartz, Charles Paris.

Ace. June 1955.

”Ace, the Bat-Hound.” Batman # 92. By Bill Finger, art Sheldon Moldoff and Stan Kaye.

John Vance (Batman, Junior). May 1956.

A schoolboy who witnessed a crime. Since his parents were away, Batman blindfolded him and took him to the Batcave and put him in a suit to hide his identity while Batman went after the criminals.

“Batman, Junior.” In Detective Comics # 231. By Edmond Hamilton, art Sheldon Moldoff and Charles Paris.

Kathy Kane (Batwoman). July 1956.

Kathy Kane has been re-installed as the original Batwoman but with a different backstory. She is related by marriage to Kate Kane.

”The Batwoman”. Detective Comics # 233. By Edmond Hamilton, art Sheldon Moldoff and Stan Kaye.

Betty Kane (Batgirl). April 1961.

Post-Crisis on Infinite Earths the original Batgirl was reimagined as Bette Kane. As far as I know, Bette was never Batgirl or worked with Batman. In different continuities, she has used the aliases Flamebird, Pleve and Hawkfire.

”Bat-Girl”. Batman # 139. By Bill Finger, art Sheldon Moldoff and Charles Paris.

Barbara Gordon (Batgirl, Oracle). January 1967.

Detective Comics # 359. By Gardner Fox, cover art Carmine Infantino, Murphy Anderson, Ira Schnapp.

Julia Remarque/Pennyworth (Penny-Two, Tuxedo One). April 1981.

Alfred’s daughter. Pre-Crisis she was a journalist and for a while romantic interest for Bruce. After Rebirth, she was reimagined as a British reconnaissance agent who for a while coordinated the Bat-family’s work.

Batman # 395. By Doug Moench, art Tom Mandrake.

Jason Todd (Robin, Red Hood). March 1983.

Batman # 368. By Doug Moench, cover art Ed Hannigan, Dick Giordano, Anthony Tollin.

Tatsu Yamashiro (Katana). July 1983.

Sometime member of the Outsiders and the Birds of Prey.

Who’s Who: The Definite Directory of the DC Universe # 12. Art by Jim Aparo.

Onyx Adams (Onyx). January 1985.

Nightwing # 97. By Devin Grayson, art Mike Lilly and Andy Owens.

Helena Bertinelli (Batgirl, Huntress, Matron). April 1989.

When Helena Bertinelli was introduced she was based on Earth-Two Helena Wayne, daughter of Bruce and Selina Kyle, and who was wiped from existence by Crisis of Infinite Earths. The original Earth-Two Helena Wayne made her first appearance in November/December 1977; she was re-introduced in New 52 on Earth-2, one of the 52 universes in the new DC multiverse. Together with the Power Girl of Earth-2, she somehow ended up on Prime-Earth. Don’t ask me if/where she is now.

Nightwing/Huntress # 1. By Devin Grayson, art Greg Land and Bill Sienkiewicz.

Tim Drake (Robin, Red Robin). August 1989.

Robin vol 4 # 0. By Chuck Dixon, art Tom Grammet and Ray Kryssing.

Harold Allnut. December 1989

Lived in the Batcave and served as technological aide; one of the things he designed was the fingerstripe Nightwing suit.

Batman # 458. By Alan Grant, art Norm Breyfogle and Steve Mitchell.

Nightwing vol 1 # 2. By Dennis O’Neil, art Greg Land and Mike Sellers.

Ace. May 1991.

Batman # 465. By Alan Grant, art Norm Breyfogle and Steve Mitchell.

Stephanie Brown (Spoiler, Robin, Batgirl). June 1992.

Robin # 126. By Bill Willingham, art Damion Scott.

Jean-Paul Valley (Azrael, Batman). October, 1992.

Batman # 500. By Doug Moench, art Jim Aparo and Terry Austin.

Detective Comics # 668. By Chuck Dixon, art Graham Nolan and Scott Hanna.

Cassandra Cain (Batgirl, Kasumi, Black Bat, Orphan). July 1999.

Batman and Robin Eternal # 26. By Scott Snyder and James Tynion IV, art Scot Eaton, Carlo Pagulayan, Igor Vitorino, Marc Deering, Wayne Faucher, Jason Paz.

Sasha Bordeaux. (Black Kings Bishop, Black Queen). December 2000.

The 10 cent adventure. By Greg Rucka, art Rick Burnett and Klaus Janson.

Gavin King (Orpheus). October 2001.

Detective Comics # 797. By Andersen Gabrych, art Pete Woods and Nathan Massengill.

Kate Kane (Batwoman). June 2006.

Batman vol 3 # 7. By Steve Orlando and Tom King. Art Riley Rossmo.

Damian Wayne (Robin, Redbird). September 2006.

A reinterpretation of the unnamed child in the, at the time, non-canon graphic novel ”Batman: Son of the Demon” from 1987.

Batman and Robin vol 1 # 1. By Grant Morrison, cover art Frank Quitely.

Harper Row (Bluebird). March 2012 (as an unnamed woman, September 2011).

Batman and Robin Eternal # 26. By Scott Snyder and James Tynion IV, art Scot Eaton, Carlo Pagulayan, Igor Vitorino, Marc Deering, Wayne Faucher, Jason Paz.

Calvin Rose (Talon). November 2012.

Talon # 5. By Scott Snyder and James Tynion IV, art Guillem March.

Luke Fox (Batwing). June 2013.

Batwing # 9. By Judd Winick, art Marcus To and Ryan Wynn.

Duke Thomas (Lark, Signal). August 2013.

”Batman’s greatest case.” In Detective Comics # 1000. By Tom King, art Tony S. Daniel and Joëlle Jones.

Claire and Henry Clover (Gotham Girl and Gotham). July 2016.

Batman vol 3 # 1. By Tom King, cover art David Finch and Matt Banning.

Ace. January 2017.

Batman vol 3 # 33. By Tom King, art Joëlle Jones and Jordie Bellaire.

#Batman #batfamily #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Robin

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starryknight09 · 3 years

Text

Unforeseen dangers ch. 8

Summary: As Peter recovers from his capture by Ross, a photo of him with Tony and the Avengers leaks and is splashed all across the media. Luckily, no one can figure out who he is and everyone thinks the buzz will die down. However, the public’s interest has been ignited. While Tony worries it’s only a matter of time before Peter’s identity is exposed, Peter isn’t as concerned. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Read on AO3.

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“And the end result is H2O2.” Mr. Eldridge said as he finished writing the chemical reaction on the chalkboard. He was the only teacher that still insisted on using a tool from ancient times instead of switching to the less messy whiteboard. “Any questions?”

Betty raised her hand and Peter and Ned shared a knowing look. She always had a question.

“Yes Betty?” Mr. Eldridge asked. Even the teacher couldn’t keep the slight exasperation out of his voice.

“So, when we’re balancing the equation—”

“Peter Parker report to the office please. Peter Parker to the office.” The overhead speaker interrupted.

“Dude, what’d you do?” Ned whispered.

Peter frowned. “Nothing. I don’t think?”

“Peter.” Mr. Eldridge prompted. “It appears you’re needed in the office.”

“Um, yes sir.” He mumbled and hurriedly grabbed his things, trying to ignore the buzz of the class around him as they whispered about him.

“Way to go Penis.” Flash hissed as he walked by.

Peter glared back. Apparently Happy’s threat at the beginning of the year was starting to wear off.

“All right everyone settle down. Settle down.” Mr. Eldridge said. “Now Betty, what was your question?”

The door closed behind Peter before he could hear whatever she’d been about to ask. That was one small blessing at least. He loved chemistry, but the class bored him to death since he’d known how to balance equations since early middle school. He tried not to complain too much, though, because at least it was an easy A.

Instead of walking straight to the office, he stopped by his locker and grabbed his backpack, stashing all his homework and books into it, before shouldering it and slamming his locker door shut. Chemistry was his last class of the day this semester and he had no plans to return for any more brain numbing torture after he was done with whatever this thing was.

He still had absolutely no idea why he was being called down to the office. Without meaning to, his mind drifted to the last time this had happened, when he’d been tricked by Ross’s man into leaving with him and getting kidnapped. That definitely wasn’t happening again. He didn’t care if the president himself showed up and said he wanted to take him out of school. He was never leaving with someone he didn’t absolutely trust again.

It only took him a couple minutes to finish walking the short distance to the office. Once he was outside the door, he pushed it open without hesitation, but the sight that greeted him made him stop up short in the doorway.

Tony stood there, dressed in a white AC/DC t-shirt and black pants along with a suit jacket and red tinted sunglasses. His dad’s appearance at his school would be surprising enough, since only Morita knew of their relationship, but he wasn’t alone. Steve stood next him in khakis and a polo, looking grave, along with a nervous appearing Bruce in his usual jeans and purple button up ensemble.

“Oh good, Peter you’re here.” The secretary said as soon as she noticed him. “I was just about to call for you again.” She gave him a smile before addressing Tony, “He’s been all signed out, so he’s free to go.”

Tony gave her a nod.

“Uh…what-what’s going on? Is this something to do with the uh internship, um, Mr. Stark?” Peter stammered, catching himself from sounding too familiar at the last minute. He surreptitiously glanced at the receptionist, hoping she hadn’t noticed, but it didn’t seem like it. She was still staring at him with a weird, almost knowing, smile.

As his gaze swept back toward Tony, Peter noticed Principal Morita was there as well, standing in the doorway to his office with his arms crossed. Peter couldn’t read his face, but he didn’t seem too shocked to have three Avengers in his school. But then again, he had met Tony before.

“You don’t need to do that, kid. The cat’s out of the bag.” Tony said and stepped forward to squeeze his shoulder.

“What? What cat?” Peter looked past his dad to Bruce and Steve for any clue as to what his dad was talking about and how he was supposed to play this, but they both remained silent.

“You haven’t been on the internet recently? Or Tweeter? Or whatever it is your generation does these days?”

“It’s Twitter.” Peter automatically correctly. “And no. Mr. Eldridge has a really strict no phones policy in his classroom.”

Tony nodded and took a breath as if to bolster himself for what he was about to say.

“Why? What happened?” Peter asked, suddenly envisioning worst case scenarios. “Did someone get hurt? Oh god, did someone—”

“No no. Nothing like that.” Tony interrupted as he shook his head.

“Ok… Then what-why are you here?” Peter frowned.

“Listen.” Tony took his sunglasses off with a sigh and looked him in the eyes. “There’s no easy way to say this, but someone, somehow, and believe me I’m going to find out who, leaked your identity to the press. The news broke half an hour ago.”

He froze and his eyes widened. The first thought that crossed his mind was that his dad was talking about his superhero identity, but after a second he realized that wasn’t it. His dad was talking about his civilian identity. His identity as Tony Stark’s son, which meant…the whole world knew who Peter Parker was now.

“Oh.” He didn’t even know what else to say. His thoughts raced but all he could do was blink up at his dad.

Luckily, Tony seemed to understand his mental state. “Sorry buddy. I know this is less than ideal.”

“I just thought we’d have more time.” He said softly.

“Me too.” Tony nodded and let out a heavy sigh. “But we don’t. So, what we have to do now is get you out of here and then we’ll go from there. All right?”

Peter nodded.

“Ok. First, put these on.” Tony handed him his red tinted sunglasses.

He took them with a frown. “Why?”

“Because.” His dad said. “Trust me, they’ll help.”

Peter slid them on, confused.

“Ready?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded and heard Steve answer, “Ready.”

He looked over and watched as Bruce gave his dad a nod too.

Oh. Peter realized Tony hadn’t been talking only to him, but to Steve and Bruce as well.

“Ok, let’s go.” Tony said and headed for the door. Peter followed, Steve and Bruce right behind him.

“Thanks Jim.” Tony called out over his shoulder as he pulled on the door handle.

“No problem Mr. Stark. Good luck.” Principal Morita replied.

“I’m sure we’ll be in touch.” Tony said and stepped out. As soon as they were in the hallway, he wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter could feel the pent up tension in his body. “I can’t believe this place doesn’t have a back exit.” His dad mumbled under his breath as he led them down the hallway toward the front doors.

Peter frowned.

When they got about fifteen feet from the doors, his dad stopped and peeled off his suit jacket while Steve took a few steps in front of them and Bruce stayed behind. Before Peter could ask what was going on, Tony draped his jacket over Peter’s head and shoulders, so Peter could still see out, but barely.

“Keep your head down until we get to the car.” Tony ordered.

“What? Wait. Why? What’s going on?” Peter finally asked, pulling the jacket off his head. None of this was making any sense to him.

Tony blinked and seemed to check himself with a small shake of his head. “I’m sorry kid. I figured you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Everyone knows who you are now.” Tony said slowly as if Peter might not have understood it the first time.

“Yeah I know. You said that.” Peter mumbled, still not quite getting it.

“Think about it. They know who you are, so how hard do you think it was for them to figure out where you go to school?” Tony explained slowly.

Peter’s eyes widened as he finally realized what his dad was trying to tell him.

“It looks like the red carpet out there.” Tony added with a wince.

“Oh.” That was a lot to process.

“Yeah.” Tony said with an aggrieved sigh. “You’re a Stark now, kid. Sorry.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. He glanced back toward the doors and now he could see faint flashes of light through the frosted windows, probably cameras. He suddenly felt kind of sick.

Tony gripped his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I’m going to get you through this, ok? Just stay close to me. It’ll all be ok.”

Peter swallowed, his mouth dry. Right now it sure didn’t seem like it’d be ok.

“You ready?” His dad asked.

He nodded and tried to take a deep calming breath. He could do this. Spiderman did way harder things than this every day. It was just a stupid little crowd.

“Ok.” Tony said and made eye contact with Steve and Bruce. Peter realized then the reason they were here. For his protection. Besides Wanda and Vision, who’d gone off to Europe sometime after New Year’s, the Hulk and Captain America were two of the strongest Avengers.

Tony readjusted the suit jacket so it was over his head again and shielding his face as well as it could. Once his dad was satisfied with its position, he slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulled him tight to his side like he was trying to protect him.

“It’s going to be loud, but just remember, keep your head down until we get to the car. Ok?”

“Ok.” He whispered in response.

“Let’s go.” Tony said and they started walking, quickly closing the remaining distance to the doors. Peter could hear the cacophony of noise behind them now that he was listening for it. His dad was right. It was going to be loud.

They stopped at the doors and Steve touched his ear. “Sam? Clint? Rhodes? We all clear?”

Wow. Apparently more Avengers than just Bruce and Steve had come to get him.

“We’re clear.” Steve told Tony after a few seconds.

