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beskarhearts · 3 years

Text

Tangled (Javier Peña x reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader

Word count: over

Warnings: lots of cursing (reader has the mouth of a sailor), a little ~steaminess~, mentions of canon typical violence/getting shot, sexual tension

Summary: You and Peña were no strangers to being at each others throats but this argument went a little different than any other had.

Notes: This was cliche and self indulgent but I loved it and I hope you do too. Let me know your thoughts and opinions!! (also probably not going to turn this into a series but it isn't impossible ig)

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You charged towards the file room, feeling every ounce of your body flooded with anger as Murphy trailed after you, pitifully trying the stop the damage that was just about to occur.

"It didn't come from a bad place!"

You sporadically came to a halt, turning on your heels and pointing a finger right in Murphy's face, who had nearly crashed into you at your sudden movement. "Don't you dare try to justify this!"

Murphy's face was crumpled into a hesitant type of acceptance, still following you as you continued walking towards the file room, your anger radiating even in each harsh step you took. Once you reached the door, you slammed it open and nearly crashed it into Murphy as you threw it shut again, your eyes trained on the man you were directing every angry, foul thought at.

"Javier Peña, you fucking asshole!" you yelled, your pointer finger now directed at him as he turned to face you. You felt even angrier when he appeared to look at you tiredly at first, face twisted into an expression that perfectly read 'What now?' It didn't change until he registered your rigid body language and the way your face was a shade darker and your brows that were scrunched up.

Then his face dropped slightly and he looked over your shoulder at Murphy, who looked like a kicked puppy with the way he seemed to cower behind you. "You told her?"

Murphy winced slightly, trying to shrug away his concerns but his voice coming out empathetic. "She kind of interrogated me."

"Yeah. Y'know, because interrogations are part of the job!" you spat, eyes shooting venom at the brown-eyed DEA agent that stood in front of you.

He dropped the file he had held in his hand back in a box, placing his newly unoccupied hands on his hips and sending you a plain look. "Listen, it was nothing-"

"You know what else is part of my job, Peña?" you interrupted, allowing him no room to throw around pitiful remarks and false explanations of why what he did was okay. "Let me tell you since you have clearly forgotten: part of my job is catching the bad guys. Meaning I am fully capable of being on the field and getting my hands dirty!"

You took in a deep breath, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from the rage coursing through your veins. Peña let out a small sigh, rubbing at his face and his mustache as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes. "I know."

You let out an agitated huff, throwing your hands up and looking over at Murphy, as if saying 'get a load of this guy'. You turned back to the DEA agent, clasping your hands together. "Let me get this clear then. You are aware that is part of my job. And that this fucking case has become my whole entire life. Yet you neglect to notify me that tomorrow you are going to arrest one of these motherfuckers and don't put me on the God damn team!"

You probably should of quieted down. Surely people could hear you outside the thin walls of the room you were in but you paid no attention to that. Hell, let them gather outside the door and listen to how much of an asshole Javier fucking Peña was. It wasn't like they hadn't heard you two bicker and yell at each other before - it was practically a daily occurrence. You were always at each others throats and the smallest thing could tick you guys off but today was different. Today your anger was completely justified and directed at the exact right person.

"Why don't we all calm down and talk this over calmly?" Steve gently tried to suggest, always the voice of reason during times like these. Sometimes you would entertain his ideas but today was not one of those days.

"Fuck off, Murphy!" you snapped.

Peña redirected his attention to the blond-haired agent. "Give me a minute."

"Oh, you are going to try to magically explain this one away?" you ridiculed as Murphy left the room quietly, shutting the door gently and leaving you two alone.

Javier looked back at you, looking calm as ever and unaffected in every way. It only made your blood bubble even more and as he spoke, you felt your whole body clench up. "You need to calm down."

You hissed at that comment, literally hissed. "Oh, fuck off! You have no right to tell me to calm down. If somebody did this to you, you'd be tearing into their ass and acting like a bitch."

Javier couldn't argue that point, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only was it true, but there was no way he could convince you it wasn't. It also was probably the worst thing to say in this given situation, always was something that tipped you off.

"I mean, the fucking audacity you have is unbelievable. Truly impressive." you started to ramble, still sending a deadly glare his way. "You think you are hot shit because you are Javier Peña and you are a DEA agent and the fucking man whore of Columbia. But I am just as good as you, Peña. Hell, I am probably fucking better!"

"You are right."

