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britcision · 8 months

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Happy WIP Wednesday again friends! I have some more of chapter 17 for you after last week’s break (it has been a fucking BUSY week too holy shit)

Just a lil snack while the lore churns in the background

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Well You Did Get Down On One Knee part ii

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought).

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked nonchalantly.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little push.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

——————

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#wip wednesday #danny fenton dead and loving it #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #chapter 17 part ii #well you did get down on one knee #someone was wondering where dami has been #keep wondering 😈

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foodsies4me · 3 months

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Max showing up at Magnus' door saying Alec say it's okay but the whole of NY's shadowhunters are scouring the city looking for him

So, this took a turn I didn't expect as usual because I have never written a fic the way I planned to. Also background context, Madzie is out shopping with Izzy, Clara and Steph, which is why Max arrived sans Madzie.

The thing is, Magnus should have known better than to take Max’s word at face value. As much as he adores the child, Magnus isn’t blind to Max’s tendency to get into trouble at the drop of a head because his curiosity gets the better of him. Still, Max has never disobeyed on purpose, especially where Alec is concerned. So, when Max rings his doorbell, hazel eyes barely visible over the camera, and claims Alec told him he could drop by, Magnus doesn’t think twice about letting him in.

He’s quick to put a stasis spell on the three potions he’s making for one of his clients and turn down the fire before Max makes it all the way up. While his favorite baby Lightwood has been helping him from time to time, claiming he needed to be able to understand how potions worked to help Madzie with her lessons, Magnus has only let him touch the harmless potions that don't explode or poison you with a wrong step. Or even the right one. Max enters right as Magnus shuts his apothecary again, his smile bright and easy as he chirps out a joyous, “Hi Mags!” Magnus immediately notices how, despite the easy smile and the relaxed shoulders, something is off about Max’s greeting. He can’t pinpoint what, but something - a key component Magnus never noticed was there - is somehow absent.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite Lightwood trainee,” Magnus greets as he takes Max's jacket and backpack and places them high on the coat hanger. “What brings you here today?” Max laughs, but again the noise sounds off. Wrong. Like a note that has been transposed into a different key. “Alec said I could come,” he says, repeating what he said earlier over the speaker. “So you said,” Magnus agrees. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” Max shrugs - a gesture that is adorably reminiscent of his older brother. Even if Max is clearly using it to avoid answering Magnus’ question. Deciding not to push the issue, not yet, Magnus offers to get them both a drink, playing up his antics slightly more than usual to draw out a smile and even a giggle out of Max before he conjures them both a cup of hot chocolate - one with a small shot of rhum in it for him, and one with an extra swirl of whipped cream for Max.

They talk about general things for a couple of minutes, Max's lessons as well as some of Magnus' more outlandish clients, before Max falls silent with a troubled look on his face. He draws his knees up to his chin, the cup clutched tightly between his fingers, and carefully avoids looking at him when he says, "Mother and Father are at the institute." Magnus makes a humming sound, no longer blinking at the particular way of address that only Max seems to adopt, "And did something happen with your parents?" Max shrugs again, expression growing more somber, "To keep friendly relations, it is customary for younger children to study in a different institute than their parents," he says, reciting the words in the same manner Alexander does when he's repeating something his mother used to say.

Magnus takes a sip of his drink, "And do you want to do that?" He asks carefully, already knowing the answer. Max shakes his head, shoulders slumping as he tries to make himself even smaller. "Then you won't," Magnus says. He abandons his drink to sit down next to Max, bumping their shoulders together before he pulls the young child in for a side hug, "If you don't want to leave then I doubt your brother would let anyone take you away from him." Max mumbles something into the side of his arm. "I'm sorry darling, I didn't catch that." "I don't want to be a burden," Max mumbles slightly louder, his voice wobbling ever so softly, and, not for the first time, Magnus is cursing Maryse and Robert Lightwood in a completely different manner than he's used to.

"Do you really think your brother could ever consider you a burden?" Magnus asks, carding his hands through messy black hair. "Your big brother? Your Alec that wrote you bedtime stories and goes trick-or-treating with you?" A wet giggle. "Now that's more like it," Magnus smiles. Max sniffles, wiping his tears on his sleeve before settling himself more comfortably against Magnus' side. "You really don't think I'll have to leave?" He asks carefully. "Not even if me being here makes Alec fight with mother and father?" "If there's one thing I can promise you then it's that your brother would burn the world down before he let anyone take you away." Max lets out a deep relieved sigh, reaching for his hot chocolate again and Magnus gives him another squeeze. "I don't like it when they're at the institute," he says after a long pause, "They always make Alec sad."

"Then we'll just have to make sure we cheer him up once they're gone," Magnus reassures. "Speaking off, I was planning on eating out with your brother today, but perhaps we could make him something instead?" The suggestion works exactly the way he expected it to. "Can we? Can we?" Max asks, springing up from the couch, eyes shining the way they should as he already starts shooting off the names of the different dishes he wants to make. Magnus expects that to be the last of it. Max and he end up making burgers, a homemade salad, and some potato wedges. Nothing too complicated for Max to make, and yet something all three of them like to eat. They're close to finishing up so Magnus calls Alexander, expecting to surprise his boyfriend with a (hopefully) welcome change in plans, only for things to go slightly different.

Alexander picks up on the first ring, his voice strangled like he's on the verge of a panic attack. "Magnus -I...fuck, I'm sorry I can't make it. Max is missing - I...," his voice grows more distant, likely speaking to someone else before he comes back on the phone, "I have to leave, I'm sorry. I'll let you-" "Max is here," Magnus cuts in before he looks over at Max, who is staring curiously at him. "Which he told me you knew?" "He...what?" "Max is here, he's been in my loft for most of the afternoon," he says, not missing the way Alexander's voice has grown very still. "He told me he told you." "I did," Max says, sounding as confused as Magnus does. "I asked if I could see you." Alexander curses over the other end of the line. "I- I'm going to have to call everyone back," Alec apologizes. "I- Max did ask... I was just, with mom and dad being here, I just. Sorry about this." Magnus can just imagine the expression on his face, a mixture of relief, annoyance, and the leftover stress from having had to endure another meeting with his parents. "There's no need to apologize, darling. That said, is your sister somewhere close?"

"Izzy?" Alexander asks, sounding calmer already, "Yeah she just came back from shopping with Madzie, Clara, and Steph, why?" "Could you put me on the phone with her?" Alexander still sounds confused, but he does as Magnus asks him to and, just a few seconds later, Izzy's voice floats over the phone. Magnus is quick to tell her to take over for Alexander for the night, something she's more than happy to do, before he asks her to give the phone back to Alexander so he can convince his boyfriend to come over. Something that isn't too difficult considering Max is still standing in his loft. After he's hung up, Alexander promising he's on his way, a pair of small arms wrap themselves around Magnus' waist again, a thin voice speaking up again. "Magnus?" "Yes, my little magpie?" "Thank you." Magnus smiles, returning the hug with a soft squeeze to Max's shoulders. "Anytime, little one."

#foodsies writes #this ended up having more feels than expected #I don't even know where Maryse and Robert came from #but clearly they needed to annoy Alec with one thing or the other #thank you for the prompt!#these have been all so fun to do #though I still have a number to go through

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bhaalsdeepbat · 3 months

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SFW | AO3 | DC Comics Word Count: 2,502

An old tumblr prompt fill: entirety of Batfam on patrol and on comm, Steph wrangles/provokes/dares Jason into singing. He sings “Take me to Church” by Hozier.

“Come on, Jaybird, let me hear that sweet music you make,” Steph’s teasing voice crackled over the comm. link.

Jason snorted at the tone, fist flying into the drug dealer’s face. His knuckles cracked against the bone of the man’s jaw. He could feel the bone fracture beneath the force, drawing a scream out of dealer. The man stumbled back before tripping on one of the unconscious men laying in a heap. He joined the pile, curling into a ball so he could hold his jaw.

“A little busy over here, princess,” he grunted as he reached for his zip ties. He dropped to a crouch, yanking the man’s hands away from his face. Jason pinned them together behind the man’s back before tightening the tie around his wrists.

“Please? It’s too quiet tonight, and we all know I’m a little tone deaf.” Jason laughed again as he began tying the hands of the unconscious men together, leaving the three in a pretty pile for whatever cop came to get them.

“Don’t you dare sing, girl blunder.” Damian’s voice was a low growl over the comm. Jason rolled his eyes at the threat in the boy’s tone. The child wouldn’t do anything, but the bite to his tone was annoying as hell.

“Shut up, brat,” Jason cut in as he began walking away from the scene. He hauled himself up onto a fire escape and began his quick ascent. Boots clanged against the metal, gloves scraping against rust. The ladder shook beneath him. There were easier ways to get up to the roof, but this was familiar. He’d been doing it since he was a kid, so there was a sense of safety in the action.

“Both of you need to shut up,” Damian huffed in response. Jason could hear the crack of a fist against bone. He snorted, shaking his head at the groan that followed the noise. The kid could be annoying, but he was damn good at what he did.

“Just because you said that, I’m gonna fulfill Goldilock’s request.” He hauled himself up onto the roof before immediately reaching for his box of cigarettes. “It’s break time for me, anyways.”