“Ok. Time to go. Straight to the car.” Tony said and Peter’s heart fluttered in trepidation.

“We’re coming out.” Steve said, pressing at the comm in his ear again.

Then he opened the door and they stepped out into absolute chaos.

Even with the sunglasses on and his face partially covered by his dad’s suit jacket, he was still blinded by all the camera flashes. And everyone was screaming. Questions. Accusations. It was like an all out assault upon his senses. His head spun with it, along with the realization that this was all for him. They were here to take his picture, not his dad’s or the Avengers. His breath caught in his throat and it took all his concentration to keep putting one foot in front of the other as his dad led him straight towards the car.

“Step aside. Let us through.” Steve said as they passed through the mob.

The distance to the car was only about thirty feet, but it felt like it took an eternity to cross it. Luckily, the crowd parted for them, but even so, Peter still got jostled.

“No comment.” Tony kept saying over and over again in his cold media voice as everyone yelled questions and screamed for his attention. His dad clutched him tighter, obviously trying to shield him from it all.

Out of the corner of his eye Peter could see the hordes of news hounds lined up, hoping to get a piece of him. A good picture of him right now would probably be worth a pretty penny. No doubt that was the reason Tony had tried to keep him as covered up and as hidden as possible. The thought made his gut churn. This was worse than anything he’d imagined when he’d thought about what it’d be like to be outed as Tony’s son. Was getting in and out of school going to be like this everyday?

Finally, they made it to the car. He heard Steve open the door and Tony ushered him in, Steve and Bruce following right behind. The door slammed shut with a definitive thud, and the commotion quieted slightly, but Peter could still hear it. Tony was quick to yank the jacket off his head, but he kept his arm wrapped around him.

“You good?” His dad asked, trying to peer down at him, but Peter was still pressed too tightly against his chest for him to really see.

He nodded. But it was a lie. He wasn’t good. He was so far from good it wasn’t even funny.

The car started moving, but at a glacial pace, with the horn honking every other second.

“Get out of the way asshole!” Happy yelled from the front and the horn blared again, a long three second squeal. Peter winced and glanced up. Happy was driving and Natasha sat in the passenger seat, twisted around to look back at them. When she caught him looking at her, she gave him a reassuring smile.

“Hey squirt, you ok?” She asked.

He just blinked at her.

“Peter?” His dad asked him with a nudge, trying to get him to sit up straighter so he could see his face.

“This is crazy.” He blurted out without thinking.

“Yeah it is.” His dad agreed and this time when he nudged him, Peter pulled away and sat up. “But you’re all right now. They can’t see through these windows.”

They were in his dad’s bulletproof Bentley with the deeply tinted windows. Outside there were people and more people as far as the eye could see. Peter recognized all the media crews with their official logos and huge cameras, but there were a lot of what looked like average people out there as well, holding up their phones in the hope of snapping a quick photo of him. The idea of some random stranger trying to take his picture seemed insane. He hadn’t done anything special, that they knew about anyway. He was just Peter. What was wrong with these people? How did his dad live like this?

Peter turned entreating eyes on him and asked, barely above a whisper, “What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know yet buddy, but I promise we’ll figure it out, ok?” Tony gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

He chewed on his lip and nodded. He wished he could pretend that his dad would be able to fix this like he fixed everything, and that everything would all go back to normal soon, but he knew that was a fantasy.

“Nothing’s ever going to be the same again, is it?” He asked. He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it spoken out loud.

“No.” His dad said, his regret evident. “It’s not.”

Peter sighed and let his head fall back against the seat. As he closed his eyes, he tried to ignore the fact that his entire life had just irrevocably changed in the span of a single afternoon.

#unforeseen dangers #ch 8

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angerissue · 4 years

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Anonymous asked… What is your take on Bruce Banner's love interest? Whether we’re mutuals or not, feel free to ask me about Bruce!

Oh, this is a good question, and something I haven’t discussed in months. Thanks for asking it!

This version of Bruce is hopelessly in love with Betty Ross. He’ll always love her, even if they’re miles apart, and both of them have moved on and dismissed the hopes of seeing each other again. Even if Bruce were to meet someone else, his feelings for her would remain in perpetuity.

I’ve written some headcanons with someone (she's no longer on tumblr, sadly) where Bruce and Betty met in a library during their university years, and the whole dynamic was very much a friends-to-romance one. Their earlier interactions were essentially the "study buddies" kind, and I imagine it was the combination of their shared work and interests, and the comfortability in talking about that stuff, that snowballed into other conversations and ultimately, a romantic relationship. And it continued up until Bruce's accident.

This pairing has always been very special to me because, unlike the others, Betty was the first person to see a far more vulnerable side of Bruce. Bruce has always been an extremely closed-off and reticent person; he hates revealing too much about himself because he feels this information could be abused somehow; that somebody would take issue with what he was telling them, just like how Brian would react vehemently whenever he watched educational children’s television shows, or played with certain toys. Betty was the first person that Bruce felt comfortable enough to open up to, in multiple manners. Not only would he discuss Brian with her (granted, sometimes he didn’t say much, but even dropping a few tiny mentions of Brian was huge for him), but he also felt like he could simply be himself around her. He didn’t need to keep his guard up around Betty like he did around other people. He was still sky, awkward, and nerdy around Betty, but he could voice his opinions more confidently in her presence. And the adaptation I've been writing with; she’s a slightly more modern version of the character — soft and gentle, but she has a temper of her own and a tangible boldness in certain situations, and it can be a subtle juxtaposition to Bruce’s own personality at times. It’s quite lovely.

There are other aspects of the relationship, here and there, that I also love. In "The Incredible Hulk" (2008), Betty could swear that she saw some aspect of Bruce in the Hulk, and Bruce refused to accept such a possibility at first, because he believed the Hulk was a sentient and autonomous being — a belief that had grown over the years, predominantly because of his immense guilt and an unconscious desire to reduce his sense of culpability. If the Hulk somehow wasn’t him, its destructive actions were no longer entirely his fault. But after the Chitauri invasion, at which point he was able to remember his actions as the Hulk, and self-assess his behaviour in that state, Bruce realized she was correct about everything. If it wasn’t for Betty and the statement she made, he may not have fully accepted the Hulk as a part of himself — as himself, and he would’ve been stuck in denial for years. Lots of his development can be attributed to Betty, even if they aren’t in touch anymore.

Not only this, but Bruce met Betty during a time where he hadn’t experienced all his hardships with Ross. He was nowhere near as world-weary, and while he didn’t trust people much back then, either, it was better than his tendencies nowadays. In that sense, Betty is one of his last few connections to the past, and a time when he was more hopeful and innocent.

But while Bruce can control his condition now, he hasn’t reconnected with Betty. She's been in the dark ever since the Harlem incident, save for glimpses of him on the news here and there.

Bruce does want to see Betty again. He would love to see her. But he’s made some personal discoveries related to his condition that convinced him he’s not a good fit for her, or anyone in general. He doesn’t see himself as completely human anymore, which has become even more of a tangible sentiment ever since his transformations became a typical and even daily occurrence. As a result, there are some philosophical quandaries that prevent him from resuming a romantic relationship with her, or with anyone else. Given his current development trajectory, he would be the Hulk almost constantly in later verses. It’s not an ideal scenario to create a potential relationship from — especially with Betty, because he’s unable to meet some of her needs when he's the Hulk. Additionally, he cannot guarantee Betty’s safety with Ross still around, because he doesn’t know if Ross is still looking for a way to capture him. He suspects there were times in the past when Ross backed off temporarily, like after the Chitauri invasion, because capturing the Hulk at that time would have caused a huge public outcry, but nowadays, he’s unsure where Ross’ intentions lie. He's unwilling to take the risk.

All this being said, Bruce doesn’t expect Betty to remain loyal to him, or vice versa, because he understands the necessity of moving on and not dwelling on the past. It would be melancholic if Bruce discovered that Betty had met someone new, yes (this was certainly the case with Leonard Samson), but ultimately, he would be happy for her, and he’d tell himself that his own feelings don’t matter if it means she’s content and safe. Of course, there is always the possibility that Banner could reach out with letters, or another kind of communication channel. And it's possible that if Ross was gone and the world was more settled, he would meet her in-person, even if he didn't intend to restart a romantic relationship. At that point, there’s nothing stopping them from sharing their work and collaborating professionally, too. This kind of interaction could eventually become the norm. But I don’t really see their relationship shifting to a romantic one again.

So I suppose in the end, I don’t see their relationship as having a cliché happy ending, in the sense that they end up together, are happily married, and are living in their own little cottage somewhere. I see it as a mature progression from young love, to a failed effort to make things work in a terrible situation, and then an acceptance of knowing, while their situation has improved, it’s still not going to work out. And they both have the courage to run with things and make the best of it. Betty would be understanding of Bruce’s situation, as she’s always been, and in concurrence, Bruce would be happy as well, because he knows Betty can have a romantic relationship with someone who completely presents as human. They can still work together too, which is a callback to how their relationship first began in the library. And it continues to build on all the trust and confidence they initially showed each other, and continued to show each other, over the years.

So it’s very bittersweet.

I’m also going to mention the pairing of Bruce and Natasha, because I need to assert that I do enjoy this ship! As a matter of fact, it’s something I’ve enjoyed for years and years. I was one of the wierdos who was shipping them soon after the release of The Avengers, earlier than most to the point where the tag was completely blank. I guess for me, there was something unique about their dynamic in The Avengers that stood out from Bruce’s other interactions. Natasha was ordered to approach the doctor in Kolkata, and at that point, she had seen the Hulk's capabilities in-person during her involvement in the Culver University incident. Her distrust of Bruce and his alter ego was justified, especially given her personal experiences with everything, and while it may (or may not) have lessened over the course of the film, Natasha clearly came to respect Bruce at the very least, and she understood the benefits of not only putting his intellect to good use, but the Hulk itself. During the final battle, Bruce had come on his own volition and was fully prepared to transform, but she still made the active effort to tell him the Hulk was valuable. Given her past experiences with the Hulk, this meant a lot coming from her. And it's clear this wasn't just a "tactical" choice on her part; if she didn't say anything, the outcome wouldn't have been any different. This was a nice way to end the film and create a foundation for their future development between them. If their relationship continued to open up, I could certainly see them developing feelings for each other.

But the next film... Eugh. I was gravely disappointed by the sudden schoolgirl-crush syndrome that Natasha was demonstrating, which was unrealistic in itself (I'll explain my reasoning in a bit), and the total handwaving of everything that led up to it, which ultimately did nothing but break Natasha’s character and make it difficult for most of the audience to accept what was happening. Because... What initially made Natasha go from having a reluctant admiration for him, to downright falling for him? We did not see the process, or the catalysts. They had jumped from Point A to Point Y, and we saw nothing of the points in between. So the whole thing immediately fell apart for me.

A common argument I see in defense of Natasha’s behaviour is, simply put, she’s in love, so it’s natural for her to act a little kooky. However, love doesn’t have the effect of completely negating deeply-ingrained character aspects, especially fundamental traits. And Natasha has many traits that are the complete antithesis of how she was behaving in that movie. It’s the same as seeing Christopher Nolan's Bruce Wayne, a normally close-mouthed and subtle character, gushing, nudging up to, and grinning like a little boy around Rachel Dawes. It doesn’t make sense... So why is it suddenly acceptable for Natasha?

In that sense, I could also presume that Natasha’s behaviour was Joss Whedon’s misogynistic projection of how he, himself, believes a woman in love should behave. There’s a real possibility, given how Natasha was characterized in earlier MCU films, versus how she was acting in this movie, that Whedon threw out her characterization in favour of playing out a fantasy; a stereotype. And unluckily for him, that stereotype (as the word itself implies) does not fit all people or characters. So it was noticeable, and not in a good way.

And honestly... I’m disappointed that this disaster has caused so many people to discount the ship as a whole, even though that film was simply one poor adaptation of it. People also tend to dismiss the pairing because they believe Bruce and Natasha are too different. But they both have trust issues. They both have experiences where they’ve been used for other peoples’ goals. Natasha has seen a very vulnerable and intimate side of Bruce that most people never have (that look he gave her before he transformed on the helicarrier, honestly, was completely unlike the self-composure he obsessively tried to convey in all their prior interactions)... And frankly, I'm sick of hearing about the “age gap” between them, because my aunt and uncle were twelve years apart, and they were happily married for decades. Not to mention, Bruce and Natasha have been through countless hardships, and they probably have a lot more common ground than many people with an “age gap”.

So if things were properly written? That would have been phenomenal, I think. The potential was certainly there in the first movie; it’s just a shame those foundations were ignored and not directly built on.

But that’s enough salt from me!

As for this Bruce in particular... I can see him having a relationship with Natasha in the earlier part of his timeline, before the Sokovia incident occurred. There would've been a lot of opportunities for their relationship to develop, especially because Bruce wasn't just working with the Avengers; he joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and was working on the same helicarrier as Natasha for around a year, too. He would've avoided her a lot, but I can easily see Natasha approaching him eventually, or them running into each other and trying to reconcile. Especially once Bruce remembers everything that happened during the helicarrier incident, and how scared Natasha was. He had offered Natasha a brief apology during the Chitauri invasion, but after those memories were dredged up, it would suddenly become insufficient.

But during or after the Sokovia incident, I doubt they would start a relationship with each other. This is simply because Natasha caused Bruce a lot of turmoil around this time, and afterwards. She betrayed his trust during the Sokovia battle by forcing him to transform, which also worsened an issue that Bruce was currently having with his condition. Her support of the Sokovia Accords didn't help either, because Bruce was vehemently against them from the very beginning, having seen Ross’ wish to exploit the Hulk’s abilities, and he feared this would continue on a much greater scale if the Accords were ratified, with hundreds (if not thousands) of identified superhumans now vulnerable. I hesitate to say Bruce will never trust Natasha again, but while he could probably reach a tentative comfortability around her, a romantic relationship might be asking too much. There’s simply too much negative history between them, a lot of which entails broken trust. And once Bruce’s trust in someone is broken, well, it’s monumentally difficult to restore.

#( answered. )#( headcanon. )#anonymous #bruce banner #thanks again!

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notquitecanon · 4 years

Text

Lauren Reynolds/ Marvel (Reader Insert) Pt. 5

TW: death, combat, guns, knives, fighting, blood, graphic description of violence and injury angst, arguing (if that counts)

This is Criminal Minds Season 6, Ep. 18, so if you haven’t gotten that far and don’t want it spoiled, maybe just move along, come back and read once you’ve finished season six.

Gonna be honest, I took Seaver out of this. I love her character, but she just kind of got in the way. Otherwise, most of this is the same as the episode, except where I either modified dialogue or switched around characters!