You froze as you heard his agreement, biting your lip as you tried to detect whether or not that was meant to be some sarcastic play to rile you up. But it appeared genuine which only confused you further. "Then why am I being excluded from extremely important events?"

"It's dangerous." Peña answered plainly, adding no additional details as if that was enough.

You scoffed, tilting your head at him. "No shit, Peña. No offense but no one becomes a DEA agent because it is a safe, secure job. So that doesn't explain why I wasn't included in this."

Peña shook his head, leaning against the rack of files as he looked back at you. You wanted to force him to look away, his stare making you uncomfortable but there was no way you were backing down. "It does. This one is particularly dangerous and I don't want you involved."

Your eyes widened as you took in this new information. "Oh, so you think I can't handle myself?"

"I never said that-"

"I can handle myself, Peña. I am a fucking adult and not to sound cocky, but a hell of a fucking agent. I am capable and I am strong!"

"I know."

"And I can handle this mission."

"I know."

"Then why the fuck did I have to find out from Murphy that I am not joining you guys tomorrow?" you yelled, feeling your body become slightly fatigued from all the anger but you still stood straight and tall.

"Because you care too much and you'll get yourself killed if that means nailing these guys." Peña said plainly. No hint of emotion or manipulation. Just an honest answer to an honest question.

You found yourself for the first time not feeling angry but slight bamboozled. It felt like the rug had been pulled under your feet. You were standing across fucking Javier Peña, who you were pretty sure had never seen take a single day off. "That is the most hypocritical thing I've ever heard."

Peña nodded. "Okay."

You rolled your eyes, feeling once again angry by the dismissal. "Well fuck off because I spoke to everybody and I am on the team tomorrow."

You began to turn towards the exit when the man firmly stated, "No."

You turned back around, an eyebrow raised. "Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"I'm in charge tomorrow and you aren't on." Peña said, a sliver of annoyance eeking out of his words as he looked back at you with a stern glare.

"Fuck off. If I want to go, I'll go." you fired back, arms crossing over your chest defiantly.

Peña stepped closer to you until he was a couple feet away, his voice lowering to a menacingly deep level. "I don't want you on tomorrow."

Your eyes were practically shooting bullets in his direction. "I know you don't fucking like me Peña, but stop acting like a school boy and get your head out of your ass."

"Maybe you are the one with your head up your ass, agent." Peña cooly said.

You tried to ignore the way he was looking at you (and the way you could smell his aftershave from here) and put your hands on your hips. "Fuck you, Peña. You don't want me on tomorrow because I am a better agent than you, you selfish prick."

"That isn't it." Peña said with a chuckle, shaking his head as if you were saying the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

"It fucking is, isn't it? You don't want me strolling into your operation and doing the job better than you. Can't have your huge fucking ego tarnished by me!"

"That is not the reason why!" Peña shouted back, feeling himself lose his temper slightly.

This was the Peña you were used to, the one you egged on and led into a battle of cruel words and hateful glares. "Oh, fuck off. That is absolutely why!"

"Maybe, just fucking maybe-" Peña cut himself off, his chest now heaving as he copied your pose, hands on his hips and body stood straight.

You couldn't help the small grin that grew on your face. "What is it, Peña? Say it. Don't punk out now when things were just getting interesting."

"You are a child." Peña spat back.

You chuckled harshly. "Look in the mirror before you start throwing insults around, Peña. Now what were you going to say?"

Peña stared back at you, your eyes locked together in a visceral manner. "I don't want you to fucking die."

You couldn't help the throaty laugh that erupted from your very core, your head thrown back as you looked away from him for the first time to try to gather your composure. "Oh, fucking please! Spare me. You have never given a shit for me!"

Peña shook his head, looking slightly deflated as he looked away from you. "Fuck off."

"Oh, don't act like that. I am just supposed to stand here and believe that this whole time you've secretly cared about my safety and you don't have me on the operation tomorrow in order to keep me safe?"

Peña looked back up at you and you nearly wavered from the look in his eyes. You couldn't handle it if it were the truth, which the look he gave you said it was, so you continued on doing what you did best. "I don't need anybody to protect me. Certainly not you, Javier Peña."

"I'm not trying to protect you."

You lifted up a hand emphatically. "So you didn't not put me on this because you don't want me to die?"

"Fucking hell, you are so frustrating." Peña yelled back, face red and eyes throwing daggers as he stepped even closer to you.