He shook a cigarette into his hand. “Any requests?” He tilted his head back as he put the stick between his lips. He pocketed the box, and then pulled out a lighter.

“Nothing,” Damian grumbled.

“Serenade me, Red Hood. Make my young heart-” she was breathless on the end of the comm. He could hear her grunting before there was a loud smack that echoed in the background. “Flutter.”

“You’re something else,” Jason laughed, scrubbing a hand down his face before lifting his lighter. He cupped his hand around the flame, holding it up to the end of the cigarette. He waited until he saw trails of smoke slowly dance up ward.

“I’m a whole lot of great, is what I am,” Steph responded, voice less strained. He smiled, happy to hear that she was getting the upper hand, if the fight wasn’t already over with how hard she hit the poor bastard.

Jason took a drag of the cigarette before plucking it out from between his lips. He exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut. He tilted his head back, letting the words come out out low and raspy.

“My lover’s got humour ��She’s the giggle at a funeral Knows everybody’s disapproval I should’ve worshipped her sooner.“

He paused, taking another drag. He wasn’t shy, but knowing he had an audience that was paying close attention made him a little nervous. He used to sing for his mom, and then with Alfred when he was a kid, but now, it was rare. He took a deep breath, clearing his throat before continuing.

“If the heavens ever did speak She’s the last true mouthpiece Every Sunday’s getting more bleak A fresh poison each week.”

Jason’s voice dropped lower, his vibrato nearly cracking. He was out of practice, and suddenly aware of it. He took a deep breath, flicking the ashes of his cigarette before taking another drag.

“Don’t stop.” Damian’s voice was quiet, filled with soft intrigue. Jason’s lips stretched into a small smile.

”We were born sick" you heard them say it.“

Jason paused when he heard the sound of a gunshot. His brows furrowed, body tensing. He was ready to put out his cigarette and bring back up.

“I’m okay, keep going. Sorry-” Dick, who had been unusually quiet all night, finally spoke up. Jason flexed his hand nervously.

“My church offers no absolutes She tells me “Worship in the bedroom” The only heaven I’ll be sent to Is when I’m alone with you.”

Jason crouched down, twisting the tip of the cigarette out on the roof when he decided he no longer wanted it. He began stripping the paper off the tobacco. “I was born sick But I love it Command me to be well Aaay. Amen. Amen. Amen.”

His voice was strong, louder than it had been. He felt the words wash over him, and when he finished, he stood tall. He pocketed the paper of his cigarette, eyes narrowing behind the simple domino he’d been wearing that night. He tilted his head back, looking up at Gotham’s dirty night sky.

“That’s all you’re gettin’,” he grunted as he began walking away.

#bat writes #dc comics #jason todd #stephanie brown #damian wayne #dick grayson

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 months

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Hello Steph! I know you haven't been listening to the new Sherlock podcast but asdfghjkl it's so good! If you join the patreon you can get the transcripts which might be easier to digest?

They also do mailbag episodes and I have been losing my mind at the meta implications and I think you'd like it too. I made a transcript for that since they don't have one on the patreon (and it would feel wrong to publicly post any of their transcripts) and you can see what I mean!

Sherlock loves dinosaurs! John likes Will & Grace! The little interactions between them!

Asdfghjkl I just love your writing and analysis and I think you'd really like this version of them!

https://www.tumblr.com/eardefenders/740431921828544512/sherlock-co-mailbag-episode-1-transcript?source=share

(linked post in ask above)

Hey Lovely!

Ah, thank you so much your appreciation of me and my work, it means so much to me! I don't get many comments these days on my old meta, so it means the world to me that it still holds up to y'all!

I actually have NOT been listening to it, but it has been recced to me. I don't really listen to podcasts (nor podfics, honestly) simply because if it's something new I have to be paying attention 100% or I won't understand what's going on (usually I put on movies and TV shows I've already seen for background noise). It's a weird quirk of mine, always has been. I'll probably listen to it eventually, but I honestly don't have any plans in the near future to, unless Johnlock is canonized.

BUT I have heard it's REALLY GOOD and an interesting modernization that SHOULD be listened to, so here are the links for all of us:

[APPLE PODCASTS] || [SPOTIFY] || [PLAYPODCAST.NET] || [AUDIBLE]

Again, I will inevitably listen to it, I'm sure, and I am a huge supporter of any and all adaptations <3

#steph replies #chatting with lovelies #sherlock and co #podcasts #sherlock adaptations

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abyssal-ali · 1 year

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Batfam as things my family and I have said (or overheard): Road Trip Edition (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~~these were all from my sister and me because we were in the same vehicle for 12 hours together. There were more but needed background, so you get these very out of context quotes~~

>Tim: actually it's not responsible, I'm speeding

Tim: speeding responsibly<

>Dick: STOP CALLING YOURSELF TRASH

Jason: NO

Dick: if you don't I'll throw you out for reals<

>Damian: SHUT UP! SHUT UP ABOUT THAT! WE DO NOT SPEAK OF IT!!

Steph: *Laughs evilly* but you're ~perfect~ for each other<

>Duke: I was gonna say I live in my parents' basement but I don't

Duke: I live in my FRIEND'S parents' basement

Babs: somehow that's worse<

>Kon: THERES A STOP SIGN? IN MY GOOD PRAIRIES?

Kon: whY would you build a town RIGHT BESIDE A HIGHWAY<

Steph: you're the person from math problems

Babs: there are 2 kinds of people: 1) we should've frozen the grapes (jason) 2) stuff 'em all in your mouth (steph & dick)

Cullen: love that. NPC energy

>Tim: for a second I saw you as a gastank

Tim, about Cass: my brain gave me the good ding and I was like that's my sister!<

>Dick: Oh no we reached the part in our road trip where we just make unintelligible noises

Jason: calls Dick's name in falsetto<

>Bruce: WHY IS EVRYONE SPEEDING?

Robin!Dick: you're speeding too

Bruce: yeah but to catch up. It's different if *I* do it<

Jason: do you just call yourself a cracker?...beef

Damian: BEETS

Jason: beef>:) <

>Dick: you're judging me for asking me for spudato?

Cass: nope<

Harper, mocking Jason's fancy English: what a sublime amount of sodium chloride

> Steph: can you read me the latest collection of quotes

Cullen: sure. Today or since my last post?

Steph: all of them. I've probably forgotten everything I said earlier today anyways< (she did)

>Babs: you don't look suspicious at all!

Bruce: just what I wanted to hear<

Dick: look you can put your phone on flight mode. Brrrrrm!

>Steph: you achieved it! Ultimate cringe!

Steph: I'll never recover<

Babs: I love bimboing myself into not having to give directions

>Dick: whY do you not remember anything?

Jason, immediately: trauma

(Dick: NOOOO)<

#batfam shenanigans #incorrect batfam quotes #+ bonus kon

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motownfiction · 1 year

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texan

Steph drips Texas Champagne on her scrambled eggs on a Sunday morning, all alone in her kitchen. This is what grief looks like, twenty-three months and one day on. It’s Christmas Eve, and she keeps forgetting about it.

It’s stupid grief to have. She’s been saying that to her therapist for almost two years. You have no right to grieve this much for someone who dumped you when you were eighteen, no matter how many times you reconnected just to sever it all again (because you were both scared and too proud to admit it, to him or to yourself). But it doesn’t matter. She has to feel the way she feels, no matter how many times she turns up the music and dances around her living room to shed it, to make it go away.

She takes a bite of her eggs and lets the Texas Champagne hit her tongue. There’s no better hot sauce in the world, nothing better to make her remember that food is an experience. For a moment, Steph wonders what she’d be like if she were a Texan. She knows she wouldn’t put an apostrophe S on the ends of different grocery stores and restaurants. She caught herself telling her mother to meet her at Panera Bread’s the other day and briefly considered what it would be like to never speak again. But maybe she’d sound like that squirrel from the SpongeBob cartoon she flips past when she’s trying to watch reruns of The Wonder Years. For a second, she wishes she was that squirrel under the sea. She wouldn’t have to worry about crying or running into one of your dead high school sweetheart’s siblings at the store. She wouldn’t have to eat Christmas Eve breakfast all by herself. No, she’d just be a cartoon. Two-dimensional. Imaginary. Only existing on paper and in between television channels in the middle of the day.

Steph’s not sure how long she’s felt that way, but she thinks it’s been longer than twenty-three months and one day. She thinks it’s been much longer than that.

She turns on the TV to keep her company while she eats her eggs and Texas Champagne. She’s not sure what channel she’s watching. It’s a commercial with “Deck the Halls” playing in the background. She doesn’t know what it’s advertising, and she doesn’t care. It’s noise, and she needs noise. She turns up the volume and takes another bite of her eggs. She’s running out of hot sauce.

Steph goes to the fridge for more Texas Champagne. The bottle only has a few more drops in it. Hardly enough to satisfy the rest of the eggs on her plate. She closes her eyes and laughs to keep from crying (because she is so tired of crying). Of course she’s out. Of course she’s out on Christmas Eve, one of two days on the calendar she keeps trying to forget. She never wants to leave the house on Christmas Eve. She doesn’t want to remember what’s out there, what she’s missing.

But she’s out of Texas Champagne.

She throws on her coat and her shoes. Maybe it’s a good idea to brave the grocery store today. She’s got to get what she needs.