I wanted to use this chapter to show some relationships between the team, but I don’t think I did a very good job of it. Also you lowkey a badasss.

Part one Part Two Part Three Part 4

___

It took another hour's drive to get to Quantico. Anderson seemed to feel your unease, so he didn’t even attempt to make small talk, only driving faster. You were grateful for that. You were grateful for Steve, trying to cheer you up. But the anxiety was back, climbing up your throat like bile. You chewed on your thumbnail as you watched the scenery go by, wondering what would wait for you at the BAU.

As soon as you were brought into the building, you caught a beautifully familiar face. Sighing in relief, you rushed forward into a hug, “JJ.”

“They called in all their cards, huh?” She breathed, returning the embrace. You detached as you were ushered into an elevator.

“Any idea what this is about?” You asked, her lips pressed into a line. That wasn’t a good sign. The elevator dinged and opened up.

“We’re about to find out.” She muttered, giving your hand a squeeze as the two of you strided out of the elevator. The two of you walked into the BAU like you owned the place, she was wearing her Pentagon ID and your SHIELD badge was clipped delicately to your belt. Hotch was explaining the situation.

“I’ve reached out to two experts on the matter who can also shed light on Prentiss’ past.” He informed them, pinning what looked like Prentiss’ key card to the idea board. Reid’s head cocked to the side.

“Them.”

When Hotch nodded to you and JJ, every head swiveled to you. JJ held her head high, trying to hide her anxiety, while you just smiled at your team.

“Let’s get to work.”

Within 45 minutes, you and JJ had completely redone the ideas board. With her Pentagon connections and your SHIELD intel more and more blanks were being filled. Even with the advancement, every minute passed was another minute Prentiss was in danger.

“My contact only knew her history word of mouth. She assumed Lauren Reynold’s identity when undercover for Interpol. With them they profiled terrorists.” JJ explained, then you piped up.

“Interpol worked closely with SHIELD operatives for that. She was a part of a special task force called JTF-12.” You added, that information had actually come directly from Clint- who apparently worked several missions against the IRA and had a personal grudge with Ian Doyle. He offered to come in, but you told him to stay with his family.

“They were assembled after 9-11. CIA, SHIELD, and other Western Agencies assembled the best and brightest. As you may have heard, all sorts of people were recruited post 9/11. These were the same agencies that recruited Bruce Banner, Betty Ross, and tried to recruit Tony Stark.” You continued.

“Terrorists and Serial Killers profile different.” Derek pointed out. The roundtable nodded.

“How does Ian Doyle fit into this?” Spencer asked, eyebrows knitted fiercely together. You made a mental note to check in about his headaches later, but for the moment you just answered his question.

“Doyle was her task forces last target.” You filled him in, flipping the mission file onto your tablet. JJ nodded.

“And now the JTF is on his hit list. He’s already hit Jeremy Wolf, Sean McAlister, and Tsia Mosely.” She explained, motioning through photos. “And the team leader, Clyde Easter hasn’t checked in since Tsia’s murder and is currently presumed dead.”

“Did JTF make the arrest?” Hotch asked, and you answered.

“No, the host countries handled that so the team could move onto the next case. And so names wouldn’t be on paper.” You informed. Hotch’s face screwed up in confusion.

“If all they did was deliver a profile, how does Doyle even know about them?” He asked. JJ and you shared a look, but you bit the bullet.

“Due to the shady nature of terrorist cells, international agencies will use infiltration tactics. Which is why Emily was considered a US spy.” You explained, catching Derek’s disapproving scoff. You knew he liked things straight forward. Spencer, however, continued with another question.

“Who was undercover on Doyle?”

This time it was JJ who delivered the bad news, “Emily. She made contact with him in Boston to get intel on Valhalla. She was posing as another weapon’s dealer.”

JJ then passed out printed out photos of a younger Emily, cutting flowers, wearing a linen pants suit. Derek looked at the photos, “She looks mighty comfortable.”

Hotch redirected the phrasing, “How close did she get to Doyle as her cover?”

Once again it was your turn to give bad news, sucking in a deep breath, “Well, his profile included an in-depth background of all his romantic relationships. Emily... was his type.”

You paused to look at the rest of the table. Morgan’s face flashed with contempt. Spencer’s frown deepened as his eyes flitted back to the photos. Garcia was looking around for an explanation while Rossi and Hotch shared a look. Now they understood just how personal this was for Doyle.

And that put Emily in so much more danger.

______

After the meeting, Hotch assigned tasks. You had watched Derek storm off towards the garage, Rossi following calmly behind him to go through Prentiss’ apartment. Garcia retreated back to her computer room with JJ as they worked on finding any sort of paper trail.

You were left with Reid, you and he were reviewing the SHIELD case files that were relevant to the case. For the longest it was silent, the two of you working in harmony for Prentiss’ sake. You paused from your scrolling, looking up to the genius. His eyes were moving almost inhumanely fast as he mouth the words he was reading, one hand scribbling down notes as he went.

“How have your headaches been?” You asked quietly. His head popped up, eyes wide, so you quickly placated him, “No one’s around. I just figured that all the screens, puzzles, and people are probably not great. Reading on screens for the past 30 minutes straight probably hasn’t helped either.”

His eyes softened, going back to the tablet, “The Doctor said it’s psychosomatic. But I think he’s wrong.”

You nodded, waiting to see if he would add anything to the matter, he did, continuing to say, “They died down a little bit, but it does seem to correlate with stress.”

You smiled softly, “Have you told the team, yet?”

He shook his head, smile pulling into a guilty line. “Just you and Emily, the others would just worry and baby me.”

You just nodded, going back to your files. It was probably for the best that Derek had been sent to Prentiss’ apartment with Rossi- just the idea of her seduction had made him angry. The explicit details would enrage him. Speaking of the pair, your head turned as the pair rushed through the bullpen to Hotch’s office.

“Guess that means they found something.” You muttered, watching the door slam behind Derek. With a sigh, you flicked to the next page for fresh content. It was a file report of their first meeting. You’d gone through this countless times so you popped your head up to rest your eyes, settling on the idea board across the room. Then it clicked.

“If we’re profiling Doyle like a normal unsub, and Emily as his object of desire/rage... It’d make sense for them to go back to the place it all started. That’s Boston.” You thought aloud, eyes meeting Spencer’s. You watched him process before he nodded, eyes lighting up with understanding.

“We need to tell Hotch.”

________

“Boston. She went to Boston.” You blurted swinging the door open. All three men gaped at you, Derek was holding Emily’s passport and Rossi’s was dangling a gold necklace from his fingers. Hotch paused before looking to you, with Spencer lurking just behind you.

“What’s your evidence?” He asked, jaw and eyebrow set. You took a deep breath.

“Well she’s not running away,” You started, pointing at the passport in Derek’s hand, “And she’s chasing Doyle, who’s chasing her. Like any other unsub/victim combo. They’re going to end up where it all began. That’s Boston.”

Hotch nodded, gesturing for the rest of you to follow him. JJ and Garcia flanked the group, Garcia rambling her findings as the team sped towards the exit. “Sir, one of Clyde Easter’s covers was flagged by TSA on a flight to Boston.”

“Have him detained as soon as he steps off. We need to go. Garcia, you're coming with us.” Hotch’s orders were clear and concise, and the team was quick to carry them out.

_______

On the jet to Boston, you listened to Garcia leave voice messages on all of Emily’s old numbers. Her voice was quiet and small, you could hear the tears she was holding back as she plead with the voice mail, “Hey, Em, it's me, Penelope. Hotch told me to go through all your numbers, and I found this old listing. You probably don’t even use this anymore, but if you do, if it is you and you’re out there... Come home, please.”

You could hear her throat tighten, so you placed a comforting hand on her knee. Her other hand laced with yours in solidarity as she continued, “God, Emily, what did you think? That we would just let you walk out of our lives? I’m so furious at you right now! Then I think about how scared you must be, how you’re in some dark place all alone. But you’re not alone, ok? You are NOT alone.

We are in that dark place with you. We are waving flashlights and calling your name. So if you can see us, come home. If you can’t, then... then you stay alive. ‘Cause we’re coming. We’re coming.”

She clicked off, pressing the cell to her lips as a safeguard to keep her tears at bay. You squeezed her hand before getting up. Stopping at the coffee bar by the bathroom, you checked your own phone- naively hoping that maybe Emily had reached out. No such luck, as of 10:13. Three hours had felt like three days. You did have three other texts from your SHIELD friends.

Clint: Be careful with Doyle, he’s more dangerous than he looks.

Natasha: Clint told me you're going after Ian Doyle. Be careful.

You laughed dryly, so much for secrets. Texting them appeasements, you were touched by their concern.

Steve: Just checking in, any word on your friend.

You: Nothing good yet. Following a lead to Boston.

Three little dots showed you that he was typing, but you beat him to it.

You: If that text is going to say ‘be careful’, don’t even send it.

The three dots disappeared, before reappearing and turning into:

Steve: Yes ma’am. I’m sure everything will work out.

_______

Twenty minutes later, your tablet pinged: an alert from SHIELD. You had already combined Boston PD with all your relevant tags. You handed your tablet off to Hotch as you voiced your findings, “Hey guys, I got a firefight in east Boston. Automatic weapons, sounds like our guys.”

“ANnnnnd, I got video footage.” Garcia chimed, tapping away at her computer. She gasped, hands flying to her mouth.

“Baby girl, what is it?” Derek pressed with concern. You scooted in closer to her to see, soon your understood her dread.

“It’s, It’s, Emily. She’s here. Oh god, she’s walking into a trap.” Penelope gasped. Her eyes were watering, but Hotch kept his cool.

“Garcia, put in on the big screen.” He ordered sternly, but somehow still kindly. The blonde hacker nodded fervently, wiping her eyes from under those red glasses.

“Right, Right, I can do that.” She said, mostly to herself as she followed through. Soon the video was on the jets display. All the team members were silent the first time the video played through. The air in the cabin seemed thick with tension. Derek and Hotch visibly tensed, as if ready for a fight. Next to you, Rossi’s expression hardened, the only readable emotion was disdain. Spencer looked as if he was cringing and couldn’t stop. Beside him, JJ simply clenched her jaw and forced herself to watch- just as she had done when Spencer was taken hostage all those years ago, Emily had been knew then.

You watched as Prentiss sprayed the car with bullets, shattering a window before throwing a flash grenade in the SUV. Then she squatted down to cover her ears, but as soon as the boom was over, she was on the move again. Stalking around the SUV, that’s when the camera angle switched. Now showing the passenger side, you watched as Emily seemed to negotiate. Then from out of nowhere, a man appeared and shot Emily twice.

This caused a scream to erupt out of Penelope while everyone else either gasped or winced. Derek, ever the protector, attempted to comfort her with a warm arm around her shoulder, but it didn’t seem to help until the man (who you presumed to be Doyle) revealed her bulletproof vest. There was a collective sigh of relief when Emily seemed to stir.

Just as quickly as Emily attacked, Doyle shoved her into another van that quickly sped off. Garcia took the screen off the monitor and tapped at her computer a little longer.

“I can follow them two more blocks, but then they vanish.” She admitted, still furiously typing and apologizing for losing her cool.

When she finally gave up, she moved into the group displaying her screen. The video feed was backed up and ready to play again. The group looked at the paused screen, three men around the black range rover.

You broke the silence, “They knew she was coming. Doyle was already lying in wait before Emily even got out of her car.”

“From the first angle, it looks like Doyle got into the SUV. But from this angle, you can see that he didn’t,” Garcia agreed, switching the camera and playing the feed again, “Which I wish Boston PD warned us about before I started watching it. Sorry again for the screaming.”

Derek watched the silenced video in shock, “She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car. She’s lucky the three people inside didn’t die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”

You stopped to think for a second, thinking of if it did bother you. You realized it didn’t, maybe it would have before SHIELD, but now that seemed like a normal course of action. That said a lot about the effect Natasha and Clint, hell even day to day life with SHIELD had on you. Before you could stop yourself, you lifted your eyes to him, “Three targets.”

Rossi clarified your statement, but didn’t seem to disagree, “Well, three bad guys.”

Derek scoffed at the word change but Hotch spoke up before Morgan could air his complaints, “Illegal as it is, I think Prentiss knows she has to be as ruthless as Doyle.”

“That’s how you survive.” You muttered, watching as the video played on a loop, not able to take your eyes off it, “It’s how spies survive.”

“Don’t eve-” Derek started, but Spencer interrupted with something constructive.

“He’s come to the US to wage a public vendetta. He even hired a group of mercenaries to remain loyal to him. He has nothing to lose, so she has to act the same way.” He defended Emily. Derek sighed in frustration, turning to look out a window.

“So how did Doyle know she was waiting for him?” Rossi asked, floating ideas around. You answered with another question.

“Well, we’ve already discussed the probability of a mole. So who knew the Emily left the BAU?” You posed the question. JJ continued your line of thought.

“The same guy who’s been feeding Doyle the contractors and agents? So someone who has known Prentiss from the beginning.” She nodded, glancing around the jet. “Our best suspect was just arrested with a suitcase full of cash.”

Classic rat, selling secrets. A flash of anger went through you before you suppressed it.

“How do we get Easter to talk? He won’t cooperate willingly.” Spencer asked. The group fell silent, and despite the fact you wouldn’t show it, you couldn’t help the hostility in your voice.

“There are lines I can cross that you guys aren’t allowed to. SHIELD has looser rules on interrogation.” You offered angrily, glaring at the footage of Clyde Easter on the monitor. Hotch narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to read you but didn’t agree or disagree with your implications. Derek watched you with shock.

“It won’t come to that. I’ll interrogate him, the rest of you focus on Doyle’s location.” He decided. The rest of the team nodded before Penelope piped up.

“I hate to be the one to ask this, but,” She paused for a deep breath, “How long does Emily have?”

Hotch tried to hide his own stress, but some seeped through, “Her best chance is also the most troubling. Doyle saved her for last because he views her as his stressor. This means he’ll take his time.”

It was a bittersweet hope, but hope nonetheless.

_______

When the jet landed, it was all a flurry of activity. A race against the clock to save a victim, that was a story you told to often. But this time, you had the feeling of impending dread in your stomach. This wasn’t a random stranger. This was Emily.

The same Emily that force-fed you water on wilder nights, who had the sweetest cat named Sergio, who saved your ass more time than you cared to count. Emily who set you up on blind dates and drank wine with you when they ended up terrible. Emily who noticed your crush on Spencer and kept it a secret for an entire year until you had gotten over it and moved on- she was the only person who ever knew, and would likely take it to the grave. Emily who always had your back, both in the field and in life. Like the rest of the BAU, she was family, and it was hard when your family was in danger.