You didn't dare take a single step back. You would show no fear or weakness. "And you are such a walk in the park? I forgot about how the man-whore of Columbia was always just a pleasant-"

You were cut off by Peña lunging forward and for a split second you thought 'Oh, shit. I'm gonna have to kick Peña's ass.' That was until you felt a pair of rough, chapped lips press into yours mercilessly and a pair of calloused hands grab at the side of your face.

You stood still for a solid few seconds, your brain seeming to short-circuit until it slowly registered the undeniable truth of the situation: Javier Peña was fucking kissing you.

Well then push him off of you!

Except you didn't. For all intents and purposes, you should have. You should of shoved him off of you, yelled at him for trying to pull his 'sex god' card on you, and maybe even delivered a striking slap to his face, just for dramatic effect. But you didn't. You stood there completely still until eventually your hands reached for the collar of his jacket, roughly pulling him in until he was pressed so tightly to you that you didn't think there was an centimeter of distance between the two of you.

You felt him turn you, pushing you back until your back hit the same file cabinet he had been leaning against earlier. Your lips finally caught up with the rest of you, lips fighting dominantly against each other in a frantic battle. It probably wasn't the prettiest kiss but holy shit, you couldn't think of a time you had been kissed like this. The kiss was so striking but also so passionate, both of you fighting each other in the most deliriously addictive way. You couldn't ignore the smallest voice in the back of your brain asking you why you hadn't done this way earlier.

Eventually your tongues danced against each other, begging for even the smallest taste of each other like you were both addicts craving even the slightest taste from the bottle. His hands drifted away from your face to your hips, clutching them roughly and tightly but not hurting you in any way. Just gripping hard enough for you to feel them and feel the emotion.

Eventually, after what felt simultaneously likes hours but also mere seconds, Peña pulled away and holy fuck, how did he look so good? His lips were puffed and red, slightly wet from the sloppiness of the kiss. His eyes were hooded and looking at you in a way he had before but you had never been able to place, always mistaking the lustiness for hatred (and hold up, had it just been lust this whole time?). His jacket was still clutched tightly in your hands and you should of let go. Anyone could walk in and see him standing up against you on a shelf with your faces red and chests heaving but you couldn't even bother to care, your brain still reeling and your body betraying you, yearning for more.

"I'm going tomorrow." you said, still slightly out of breath.

Peña sighed, his warm breath fanning over you and smelling slightly of mint gum and stale cigarettes. "I know you are."

You nodded, glad to see his slow acceptance creep in. You slowly released the jacket, looking at how it had crinkled from how tightly you had pulled him to you. He backed up slowly, one small step at a time as his eyes still traced each others faces.

Part of you wanted to reach out and kiss him again, fight with him again in the most delicious way but the door opened and you both turned to see the tall, blond-haired agent you had both become closer with than you initially thought possible.

"Have you guys killed each other?" he asked, trying to joke but also hesitant to with how foul your mood had been.

You desperately pulled away from the shelf and shook your head, though not to answer him but in some desperate attempt to try to shake away the evidence of what just happened (despite the fact that it was imprinted on your mind). "No. I'm going tomorrow."

Murphy shared a weary look with Peña who just gave a short nod and began to walk towards the exit. "She comes. If she gets shot, its not my problem."

You and Murphy both watched him slip past, moving out of the room and down the hall, away from you. Murphy twisted his head to look back at you, shaking his head. "Based off his behavior, I'd say that went well." he sarcastically mumbled.

You tried to chuckle but it sounded fake and hollow, your mind too preoccupied. "Yeah. Super well."

Murphy gave a roll of the eyes, used to the two of you being frustrated with the other as he slipped away from the doorway. You followed him as you made your way out of the room, the room where you still comprehend what exactly had happened in it. "You must of really went after each other this time."

You nearly choked at Murphy's quip, your mind taking a moment to realize he was speaking rhetorically about your arguing. He had no way to know the violent dance your lips had done or the way you both had perfectly expressed arousal and hatred with your tongues alone.

You just hummed, pushing past Murphy to head to your desk so you could work and just forget what had happened. Forget it because it meant nothing.

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vibraniumwing · 3 years

Text

wildest dreams.

a steve rogers x fem!reader wherein the reader falls in love with the super soldier who can’t seem to let go of the past.

WARNING: angst, one-sided relationships, set four years after the snap.

A/N: hello !!! this is the first marvel fic i’m posting and i am very nervous about it aha. i hope all of you would like it though !! i’m kind of back into the flow of things for writing (since im on a one week break from school) but im still trying to maneuver through it. this is inspired by wildest dreams; complementary tissues are here if needed.

word count: 3.7K.