(part of @nosebleedclub january challenge -- day xix!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: steph armstrong #year: 2004 #for the record: i am from michigan but i don't do that weird apostrophe S thing #also steph is about to run into charlie and daniel in a target parking lot here lol

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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i want dick grayson to be annoyingly perfect in the smallest of unimportant ways. and i want it to irritate the living hell out of everyone around him

every now and then, jason and dick will go to different chili dog carts around the city, and dick will sit and nod in agreement as jason nitpicks the food, occasionally offering his own two cents. the conversations are tense and if the topic strays from anything except food jason books it, but it’s progress, and dick’s grateful. but he doesn’t understand why jason always growls at him when he’s preparing his chili dogs, chalking it up to jason’s obsessiveness about that food in particular. dick figures he’s probably doing it wrong. until one day, jason bites out a rough question, asks him how he did that. dick’s confused, until jason points out, “you tear open the top of the ketchup packet in a perfect line every time. and you get all of the ketchup out of the packet in one smooth squeeze, and you never get any on your fingers, and i don’t understand how.”

roy was, arguably, a better archer than ollie. green arrow had been birthed from the island, from the trauma of survival. roy, however, had been practicing since he was a kid, and now that he was well into his twenties, he could safely say he was one of the best shots in the world. he could beat all his friends at darts, shoot an apple off wally’s head, and was generally pretty awesome. or, he would be awesome, if only dick fucking grayson would stop making every single shot of anything he threw in a trash can. no matter what he was throwing away, no matter the angle, no matter the wind or rain, as long as the trashcan was in eyesight, anything dick tossed would inevitably end up inside the garbage. sometimes, dick barely even glanced at the damn thing, just took note of it a threw the trash, expecting it to land in the proper place. and it always did. the worst part was, dick didn’t even seem to notice it. he wasn’t actively trying to make every shot. when asked, dick just shrugged and said “we had some pretty good knife throwers in the circus.”

tim’s memories starting out as robin were a whirlwind, a push-pull of bruce’s mistrust, then bruce’s acceptance, of dick’s fear and hesitation, then of dick’s love. he still remembered dick making the two of them hot chocolate in the kitchen after a day of training, tim’s muscles sore and entire body aching but the feeling of pride, because he was good enough to be robin, he knew he was. he hadn’t expected that to happen anytime soon again, given the way their relationship had fractured after tim had left dick’s batman, a terrified fury in his eyes. yet, he’d been proven wrong when, after a particularly rough arkham breakout, alfred asked both dick and tim to stay instead of returning to their own apartments. just because the manor brought back a feeling of warm nostalgia, however, doesn’t mean it kept the nightmares away. he came down to the kitchen and saw dick already up, moving around the stovetop. with a knowing look in his eyes, dick grabbed another mug to make tim some hot chocolate. tim was washed over with a feeling of relief, of acceptance. dick slid the mug towards him and tim took a sip, letting the rich chocolate warm him up from the inside. it was delicious. his little sigh of pleasure must have been audible, but then he remembered something he noticed. “dick. did you use alfred’s recipe for this?” and dick laughed, responded with, “nah. too much work. i just sort of tried to remember what was in hot chocolate, and eyeballed most of the ingredients. i’m glad it turned out good though. no clumps too, that’s good.”

donna didn’t care how old she got, playing in the park with dick never got old. as one of her oldest friends, the two of them could just walk around the park, in companionable silence, just letting themselves relax and enjoy the moment. so, of course, dick would break the silence and ask if she had any earbuds, because it was getting to quiet for him. donna laughed, and reached inside her pocket, fingered past the keys, and grabbed the headphones. the tangled little ball that came out made her sigh, and she pulled on an earbud to loosen it, only managing to make one of the many knots tighter. then, dick took the headphones out of her hands with a here, i got it, and with a few quick tugs, the tangled monstrosity unraveled easy as breathing. then, completely unaffected, he handed her an earbud, putting the other in his own ear. “i’m the one who’s got a lasso,” she said, ignoring dick’s snort and quip about how earbuds and a lasso are two completely different things, donna.

cass hadn’t expected to enjoy such a gentle, graceful form of athletics, but after a few lessons, it had become apparent that ballet could be far from gentle. it pushed her, made her practice and strengthen herself, and she’d fallen in love with the art quickly. however, the most frustrating part of the entire thing had little to do with actually dancing. the school bruce had helped pick out was prestigious, which meant a strict dress code, which meant her hair had to be in a bun. unfortunately, her hair never seemed to want to cooperate. after her latest attempt, falling into a mess of hair at her nape that had so many locks falling out, cass contemplated how mad the teacher would be if she showed up in a ponytail. at that moment, dick peeked into her room, having heard her frustrated noise, and asked if he could do anything to help. cass pointed to the mess of hair, not even remotely contained by the hair tie, and blew a strand out of her face. dick smiled with understanding, then came into her room, grabbing the comb on her bed and standing behind her in front of the mirror. he smoothed her hair with the comb, then pulled it this way and that, twisting and turning and wrapping until, two minutes later, a picture perfect bun sat atop her head. cass blinked with surprise. “first try,” she said, staring up at him, but he just shrugged and said, “it’s not that hard. you want me to drop you off?”

bruce could admit that he rather enjoyed undercover missions. it was an extended game with high stakes, a test of his own acting skills. with makeup changing his face, an expertly made wig, and a demeanor completely different from both brucie wayne and from batman, he swept through the crowd of greasy men, looking for a specific contact. then, he caught sight of someone specific indeed, though they weren’t his contact. eyebrows raised in a what are you doing here? gesture, he slid onto a barstool. from behind the bar, dick offered him a blinding smile, cleaning a glass. he tapped his wrist twice, a clear message. undercover, same as you. then, dick grabbed a couple bottles from underneath a shelf, flipping them in his hand and pouring with grandeur. bruce noticed he hadn’t put any alcohol in his little mixture, only making it seem as if he had. the flashy moves were entertaining, bruce could give him that. dick slid him the drink and bruce took a sip, eyebrows raising in brief surprise. “this is good. bartending?” dick put the bottles and the lemon away, unimpressed. “it’s not like it’s hard. just mixing a couple ingredients. no biggie.” bruce was fairly certain bartending was more difficult than that, but just then, his target came into view.

steph understood some of the bats’ frustration with dick, she really could. he hadn’t exactly been a welcome and opening batman, that’s for sure. regardless, as the few masks left in gotham had to work together, and she’d gotten to know the man pretty well. and she enjoyed his company as nightwing much more than batman. she dropped onto his balcony in his bludhaven apartment, announcing her presence in that loud-subtle way. dick was nestled in a couple blankets on the couch, going over a couple files, apparently just back from patrol if the small bandage on his neck and bags under his eyes were any indication. nevertheless, he brightened when he saw her and she nodded when he asked if she wanted to spend the night. he moved some of the papers to make room for her on the couch, but she flitted into his bathroom, going through the nail polish bottles she knew he had, and grabbing a shade of red that caught her eye. she tossed him the bottle and put her fingers in his lap, talking aimlessly about a movie she watched with cass. dick seemed to relax amidst her jabbering, and he shook the bottle a couple times before opening it and focusing on her right hand. but as he started, steph paused her rambling and focused on him instead, holding her hands gently and brushing paint onto her nails. he managed to cover her entire nail in three easy strokes, smooth and glossy, not a hint of paint on her skin. the nail was practically perfect. oh god she was jealous. “got a lot of practice with this, grayson?” she asked, and laughed at dick’s mock-offended of course not!

damian wasn’t one for photography, and he could grudgingly admit drake was far better at that particular skill than he was. however, his art class had promised to cover all types of media, and had upheld that pledge. the next two weeks were dedicated to photography, and their final project for the unit had to be a small collection of photographs. animal photography, of course, was damian’s chosen subject, and the knowledge that animal photography was one of the hardest skills to master only had damian wanting to do it more. days later, however, he could admit that it was trickier than expected. how had he never noticed how active his animals were? they never sat still, and every single picture came out blurry. grayson, upon coming across him in the manor grounds, noticed his futile attempts and asked if he could help. damian acquiesced the camera to grayson, who looked through the lens, finding the right angle and background, adjusting the focus settings slightly. then, he let out a sharp whistle and snapped his fingers. in nothing short of a miracle, damian’s pets pasued to look at him, only for a second, and the shutter clicked furiously. damian flipped through the photos, a good many of them clear and wonderful. damian snapped in irritation when dick ruffled his hair and said, “now you try!” it definitely wasn’t as easy as grayson made it look.

babs didn’t really know what she was expecting when she broke up with dick. there was hurt on both ends, and distance for a while, and she had no idea how much she’d miss him. but after a couple months of working together, of remembering that underneath the romantic tangles, their friendship was strong, she’d gotten to the point of dick randomly dropping by her apartment again. the downside was, dick kept randomly dropping by her apartment again. he stole her snacks and messed up her filing system and was so irritating that barbara almost forgot how relieved she was at having one of her best friends back. fortunately, it did come with benefits, because when he was bored, he did some of her chores for her. pausing in the doorway, she smiled at the sight of dick folding her clothes and putting them away. the gesture was platonic now, but no less appreciated. she pushed her wheelchair forward, and in greeting, dick told her how much he wanted to steal all her patterned socks. babs reminded him they wouldn’t fit, and laughed at his pout. dick grabbed one sock off the top of the laundry basket, then dug his hand into the pile of clothes randomly, coming up with the second sock in an instant. folding them together, he repeated the process for each pair. “that...that was fast. you got all of them?” babs asked in confusion. “yes? why, did you expect some to be missing?” was dick’s reply as he shook the wrinkles out of a sweater.