Even though everything seemed to be moving at lightspeed, it somehow seemed not to be moving at all. In fact, you wondered if time had stopped until Rossi dragged in a scrawny man in an atrocious suit yelling obscenities.

“Who’s that?” You asked as Rossi handed him over to the police. He wiped his hands in discuss as he answered. Hotch approached in interest.

“Jack Fahey. Irish Mob. He called Easter’s cell phone 12 times in six hours.” Rossi explained. You and Hotch nodded, seeing the thin connection.

“Any connection with Doyle?” Hotch questioned.

“Boston PD says he’s low level. But the Irish mob has long-standing ties to the IRA.” Rossi confirmed. Your jaw hardened.

“I’ll put some feelers out. Maybe find a few more ties.” You sighed, pulling out your tablet to search through files. Keywords: Doyle + Fahey / IRA. The search was running through millions of files so you set it down while it loaded.

“You two see if you can get anything out of him.” Hotch nodded, turning back to Garcia as you and Rossi shared a look.

____

You, Rossi, and Spencer stood in the doorway of Fahey’s interrogation room. Anyone could see that his skin was already crawling in discomfort, and having three sets of eyes on him would irk him further.

“Alright, Jack, why were you blowing up Doyle’s phone?” You asked, making your tone as condescending as possible. His fingers drummed against the table impatiently.

“Any of y’all got a smoke? Bean pole? FBI Barbie?” He sneered, licking his lips. You scoffed, letting his insults roll off you like water.

“What do you think?” Rossi asked. You purposefully turned your back on Fahey, knowing the lack of attention from the only female would drive him up the wall.

“Male ego narcissist masking deep-seated insecurity.” Spencer shrugged, looking between you and Rossi.

“Loudmouth, overcompensating.” You feigned a giggle, “You know what that means.”

You looked over your shoulder giving him the “mean girl” once over. He started to object. But Rossi continued as if he wasn’t talking.

“So if we puncture his self-image, this hood rat will talk.” He nodded. Apparently, being called hood rat was more of an insult than a little dick.

“Hey, hey, hey. I ain’t no hood rat. You take that back.” He demanded. You just smiled sweetly.

“So admit to being... lacking in other areas?” You asked as you took the seat across from him. Spencer stood behind you and Rossi sat beside you.

“I ain’t neither. I’m more than adequate and I ain’t a hood rat.” He growled, leaning back in the metal chair. Rossi scoffed as you just smirked.

“You look like one. Smell like one too.” Rossi paused to take a deep breath, “Smell that?”

You and Spencer shared a look, dramatically sniffing the air before answering in unison, “Hoodrat.”

“I am not! Take it back!” Fahey whined. This strategy was working quickly, and you hoped Hotch was having the same luck. Rossi stood, sauntering around the table and leaning down to eye level with the Irish mobster.

Condescendingly, he asked, “Jack, do you know what a hood rat it?”

Then he looked back to the two of you, “See what I mean, he’s just gonna have to learn the hard way.”

Fahey held up his hands in surrender, “All right, all right, Clyde? he was going to pay my medical bills. This ear, it ain’t growing back.”

“What happened to it?” Spencer asked from behind you. You nodded as if to say that was your same question.

“This bitch teammate of his shot it. Said it was a warning.” Fahey growled. Seemingly not noticing the three of you share a look. “Thought she could take on this IRA big shot named Doyle. So I told these- AHHH.”

He was cut off by Rossi shooting out of his chair and grabbing the edge of his injured ear, he immediately went limp in his hold to avoid further damage. You inwardly cringed at how greasy his skin and hair looked but ignored it and his pathetic cries.

“Where is Prentiss?” You growled, watching his eyes dart from you to your teammates as if they were going to stop Rossi. He kept stuttering words, using the word “who” like a lifeline. Spencer leaned across the table.

“Lauren Reynolds, where is Lauren. Reynolds.?” He demanded. Rossi let go and sat back down, offering him a reprieve to answer. Almost sickeningly, his face lit up.

“Ohhh.” He drawled, his voice made your skin crawl in the worst ways as he cheekily smiled between the three of you, “Friend of yours, is she?”

“You tell us where she is right now or I swear to god I’ll send you to a prison where they’ll teach you what a hood rat is.” Rossi threatened. Fahey only smiled, thinking he had the power back in his corner.

“And by the time you do, she’ll be in pieces. So, uhhh. My price just went up.” He grinned. Spencer and Rossi only shared a look while you glared at the grunt in front of you.

“Dr. Reid, do you have a pen on you?” You asked sweetly, eyes never leaving Fahey who looked more confused. Spencer produced a fancy pen out of his cardigan, placing it in your waiting hand. “Thank you, will you boys wait outside. I just want to chat with Mr. Fahey here.”

Your voice was so sugar-sweet, that it bordered on malice. With another shared look, the two men left the room and turned off the camera that was recording the interrogation. You waited a few moments, staring at Fahey until he squirmed. He chuckled nervously,

“Want ole Fahey to show you a good time? I mean I know your partners are still watching, but if it doesn’t bother you, it-” You cut him off with a harsh growl.

“Shut up.” It was a stark difference from both your condescending and sweet tones. Jack even flinched as he registered your anger. In one swift motion, you were by his side, pressing the butt of the pen into the skin between in ribs and his side, right where the bend of his arm would touch. His entire body immediately seized up.

“I learned this fun little trick from a friend of mine that worked for the KGB in Russia. They made the IRA look like you, like a bunch hoodrats. You wanna know what’s happening? I’m pushing against your brachial artery. If I don’t ease up within the next forty-five seconds, you will start to bleed internally. If I even slip, I’ll puncture your skin and you will bleed out quietly in this chair. You will die a very slow, cold, and painful death, do you understand me?” You hissed in his ear.

“The Feds don’t allow this! I got rights! They’ll see the video and you’ll go to jail.” Jack struggled, you chuckled bitterly next to his ear.

“I’m not FBI, and the camera stopped rolling the moment they put a pen in my hand. And given your predicament do you think any of the actual FBI is gonna help?” You asked, pressing down ever so slightly.

“Ok! Ok! I’ll talk!” He gushed, jerking away from you as you let go completely. You threw the pen on the table, as he continued, “On one condition. The government pays my medical bills.”

You raised an eyebrow, picking the pen up again. His eyes widened backing away, but Rossi entered before you could continue. He looked from you to Fahey.

“We’ll discuss it. (Y/L/N), with me.”

You nodded, following him out. Once the door was shut, you turned to the older profiler, indignation clear in your voice “Rossi, what gives, he was about to give me everything!”

Rossi nodded over his shoulder at Derek who was watching you in disgust in anger. You knew Derek disapproved of off the table methods, but this was Prentiss!

“(Y/N), you almost killed him! That’s not how we do things. I don’t know how they do things at SHIELD or at Interpol, but in the FBI we try to beat the bad guys without stooping to their level- the KGB, really (Y/L/N)? We’re the good guys, or have you forgotten that?” He growled, voice bordering on patronizing as he followed you and Rossi out of the observation room. You gave it right back, emotions were running high and your frustration from Fahey, from Doyle, hell all the way from the last time Fury yelled at you- it was all boiling over.

“First of all, I had it completely under control, he wouldn’t have died. Second of all, I can name ten interrogations off the top of my head when you turned off the camera or when Hotch had to pry you off an unsub, so I don’t even want to hear it.” You snapped before stopping dead in your tracks to turn sharply to him, voice rising with every syllable and hands gesturing wildly, “And lastly, Derek, I don’t know if you got the memo, but one of our best friends is being held hostage by one of the cruelest arms dealers in the books. This isn’t little leagues anymore, so I’m sorry if you’re too good to get your hands dirty, but I’m getting really tired of this holier than thou attitude towards Prentiss and me. I don’t care what beef you have with her right now. If you’re not prepared to give everything to this case, to get her back alive, then why are you even here?”

Your eyes were alight with anger, and Derek’s eyes were wide with shock. He’d seen you angry at unsubs, even seen you pop off at Hotch before. But he’d never been on the receiving end, nor had he ever seen this kind of fury. Reid watched on, almost afraid to get between then two of you. Finally, Rossi decided to put a stop to it. He placed a hand on your shoulder, sharing a look that said, ‘Stop before you say something you regret.’ You nodded and let him lead you away from Derek.

Once out of Morgan’s earshot, Rossi rubbed your back a bit- he was always more fatherly than he liked to claim. “You alright?”

It was a two worded question, but you knew the implications. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself, before shaking your head, “Sorry, I know now’s not the time for infighting. I just got so, so...”

“I know it’s hard to keep your head on straight, but the important thing is that you didn’t say anything you couldn’t take back.” He nodded before motioning you along, “Now, let’s get back to what really matters. He’s either afraid of you or in love with you- I can’t tell, that gives us a little bit of leverage. What else did you notice?”

You chuckled a bit at his joke, letting go of the anger as you answered. “Withdrawals. He needs a cigarette.”

“Let’s use that.”

____________

“You know when a cigarette is best?” Fahey asked after a long drag of a cheap cigarette. Grey smoke swirled around him like fog on a lake. Derek was worried about me killing him? Lung Cancer will get him long before I do. You and Rossi simply rose an eyebrow, waiting in the cold air on the roof for Fahey to say anything useful. “After sex with me.”

After that thrilling conclusion, you simply rose an eyebrow as Fahey licked his lips while looking at you up and down. He continued on to say, “The Fluorescents didn’t do you any justice, sweetheart, neither did the stabby stabby, but a fiery woman is attractive and I can be very forgiving.”

Rossi stepped between you two, pretending to scare him off but really protecting him from you. Growling a harsh, “Mind your manners.”

Fahey backed off, protectively covering his injured ear, “All right, whoa, whoa.”

Rossi continued own, glaring at the worm, “You’re already extorting us for Prentiss’ location.”

“It would be a real shame if you, I don’t know, ‘slipped’ on an ice patch and fell.” You singsonged, as you looked to the sky. Fear flashed over Fahey’s face before he smiled cheekily.

“If you keep being mean, I’m gonna fall in love with you.” He grinned. You simply rose a single eyebrow as Rossi put himself between the two of you.

“Listen pal, I don’t know how much longer I can hold her off, and up here she can a lot worse than poke you with a pen.” Rossi shrugged, stepping out from between you two. You just smiled sweetly, flipping the pen through your fingers. “So out of curiosity, what’s it like working for Doyle?”

“Eh. He’s not so tough.” Jack shrugged taking another long drag, so long that the cigarette burned down to his fingers. You offered another one and Rossi held up a light. You skimmed the rest of the rooftops, anything so you didn’t have to look at Fahey as he gushed about his ‘involvement’ with Doyle.

“Wow, you’re really the man, huh?” You asked clearly not paying attention, looking at the building adjacent. Something about its silhouette just wasn’t quite right. But Fahey distracted you with another lewd comment.

“I could show you how much of a man I really am...” He stopped when Rossi stepped closer forcing him to back off, allowing you to narrow in your eyes on the discrepancy. You’re eyes widened in realization a moment too late.

The whistle of a bullet followed by a warm spray of blood punctuated his last disgusted comment. A sharp pain grazed your shoulder as you shouted, “Sniper, GET DOWN!”

Rossi didn’t give you time to argue as he covered you with his body, pulling you to the ground. Two more rounds shredded through Fahey, making his body convulse before it hit the ground. Rossi covered you like you were his own child, holding your head against his chest until he deemed it safe. By the time you were able to get a good look at the sniper- no snipers, there were two- there was just a flash of silver off one building and the other retreating out of your firing range.

Even with the warm blood dripping down your face, you didn’t think about your own life. Without Fahey, you might never find Emily.

________

An hour later, the clock had struck midnight and your phone had been long neglected, forgotten on some desk as soon as you had arrived. After getting first aid (and arguing against going to the hospital), your shoulder had been wrapped where the bullet grazed you. You were dabbing blood off your shirt sitting on the bench outside the police station’s bullpen, mentally kicking yourself for wearing white. Hotch slipped in, watching you do so.

“That’s not going to come out. How’s your shoulder?” He stated, sympathetically. You nodded with a shrug.

“Could be better. I don’t know what else to do to other than twiddle my thumbs.” You sighed, resting your elbows on your knees. Aaron stood across from you.

“(Y/N), we have a problem.” Hotch stated, your eyebrows furrowed, waiting for the rest of what he had to say, “Without Fahey, there’s not much left.”

“Hotch, unless you have a point, this is the worst pep talk, ever.” You sighed. Hotch didn’t even crack a smile, he never did on cases.

“We all want to save Prentiss so bad, that we can’t see this case straight.” He admitted. Again you nodded.

“Ok, what do we do?” You asked. You were at a loss, exhausted, upset, dirty, and you honestly didn’t know what Hotch was getting at.

“None of us can give an unbiased profile. So we bring in someone who can.” Hotch nodded to you, handing your cell phone over to you. Suddenly it dawned on you what he meant. You had a call to make.

________

Hotch left you alone to make a call, he didn’t know any of your SHIELD friends but he said he trusted your judgment. Clint was the first that came to your mind, but he’d told you everything he knew about Doyle, so he wouldn’t be much help, and he was biased. Natasha would have been a good contact, but she was on a mission. Your thumb hovered over Steve’s contact before finally pressing the call button. It took a ring and a half for him to answer, unsurprising he was up at this hour.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong, what happened?” You smiled at the concern in his voice.

“Hey, Steve, I’m fine, well mostly, but I could use a fresh pair of eyes- or well ears.” You started, waiting for his response to your not-quite question.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Steve asked and you smiled at his willingness to help. With a deep breath, you launched into the entire story, only sparing the bullet grazing incident. Knowing Steve, he’d sprint to Boston just to force you into a hospital.

“Steve, you don’t know any of them, tell me, what sounds off?” You asked the soldier who had been patiently listening to you ramble.

“Keep in mind, I don’t understand much about this profiling science, so it might not be very helpful, but...” He started, but trailed off.

“Anything is helpful, we’re at a wall and the clock’s ticking.” You sighed, eyes closing as you leaned your head against the wall.

“How does their affair change your profile? Does that truly affect it that much?” He asked, and while he had a point, you took the moment to relish the blush you knew was on his cheeks. Regardless, you’d already explored that point.

“What else?” You pressed, wishing you could see his behavior. The other end was silent. “Steve, I’m sorry to put in this position but I can’t even see it straight anymore, please think!”

“Why is he targetting families?” The Captain rushed out. And your eyes widened.

“Steve, keep going.” You whispered, rushing into the bullpen and grabbing a dry erase marker. You jotted down, ‘families?’ as you listened to his search for the right words.