---

Your attitude died the same day your little brother turned to dust in your arms four years ago. The fear and pain his face had was burned into the back of your mind, haunting you on a daily basis; his cries echoing in your head.

But things seemed to change when your aunt introduced you to the talks the remaining Avengers had weekly for the people who were still struggling with the sudden loss of their loved ones; seeing and meeting people who were going through the similar struggle as you helped a lot in coping with the eternal torture that you had.

That’s when you met him; the man who held your heart in the palm of his hands. Steve Rogers.

---

“How come you’ve only started going to these meetings after four years?” Kenzie, a girl who’s a few years younger than you asked, causing everyone in the meeting circle to look at you. Your eyes widened at the sudden question, feeling a slight tinge of pink creep up on your cheeks at the attention you’ve gained.

You bit your lower lip as you contemplated whether or not to answer the question, “I- I had a hard time accepting my brother’s gone since he's my only family. I locked myself up for the last four years, rarely talking to anyone until my aunt forced me to get into these types of things and well now I go here whenever my days get really bad. I had to move on somehow.” You answered, tone laced with truthfulness, giving her a small smile.

“Well we’re both glad and proud you’re here and that you’ve decided to move on from what happened.” Steve spoke up, making everyone look at him, including you. His blue eyes peering into yours, giving you a small nod which you reciprocated, the eye-contact causing the others words of agreement and encouragement to be drowned out.

The rest of the meeting flew by as normal as the superhero continued to talk about how everyone should move on from what happened一 accompanied with the occasional stolen glances Steve gives you一 and soon enough, everyone was giving each other hugs and bidding their goodbyes until the next meeting.

You were grabbing your jacket when someone tapped your shoulder, looking back you saw the super soldier look at you with a somewhat nervous glint in his eyes, “You’re Y/N, right?” He asked, showing you a small grin as he pushed his hands inside of his pocket.

“You have the right person, Mr. Rogers.” You answered, unsure of why he would suddenly come up to you. It didn’t even take you a second to register the rather homey smell of laundry detergent and a hint of a manly perfume you couldn’t put a name on that he sported.

“I’ve been seeing you a lot in these sessions一 I, I was wondering if you would like to go grab some dinner sometime?” He asked awkwardly, unsure of how to sentence the thoughts that were inside his mind.

Your eyebrow quirked at the male who was normally eloquent and sure of his words, is now fumbling over how to ask you out for dinner but who were you to say no to such a rare opportune to spend some time with the male, “I… I would love to.”

And that was the start of it all.

---

At first he was worried about the situation the both of you had, fearing that you might be hated for once the word goes out to the public that you were dating him so you compromised, telling him that no one has to know what the both of you do; that it was okay for him to keep you as his secret, admitting that all of this gave you a thrill.

Until eight months later, Steve had finally said he had enough of hiding and offered to take you to the Avengers compound where he introduced you to the rest of the heroes who were working hard to keep everything intact after the tragic event that happened a little well-over four一almost five一 years ago.

“Steve, do you think they liked me?” You had asked him, eyes trained to the ground as the both of you walked around the Facility, hands tucked behind your back as the cool air of the setting sun wafted around the both of you. There was silence on his end before he spoke up, “Nat wouldn’t have choked on her drink at that joke you made if she didn’t.”

You looked up at him, a hopeful smile adorning your lips, “So does that mean I’m accepted here, then?” It was kind of ridiculous to ask that question after hearing him just say that Natasha laughed at your joke, but all he did was nod and wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in.

“Even if they didn’t, they have no choice. You’re stuck with me.”

The mere memory made you smile as you drove into the facility, having the intention of surprising him with a gift you had made him; a painting of the first photo you two took together, at Time Square.

You and Steve were on another spontaneous road trip; he was free for the day and had asked you to accompany him to drive around New York and before you could even decline, he was already knocking at your apartment door, ready to pick you up.

The day was filled with quiet laughter as you introduced him to newer music and those timeless masterpieces that he missed out on during his 70 year freeze. “I can’t believe you don’t listen to Queen! That band is a whole icon!” You called him out as you started to play Bohemian Rhapsody in the background. “I’m introducing you to the basics.”

“Hey I don’t have as much free time as you, you know.” Steve said, stepping on the gas as you two finally entered the rather empty streets of Times Square.