wally was never surprised. he knew dick better than probably most people in the world. he’d gone from frustrated and jealous of dick’s random talents, to admiring and appreciative, to just accepting them as a fact of life. dick’s phone never cracked if he accidentally he dropped it. dick never buttoned up shirts wrong, aligning each button with the right hole perfectly on the first try. dick could plug in usb ports the right way. dick always remembered which light switch was for which room, no matter whose house they were at. dick could pop a cd out of its case without ever smudging the disk, holding it by the rim perfectly. and dick always seemed to know when wally needed a day off, to just visit their old haunts, grab some ice cream, and spend the day talking away on a rooftop. that was just something his best friend could do. and wally would never tell dick, but underneath his fake irritation at it, but he loved him for it.

tag list: @comicsandhoney @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @astroherogirl @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg

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mischiefandspirits · 2 years

Text

Daddy's Gonna Find Out Any Minute

When Tim gets outted to the public, Kon sees an opportunity to both help out his friend and annoy Lex.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassie and Bart didn’t look up from their phones when Kon stomped in and threw himself down on the couch.

“Luthor?” Bart asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in his lap.

Kon growled into the cushions.

“Yeah,” Cassie answered between sips of her milkshake. “He’s been annoying Kon.”

“He says he wants us to get along, but then he gets on my case over everything!” Kon growled. “Honestly, like he has room to talk when it comes to embarrassing the family name. He’s a supervillain!”

“He’s the worst,” Bart agreed, texting Cissie a picture of a cat he’d seen during a run earlier.

“Yeah. And I try to avoid him, but he just ambushes me when I’m hanging out with Aunt Lena. Or he kidnaps me. I just wish there was a way to get him off my back. Really throw him for a loop.”

“Uh-huh,” Cassie agreed blankly, then she perked up. “Oh look, Tim’s in the news.”

Kon glared up at her as Bart sped over to her side. “Are you guys even listening?”

“‘Teen CEO Timothy Wayne spotted on a date with unknown male paramour!’” Bart read then he and Cassie shared a look. “Tim’s just been outed to the public.”

“Guess that’s how it goes when you’re famous.”

“At least the photographer wasn’t able to get a look at Bernard.”

“Yeah. Everything’s going to be crazy enough as is.”

“Should we call Tim now or wait for this to die down a little?” Bart asked, already tapping away at his phone to update Cissie.

“Just send him a text. Something tells me he’s going to be too busy for a call right now,” Cassie said, opening the group chat to do just that. “Hey, Kon -” she cut off when she realized the two were alone in the room.

“Where’d Kon go?” Bart asked and she shrugged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You sure you’re okay?” Tim asked, pacing around his office. “I can -”

“I’m fine, Tim, seriously,” Bernard chuckled. “No one knows it was me. The article didn’t even list my hair color, let alone my name. I’m more worried about you. You got outed to the whole world.”

Tim sighed and dropped into his chair. “It’s fine. Bruce has always pushed for inclusivity and all the phobes in the company were weeded out during Dick’s experimental teenage years. Everything else is just background noise. Besides, I gave PR a warning this could happen the moment we decided to give dating a try so they’re already taking care of any of the news sources being a little too blatant in their prejudices.”

“Tim,” Bernard started with laughter in his voice, “did you come out to your PR department before you came out to your family?”

“No… Okay, yes, but apparently my brothers, Alfred, Kate, Steph, and Cass already knew so it doesn’t actually count. I really only came out to PR before coming out to Bruce, Bette, Cullen, and Harper.”

“You’re adorable.”

Tim blushed. “Hey, you try having the whole of PR mad at you because you didn’t warn them about a media storm just waiting to happen! Did you see what they put out about Dick when he -” He cut off when someone knocked on his window. He turned to see Kon floating outside and let him in. “Hey, sorry, I’m going to have to call you back later. Someone needs to talk to me.”

“No problem. I should probably get back to work on my essay anyways. How about dinner tonight?”

“Sure. My place?”

“I’ll be there. Later.”

“Later.” Tim hung up. “Can you warn me next time you take the TTK express to my office so I can have the window open? I’ve got enough to deal with right now without someone spotting you flying in.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Kon sat down on Tim’s desk, earning an annoyed look from his friend. “We should fake-date.”

“Is the mission urgent? Because I’m a little -”

“No, not on a mission. I’m saying you, Tim, should fake-date me. In public.”

Tim stared at him blankly. “Kon, I have a boyfriend. You met him two months ago, remember?”

“I know, I know, but I’m guessing you’re not about to throw Bernie into the wolves for a while, are you?”

“No.” Tim would very much like to keep Bernard out of the media. Especially since his boyfriend’s parents didn’t know they were dating yet. The two of them were trying to get Mr. and Mrs. Dowd to actually like Tim before dropping that bombshell. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fake-cheat on my boyfriend to fake-date you. Also don’t call him that, please. He hates it.”

“Got it. And we’ll tell him and your family and our friends and Clark, Lois, Jon, Ma, and Pa, so you won’t be fake cheating. It’s just for the media. Think about it. We both know that if you don’t tell everyone who you’re dating, the sharks are going to go digging until they track down Bernard. If we give them someone to focus on, me, then he can stay hidden for a little longer.”

“I guess,” Tim considered, “but I don’t think shoving Conner Kent into the limelight will be much better.”

“Not Conner Kent, no,” Kon said, grinning and adjusting his jacket.

Tim raised an eyebrow, then his eyes widened. “You want to fake-date me as Superboy! ”

Kon gave him finger guns.

“I can’t fake-date a superhero, Kon. It could compromise my identity.”

He shrugged. “I dated civilians before I got a secret identity and you’re well-known enough that it would make sense we could have met. Besides, Clark used to flirt with Lois as Superman all the time before they got married -- and even now he still does it every so often -- so no one will think twice about a Super hooking up with a pretty civilian who gets themself into trouble here and there.”

Tim crossed his arms. “I don’t get myself into trouble.”

“What about two weeks ago when I -”

“I got kidnapped, that’s different. Lois intentionally throws herself into dangerous situations. I don’t do that,” at Kon’s look, he added, “as Tim. I throw Red Robin into dangerous situations. Tim just, in Steph’s words, looks kidnappable.”

“Okay, but see. We have a perfect backstory. I rescued you, we flirted, then I offered to take you out. Now we’re dating. Fake-dating.”

Tim slumped back in his chair. “Why do you want to fake-date so much?”

Kon grabbed one of Tim’s pens and spun it around his fingers. “Aunt Lena said Lex has been complaining about how you wouldn’t agree to work together on some project.”

“I didn’t turn him down, I just had some concessions we need to go over so I can make sure he can’t turn the project into a supervillain plot,” Tim muttered to himself before saying, “Is this seriously just some ploy to annoy your dad?”

“It’s a win-win situation, Tim. I get to annoy Lex and Bernard can go a little longer without having cameras shoved in his face. Plus, isn’t he a superhero fanboy? He’ll get a kick out of this!”

“He’s a Gotham vigilante conspiracy theorist, not a superhero fanboy, -”

“Same thing.”

“- and in case you’re forgetting, he doesn’t know I’m Red Robin. How am I supposed to explain fake-dating Superboy?”

“Just tell him the truth?” Kon suggested, balancing the pen on the tip of his finger. “I rescued you a few times. I flirted with you and gave you my number. We decided to fake-date to get the press off your back and annoy Lex.”

“You never flirted with me.”

Kon stared blankly at him. “Tim.”

Tim stared back for a moment before blushing and burying his face in his hands.

Kon -- because he was a jerk -- laughed at him.

“You were way more obvious with Cassie!”

“Because I thought you were straight. And so did you.”

“I hate you.”

“So do you want to go on a fake date with me?”

Tim slumped onto his desk. “I’ll think about it. I’ll need to talk to Bernard. And Bruce. And Lucius. And the PR team.”

Kon patted him on the back then left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, I always knew Kon would steal you away, but I figured it’d be from me and he’d be your bi awakening.”

“Haha,” Red Robin mocked, not looking up from the warehouse he was watching.

“What did Bernard say when you asked?” Black Bat asked, shoving a giggling Batgirl.

“He was a little awestruck, but he was okay with the plan.”

She hummed and poked him.

“He also might have asked how Red Robin felt about the whole thing,” he added, reluctantly. “Apparently, he has opinions on our relationship.”

“Oh my god! He’s a Redboy shipper!” Batgirl shrieked and Black Bat slapped her hand over the blonde’s mouth.

“Quiet. Stakeout.”

“He’s not a shipper,” Tim huffed. “He just misinterpreted our behavior towards each other to be romantic instead of platonic.”

“Platonic,” Black Bat snorted.

“I swear you weren’t this oblivious when we got together,” Batgirl said, leaning against him.

“I’m sorry, he misinterpreted my behavior towards Kon as romantic.”