“You said Prentiss is Doyle’s stressor, that he believes she wronged him. So why go after everyone else. The child in DC, it doesn’t fit with the rest of the story.” He rambled. You basically copied him word for word.

“Rogers, I can’t thank you enough. If this whole SHIELD thing doesn’t work out, remind me to get you an interview at the FBI.” You smiled, praising him over the phone. You heard the rest of the team already chatting over ‘your’ discovery.

“Anytime, (Y/N), just be careful.” He conceded. You nodded as if he could see you.

“I’ll try my best.”

__________

With Steve’s added push and a little help from Clyde, the team was back in action. You labeled him as a family annihilator and deduced he had a hidden child. From that, Garcia cross-referenced Irish Immigrants with Doyle’s employees. That’s where she found the pictures.

A series of photos. A middle-aged brunette woman and a small blonde child. In the first few they were both crying to the camera, silver duct tape silencing them. In the next couple, there was a hand brandishing a handgun. And in the last three, the photos showed them limp, blood trailing down from the bullet wounds. The photographs were sickening, gruesome in every way. Aside from the obvious, something was wrong. You clicked through them, trying to decipher what your gut was telling you. Spencer watched over your shoulder, seemingly sensing the same thing.

“(Y/N), look at the hand.” He muttered, and you complied gasping as you understood. Garcia looked at the pair of you in confusion before Derek voiced their question.

“It’s a hand in black clothes.” He shrugged. Spencer shook his head, reaching over you to point at his epiphany.

“No, look at the nails.” You clarified, examining the jagged and short edges Spencer was pointing at. Garcia gasped.

“Oh, oh my god.” Was all she managed, subconsciously scooting her rolling chair away from the computer. First assumptions- worst assumptions- ran through your head at Mach speed, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something.

Regardless of the implication or whatever your instinct was trying to tell you, you spoke, “Garcia reference search warehouses, secluded or abandoned, with their own perimeters, cross that with any Interpol activity. .”

She simply nodded, clearing away the gruesome photos from her screen. You did the same with your mind, I’ll find out the truth from Prentiss when we save her. We’ll sort this out.

“Got it. 1518 Adams Street.”

Garcia’s words from earlier that night rang through your head, Emily, I think of how scared you must be, in some dark lonely place. But, Emily, we’re waving flashlights and calling your name. We’re coming, just stay alive.

_____

“Agent Prentiss is the only friendly in the building. Rescuing her is out primary objective.” Hotch ordered as you all geared up. Safety’s clicked off, ammo clicked into chambers, velcro ripped on and off as vests were strapped on- it had been a long time since you wore FBI labels you thought as you tightened the straps- and there was a collective sense of determination and nervous energy in the air.

“Our only advantage here is stealth. Once they know we’re on-site, there’s nothing to stop them from killing her.” Derek- always in charge of strikes- informed. “So we keep it quiet until we get to her.”

Everyone nodded in agreement as the briefing disbanded. To your shock, Derek approached you. The look he gave you wasn’t friendly, but wasn’t hostile either, so you decided to hear him out.

“Like you said, this isn’t little league,” He began, watching you clip extra ammo clips to your belt, “I’m sure the strike team is great, but as it stands you have a better grip on this than me. I want you in there with me when we go in.”

You simply nodded, holstering your gun. Derek had an automatic weapon slung on his shoulder, while you just opted for extra handguns, giving you three loaded guns on your person. One in your hip holster with a silencer attached, one in the waistband on your pants, and an ankle holster hidden by your pants. Taking some of Natasha’s advice to heart, you also slid a tactical knife into your vest- just in case.

Derek wasn’t done though, “I don’t know this world, and frankly I’m not comfortable with it. But I can sort my issues out with Prentiss when we get her back. And I need someone I trust in there watching my six.”

The statement seemed mundane, but you knew the meaning behind it, someone I trust. That was as close to an apology as you were getting, but you offered him a genuine smile- you’d take it. Just like old times, you wrapped your arms around him, and he returned the hug. Like a brother to me.

“We good?” He asked as you let go. You nodded, raising an eyebrow as if nothing ever happened.

“Let’s get this son of a bitch.”

___________

Entering the warehouse was nervewracking, as everything relied on stealth. A silenced sniper took out the two guards at the gate, allowing your’s and Derek’s group to enter. Every guard and goon was taken down by a silent bullet, a quick and quiet end to their life. You kept your wits about you. Every step was a step closer to Prentiss. You thought was you stepped quickly behind Derek, eyes sweeping crook and cranny.

As more and more thugs appeared, the group fanned out. It was a sad fact that anyone who saw you had to be killed or incapacitated- no one could spook Doyle. Not when you were this close.

You waited for Hotch to send the signal. Winding through hallways, gun at the ready, you waited. Every ounce of anger and frustration you tunneled into fine-tuned senses as you followed Derek. The two of you stuck together, the rest of the team was checking other buildings. As you entered the first large room, you heard it. A struggle, Prentiss’ yells and a man’s grunting as you heard the fight. At the same time, the group of enemies noticed the two of you- your first count said nine. Then it happened, the power went down. That was the signal for all hell to break loose.

“DEREK GO!” You shouted, as two rushed towards you. You shot at one blindly, hitting him in the leg. The other didn’t have a gun so he tried to grab you. You delivered a roundhouse kick to his face, hooking the bend of your knee around the back of his neck and pulling him to the ground. The butt of your gun whipped across his face before you finally pull a bullet in him. Derek gaped at you for a moment, before snapping back to reality. 7 enemies, one injured

“I’m not leaving you!” He yelled back, fighting off another. BAM. Six and one injured.

“Derek, you have to trust me. I got this.” You growled eyes adjusting to the dark as a particularly large man hulking up to you, “Emily needs you. She’s fighting, but she needs you.”

Derek hesitated, but finally growled as he complied, sprinting towards the sound of Emily’s struggle as you emptied the rest of your clip into the giant approaching you. He was easily seven foot and padded with extra layers of flesh and maybe a vest, he grunted at the shots but he didn’t slow down. Part of you regretted sending Derek away as your eyes the other five approaching you.

Make Natasha proud. You thought as you vaguely heard Derek demand back up for you over the comms. Lightning fast, you dropped the empty clip before replacing it with a new one. This time you emptied it into his chest and forehead. Almost inhuman, he kept walking for a minute before finally collapsing in on himself. Five, one injured. You locked eyes with every other man in the room, a moment of calm before they all rushed at you.

A tall, lean man with blonde hair was the closest to you, so you pitched the empty gun at his face like an MLB pitcher. It hit his nose with a satisfying crunch, causing him to stop to hold onto his bleeding face. Four, two injured.

The next was almost of a caricature of an Irish stereotype: short, red-headed but balding, square jaw, and bulky with muscle. He had a jagged scar running from his eyes to his neck. He was too close, you didn’t have time to grab another gun. You realized that too late, a solid fist connected with your ribs. The pain was immediate, but just as Nat had trained you, so was your reaction. Her voice echoed in your head as you dropped to the ground and swept his feet out from under him. ‘Your enemies won’t wait from you to recover, neither will I’

After a swift kick to his redhead, you turned to your left swinging your leg up and around to look around the next nearest enemy, a stocky bald man. Using your leverage, you pulled yourself up and twisted, grabbing your ankle gun at the same time. This sent the bald man to the ground, disorienting him long enough for you to put two shots into his head. Three, two injured.

In your distraction, the redhead had recovered, sneaking behind you wrapping his strong arms around you, pinning your arms to your stomach. “Drop the gun, bitch.”

You didn’t, so he squeezed you hard enough that you swore you felt the already throbbing ribs crack- or maybe it was your elbow- forcing the gun out of your hand. The blonde, face now dripping blood, approached.

“Hold her steady for me, Mckellan.” He smirked after kicking your knees, forcing them to buckle before balling his hand into a fist. The grip on you tightened and you braced yourself for a hit. Even with the preparation, it didn’t ebb the pain. You had been punched before, but not like this. You felt the curve of his knuckles whip your head to the side, right where your eye met your cheek, you watched as your earpiece clattered to the floor. The blond kicked it out of your sight. The force dizzied you, but you didn’t get a reprieve. ‘Mckellan’ dropped one arm to take hold of your hair, jerking your head up just in time for the blonde to hail another fist onto your face. This time landing on your jaw, allowing you to taste the blood in your and feel it trickle down your face.

They laughed expecting you to be done, as your head hung for a second. You defiantly lifted your eyes to the blonde’s, spitting out a mouthful of blood and hoping he could see the murderous glint to your eye. He did, and you saw the fear in his as he registered too late. With all your strength, you threw your head back- twice. The first time you hit your captor's nose, you felt it crumple. The second time was his chin, you felt the force cause him to bite down. Hope you didn’t want your tongue, you sick fuck, you thought as his hold loosened.

With a little more freedom, you jumped up and arched your back, wrapping your legs around the blonde's neck. With all your might, you threw your body to the ground, twisted your hips, and bent your knees. You felt all your muscles strain but were rewarded with a sharp snap as the man went limp. One short breath before you lunged for your gun, kneeling and aiming it at Mckellan who had just spit out his bloody, severed tongue. Your lip curled in disgust as you pulled the trigger. Standing up, you kept your count, Two left, two injured.

Before you could even find your next target, someone launched onto your back. The sudden weight disoriented you as grubby fingers pulled at your face and hair, causing you to once again drop your gun. His grubby fingers prodded at your face and his heels dug into soft flesh to hang on. Base instinct took over, their weight causing you to blindly stumble backward until you hit a wall. Feeling the contact, you grunted in anger pulling back before ramming your attacker against the wall again. The short man shouted curses at you but didn’t let go. With a primal growl, you did it again, harder this time. Checking him into the brick wall with as much force as possible. This time he dropped, and you instantly whirled around kicking him in the stomach as he scrambled to his knees. You took the leverage, your fingers knotted into his greasy black hair, to maximize force you brought your knee up at the same time you brought his head down. You didn’t know whether he was dead or unconscious, but it didn’t matter as he crumpled to the floor- he wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

For a moment, you leaned against the wall forgetting there was still another attacker. You were panting and sweating, fatigue set in as you lost your momentum. The ache in your head blossomed, reminding you of the hits you had taken, your shoulders were sore from Mckellan’s hold, your knees from the blonde’s kick, not to mention the two blooming bruises and busted lip on your face, (you wouldn’t be surprised if your nose was broken), the koala attack and the hockey style defense you put on had your entire bottle rattle, and that was just on top of normal body fatigue. I could really use a super-soldier right about now you thought.

Of course, your moment of rest was no longer than fifteen seconds. Just enough time for someone to tackle you from the side. You shrieked in shock and pain as you hit the ground on your already injured ribs, your attacker's weight adding to the hit. Your head smacked against the concrete, and you saw stars and you tried to escape as he tried to wrap his hands around your throat.

It took a moment for you to regain your wits, but when you did, you rolled. Your attacker fell away, or at least his weight shifted enough for you to scramble away. You saw your gun a few feet away, so you scrambled towards in on your hands and knees. Seeing your plan, the bearded man grabbed your ankle and hauled you back to him. In anger, you twisted around, your other foot stomping into his face. You knew you wouldn’t make it to your firearm, so instead, you leaned up and tackled him back to the ground. The two of you rolled a good distance before you ended up with the upper hand. This time with you on top, you delivered one well-executed punch to the face before slipping the knife out of it’s hiding spot. With a growl, you brought down the knife, but he caught the handle as the tip pierced the skin above his heart. For a moment there was a power struggle, he was no longer fighting for Doyle, he was fighting for his life.

But you were fighting for Emily. A rush of determination lit a fire in you. You reared back, balling up your fist and hitting the butt of the knife like a hammer. It plunged the blade in an inch. Sensing how close you were to winning, he flailed underneath you, trying to hold off the blade with his remaining strength. With one last growl and hit delivered to the knife handle, the last of Doyle’s men slacked against the bloody floor.

After all the struggle, he was dead rather quietly. Besides the injured one, that should be all of them. You heard the click of a gun safety sliding off.

“You’re too late bitch, Doyle’s alread-” BAM smoke rose out of the hole between his eyes as he fell over.

His (him being the first man you shot in the leg) gloating distracted him before he even had a chance to aim at you. The moment you heard the click, you’d slipped your hidden firearm out. With a groan of pain, you rose to your feet. Everyone in the room either dead or wallowing in pain as Swat flooded in. Slowly, you moved to pick up you earpiece, entire body protesting movement.

“-A MEDIC IN HERE. PRENTISS IS DOWN.” You tuned into the last bit of Derek’s pleading. Like you had been electrically shocked, you were recharged, tearing towards Derek’s location. It was three hallways over, and as you came in, your heart broke.

Emily was on the floor, a bloodied piece of wood sticking out of her abdomen. Derek was beside her, holding her hand. He noticed you, eye raking over your body. You knew you probably looked like hell, but he didn’t comment. There were other priorities and your health didn’t make the list at the moment.

“Go after Doyle, he can’t have gotten far!” He ordered, you nodded, taking one last look at Prentiss- her eyes lolling around- before you sprinted out the back door. You could hear a commotion up ahead so you followed the noise, reloading your gun as you went. Turning a corner, you could see Doyle across the train tracks about to get into a car, staring straight at you- smiling.

“IAN DOYLE, SHIELD, PUT YOU’RE HANDS IN THE AIR AND GET ON YOUR KNEES.” You thundered, anger tearing shreds in your already sore throat. Into your comm, you asked, “I have a shot, do I take it?”

Hotch picked up as a train whistled its approach, “Yes, take the shot.”

Right as your finger twitched against the trigger, your comm hissed in your ear causing you to flinch- but not take your eyes off Doyle who was now grinning like the Chesire Cat.

“Belay that order. Agent, you do not take that shot.” A new voice took over your comms.

“Who is this? On whose orders?” You heard Hotch demand. Your eyes remained on Doyle, who curiously hadn’t moved. Anxiously, you gripped your gun tighter keeping your target in firing range. The train was getting closer, making it harder to hear, the spotlight lighting up the night.

“Order comes from the World Security Council.” The voice shot back. You growled although no one could hear it. You were taking the shot, you had already decided. You didn’t care if you spent the rest of your life in federal prison. Doyle deserved it. Hotch was still arguing with the new voice as your entire body tensed.

Time moved in slow motion, you were losing your window. Running forward, you squeezed the trigger, bullet ricocheting off metal. But you were too late, the train cut in front of you like a knife.