Your day was filled with laughs and banter as you continued to introduce him to newer songs, occasionally playing some older tunes that he could enjoy himself and talked about how his life was before he was dunked into the ice. “Must’ve been a real hard time for you to grasp on to everything suddenly being so modern.” You commented, looking up from your phone to give him a small smile.

“Oh trust me, it gave me quite the shock waking up to see everything so… new and foreign. But I had to learn一adapt even to what happened.” He started off, slowing down the car for him to look up at the large skyscrapers. “I had to move on or else I would still be miserable until now.” He said, tongue clicking at the top of his mouth.

The car came into a full stop making you look at him in confusion. “Why’d you stop the car?” But he didn’t answer, instead he got out and jogged around the car to open the door for you. You stepped out, brows still furrowed. “We didn’t have the luxury to take that many photos back in the day and I would regret it if I didn’t have one with you.” He said, rubbing the nape of his neck.

Breaking out into a smile, you agreed almost instantly and pulled your phone out, quickly opening the camera. “This is a selfie, alright?” You said, not forgetting to tease him, earning you an eye roll from the male. “I’m not that outdated!” he retorted, pulling you into him as he motioned you to take the photo.

You were snug in his arms as you put the phone up, “To more memories with you, Captain.”

You were all smiles the moment you parked your car and grabbed the canvas from the trunk, heading inside the compound where Nat instructed you to go around when you bumped into Rhodey who was quick to recognize you, “Hey you’re Cap’s girl, right?” which made you shake your head hesitantly, causing the other to look at you with a bamboozled expression. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Well, Steve hasn’t asked me out officially but that’ll change soon enough. I made him this gift and will actually ask him. A bit odd I know, but if neither of us would make a move then this would probably drag on.” You confessed, grinning at the soldier excitedly who now had an amazed expression on his face. “Alright then. He’s in the office with Romanoff so knock yourself out.”

You were nearing the office when you overheard the conversation between assassin and Steve.

“So when are you officially going to ask Y/N out?” The female asked, making your heart race in anticipation and hope that he might actually ask you to be his soon. However, the quietness that followed made your excitement go down and your heart to drop to your stomach; the giddiness you were feeling was replaced with worry as negative thoughts started to infiltrate your mind.

A sigh was finally heard from the other end, “Nat, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I… I don’t think I ever will.” The latter started off, heaving another sigh as a shuffle of feet was resonating through the quiet room. “It’s just… Y/N’s a great girl you know? I thought I could love her but she’s一 she’s not like Peggy.”

You could hear Nat scoff lightly, probably in disapproval, “Then why’d you lead her on like this? That’s an asshole move from you, Steve.” and you couldn’t agree more. Your mouth was held over your mouth as you tried your best not to make any sound, wanting to hear more from his side before you make your presence known; in foolish hopes that he might be able to move on and be with you instead.

“I… I honestly don’t know how to bring it up to her. She seems so happy with me and I don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t like her the same way she does with me.” He answered, voice laced with regret and guilt that he made you believe in something that wasn’t even possible in the first place.

That’s when your dreams of being with him was shattered; the visions you had of being in a family with him and living the rest of your days together were turned into dust. You were aware of the history Steve had with the woman; how he met her before subsequently falling into the ice that would freeze him. He made you feel so loved and convinced you that what you were feeling was reciprocal to his but you were wrong.

So damn wrong.

Suddenly, the promises he made of being with you until time permits became a blur to you, those late night talks of imagining what could happen if he and the others were to save the world and him bringing back your younger brother seemed like a far-fetched dream which shattered you even more.

So with every strong fiber that you had left within you, you re-emerged from your hiding spot and looked at the two heroes, Steve being the first one to see you, the color from his face drained. “Y/N I could expl一”

“Save it. Delete my name from your contacts, Rogers. I’m sorry I was foolish enough to think you would like me.” You told him, walking over to where he was to give the painting you worked so hard on, shoving it into his hands and mustering up the courage to look at him again. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t be your best girl.”

And then you ran, pretending not to hear him calling out for you; you ran all the way to the parking lot and by the time you could lean onto the door of your car, you were breathless and choking on the tears you fought hard to not spill but it was all too much.

As you drove away, a part of you hoped he ran after you but you were foolish enough to even hope so because he never did.

---

You sat by the window of your brother’s room, looking out into the empty streets of Manhattan. After the incident with Steve, you were left to fend for yourself again and it left you feeling lonelier than ever. He never contacted you, not even once after everything the two of you have been through. It seems like you were just a memory that was easy for him to forget.