The girls shared a look and Black Bat nodded when Batgirl said, “Well at least he’s realized Kon used to flirt with him.”

He flipped them both off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, I thought this would be more awkward,” Kon said, looking at Tim from over his sunglasses.

“We’ve gone on fake dates before,” Tim pointed out before tugging Kon towards the cotton candy stand.

“Yeah, but that was as Alvin Draper and Carl Krummet or Caroline Hill and Lucas Alexander or whatever. This is us on a fake date.”

“A fake date is a fake date,” Tim said with a shrug.

“I guess you’re right.” Kon pulled his friend closer to his side using the arm over the smaller boy’s shoulders. He leaned down to whisper in Tim’s ear, “We have a tail.”

“Congratulations for noticing. He’s been on us for ten minutes,” Tim said, smirking up at Kon’s annoyed look. He kissed Kon’s cheek. “I figure we’ll give it another three then accidentally reveal your identity to him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is this?” Lex demanded, throwing a magazine down on the table between Lena and Kon.

“Hey, dad,” Kon said. “So anyway, after we beat him -”

“Superboy,” Lex interrupted. “What. Is. This?”

“Hello, dear brother. Yes, it is wonderful to see you again. No, you can’t come into my office. Yes, I do mind you interrupting my time with my nephew.” Lena said, grabbing the paper. “And since you seem so curious, this is what we call a magazine. People use it to get information. It’s like a newspaper, but more colorful. You do know what a newspaper is, right?”

“Very funny,” Lex deadpanned. “I’m talking about the article mentioned on the front page.”

Lena rolled her eyes and looked at the cover, then frowned. She gave Kon a pointed look. “‘Potential Gothamite/Metropolin romance? Superboy spotted on a date with Wayne CEO!’ You started dating Timothy and you didn’t tell me?”

“More importantly, you started dating Drake and you didn’t tell me? ”

“He prefers Tim,” Kon said before taking a big drink from his milkshake. “And it’s Drake-Wayne. He goes by Wayne more than Drake.”

“How long have you two been dating?”

“Yes, how long have you two been dating?”

“Are you just going to repeat everything Aunt Lena says?” Kon asked, smirking at the annoyance on Lex’s face. He turned to Lena with a shrug. “Not long. About two weeks now.”

About a week earlier than when that photographer caught a picture of Tim and Bernard. Long enough for them to be as cuddly as Tim and Bernard had been in the pictures, but still after the last time he’d rescued Tim as Superboy.

He expected Lex to be annoyed, that had been the point after all. He hadn’t expected the calculating look on Lena’s face.

“Two weeks?” she asked. “So around the time Lex and Tim started talks on behalf of LexCare and Wayne Health?”

“… Maybe? I’ll be honest, I don’t really pay much attention when you guys talk about L-Corp stuff. Is that what you guys were fighting about? Some health thing?”

Lena shook her head as Lex pinched the bridge of his nose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good news, Lex is furious as planned,” Kon said as he stomped into Tim’s apartment, having unlocked the balcony with TTK. “Bad news, now he and Aunt Lena think you’re only dating me to get a leg up on whatever health thing you’ve got going on and I’m either too dumb or smitten to notice. As if I would talk about boring non-supervillain L-Corp stuff with my supposed boyfriend when I could be making out with him instead!”

“Uh, Superboy -”

“And I’m not stupid! I know when people are using me to get at one of my dads! Yeah, sometimes I go along with it to tick one or both of them off, but I still know what’s happening! You know that, right?”

“Normally I’d say yes, but maybe you should turn around.”

Kon spun on his heel to glare at his friend, then froze because that was a wide-eyed Bernard on the couch cuddled up with Tim. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tim said, looking one part annoyed and one part amused as he sat up.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Kon’s lips quirked up as he added, “You didn’t have to stop on my account, though.”

“You’re obnoxious. We’re just watching a movie.”

Kon shook his head. “Tim, Tim, Tim, You have this whole apartment to yourself. Why are you two watching a movie when you could be -”

“Leave. Now. Or I will make Lena think she was right to question your capabilities.”

“You can’t mess with Aunt Lena! She’s under Supergirl’s protection!”

“I fear all of one Super and it’s not her.”

Kon snickered as he remembered how nervous and proper Tim got whenever he was around Ma.

“You think that’s funny. Maybe I should give her a call and tell her what you were about to say.”

“You’re the worst,” Kon huffed, then turned to the balcony door. “Fine. I’ll leave you to your boring movie date. I’m going to tell Lena the truth.”

“Have fun! I’m sure she won’t be mad that you didn’t tell her before!”

“The worst!” Kon slammed the door as hard as he could without breaking it and flew off.

“What the heck?” he heard Bernard whisper to Tim.

“Sorry about him.”

“He just showed up at your apartment to rant.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll remind him to call ahead next time.”

“Tim, Superboy just showed up at your apartment to rant. I know you guys are doing the fake-dating thing, but that’s just crazy. How is this your life?”

“No idea,” Tim chuckled. “Come on, let’s get back to the movie.”

“Hm… Do you think he could get me Red Robin’s phone number?”

“Oh my god,” Tim snorted.

“Come on, I respect that you’ve got a thing for Superboy so you should respect that I’ve got a thing for Red Robin.”

Kon paused midair to laugh as Tim sputtered.

“I don’t have a thing for Superboy!”

“Babe, you used to wear Superboy shirts all the time when we were in school.”

“That’s not -”

“You still have them and wear them sometimes.”

“Bernard!”

“I’m just saying. I know you wouldn’t cheat, but if you did want to have a little side thing with Superboy, I wouldn’t blame you and I’d be fine with it as long as you talk to me first. And maybe get me Red Robin’s number. Fair’s fair, you know.”

Kon forced himself to stop listening in and continue towards Metropolis as Tim groaned into his hands. He did, however, pull out his phone to text the group chat.

Marvel_Boy: Hey Iron-Lad I could help you out if you want to have some side fun with your own BF

MissAmerica: ???

Iron-Lad: I can and will break out the k

Speed: What’s going on?

Hawkeye: ^

Marvel_Boy: His BF wants RR’s number to “have a little side thing” with him

Marvel_Boy: In a poly way not a cheating way

Hawkeye: Awww!!!!

MissAmerica: LOL

Speed: At least you know he likes both sides of you

Iron-Lad: I hate all of you

Hawkeye: No you don’t

MissAmerica: Love you too!!

Speed: 🤍❤️🤍

Marvel_Boy: 😘

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steph thinking Tim looks kidnappable comes from my story "A Villian's Kid " since this takes place in the same universe. Mostly because I like imagining the reactions of the people who thought Tim was the next Lex Luther. Hiring Cluemaster's daughter is one thing, but seducing Lex's Superman clone? There are probably so many "Oh yeah, it's all coming together" memes.

#conner kent #Tim Drake #bernard dowd #lex luthor #timber #fanfiction #ceo and bodyguard

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cutethingstolove · 3 years

Text

Lazy Sunday

Photos From @little-stephanies-diary and @babiechristy, Part 13

Stephanie sat at the table eating her breakfast as if on auto-pilot with her thoughts consumed with all the new information she had learned in the last hour. She occasionally glanced at Courtney knowing that they were both sitting in wet diapers while they ate. Something about the situation made Stephanie feel closer to her best friend than ever before, and she really wanted to hang out again today. Since it was still football season, Steph knew her dad would be gone most of the day watching the games at a friends house, and the girls could have the house to themselves! Now she just hoped that Courtney was free for the day before she asked.

“Hey Court,” Stephanie spoke up, “What are your plans for today?”

“Don’t have any plans actually,” Courtney perked up, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Stephanie replied, “I haven’t really hung out with anyone this week because of my dad’s rule, but since you already know, I thought we could spend the day together!”

“Sounds like fun!,” Courtney excitedly yelped, “I’ll call my parents and let them know!”

Courtney bolted up from the table, grabbed her phone, and went into the living room to call her parents. Stephanie was elated at the idea of spending a worry-free day with her best friend! She had so many questions she wanted to ask Courtney about wearing Goodnites every night, especially now that Stephanie had been wearing some form of a diaper all day for nearly a week. Her head was flooded with curiosity, but more than anything, Stephanie was just excited to spend some more quality time with her friend. It was right as Stephanie was finishing her breakfast that Courtney bounced back into the room and announced that her parents said it was ok!

“Great!,” Stephanie squealed with glee, “Let’s go get changed and figure out what we are going to do!”

“I’m so excited!,” Courtney replied, “Besides, it’ll be nice to get out of this wet diaper. This is the longest I’ve actually stayed in one after waking up when I’ve had an accident.”

“Yeah,” Steph replied a little reluctantly, “I’ll race you to the bathroom to change!”

With that, Stephanie shot up from her chair and ran to the bathroom so she could take off the bulky diaper she had on. She still knew that she had to wear Goodnites during the day, but she still had a small stash of those in the bathroom which meant she didn’t have to stop by the bedroom first. Once she reached the bathroom, Stephanie realized she had to pee really bad, and thinking she wouldn’t be able to take off her footed pajamas quickly enough, she decided to use her diaper one more time before changing. Once done, she took off her pajamas and soaked diaper before reaching under the sink to grab a dry pair of Goodnites to put on. Not wanting to waste time, she decided not to put her footed pajamas back on and just grabbed a purple t-shirt out of the hamper before heading back across the hall to her room.