“Guys, I’ve lost my visual. Does anyone have sights on Doyle!” You shouted into the comms. Trying in vain to see past the train. Slamming your earpiece into the ground, you screamed a slew of curses at the top of your lungs- your anger, desperation, and anguish being lost in the noise of the locomotive. Minutes later, the end of the train flew by you. Revealing what you already knew, Doyle was gone without a trace.

Another hiss of curses fell out of your lips as you turned on your heel and sprinted back to Emily and Derek. Arriving just in time to see the EMT’s put her on a stretcher, you hunched over to catch your breath. Though you still had plenty of anger, your adrenaline was fading fast, no longer masking any of the pain you were in. You hissed as you limped behind Derek, trying to catch up to Emily’s stretcher.

“How’s she?” You asked, not arguing when he slung one of your arms of your shoulder to help you. His jaw hardened.

“She’s been through hell. Lots of blood loss. Maybe some internal bleeding.” He shook his head, leading you back through the warehouse. Back through the room that held your handiwork. Derek saw this too.

“You look terrible. I shouldn’t have left you.” He remarked, watching as an agent pulled a sheet over the guy with a knife in his chest. You shook your head.

“If you stayed with me, Emily would be leaving in a body bag. She’s got a chance because you scared Doyle off. I’m the one who let him get away- I should have taken the damn shot.” You reprimanded but ended in a low snarl, one arm going up to cradle your ribs that were now throbbing. Normally, there would have been a handful of jokes and a few innuendos in there. Derek would have teased you and questioned you on where you learned to do all that. You would have teased him about being able to kick his ass. But now, there was only resignation. The case was over, but Emily’s fight wasn’t finished.

When you finally saw the light of the ambulance, Hotch rushed to you. Eyeing you up and down. “We’re going to meet Emily at the hospital, should I call another Ambulance?”

You shook your head as Rossi appeared- the ambulance was pulling off with sirens piercing the night air, “Minor wounds. Nothing to worry about.”

Both older men looked unconvinced but didn’t press the matter, allowing Derek to help you into the back of an SUV. You sank into the seat beside Spencer, who was wringing his hands with worry. He gave you a once over before beginning to ramble about minor injuries and the statistics on death’s in the US. For once you didn’t have the energy to listen or pretend to listen, you just stared at him blankly until it tapered off, ending with his handing you a handkerchief. You took it gratefully, lacing your hand through his as a comfort and dabbing the cloth to your face as the SUV pulled into the road.

The radio clock read 3 AM, and the night showed no signs of an end.

____

Garcia and JJ met the rest of the team at a hospital, where the whole lot of you were ushered into a waiting room. Garcia fussed over you a little, which you knew was because she was so worried about Emily, but couldn’t do anything so you allowed it. Several nurses tried to drag you to the ER for treatment, but you refused every offer until JJ came up behind you.

“Emily will be in surgery for the next few hours, go get patched up. I’ll come to get you if anything happens.” She told you, it was quiet and gentle, like the warm hand on your shoulder- a stark contrast to everything else that night. You hesitated, looking back to your team and then to the doors that lead to Prentiss. Sensing your hesitation, her blue eyes locking with yours, “Prentiss would be the first person to drag you into an ambulance.”

With a defeated sigh, you nodded, letting a short Hispanic night nurse lead to the ER. She, along with a gaggle of other nurses and one doctor’s approval, went to work. They cleaned out the numerous cuts and scratches along your face and arms, diagnosed you with a mild concussion, wrapped your knee (advising you to buy a brace if you wanted it to heal right), and told you that you fractured two ribs. You refused X-rays, knowing that they’d take to long. So with their work done, most of the nurses went to their next patient.

The one that brought you stayed behind and despite your silence- Claire Temple her name read with a smiley face beside it, was incredibly kind. She handed you two wet hand towels, “You’ll feel better with all that blood off you. Be careful where the skin split though.”

Tiredly, you sponged off the blood- which did make you feel a little less gross- and was careful around the bandages. Claire stood behind you, deft hands working through your hair- pulling out glass, twigs, and god knows what else- before twisting your hair into a loose braid. With a kind smile, she offered you a bottle of water and two large white pills.

“Thank you for your kindness, but I need to be-” You started to protest. She dropped them in your hand regardless.

“Honey, those are max strength ibuprofen. You’ll be perfectly alert, as long as you can stay awake.” She smiled- you were exhausted, the clock on the wall read 4:02 AM- stepping to the side. “Go wait with your friends, your other friend should be coming out fo surgery soon.”

Her kindness was something you really needed at that moment, a reminder that not everything was terrible, so you mustered the sweetest smile you could, “Thank you, I really needed that.”

“I know, now go.”

_______________

The waiting room was bleak. Hotch and Spencer took turns pacings. In the time you had been back, Spencer had gone through three cups of coffee. Garcia was beside Derek- who hadn’t moved, only holding his head in his hands- nervously tapping her pen against her notebook. JJ was in and out, making a thousand different calls. Rossi stared into thin air as he was lost in thought.

You had only been in there for forty-five minutes, but as you sat a few seats away from everyone else, mentally beating yourself up- I could have taken that shot. I shouldn’t have even asked permission- your anxiety was already bubbling over.

When JJ entered the room without a phone in her hands, you knew something wasn’t right- as did everyone else in the room. A single pull of her lip confirmed everyone's fears. Some tried to remain stoic- Hotch’s jaw hardened, Derek hung his head- others immediately broke- Garcia gaped, denial written across her face, Spencer was shaking his head like he was being lied to.

“She never made it off the table.” JJ tried to keep a smooth tone, eyes meeting the floor. Your heart shattered, Emily was gone. Doyle actually killed her- you didn’t save her. Your eyes were hot with tears, and before you knew it your feet were carrying you out of the waiting room, out of the ER, out of the hospital.

Your throat was constricting, tears blurring your eyes as you slid to a stop. You didn’t go that far outside, but the distance felt like miles. It said a lot, that you ran outside- the rest of the team is inside, together. You thought, choking on a sob, you thought bitterly, God, how fitting. I left, just like I left them.

Your thoughts kept devolving, breathing becoming erratic as it became sobs became harder to hold in, I left, maybe if I stayed I could have noticed something was up with her, brought it up sooner, figured Doyle out sooner. We shouldn’t have waited for SWAT we could have been there twenty minutes earlier. I shouldn’t have listened to Morgan, I should have stayed with them and helped stem the bleeding. I shouldn’t have asked permission to take the shot. I shouldn’t have listened. I should have taken the shot. It wouldn’t have brought Emily back but at least her killer wouldn’t be running free. I should have taken the shot.

You dropped to your knees against the cold pavement, allowing yourself to cry as you looked to the sky for some sort of answer. All you found was a hospital helicopter heading east. You sat outside, in the middle of March in Boston, in a short-sleeve not even noticing your shivering until a warm hand was on your shoulder. You looked behind you to see Hotch, who shrugged off his coat and put it on your shoulders. He helped you up, his ever so serious eyes looked at you- and as always you felt obligated to give him an answer.

“I should have taken the shot.” You croaked, now acutely away of how cold, hungry, sore, and exhausted you were. Hotch shook his head.

“You had orders not to.” He corrected, stoic as ever. That was good, the team needed a rock in all this. But at that moment, you didn’t see that.

“He got away.” You choked, wiping at the near-frozen tear trails on your face. For the first and only time in your life, Hotch pulled you into a hug. It was stiff and cold, and honestly reminded you of every ache and pain, but the sentiment was nice.

“We’ll catch him again. Let’s go home.”

________

I was excited for this, but then it turned out,,, bad

taglist: @irishfaulk97 @viarogers @toboldlyscream @benji-booxx @sophiiev @thebadassbitchqueen

#criminal minds x reader x marvel #marvel x criminal minds #mcu x reader #criminal minds x reader

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Incredible Hulk’s Diminished Legacy in the Marvel Cinematic Universe

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Love it or hate it, one of the things that makes the Marvel Cinematic Universe work is the long term synergy. With Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame, over a decade of movies came together to pull off one of the most entertaining spectacles of our time. It’s a universe that, for the most part, feels consistent and it builds on itself as each movie feels like an essential cog in a larger machine.

Some cogs are bigger than the others, though, and when it comes to “the others,” one can’t help but notice that 2008’s Incredible Hulk is something of a black sheep in the Marvel movie roster. These days, they’re just starting to dust it off as a property with the return of Tim Roth’s Abomination in She-Hulk and William Hurt’s General Ross’ gradually increasing role in the universe itself (he’ll appear in Black Widow and possibly other projects soon enough).

Now, there are plenty of reasons why Incredible Hulk is the green-skinned stepchild of the MCU. It made the least amount of money (about $42 million less than Captain America: The First Avenger, which was the second worst showing), the lead actor was recast afterwards, and its status as a Universal co-production meant that it would be the only movie in the first three Marvel phases that would not get its own sequel, no matter how popular Hulk was in the Avengers movies and Thor: Ragnarok.

It’s not like the MCU acted like Incredible Hulk never happened, but the creators definitely had a tendency to shove it into the corner and be somewhat vague about its existence. It became easier as the MCU became rich with more and more properties, but early on, it was very much the rage-filled elephant in the room.

The Hulk Design

There were a couple of ads for Avengers: Endgame that included shots from all the previous MCU movies in chronological order. For one, when it came to Incredible Hulk, all it had to show for it was Hulk’s fist bursting through the wall. In another, they just used shots from later movies and hoped nobody would notice. That’s because CGI or not, Ed Norton’s Hulk and Mark Ruffalo’s Hulk were two very different beasts. Not only did they roughly resemble their actors, but Norton’s Hulk was more of a giant, angry bodybuilder with green skin while Ruffalo’s came off as more Cro-Magnon, like a shaved gorilla.

It means that while they could talk about Hulk’s exploits, they could never really show any flashbacks, as it would just look awkward. Similarly, Incredible Hulk filmed a cut opening where Banner tried to shoot himself, but the Hulk wouldn’t allow it. While it was a bit too extreme to show, Banner at least got to talk about it happening in Avengers.

The Effect on the World of the MCU

When you look at the events of Incredible Hulk, it keeps things focused on the characters and not the world at large. Sure, it would have been bigger news if the Abomination defeated the Hulk and went on an even bigger rampage, but that problem was nipped in the bud. If you’re a citizen of Marvel Earth, all there is to know is that some soda has been recalled and there was a monster fight in Harlem.

In the movies themselves, the only time the Harlem fight is brought up is in the background of Iron Man 2, where Nick Fury’s map signals it as a place of interest.

With the exception of the Hulk straight-up existing, the most lip service his movie got early on was the scene in Captain America: The First Avenger where Steve gave blood for further study. They needed something to give Emil Blonsky down the line and turn him into an angry Ninja Turtle.

Speaking of…

Whatever Happened to the Abomination?

Of Marvel’s Phase 1 villains, one died, a couple vanished confusingly into space only to come back later, and three were taken into custody. Ending up in custody means you’ll be back soon enough because prisons usually can’t hold the type of enemies who can throw down with the Avengers. Usually.

In other words, it’s pretty damn impressive that the Abomination has been kept off the grid since the Hulk choked him out in Harlem. She-Hulk will be his first real appearance since then, but his name has been on the tongue of Phil Coulson on Agents of SHIELD a few times.

The scene of Tony Stark appearing at the end of Incredible Hulk to confront General Ross is something that came off as a big deal at the time, but afterwards didn’t make too much sense. Piggybacking off the Iron Man post-credits scene, Stark was seemingly trying to recruit the Hulk into the Avengers. That didn’t exactly jibe with what they were going for afterwards, so they released a short film to make sense out of everything.

The Consultant featured Agent Coulson and Agent Sitwell discussing the unfortunate decision by the World Security Council to demand the Abomination join the team. After all, Blonsky is a decorated veteran and the Harlem incident could easily be blamed on Banner. Fury wasn’t in a position to refuse the Council, so the only hope was that General Ross – the guy in charge of Blonsky’s captivity – turned them down. And so, they sent Tony Stark. That final scene in Incredible Hulk was reframed as Tony Stark obnoxiously asking for the keys to Abomination for the Avengers and Ross being so annoyed by his antics that he straight-up refused.

Afterwards, Abomination was namedropped a couple of times in Agents of SHIELD, which is par for the course considering early Agents of SHIELD was about reminding us about stuff that happened in the movies and saying, “We’re part of all that!” According to the show, Abomination was kept in a special prison in Alaska that only a select few know about. There was an episode where SHIELD’s main prison lost power and one of the writers realized that they probably needed to note that Abomination wasn’t going to be an issue in this situation.

But hey, at least he finished his story. The Leader on the other hand…

Samuel Sterns and the Fate of the Leader

At the time, it was the right play. Tim Blake Nelson played the kind of surprise villain you’d find in your average CGI animated Disney movie. As Mr. Blue, he existed as Bruce Banner’s potential salvation, only to be revealed to be kind of over-the-line and sinister in terms of his gamma experiments. After turning Blonsky into the Abomination, Sterns was knocked to the floor and a sample of Banner’s irradiated blood dripped into the open wound on his head. Sterns seemed especially jazzed with a crazed expression as his head started throbbing and increasing in size.

And then…nothing! Not even a mention in a different movie or Agents of SHIELD. That’s what happens when you set up a villain for a sequel and then have legal reasons keeping you from making that sequel. That said, there is a follow-up to what the hell happened with Sterns.

Back in 2012, a prequel comic was released to coincide with the first Avengers movie. The Avengers Prelude: Fury’s Big Week showed that the events of Iron Man 2, Thor, and Incredible Hulk all happened over the course of a few days. We got to see those storylines from the perspective of SHIELD, especially a very overwhelmed and fatigued Nick Fury. That makes sense for the stuff with Tony Stark in Iron Man 2 as well as Mjolnir and the Destroyer in Thor, but what of Incredible Hulk?

As shown in this story, Black Widow was in the background of its events, keeping an eye on everything and realizing that she was way in over her head. She played clean-up on the Sterns situation by coming across his giant, mutated head in the aftermath. Sterns was quick to figure out her homeland from traces of her accent and thought to bribe her in some way, but she stonewalled him with a couple of bullets to the legs.

A year later, Sterns was shown floating in a tank, unconscious, as various SHIELD scientists studied him.

Will we ever see the Leader pop up in the MCU? I can’t imagine Tim Blake Nelson is too busy to appear on She-Hulk at some point.

Betty Ross

Bruce Banner’s old flame is now nothing but a footnote. Considering Banner moved on to another relationship and then another planet, there was never a reason to reintroduce Betty. The only nods to her were Tony Stark naming his Hulkbuster armor “Veronica” (get it?) and the Russo Brothers saying in an interview that Betty was one of those turned to dust by Thanos.