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes once again when you heard something swoosh from the other side of the room. Snapping your head to the side, you could see something or someone form from dust and that’s when you realized it was your younger brother.

Rising to your feet, you sprinted over to where he was, “Xavier?” You whispered, choking up on tears as your little brother’s doe eyes looked up at you in disbelief and fear. He was only five years old when he disappeared into nothing and it looks like he hasn’t aged even a day. His arms immediately sprung up to ask for your embrace to which you complied with.

You scooped the toddler up in your arms and hugged him tightly, fearing he might disappear again. Then you heard it, the streets outside were filled with screams of confusion and terror as people started forming again one by one, chaos ensuing outside of your quiet home; but you were tranquil, because you knew Steve had kept his promise of giving you your brother back, of making everyone else return.

---

It's been a good week since everyone has gone back, people still trying to process everything that has happened. Families were and still are reconnecting, businesses and government officials are trying to get a hold of things together.

Your life was slowly going back to normal. Your little brother was back meaning the small house you live in is starting to be filled with joyous laughter again as the little tyke's energy was bursting at the seams.

You and your aunt watched as Xav played with the teddy bear she got for him upon her visit, "Everything seems so much lighter with the little troublemaker around, isn't it?" She asked, glancing at you as she continued to knead the dough of the cookies she's making for you and your brother.

"It definitely is. Suddenly this place feels like home aga—" Your sentence was cut in the middle when a loud knock came from your door making your brows furrow.

"Oh were you expecting anyone?" Your aunt asked, you shook your head in response but before you could answer her your brother's voice resonated through the house. "I'll get it!" but what you expected next was the last thing you could have ever expected.

“Y/N! It’s- It’s Captain America!” Xavier’s voice was a pitch higher due to his excitement upon seeing the superhero then his laughter soon followed. Your aunt gave you a surprised yet knowing look, motioning you to go to the door. “You better go and ask the man what he wants from you. I’m not listening to your excuses, go.”

You knew better than to argue with the woman so you slowly made your way to the front door where you saw Steve who sported a few wounds to his face carrying your little brother, his smile wide as he answered questions the child asked. “I think Cap has had enough questions to answer, Xav. Go back inside.” You told him, much to the five year old’s dismay.

“But Y/N! I haven’t asked一” “I’ll be back later to answer those okay? Go listen to your sister.” Steve was the one to answer now, setting Xavier down and patted his head. He gave the super-soldier a thumbs up and ran inside, giddily telling your aunt that he got carried by the blonde.

The two of you stared at each other quietly, before you decided to speak up. “How about we go to the backyard and speak there, yeah?” You offered, making some room for him to enter the house, to which he agreed with, entering your humble home. Upon closing the door, you whispered a quiet “let’s go” to him and led him to the back of your house.

You sat down by the lone tree that stood in the middle of your garden, patting down the space next to you. “So what brings you here?” You asked once he sat down, turning to the male with a small yet hesitant smile.

“I’m returning the infinity stones tomorrow but before that I want to apologize.” Steve started off, looking into the distance as he couldn’t bring himself to look into your E/C orbs that he once found comfort in, fearing that it might be filled with hatred for him. “I’m not sure how much you heard that night but I have… no excuse for what I did to you. I thought I could love you, that I could move on but I guess I’m still stuck in the past.” He admitted, tone quiet and soft like the rustles of the leaves that hovered above the both of you.

“I came to you because you reminded me of Peggy. It was selfish of me to even approach you with that intention in the first place but I can assure you that every moment we shared together is something that I cherish deeply. Even一 even the first kiss we had right under this tree right here.” He finished, a sad sigh following his sentence.

It was a cool night and you were drifting off to sleep when you heard something tap the windows of your room, causing you to sit up and walk towards the source of the noise to see Steve gathering more rocks. Opening the window, “Steve? What on earth are you doing here?” You asked, amused at his antics that seemed too out of character even for him.

“I came to see you! You aren’t going to the session tomorrow, right?” Steve said, motioning you to come down. His smile was big as the moon shined over him, defining his facial structure even more despite the darkness of the night.

You shook your head in disbelief, you had told him that you weren’t going to attend this week due to the fact that it was supposed to be your brother’s tenth birthday today and you had every intention to celebrate for him. “Go to the back! I’ll meet you there.” You told him, motioning to the garden at the back of your childhood home.