As Stephanie walked into the bedroom in only her pullups and t-shirt, she noticed that Courtney had remembered to bring Vincent back up to the room. She was grateful for that, but also noticed that Courtney was grabbing a clean pair of panties and clothes out of her bag. Feeling a little embarrassed that she was still going to be in a Goodnite all day, Stephanie sheepishly asked her friend what she wanted to do for the day.

“I have no idea,” Courtney responded before looking up, “But I thought I would get changed first before we made plans.”

“Oh,” Stephanie replied a little disappointed, “I was kind of hoping we could just hang out in our PJs today.”

Courtney looked up to see Stephanie standing there in in just a t-shirt and Goodnites and remembered what Stephanie had told her about her ‘potty training’ week. Not wanting to make her friend feel bad, Courtney agreed that a day lounging around in pajamas would be fun. She still wanted to change out of the wet diaper she still had on, but realized she didn’t need to hide throwing it away like she had always done in the past. Courtney put her change of clothes and the plastic baggie back into her duffle bag before heading towards the door to go change in the bathroom, her clean panties still in her hand.

“Hey Court,” Stephanie piped up, “Could I maybe ask for a huge favor?”

“Sure!,” Courtney replied, “What’s up?”

“Well,” Steph said while looking at the floor, “I was kind of hoping I could talk you into wearing a Goodnite today like I have to. It would make me feel a little less embarrassed.”

Courtney barely thought about it before saying, “I wouldn’t mind, but I only brought the one with for the night. Otherwise I would.”

“You can use one of mine!,” Stephanie said excitedly, “I have a drawer full in here, and a few stashed under the bathroom sink too! It would be really nice if you would be willing to for me.”

“Ok!,” Courtney replied, “I’ll grab a pair in the bathroom. I really do want to go get changed though.”

Courtney dropped her panties back into her duffle bag and went across the hall to the bathroom. While she was gone, Stephanie grabbed a pair of black sweatpants out of her dresser and a pair of pink tennis shoes from her closet. Just as Steph finished tying her shoelaces, Courtney came back into the bedroom and pulled down the front of her sweatpants to show Steph that she was wearing a Goodnite too. Courtney was a little cold, so she grabbed a hoodie with some cartoon cats printed on it as well as a pair of kitty ears that she wore sometimes. The girls giggled a little about how silly they were being before heading back downstairs just in time to catch Steph’s dad leaving the house.

“You girls decide what you are going to do today?,” Steph’s dad asked as the girls as they both sat down on the couch.

“Yes daddy!,” Stephanie blurted out, “We are going to just hang out here in our PJs today!”

“Sounds like fun,” her dad replied, “I’ll be back around 7:30, so you two have the house to yourselves. And Steph, do you have your special underwear on?”

“Yes daddy,” Steph said as she rolled her eyes, “See you when you get home.”

Satisfied with the answer, Steph’s dad left the house for the day. The girls turned o the TV, but it was really just background noise for their chatting. Stephanie still had a lot of questions she wanted to ask, but hadn’t come up with a natural way to bring up the subject. As Stephanie was trying to think of a way to ask, Courtney fixed the problem by asking if they should play Truth or Dare! Stephanie was elated at the idea and instantly agreed. Both girls decided to pick Truth for the first few rounds, and the questions were pretty tame. After a little bit though, Courtney picked Truth and Stephanie finally asked a question she really wanted an answer too.

“So you already told me that you wear pullups every night,” Stephanie started, “But have you ever used them on purpose?”

“Well,” Courtney said timidly, “Sometimes when I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning I do. Your turn, Truth or Dare?”

Not wanting to answer any embarrassing questions, Stephanie replied, “Dare.”

“Oooh, let me think,” Courtney said, “I dare you to take off your sweatpants and leave them off until your dad gets back!”

A little taken aback, Stephanie accepted the dare and pulled her black sweatpants off. Since the sweatpants were the only thing she was dared to take off, however, she left her shirt and shoes on just to be silly. She turned around on the couch, and shook her diapered butt just a little saying, “You mean like this?”

“Your turn now,” Stephanie said with confidence, “Truth or Dare?”

Knowing Steph was probably going to ask more embarrassing questions, Courtney decided to say, “Dare!”

“Hmmmm,” Stephanie audibly hummed, “Since you already admitted that you’ve used them willingly before, I dare you to pee your diaper right now!”

Smirking just a little, Courtney simply replied, “What if I already did?”

“What?!,” Stephanie gasped, “I don’t believe you! Prove it!”

“Ok,” Courtney said slyly, “But if I prove it, you have to pee yours too!”

“Deal!,” Steph replied just a little too excited as Courtney pulled her sweatpants off and showed her wet Goodnite.

A little shocked, Stephanie followed through on the deal and filled her Goodnite with pee too. The girls laughed with each other, both sitting on the couch with no pants on and both in wet diapers. They decided they had enough with the game, and turned their attention to the TV, occasionally giving each other knowing glances and giggling. Stephanie made sure that Courtney knew that they would need to change before Steph’s dad came home, lest her week of ‘potty training’ go on any longer. Courtney understood, and agreed that they could change and put their pants back on later since she didn’t want Steph’s dad to see her in a wet diaper either. The rest of the afternoon went on without much incident, but the two girls felt closer to each other than ever before, and they were both having almost too much fun in their current state.

To Be Continued…

#ab/dl #ab/dl girl #ab/dl girls #diapered #diapered girl #diapered friends #ab/dl caption #ab/dl story

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collectivefandomstuff · 3 years

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Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him.

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does nothing.” “Exactly.”

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

#fanfic #batfamily fanfic #batfam fic #pov:#jason todd #humor #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #Stephanie Brown #special appearance:#Bruce Wayne #rated t #for language #4k+ words #1-5k #oneshot

343 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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stephen strange horny brainrot selfship

has some correlation with this

rip tony. all hail contemporary adult rock. ive always wanted to heatedly make out to "let me put my love into you" by acdc, so if youre a) dr stephen strange & b) like this song, hmu

The song is as loud as it is lewd, the guitar riffs sultry, blanketing the singer's voice as it drops honey and ginger on the beat of the drums. It seems to go on forever, repeating the same chorus over and over, fading into background noise of a vaguely atmospheric predisposition.

She is dancing. Or- doing some resemblance of coordinated moves, arms folded behind her head and hips swaying slightly off beat, just enough to make eyes linger on her smoothly fitting blue jeans.

His memory is near-perfect, immersive to an abnormal extent- he's given himself multiple inconvenient, shameful boners just recalling the way she moves- under him, over him; nothing, however, compares to the real thing. Seeing, hearing and smelling her so close worsens the near constant itch to have her skin on his to unbearable level.

It was a state of constant hunger and the pangs worsened every time he laid his eyes on her, the sharp sting of it soothed only by unceremoniously having his fill.

The curve of her waist- tiny, malleable under his grip, easy to hold onto when he loses himself in her, nestles as deep as possible until their combined words slur, echo in the shared oxygen of their kisses- she moves like the snake that seduced Eve.

"Finally someone with good taste in music in this house," Stark rambles behind him, completely oblivious to anything besides his newfound revelation. "Short stuff, you're full of surprises, eh?"

She turns around, eyes unfocused from where she undoubtedly was once again lost in the maze of her own brain, the vast expanse of New York city nothing but a background scenery for her rushing thoughts. As soon as she notices him, a smile tugs on her lips, easy, teasing, bottom lip disappearing under her incisor.

An eyebrow tilt is all Tony gets for his efforts. "You ain't seen nothing yet," the tone is dry and the jab is more bait than anything else. "What do you think, Steph? My music taste good enough for old men?"

He chortles and then snickers some more seeing Tony's annoyed eyeroll. "I wouldn't know," Stephen winks, getting his desired response in her widening pupils almost effortlessly. It is relieving to see he affects her as much as she dares to drive him to the brink of madness by simply existing.

"Okay, boomer," the snide expression is back on her face as she makes steps towards him- lazy and unhurried. Her arms wind up around his chest and there's chuckling all around when she has to stand on her tippy toes just to be barely able to reach his jaw, to nuzzle into his neck. Her responding grumbling is more habit than anything else, easily soothed by his arms pressing her body tightly against his own.

Stark murmurs something and shuffles away as the background noise changes- just slightly, another contemporary rock song, another low noise that bleeds with lust.

"Are you dead set on driving every man in this house insane?" Stephen's incredulousity has him asking questions that are, frankly, stupid. Stupid and obvious, so he effortlessly picks up the girl, letting her wind her legs around his waist, bringing the shameless eyes to his own face level. "No, don't answer that," he bites off whatever remark she had already prepared. "Rather tell me, must you?"

Her grin grows, wet tip of a tongue sliding over her teeth- the pause is calculated and Stephen feels the punch of her next words in his gut before they even make it past her lips.

"It's not my fault I'm so likeable," she dismisses easily but he sees past it, anyways. It's always been there: in the defensive attitude, in the near-readiness to pounce at any given moment. "Not like you haven't ruined me for everyone else, anyways," she rolls her eyes easily as he sits down on the couch with a lap full of her.

Stephen smirks, seeking out familiar sparkling eyes with a gentle touch of his hand to her face. "Good thing I'm keeping you around then," he soothes her untold fears easily.