Maybe one day we’ll see Red She-Hulk. Don’t hold your breath, though.

Thunderbolt Ross

General Thaddeus Ross does the heavy lifting for keeping Incredible Hulk relevant. The guy came back for Captain America: Civil War, a movie that didn’t even have the Hulk in it! But it did give him the Henry Gyrich role in a time when Gyrich was probably off-limits since he was considered part of the X-Men corner of Marvel (he already had a very minor role in the first X-Men movie). A familiar face, Ross got to be the government liaison type who spoke with logic, but came off as an antagonistic killjoy.

Right or wrong, Ross’ insistence that the Avengers sign with the Sokovia Accords ruined the team in the face of Thanos’ rampage against the cosmos. He still got to show his respects as Tony Stark’s funeral at the end of Endgame.

Yet, that’s not the last we’ll see of him. In Black Widow, Ross is shown in the trailers. We don’t know his role quite yet, but there’s a lot of fan speculation that Ross might tie into the next roster of the Avengers. Maybe a team that’s government sanctioned and controlled. Maybe a team that’s an awful lot like the Thunderbolts.

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It does seem that as the MCU reaches further and further outward, it looks back more and more on the events of Incredible Hulk. Then again, I doubt we’ll be seeing Ty Burrell’s Leonard Samson turn into a gamma-irradiated psychiatrist with long, luxurious hair any time soon.

The post The Incredible Hulk’s Diminished Legacy in the Marvel Cinematic Universe appeared first on Den of Geek.

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banashee · 4 years

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Part 22 of my @badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Touch Starved

Please mind the tags and warnings in the notes!

Hold me, but don't touch me

Bruce is simply not used to touch. At the very least, he isn’t used to touch that is gentle and meant to soothe instead of hurt.

The feeling of skin on skin with another human being burns sometimes, even years after his father has finally passed away. Or he waits for it to hurt, because this is what Bruce is used to.

He might be an adult now and on his own, but some thoughts and habits are hard to get rid of. Some things are buried deep in his subconsciousness, just another part of life.

It hits him in the guts when he least expects it, leaving him breathless and shaking. It leaves him unable to explain what is going on, and he just keeps smiling until his cheeks hurt and his eyes are watering because it’s all he knows to do. Waiting for actual physical pain is much worse and so much more stressful than avoiding touch in the first place, so that’s what he does. He avoids physical contact.

But then he meets Betty, and being with her is nice - she is a good person, caring and understanding. She doesn’t push him on the bad days, simply keeps him company until he’s ready to pick himself back up again. Her touch never hurts - it doesn’t take Bruce long at all to fall in love with her.

The time they have together is wonderful and so is their relationship, but it doesn’t last. It can’t last.

It’s his own fault, really. If he hadn’t been arrogant enough to believe he was actually able to make this insane experiment work, the accident that changed everything never would have happened. He never would have put Betty in danger.

He never would have had to run to protect both her and himself.

But Bruce is running, because running is what he does best.

Soon, he feels like he’s being eaten up by loneliness.

The time he’d had with Betty was short, way too short, but it’s been enough to show him how good touch can be.

The feeling of her hand in his own, warm and soft and solid is what he thinks home must feel like. The tickle of her hair on his neck when she’d lean over him, by chance or to steal a quick kiss, or when she’d put her chin up on top of his messy curls and started braiding her own long hair under his chin, making it look like a very long beard that connected them. She kept giggling as he’d complained half heartedly when it interrupted his work until he couldn’t hold back the laughter for any longer.

Now, he is lying awake at night, curled up tight under a thin blanket that leaves him freezing in the chill. It doesn’t matter how warm the environment is - Bruce feels like his bones might snap in two from being frozen.

With his arms wrapped tightly around himself in an attempt to mimic company, he stares at the ceiling until the sun goes up again. He’d doing everything he can to chase the feeling of Betty close to him - but it doesn’t do it any justice.

Bruce learns to be alone again, and he continues like that - he’s not exactly doing well, but he’s alive. And as long he stays away from people, they’re generally safe. So is he.

That is, until Natasha Romanov corners him in Calcutta and everything changes once again.

*~+

Time after time again, Thor catches himself as he stops reaching out to people.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to - on the contrary, but he finds that most people of Midgard are not nearly as openly affectionate with each other as they are back home in Asgard. It’s okay, he thinks, different places, different customs. He’ll just follow the lead.

After all, he is a guest here.

But then again, he kind of feels like a guest when he is back home in Asgard. It’s like he doesn’t really belong anywhere anymore.

Of course, there is Jane and while he loves her dearly, both of them know they can’t last forever. The time they have is wonderful and they cling onto each other, but there is always the nagging knowledge that their time together will be limited. It’s a curse, and Thor is well aware of it. Anyone he’ll grow to know and love here on earth, he will outlive for several thousand years.

The entire lifespan of a human being is little more than the blink of an eye for him. Knowing this and being constantly reminded of it hurts. But it doesn’t lessen the love he holds for midgard and it’s people.

Thor doesn’t like to think about it, despite knowing it deep in his bones. It is obvious, after all.

But sometimes, he can’t help it. The thoughts and loneliness creep up on him, and he’s starting to feel restless, anxious and cold. Dwelling in sadness isn’t like him at all. Usually.

Although the longer it lasts, the more he feels like he is wilting away. Like a plant deprived of water, shriveling away with thirst from the lack of care. It sounds pretentious - but even a strong standing tree will die from a lack of water when there is none.

When Jane and he part ways, too early and with a heavy heart, the loneliness lasts even longer. Jane leaves with sadness and determination in her eyes, and Thor understands. He wants her happy above everything else. If that means they’ll have to be apart, then so be it. It’s far from his first heartbreak, it won’t be the last.

Jane, after all, is a smart and wonderful woman and she deserves someone she can share her life with, to grow old with together, if she wishes so. Thor can’t be that person. Even in 50 years time, when Jane will see and feel it in herself, Thor wouldn’t look a day older than he does now.

Time is a tricky thing.

One day, everything changes because Loki is bringing doom upon earth, and with him an entire army of Chitauri.

This fight in the end is a long and messy one. Parts of the town lay in shambles afterwards, and Thor can’t help but feeling responsible for it - Loki is his brother, after all. If only he’d been there to help him, if only - it’s no use, Thor thinks with a dark cloud in his mind.

There is fear and destruction everywhere, people are hurt, scared, grieving for loved ones and he wants to help them in any way he can. Part of Thor is grieving with them, despite standing strong and proud.

Apart from this, Thor finds himself with a remarkable group of people around him after all of it.

They fight side by side and share a meal after - there is nothing more required for Thor to consider them brothers and sister in arms.

*~+

Steve wakes up in a cold sweat more often than not ever since he came out of the ice. It drenches his clothes and makes his hair stick uncomfortably against his head. He knows he should be hot, but in truth, he feels like he’s still frozen. It doesn’t matter how hot the room is around him - he’s always cold.

In the dead of night or early in the morning, he’ll startle awake with a choked off sound, gasping for air and absolutely drenched. He’ll force himself to calm his breathing, to stop his hands from shaking. Thankfully, no one is around to see him like that. He is especially glad in those nights where he’ll scream Bucky’s name in his sleep, again and again until his voice has turned rough and scratchy and finally suffocates into a small whisper, almost drowned out by damp bedsheets and hands clasped over his face.

He stops sleeping as much as he can - he doesn’t need it, he keeps telling himself. But even with the serum running through his veins, despite all the perks and enchantments, he is still very much human.

Steve starts spending his nights either in a SHIELD training room, beating the stuffing out of countless sandbags, or he drives around on his motorcycle. He drives aimlessly and utterly lost in a world he no longer recognizes.

It’s still New York and he should know his way around here while being asleep - but things have changed. Streets and buildings he used to know look foreigen now. People are so much more distant, occupied with their own, busy lives. Most of them don’t look left or right from themselves, and Steve stops himself from reaching out, stops himself from holding them up in their constant hurry just to chat - he knows it would be rude.

Truth be told, Steve has never been this lonely before. Even after Bucky fell from the train, He’d still had Peggy and the other men in his unit by his side.

Now, he’s outlived them all, apart from Peggy who is old and sick and doesn’t recognize him half the time. After he visits her for the first time, he feels like crying the entire way home but manages to keep it together until he’s locked the door of his small quarters back at base. But once he’s back there, he’s hit with grief and loneliness.

Steve doesn’t sleep that night - he spends hours in the training room once again, but this time he can’t shake off the faces of those he loves and lost.

More than anyone else, he misses Bucky.

He can’t even remember a time without his best friend - first love. Both statements are accurate.

They’ve spent so much time together, and it hurts. It hurts not being able to talk about anything and everything in the world. It hurts not being able to see Bucky ever again, but most of all it hurts to never be able to touch him again.

This, of all things, is what causes Steve the most distress and leaves him empty, cold and shivering at night, unable to find rest.

Sometimes, he wishes he could have somebody close to him. Just another human being to hold, to be able to touch. But he doesn’t have anyone - not anymore.

Peggy holds his hand sometimes when he visits her, but her dementia is bad, and she’ll get confused as to what year it is. Sometimes, she knows that it’s 2012, and she’s torn between happiness to see Steve and being mad that it took him so long to come see her again. Other days, she’ll think it’s 1943 again.

One night, Steve’s usual round on the punching bags is interrupted by Director Fury.

He’s got a new mission, and he doesn’t know yet that it will change his life once again.

*~+

Tony has never been great at being close to people. If he’s being honest, which he often is, to the point of being too bold and too rude, he’ll admit that he can’t stand being close to most people anyway.

They invade his personal space and they paw at him without asking because being Tony Stark apparently means being some kind of circus attraction. It doesn’t take long for him to grow a spiked armor of snarkiness and arrogance, and by the time he’s a teenager, his defence walls are built high up. Those walls only solidify as he ages, and when he’s hit his 20’s, being loud, rude and obnoxious to deflect from himself has become second nature.

There has always been only a small circle of people he allowed close to him, a small circle of people who know better - who know him better.

But when his parents, Ana and Edwin Jarvis have all died over the years, this circle shrinks rapidly. Especially Mom and the Jarvis couple being gone hurts. He’s always been close to them, and when Ana died, it didn’t take very long for Edwin to follow her. Until then, Tony had always thought that the phrase “dying from a broken heart” was a bit dramatic, but now he knows better.

Losing his mother so suddenly and uselessly is probably the worst of it all.

He misses the company of his loved ones. The conversations, the familiar touch of gentle hands and heartfelt hugs. The feeling of home.

Sleeping around helps the feeling of being touch-starved at least for a little while. But he can’t help but notice that being hugged once by a friend is way more healing than hooking up with three different people in a row. Go figure.

One day, Tony wakes up in a cave in Afghanistan, with a hole on his chest and a car battery attached to it. It’s like a nightmare come to life, and he’s got no choice but to deal with it. He survives though, and ends up guarding himself even better.

His circle keeps shrinking after this.

Tony has always been cautious of people, and even more so now. He is proven right when Obadiah turns out to be a selfish creep who betrays his trust. The cold voice, the laugh when he’d ripped his ARC reactor out of his chest - it keeps him up at night, even years after the fact.

It’s a whole new can of worms that he really doesn’t want to open - touch has gotten even more difficult for him these days. He’s craving it, but he knows it’ll make his skin crawl when the “wrong” person is touching him. It’s not always logical.

At least, Obadiah is dead and gone, no longer able to hurt anyone. It still stings, finding out that a man who saw him grow up, someone he considered family wanted nothing but what he could give him to gain more power.

After all of it, there are three people who are left close to him. Rhodey, Pepper, Happy. Tony lives his life mostly guarding himself, unless he is around his special group of people. He trusts them, no matter what, but sometimes, he still gets lonely.

Four years after his trip to hell, Tony is sitting in a half destroyed Shawarma restaurant. He is dirty, exhausted and barely tasting the food that he is eating.

Tony is surrounded by 5 people, all of them just as worn out as he is. They are mostly strangers to him, and yet there is a connection after their battle against aliens. It’s there, and it’s clear, like a light in the darkness.

Maybe it’s the fatigue talking, maybe he’s hit his head. But maybe, just maybe he is completely clear when he offers them all a place to crash.

He did hit his head, but Tony still never regrets making this offer. Truth be told, it’s one of the best things he’s ever done.

*~+

Natasha simply isn’t used to any kind of physical affection for most of her life.

She is the Black Widow, and she’s using touch to seduce and kill - it’s part of the job, nothing more. While growing up in the Red Room, touch is being used for training purposes - violence to learn how to fight and kill. Tiny bits of affection and praise for a job well done, but it’s never personal. It’s been burned into her brain, and she keeps telling herself this even when she’s left and is on her own.

Natasha is so used to solitude that part of her, however small, is scared of being touched. It always means something and she can’t allow herself to enjoy the warm feeling of a warm body next to her, can’t lean into tiny touches without analysing everything. It is easier to avoid it altogether.

Living without any emotional connections is what she was trained for all her life, after all. Nevermind the fact that she is on the run from the Red Room these days, for more than one good reason, but old habits die hard.

So she runs and runs, over the years and all over the word, and there are ice crystals growing on her insides. On the rare occasion that there is someone trying to get close, she snaps and snarls at them until they leave. It leaves her hurting and irritated, and she swears to herself that she will get a grip on it.

Of course, it doesn’t work forever.

The years on the run have hardened her, and Natasha has lost count of how much blood is staining her hands at this point. The desire to make up for it is growing, but she doesn’t even know how to start. So she continues to do what she knows.

Listless and lost, Natasha is scurrying over the rooftops of Budapest, well aware that she is no longer alone. If it wasn’t for her training and instincts, she would not have noticed the man following her. He knows how to move as silent as a shadow, and chances are, if you’re not moving in just the same way, you’ll never know he’s even there.

What starts out as a cat and mouse game over several days, ends one night when he confronts her on one of the highest points of the city.

Natasha knows he’ll come, and she finds herself not caring that she might find an early end with an arrow in her throat. It’ll be cold but quick, and she’s beyond exhausted. If it happens now, she won’t mind.

But the sharp pain never comes.

Instead, the man holds his weapon loosely by his side, watching her with curiosity as he approaches.

“Aren’t you bored of this? I know I am. You might as well just ask me to shoot you.”

The statement is blunt, and would incredibly insulting if it wasn’t true., Despite it all, despite the stress and exhaustion of the last few years, Natasha finds herself cracking the ghost of a smile. If nothing else, this will be entertaining. But as it is, this is the start of her new life.