You quickly threw on a pair of pajama pants and headed down, grabbing a few snacks from the kitchen pantry before heading out to the backyard where you saw him sitting down by the tree and waved for you to come on over to him.

You plopped down next to him and his arms were instantly around you, “How old is your brother by tomorrow?” He asked, squeezing you to him gently as he placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. His familiar scent greets your senses, causing you to completely ease up in his touch.

“Xav’s supposed to be ten tomorrow. I promised him I would take him to the beach for this tenth birthday so I have every intention of doing so even without him here.” You answered, the familiar feeling of sadness forming in your chest at the idea of spending another birthday without him; it was too painful for you.

Comfortable silence then wrapped the both of you before he spoke up again, “I promise I’m getting your brother back. I don’t know how we can do that, but I promise you I will.” Determination was dripping through every word, making you look up at him as hopefulness filled your eyes. Your gaze met before you leaned in to connect your lips with his for a quick kiss.

Realizing your actions, you looked at him in shock as a hand hovered over your lips. “Steve I’m so sorry” but you were quickly silenced when his plush tiers met yours for another kiss, this time longer and filled with more emotions. The both of you kissed until you had to break away due to the lack of oxygen, resting your forehead against his.

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N.”

You chuckled softly at the memory, a sad smile on your lips as you decided to speak up, “Did you ever regret meeting me, Steve?” You questioned, staring off into the distance as the feeling of defeat consumed you. There was a shift in his position as his hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him.

His brows were furrowed as he shook his head, “No, I could never regret meeting you. The only regret I have is with myself. For making you love me when I couldn’t even love you back.”

You leaned into his touch as tears flowed down from your eyes, your sobs following as your heart broke more. There was no denying you had fallen for him, that you had fallen quite hard for him but you couldn’t keep him to yourself; not when he’s still in love with the woman he met decades ago. “Thank you for giving me a chance to love you.” You whispered, thankful for the time he spent with you; for making you feel like he was yours for even just a fleeting moment.

No words left his mouth as he leaned in to give you another kiss. Unlike the many you’ve shared, this one was chaste and had guilt written all over it. “I have to go.” He then said, hugging you for the last time as he stood up.

Your hand stopped him from going any further, he looked back down at you with a curious gaze. With the last strong thread that you had, you mustered up a big smile at him. "I hope you still remember me; us. Even if it's just in your wildest dreams." before letting him go.

“I’ll always remember you, Y/N.”

---

TAGLIST: will be fixed soon!

#steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x y/n #captain america x you #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers angst #captain america angst #avengers #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fics

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darth-el · 4 years

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Out Of My System

Pairing: Billy x Reader Warnings: Alcohol, and it gets a bit steamy (or at least I tried to make it that) A/N: This was requested by @pipinghotmess247 who asked for two tropes from table 1 (they can be found here). The tropes being “there’s only one bed” and “get it out of our system”. This is also set in an AU where Billy survives (because season 3 did our boy dirty) and it’s post Starcourt. I hope y’all enjoy and feedback is always welcome.

Masterlist

Summer was coming to an end, which meant your summer job at the police station should have been as well. Unfortunately it came to an end early after the events of Independence Day and your Uncle Jim going missing. Joyce Byers was convinced he had died, but you knew in your gut that was not true. With her moving away along with the only person who could have helped you, you were stuck with the next best thing. Billy Hargrove. Driving to Murray's was painful with his constant criticism of your driving. You'd think with his near death experience he would have become more humble, but oh boy you were wrong. He used his near death experience as a way to get all the girls. You didn't know Billy that well before all this happened, the only time you met him was when you were in Hawkins for the odd weekend or holidays to help your Uncle with work. Whenever you saw Billy he was often bought in for fights or underage drinking. You were pleased you were in college away from that pettiness. The fact that he was often behind bars didn't stop him trying to hit on you though, which left you unamused. You wanted to work for the FBI (although you weren't sure you wanted that now considering how entrenched the government were in the Hawkins ordeal), you weren't going to date someone who would most likely end up on their most wanted list.

You pull up at a building that looks like an old warehouse now turned into a bunker and climb out the car looking at the concrete building. This screamed Murray through and through. You ring the buzzer and you hear Murray telling you to go away. “Murray, open up you shithead!” You shout at the buzzer unsure if he could hear you.

“That's really going to make him want to open the door.” Billy scoffed with arms folded looking at you press the buzzer continually. You ignore this comment as the door opens and Murray greets you by holding a shotgun in your face.