And then she just melts into him, like sweet, sticky ice cream on a hot summer's day, he can feel her on his fingers- the fascination she has with his useless, scarred hands is borderline offensive but he cannot ever find it in himself to tell her no.

He slots his mouth over hers before she can snag a bite of them, tongue sliding over her lower lip in a fitful attempt to establish dominance during the sudden rush of their lips.

She tries to fight back, she always does, eyes rolling back into her head every time he surpasses her and wins. Her breath would stutter and fingers dig deep into his skin, as if the layers of clothing atop it are non-existent. She burns right through them.

The nape of her neck is soft in his palm as he clutches her closer, kisses her deeper, moaning softly as their noses brush and the crescendo of the song climbs; Stephen is barely aware of anything outside their shared space, the nerves in his free hand screaming as his grip on her hip tightens in response to the involuntary grind of her against his rapidly hardening length.

"Can you not do this here?" Stark whines, sounding closer and closer with each spoken word.

She withdraws from Stephen but not before catching the wet plump of his bottom lip between her teeth. Her chest is heaving- he can barely look away from the heat on her cheeks and the absolutely wrecked state of her dress, the disheveled hair, the cloudy stare.

"No," Tony's eyebrows climb high at her deadpan response. "Get used to it, metal man."

"This is my tower," Tony bitches. "I don't go around fucking on every flat surface," his tone rises in pitch and Stephen has to mask his snickering in a haste bite of his own tongue. For now, he is content to observe two incredibly stubborn people pitching a hissy fit.

"That sounds like a 'you' problem," her eyes briefly scan over Stark from head to toe, just to see the engineer badly fail at masking an obvious shiver, before her lips are occupied once again.

Stephen's eyes flutter shut, palm sliding up the outside of her leg as her tongue skilfully, sinfully plunges into his mouth, fuck all uncaring the two of them are giving Stark first row seats to a show. He tugs on her hair, helplessly, desperately, wanting to feel as much as possible, wanting to get under her skin.

Stephen lets the tiniest moan slip, "Baby," just so the other man knows what he's- what they're dealing with, and as the last comprehensive thought makes a hasty retreat from his head, he hears Stark mutter a choked up 'fuck' before the shuffling footsteps dramatically increase in pace and disappear towards the elevator.

#stephen strange x reader #buns selfships #god this man #he's living in my head rent free #it's not even funny anymore #i need professional hell #HELP #hell also good.

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stxphxn-strange · 3 years

Text

(no) rest for the innocent

summary: Tony wasn’t even on trial, but the jury found him guilty and he couldn’t disagree.

a/n: idk last night i was thinking about tony dealing w survivor’s guilt after endgame (and IW) so i threw this together, tw for mention of death and implied thoughts of suicide

“Good evening, Doctor.” FRIDAY’s warm, pleasant voice always reminded Stephen of home and cinnamon scented candles. “How was your trip?”

“Too long for a meeting that could’ve been handled over email. Or through carrier pigeon, as Tony would say,” Stephen replied as his cloak sailed off down the hall.

He washed his hands carefully, drying them on an Iron Man dish towel that Peter had given them as a joke wedding gift before putting the kettle on.

As the water was boiling, he noticed a covered plate on the kitchen counter. There was an obnoxiously orange piece of paper in front of it, which made Stephen smile. Tony always left him little notes on purposefully electrifying paper, that way they were easy to find.

The sorcerer’s smile only widened as he read the note.

Steph—

I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, but I decided to make you dinner anyway. But not because I’m missing you and wanted to surprise you, I just accidentally cooked too much. You know how that happens sometimes and you just end up with an ungodly amount of chicken parm? Life’s funny like that.

Anyway, I’m in the lab. I had some good ideas earlier and I wanted to start them while I still felt productive. Welcome home sweetheart, and if you go to bed before I do (because you probably will, you responsible asshole you), sweet dreams and goodnight.

Love, Tones

PS— Orange you glad you met me? … don’t answer that, I just couldn’t help it and had to write that down.

Stephen rolled his eyes fondly. “Fri, will you tell Tony that even though he’s not funny, I’m very glad I met him?”

FRIDAY was quiet for a few moments before responding. “Boss says, quote, ‘fuck you Gandalf, I’m hilarious,’ unquote.”

Stephen smiled, heating up his meal before sitting down to eat. He flipped through a magazine while he ate, FRIDAY turning on some soft jazz music as background noise until Stephen cleaned up and left the kitchen. After a refreshing shower, the sorcerer found himself in his most comfortable pjs and slippers as he walked through the house. Stephen wasn’t sure if he was going to bed yet, but he wanted to see Tony (and maybe he wanted a kiss or two or even three).

The music in the lab automatically lowered when Stephen shut the door behind him, and Tony looked up with an expression that could only be described as tired.

Actually, he looked exhausted. Weary. Barely holding himself together. Stephen wasn’t a thesaurus, but very concerned about his husband.

Tony was trying to smile, but he seemed too exhausted to do that and just gave up, not saying anything as Stephen sat beside him.

“Hi.” Stephen leaned over and softly kissed his husband’s temple. “Thanks for cooking for me, you didn’t have to.”

Tony shrugged. “I had a lot of energy earlier, and I accidentally cooked way too much. Maybe it was intentional, you know I’d take any excuse to go out of my way for you.”

His words said one thing, but his tone betrayed him. His voice was brittle, hard, and almost staticky. Stephen thought he sounded like a rusted hinge that was trying not to cry out for repairs… or maybe that analogy only made sense given where they were.

Stephen kissed him again as Tony sat back at his desk, closing his well-used sketchbook. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Tired I guess.” Tony sounded as unconvinced as Stephen felt.

“Come to bed with me,” Stephen offered. “I’ll bore you to sleep by telling you about the meeting.”

Tony laughed hollowly. “That bad?”

“I don’t know how to describe it, but it was a waste of time. Even Wong was bored, and he watches the Antiques Roadshow remake for fun,” Stephen replied. He yawned and leaned against Tony’s side.

“I see what you’re doing,” Tony murmured, trying to be lighthearted. He was just feeling some kind of way right now, he felt serious and was so endeared by his husband that it hurt.

“What am I doing?” Stephen asked, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Being cute and sweet so I’ll go to bed and let you be the big spoon,” Tony accused. “And maybe I just really fucking need a hug, but… it’s working.”

Stephen shifted and pulled Tony into his arms, holding the mechanic close as he went lax.

“My Boss Is Singing Closing Time Protocol please, Fri,” Tony mumbled.

“Goodnight Boss, goodnight Doctor,” the AI replied, beginning to run the lab’s standard closing protocol.

“Portal?” Stephen asked. Tony was getting better with going through portals, but some days were harder than others. Stephen didn’t know what tonight would be like and opted to ask, selfishly wanting to make sure Tony got some rest as soon as possible.

He was so out of it by that point that Stephen wasn’t sure if Tony registered the question, but he nodded slowly and trusted Stephen to lead him through it and into their bed.

Despite “resembling a sloth clinging to a tree bough,” (Tony’s words) Stephen was intuitive and knew when not to hug Tony. Even when he was asleep, if Tony woke up thrashing or fighting against something in a dream, Stephen let him go.

Tonight was a bit different. Stephen wasn’t brought to the edge of reality by Tony thrashing in their bed or accidentally tangling himself in their sheets, so he assumed everything was fine. That was until the sorcerer hugged his husband closer, still mostly asleep and just following his instinct, and Tony outright begged Stephen to let go of him. He wasn’t quite awake, but Stephen backed off immediately and heard Tony trip over his own feet as he left the room. The sorcerer fell asleep again after that, trying to stop the sound of Tony’s broken plea from cementing itself in his memory. When Tony climbed back into bed some time later, Stephen was stirring a little bit more. Tony hid his face in Stephen’s collarbone and said nothing, his breathing still slightly erratic.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he mumbled.

“Don’ be,” Stephen replied, his voice unsure whether or not to wake up.

“Will you hold me again?” Tony asked pleadingly, his voice almost imperceptible.

Stephen wordlessly obliged, kissing the top of his head. “Whatever’s bothering you… you can talk to me about it. When you’re ready. And you don’t have to, but I’m here for you.”

Tony nodded. “It feels like too much right now. What I’m thinking about, I mean. I need time to process, I guess.”

“Okay,” Stephen said simply. “But I’m here for you whenever.”

“I know. I love you,” Tony replied.

Stephen began to trace soothing patterns on Tony’s back. “Love you Tones.”

++++

Tony didn’t seem any more rested the next day, but his confident Tony Stark™ pose seemed natural. He’d easily be able to fool people who didn’t know him as well as his family did. So it was a “fake it until you make it” kind of day, and Tony’s energy was on a strict schedule. There was only so much he could take today, and if his teammates wanted to call him selfish then that was their choice.

It would just go in one ear and out the other, especially this late in the day and after brutal team training. Tony was close to skipping the meeting, but a cutting remark in the hallway made him change his mind. Why did they always act like it was breaking news when Tony needed to step back from something anyway? He was just as human as anyone else, and the world was happy to throw responsibilities on his unenhanced, steady shoulders just because he was a natural caretaker.