“Blunt” and “insulting” pretty much sums up who Clint Barton is, she thinks a few hours later when she sits beside him on a SHIELD plane. He talks too much and has the tendency to irritate her to no end, but Natasha can’t deny that this is the most alive she’s felt in a long time. There is also no denying that he just helped her take the first step on her way to wipe out her ledger. It’s a lot of work, and she isn’t sure it’s something she can manage in a single life time, but she will do her damned best to try.

With this strange man by her side, flipping through a battered paperback book with one hand and chewing on some kind of long gummy candy at the same time, she thinks it might not be half bad. Natasha pretends not to make anything of the fact that he has no problem turning away from her, doing his own thing instead of watching her every move in an attempt to stop her from murdering him in cold blood.

This is trust, she realizes later, much later, and the two of them have grown to be one of the agencies best teams. Whether or not it is deserved is frequently discussed in the hallways and behind closed doors, but it doesn’t change anything.

Many years down the road, and Natasha can’t imagine a life without Clint, and in addition, Phil by her side. She may or may not have added on to her first impression she’s had of the man who is now best friend, but she’ll claim that nothing changed in over a decade if he annoys her too much.

It only makes him laugh tho, and there is so much warmth to it, almost as much as when they share a space on days off, a bed on missions, or when Clint hugs her for no apparent reason (or maybe because he is totally a cuddler once he’s comfortable enough with someone).

Natasha has never felt so warm in her entire life - touch becomes a part of it, and she finds that she doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, she seeks it out, knowing there is no ill play, nothing to fear. At least, there isn’t when it comes to her friends.

The years go on, and one day, her life changes forever once again. Natasha is on a mission in Russia when the call comes, and she is annoyed at the interruption at first, but it only lasts as long as it takes Phil Coulson to inform her that Clint has been compromised.

The next week flies over in what feels like the blink of an eye and five years all at once. Natasha is exhausted, both in a physical and in an emotional sense, and she slumps in her chair in the fast food restaurant that she’s crammed into. Next to her is Clint, unusually silent and worse for wear, but at least he is alive and still here.

Both of them are mourning for Phil, as well as countless Agents and civilians. Life is a mess and it’ll take a while to figure it all out - but they have each other at least.

When everything is said and done that day, Natasha finds herself collapsing into a bed that isn’t hers, but it is soft and comfortable. The place is secure, or at least, as secure as it can be under the current circumstances.

She’s curled up tightly around Clint, and she might be clinging to him - just a little bit. He’s out like a light, unaware of her deathgrip on him. Even if he wasn’t, she knows he’d never say anything, let alone take this comfort away from her. They’ve been through too much together. All there is left are deep trust, an unconditional friendship and the knowledge that there is love and support out there, no matter what.

When they wake up the next day, they do so to the sound of JARVIS’ friendly voice informing them there will be breakfast shortly.

It’s just the start of an entirely new life.

*~+

Clint spends most of his life being afraid of touch and craving for it at the same time.

The first years of his life are a blur of yelling, pain, broken bottles and hands that are trying to soothe the hurt, and it stays. Touch means pain, is what he learns from his father. Gentle touch happens after pain, he learns from his mother.

So the logical thing would be to avoid touch altogether - he learns that early on, too. As the years go on, he learns to suppress the flinch when people reach out, stepping away whenever he can. Some people catch on to that. They either retreat, looking uncomfortable and apologetic. Others look smug, and try again and again- to them, it’s simply a fun thing to do to pass time, and Clint finds himself constantly on the edge.

There is a sadness in his mothers eyes, when she reaches out to smooth down his messy mop of hair, or to run a gentle hand over his cheek - because Dad isn’t here, he can’t yell at her now for making the boys “too soft” - and Clint flinches away from her, just out of sheer habit.

That night, he can hear her crying in the other room, and guilt is eating him up from the inside.

After Mom and Dad have the car accident and die, people don’t touch him or Barney unless they want something. He’d be fine with the no-touch part, at least he thinks so. But despite being afraid, he just wishes for some gentle touch, a hand to hold or a little hug - anything, really. Barney doesn’t do affection though, and Clint won’t ask. He knows he’d be dismissed or worse, laughed at. That would hurt more than the cold feeling of loss in his chest.

It gets worse when the adults want something, tho. They’ll suddenly turn to touch and affection that is so incredibly fake when they want him to do things - what things widely depends on the person, but he resents it all while keeping a straight face and forcing a smile.

The Swordsman and Trickshot are just as bad as Dad used to be. Interacting with them, or rather, having to interact with them is painful and scary. But it’s not nearly as terrifying as the unknown. At least, with them, Clint knows what to expect:

He’ll do a good job, and he’ll get a acknowledging clap on the shoulder. If he fucks up, he’ll feel it for the rest of the week. It’s not a hard concept per se, but it doesn’t help his strained relationship with touch at all.

Later on, when he’s doing messy jobs of all kinds, he alternates between wanting to scrub his skin off with bleach and and simply being close to someone without any motives. He’s going without physical contact for most of his life, and that lasts until after Agent Phil Coulson drags him out of a shithole somewhere in the middle of nowhere and offers him a job, a safe place and a new life. His handshake is warm, dry and firm in a way that’s reassuring without trying to crush his hand.

Clint doesn’t know him, but it’s easy to trust him right then. Not many people can claim that, and Phil remains special to him for the rest of his life. He is the first person to offer physical contact without any intentions. Only reassurance, comfort and, later on, casual friendly touches for no reason at all.

Clint doesn’t expect it the first time he gets a hug from Phil, stiffening up in surprise, just for a second, but then he clings on for dear life.

Something changes after that - while Clint is quick to threaten and occasionally inflict physical harm to people who won’t keep their hands to themselves after they’ve been warned, he finds himself growing more comfortable with touch and affection. From some people, like Phil and later on Natasha, he even seeks it out on his own terms.

The cold, empty hole in his chest seems to be closing up over the years. Clint is genuinely happy for the first time in way too long, and he’s growing used to having people around him and being comfortable with it.

But then, he is assigned on base in New Mexico and a demigod with a glowing spear scrambles his brain and makes him his puppet. Clint spends about a week under his control, and when Natasha knocks him out to get him back to himself, the world he knows and loves is about to end.

It has already ended because Phil died. He goes completely numb after that, but he fights and walks and talks and does whatever he needs to be doing, only to pass out in a strange bed that night. Natasha doesn’t leave his side, and while he is falling asleep, he can feel her pressing just a little closer to him. He wants to say something, tell her that it’s okay, they’ll figure this out - he doesn’t believe it, but the urge is there.

Clint falls asleep before he can do anything though, and his dreams leave him restless for the remainder of the night,

When Clint wakes up again, he couldn’t say what time of day it is. He is curled around Natasha and feeling like complete and utter shit despite having been asleep for a long time.

With a low, unhappy noise he buries his face in her messy red curls, attempting to go back to sleep, but it’s useless. Clint has slept way more than usual, but he might as well have been awake the entire time. He doesn’t know what to do or how to move on.

Natasha seems just as reluctant to get up as he is. Normally, she’d have squirmed away to shower and go get breakfast, kicking him out of bed somewhere in between because she can be impatient when craving food, but right now, she just tightens her grip around his waist and sighs deeply.

Only when JARVIS starts talking to them, announcing the date and informs them that there will be breakfast down in the communal kitchen soon, they peel themselves out of the sheets.

The breakfast tastes like ash in his mouth, but Clint lies and says it’s good, and it seems to make Natasha happy at least. He’s not sure if she believes him, but sometimes, the effort is enough.

Just like last night, they are surrounded by the team, but unlike then, no one wears any kind of armor or protective gear. Everyone sits around the table in T-shirts and sweatpants, even Thor, who seems to have borrowed clothes from Steve.

Mjölnir hangs on a hook in the wall, right by the door next to a tea towel. It looks comedic, but they realize that it is meant to be a polite gesture - leaving the weapon by the door, out of reach. A peaceful gesture to signal that Thor does not mean to threaten. Nobody comments on it.

They’re all exhausted, and neither is in the mood to talk very much. But something is in the air, and despite the world having changed, all of them can tell that something else is about to change. None of them is used to being close to many people, but right in this moment, with all six of them at the breakfast table, it’s like something is falling into place

*~+

Movie night is a thing, because apparently, Stark Tower in Manhattan has been turned into a superhero frat house ever since the battle.

Phrasing it like that sounds negative when it really isn’t, but Tony jokes about it one day, sitting on the kitchen counter and deliberately putting his ass down right where Steve was meaning to chop the vegetables for dinner. The captain just looks at him with one raised eyebrow as Tony shrugs and pulls a bag of freeze dried snacks from the inside pocket of his jacket - he chews while looking Steve dead in the eyes, waiting for a reaction.

With a sigh, Steve moves to the side to get to work.

“Frat House?” he asks with a small huff of laughter and without even looking up. The onions won’t chop themselves, and somehow, he seems to have gotten immune to the irritating onion juices that usually make your eyes water. Steve doesn’t mind taking over the task, and the others will happily do other chores while preparing dinner. As it turns out, “getting in the way” is one of those tasks in this household, and Tony does it on a regular basis. He makes up for it with pretty good waffles, coffee, and, you know, inviting them all to live here.

“What? It’s true.” he shrugs and stuffs another handful of blueberries in his face.

“I’m not sure that’s the phrase I would be using, but whatever makes you happy.”

“I’d use that phrase. It’s accurate.” a dry voice from the doorway chimes in. Natasha enters the room, making a beeline for the counter.

“Move it, Stark. You’re blocking the coffee machine.”

He does move - Tony might be annoying sometimes, but he certainly isn’t foolish. Tempting the Black Widow to cold blooded murder due to that right before dinner just ruins the night for everyone, really.

The truth about movie night though? It started out as an excuse to not be alone after hard missions or generally lonely days.

No one is able to sleep well or a lot. The aftermath of the battle, all the losses and memories weight heavily on all of them. Insomnia happens, which means that sooner or later, at least some if not all team members end up on the living room couches in front of the giant flatscreen. What’s showing depends entirely on who occupies the place first. Each and every one of them has their own tastes, or lack thereof.

It might well be that somebody enters the room at 3am and there are nature documentaries, a cheesy period romance, obscure science fiction or comically bad horror movies playing. The first time Tony walks in on a zombie splatter with awful dialogue and even worse special effects, he wholeheartedly expects to find Clint holed up in the pile of blankets. He does a double take when he finds Bruce instead.

“Hey. Didn’t take you for one to like Horror.” he greets, and is met with tired dark eyes and a few beats of silence.

“I don’t.” Bruce says, sounding just as rough as he looks. “It’s incredibly stupid, but that’s kinda the point. Stops me from thinking.” he adds after a small shrug.

Tony just hums in response, because he can get behind that. He loves the inaccurate, outlandish SciFi stuff for the very same reason, after all. Nothing to think about, just something to poke fun at or complain about. And for once it’s nothing life-changing or traumatizing. Just a bad movie.

Without another word, he joins Bruce on the couch, who makes space for him and hands over one of the many blankets he’d piled on top of himself.

But this is how it starts out. Again and again, they meet up by chance.

Movie night is made a “thing” after a particularly bad mission when nobody wants to be alone after. They order pizza and shuffle off in different directions to shower, but they meet up again just in time for the food to arrive. They eat because they’re hungry, nothing more.

Lord of the Rings is flickering across the screen, and it keeps them all occupied. Neither Steve or Thor know the movies yet, so they watch in quiet wonder while the others lean back to enjoy a movie series they’ve seen multiple times already. One by one, they nod off on the spacious furniture, slumping against each other.

They wake up hours later in what can only be described as one giant pile of limbs.

Steve is snoring, one arm firmly clasped around Tony’s waist and, to his great embarrassment, drooling a little bit onto his shoulder. Tony doesn’t seem to mind, if the way he waves off Steve’s spluttering apology as he wipes a sleeve across his face is any indication. In fact, he tells him to shut up and simply snuggles closer before falling right back asleep. He can’t move his legs, because Clint is using them as a pillow. He’s fast asleep, uncaring for the conversation next to him. Sprawled on his back is Natasha, happily providing her job as a human blanket. On the other couch, Thor is snoring like, well, thunder. He is asleep like a log and slightly squashed under him, Bruce is having the first night of good sleep in who even knows how long. The position he’s in should be, by any means, concerning but he likes the weight on top of him. Thor is safe, he knows. The team is safe. It’s enough to get him to relax and sleep through the night.

It is strange, it is new. But it feels good to be close to people, and they’ll take what they can get. This team is a wonderful thing, and despite butting heads and disagreements, they know there will always be a place to come home to.

Home. This is kind of a new concept to most of them, too.

Thundering footsteps from the kitchen rush to the living room as Tony and Clint race for the good armchair spot, pulling and shoving each other like the perfectly well adjusted adults that they are. Clint is faster - he throws himself onto the chair hard enough for it to shoot back a few feet over the floor. Tony, refusing to give up and physically unable to stop at this point, jumps right after him, squarely landing on the archers lap, raising both arms over his head in mock-victory. Secretly, he is more than a little proud that Clint is letting him get away with doing that. Most people probably would have found arrows in unpleasant places, or at the very least, found themselves kicked to the floor in a matter of seconds. Not Tony though.

“I’m not getting up.” Clint informs him, and Tony shrugs, completely unconcerned.

“Me neither.”

A snort comes from the couch, where Natasha is propped up against Steve and her feet in Thor’s lap. Her ankles are crossed with Bruce, who has occupied the other side next to Thor. Right now, he’s busy laughing into his mug of coffee.

Once they’re done laughing and arguing, everyone has settled down.

True to their words, neither Clint or Tony moves, and so they end up crammed together into the chair. Being the restless person that he is, Tony always needs something to fidget with, something to keep his hands occupied. Oftentimes, he doesn’t even realize what he is doing, as is the case right now. He keeps running gentle fingers over the archers forearms, tracing invisible patterns. The motion is soothing and repetitive, and Tony only catches onto it when Clint lets out a content little sigh, head resting on his shoulder and about to fall asleep right on the spot.

The room is quiet now, safe for the movie. There are small touches they share in the half dark room. Just something to acknowledge their company, something to let each other known that this is home, that this is safe. It is still new, and so very very precious.

They might have wildly different lives, different backgrounds. But when it comes down to it, every single one of them knows the freezing cold pain of loneliness. They have lived with it for most of their lives, but it slowly melts away.

It melts away, just a little more every single day.

*+~

Square: "Touch-Starved"

Warnings:

- non-graphic violence - non-graphic (past) child abuse - touch starvation - loneliness - dealing with trauma - PTSD / Mental health issues - Off-Screen character death

#banashee writes #Bad things happen bingo #marvel fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst #tw mental health issues #tw abuse

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