The arguments about Tony’s quiet, withdrawn demeanor started two minutes into the meeting. Stephen was ready to defend his husband as soon as they got to the conference room, Tony collapsing into a chair and leaning his head against the cool metal of the table.

He didn’t want to talk today, and Stephen didn’t want him to.

“It’s not nap time, Stark.” There was a small hint of fondness in Natasha’s cold, clipped voice.

Tony was already regretting his decision to show up, wishing he hadn’t told Stephen again and again that he was fine. He wasn’t, and they both knew it. Everyone knew it, but Tony knew better than to advocate for himself in front of his… colleagues.

“I don’t even remember what we’re meeting about,” Tony muttered, looking up enough to address whoever was talking to him.

Rhodey took a seat beside Tony, encouragingly patting his back. “You good?”

“I’m fine, Honeybear,” Tony replied. He was sitting between his two favorite people, and that helped him feel a little more grounded. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Someone scoffed. “I don’t think anyone’s slept right in months. And don’t say you haven’t slept in years, Stark. We don’t need a story about how everything you’ve ever done has led to years of sleepless nights. We know already. Put it in a book or something and make the team more money so I can have better arrows.”

Stephen was two seconds away from dropping the archer into the Dark Dimension, or flipping a table. He wasn’t sure how to handle the man yet, still taken aback by the rudeness and stupidity of his comment. “Barton, what the fuck—”

“Steph, don’t bother with him,” Tony said. He stood up, forcing his tiredness into a corner and giving his coworkers a confident glare. “Pardon me for giving it my all and being a bit tired as a result. Now I’m going to get an ice pack for my shoulder and maybe a cup of coffee. Does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll take a—”

“Get it yourself, you know where the kitchen is.”

For dramatic effect (and moral support), the cloak landed on Tony’s shoulders and billowed out as he left the room. He returned with the aforementioned ice and coffee, and a mug of tea for Stephen.

“You didn’t have to do that sweetheart, but thank you,” Stephen said appreciatively.

“That’s why I wanted to,” Tony replied. He relaxed a little into his chair, starting to believe he could get through the meeting.

Then, like clockwork, Clint opened his mouth to complain.

“Why did you bring him tea and nothing for the rest of us?” He whined.

“Doesn’t Tony do enough for you?” Stephen asked, innocently taking a sip of his tea. It was his afternoon green tea, made exactly the way he liked it.

Tony was always so sweet and attentive with his loved ones, it warmed Stephen’s heart. The sorcerer stifled a laugh as Rhodey poured half of Tony’s coffee into his own empty mug.

“Thank you,” the colonel said impishly. “Consider the roommate tax paid for this month.”

Tony tried to smile at the old inside joke, but Stephen noticed that it fell flat.

“Are we done with the interruptions? We need to talk about what’s out there. We don’t know if Thanos is the exception or the rule, and—”

Tony stopped listening. Clint’s snootiness was doing his head in, but the idea of another threat, another thing, another colossus he’d have to conquer and survive if his luck had anything to say about it… that was the breaking point.

Tony didn’t have a good relationship with luck. He didn’t really believe in it, but apparently it believed in him. Because Tony was lucky. It was true that he was lucky in meeting his husband, his friends, and his family, but this was a different kind of luck. Tony was intelligent and skilled, shrewd and savvy, and there was virtually nothing he couldn’t do or solve, except for one thing.

He was constantly lucky, constantly cheating death.

And he didn’t realize that he was hyperventilating, didn’t recall dropping his head into his hands. He didn’t recall that he’d just walked out in the middle of the meeting after a minute, didn’t realize that he was home when he opened his eyes.

Tony was home, in his spot on the couch in Stephen’s library. Stephen was sitting beside him, quietly watching a documentary or something like that. Tony was laying down, his head in Stephen’s lap with the cloak draped over him like a blanket. The crimson fabric continued to cling to him as he sat up, further proving Tony’s point that Levi liked him best, but he wasn’t in the mood to banter now. He just appreciated the support and the warmth of his sorcerer and their shared, sentient blanket.

With some hesitancy, Tony leaned over and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. They locked eyes for a minute, Tony’s gaze deliriously bright and vacant.

Stephen didn’t know what to say or do to make the man trembling in his arms feel better, but started by hugging him closer and softly stroking up and down his spine.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, lowering his head and hiding against Stephen’s chest.

“No apologies,” Stephen reminded him. “I don’t want or need them, and you don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I have to give a good reason,” Tony said, his voice beginning to shake. “Everything I do needs a reason.”

“Why? Says who?” Stephen asked. He was more thinking aloud, half expecting Tony to leave the question unanswered.

For a while, he did. He just sat, furiously trying to blink back tears and gather his thoughts as Stephen held him protectively.

“Sometimes I think about… things,” Tony began vaguely. “And people. And places. I guess I just like nouns.”

At this point, he didn’t even know if he was trying to deflect or just tell a joke, but his attempt at humor fell flat. He tried to force a laugh, but halfway through it turned into a painful sob. He cried harder with each breath, ignoring the ache in his chest. Tony barely listened when Stephen encouraged him to breathe, but eventually he gave into his exhaustion and listened to his lungs.

His stupid lungs, which apparently were just as stubborn as his brain.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Tony whispered. “I shouldn’t have survived Afghanistan, New York, Sokovia, Siberia, or Titan. I can’t keep cheating death, Stephen. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be lucky and survive when the damage I’ve caused, the damage I claim full responsibility for, has taken so many lives. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt or killed for me.”

Stephen pressed a soft kiss to his hair, feeling Tony’s guit and fatigue as if it was his own.

“I don’t want to do this,” Tony repeated. “I’m probably just spiraling or being needlessly selfish, but I… I don’t know.”

“You’re taking on too much responsibility where you don’t need to,” Stephen said. “I know that’s easy for me to just say from the outside, but you aren’t the only Avenger. It’s about time the team, if you can even call them that, takes accountability for their actions and stops bulldozing you with their problems. You aren’t selfish, Tones. You’re tired and overworked, and you deserve a break. You deserve to breathe, to just exist without feeling like you have to look over your shoulder or justify your every step.”

“I don’t think I know how to even do that anymore,” Tony replied. “And I don’t deserve it.”

“You do,” Stephen argued. “And rest assured I’ll keep telling you that. And I’ll keep telling you how much I love you, because I really do.”

Tony smiled sadly, trying to press himself closer to Stephen if that was even possible. “I love you too.”

He was starting to settle down, soothed by a flurry of soft kisses in his hair and the gentle brushes up and down his spine, when FRIDAY quietly spoke up. She almost sounded remorseful.

“Mister Parker is requesting one or both of you in the lab, whenever it’s convenient,” she began. “And he’s asked me to assure you that it’s nothing major.”

Tony sighed, sitting up again. “I’ll investigate.”

Stephen shook his head. “No, let me. I’ll tell Peter that you’re resting, and he’ll understand.”

“I don’t want him to think I don’t care,” Tony whispered.

“He would never think that. You know how he gets about making sure you take care of yourself, and Peter knows with certainty that you care about him. Our son is much more mature than the Avengers,” Stephen replied.

“I still feel bad,” Tony said.

“I know. I can promise him Thai food if that’ll make you feel better?” Stephen suggested, half jokingly.

“It actually would,” Tony admitted. “FRIDAY, will you schedule a Thai food delivery for 6:30pm please?”

“Scheduled,” she replied simpy. She still sounded apologetic for disturbing them right as Tony was falling asleep, but maybe Stephen imagined that.

The sorcerer stood up gracefully, covering Tony with another blanket as the cloak wrapped a bit tighter around him. “Look after yourself and relax, or get some sleep. No one’s expecting anything from you right now Tones, alright? I love you.”

Tony nodded, a little smile on his face as Stephen kissed him again. “Love you.”

He really wanted to sleep. He actually put effort into falling asleep, which was something he never thought he’d do, and of course sleep didn’t come easily. Sleep never came easily, but the memories did. It was all too easy for Tony to get caught in a thought stream, whether he was planning a surprise, inventing, or remembering unpleasantries. Today he was overwhelmed by guilt, readily convincing himself that he was a selfish failure like Howard Stark and his teammates liked to say. It was too easy to get lost in their ire and wanting to please everyone, and Tony had given up so much of his agency just to try and make other people happy.

It was exhausting, and he didn’t even feel like he’d succeeded at that.

The mechanic started tearing up again as he continued to think in a circular pattern, faintly aware of the Cloak trying to comfort him. It was a sweet, welcome gesture, and Tony let it happen and let himself cry. He was still laying there in tears when Stephen came back in half an hour later.

“Pete says he hopes you feel better,” Stephen said, returning to his spot and pulling Tony close. “And I told him to just go ahead and eat whenever he’s hungry, or when the food gets here.”

Tony just nodded, feeling relieved and supported in Stephen’s arms again. He nodded again, as if trying to shake the unending self-deprecating thoughts from his head, before saying anything. “Sounds good.”

tags: @salty-ironstrange-shipper @stark-strange-love2 @chocopiggy @katninjagirl97 @kitkatfat15 @taruyison @funkylittlebidiot

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #not endgame compliant #non infinity war compliant #peter parker #ironstrange and spiderson #not avengers friendly lowkey #not clint barton friendly #james rhodey rhodes #tw mention of character death #tw death mention #tw sui mention

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