“I'm here to talk about Jim.” You say barging past him unphased by the gun and going straight into the kitchen and getting a glass out and pouring vodka into it.

“He died Y/N.” Murray was still standing in the doorway, lowering his gun and ushering Billy to hurry in.

“Joyce did not see him die,” You drink the vodka in one go. “I know in my gut he is out there somewhere.” You pour another large glass of vodka and sit down on the sofa making yourself comfortable.

“I get why you need my help, but why is he here?” Murray gestured to Billy with his shotgun and made his way over the kitchen and poured himself some vodka as well as Billy a glass and sat down opposite you.

“The Mind Flayer used him, he might know something,” You shrug, you really felt like you were grasping at straws especially since you went to Billy for help. “Also you're the only one who will believe me.” You say confidently taking a sip of your vodka.

“How do you know I will?” Murray raised an eyebrow at how presumptive you were being.

“The fact you believed aliens were somehow tied into this at one point says a lot.” You knock back the vodka like it was water and pour yourself another. Murray turned to Billy and started talking about what happened with the Mind Flayer and if he remembers anything about the Russians. Billy's memories are fuzzy but he says a couple of useful things that piques Murray's interest but Billy's memory is blank when he tries to expand on it. You aren't really listening and wandering around the room, something on Murray's board grabs your interest.

“What about hypnosis?” You turn on your heel and walk back to your seat.

“What?” Billy looks confused and has sip of his vodka feeling slightly worried about what you might end up getting him to do.

“Hypnosis. People use it all the time for things like this.” You plant yourself on the seat next to him.

“Didn't the magic girl do that?” Murray asks thinking this might work.

“I don't what she did, but this like a step down, maybe.” You shrug looking at Billy who is staring into his vodka contemplating.

“Fine,” He finally says putting his vodka on the table and looking at Murray. “What do I have to do?”

“Lay down and make yourself comfortable.” Murray says as you get up so Billy can lay down. Murray starts talking Billy through the hypnosis and you sit and watch him as he falls into a very relaxed state thinking that this was how you liked him. Quiet.

The hypnosis went on for a while and you were in no state to drive and you weren't about to let Billy drive your car. You loved that car almost as much he loved himself. He woke up and you could see he was feeling drained. You passed him his vodka and you lit up a cigarette for yourself before offering the guys one who both accepted.

“That was a whole load of nothing.” Murray says frustrated.

“It wasn't,” You say as you let the smoke escape from your lips.

“What did you get out that?” Murray laughs sounding like he was a man on the edge. You think about this for a little while and couldn't come up with an answer.

“See.” Murray stands up and starts pacing. You're still thinking about what Billy said about the closure of the gate.

“Just leave it Y/N.” Billy says almost sounding sympathetic taking a drag on his cigarette and sucking in his cheeks as he did. You look at him feeling hopeless. You really thought this was going to work.

“I can't let you go drive considering how much you drank.” Murray held up a nearly empty bottle of vodka.

“I can drive.” Billy said matter of factly.

“You are not driving my baby.” You snap your head at him and give him a glare which would have sliced through him if possible.

“Okay.” Billy held up his hands and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table in front of them.

“You two can stay the night,” Murray offers. “But I only have one bed.” He says drinking his vodka looking at you two with his eyebrow raised.

“No, you are taking the couch.” You say to Billy sternly.

“Why am I taking the couch?” He argued back.

“Because I deserve the bed.” You smile at him sarcastically.

“Both of you take the goddamn bed, and admit you like each other.” Murray sighs loudly, both your heads snap towards him.

“He is way too young for me.” You laugh at the very notion that you like Billy.

“I'm only a year younger.” Billy looks back at you with confusion on his face.

“Seriously? I thought you were two,” You look at him surprised. “You certainly act younger.” You mutter as you take the last sip of your vodka.

“The sparks are flying off you.” Murray laughs. “Just admit it already and take the bed.” He reiterates as he gets up to go to bed himself. You sit there chewing the inside of your cheek as you feel like you've been bamboozled and remembered what Nancy and Jonathan said about their visit. Murray probably did this on purpose as a form of entertainment.

“I'm going to bed,” You say as you stand up and stretch and Billy stands up too and makes his way to the bedroom before you even registered what had happened Billy was in the bedroom with the door locked. “Billy!” You shout hitting the door with the palm of your hand making it sting slightly. He opens the door and is leaning on the door frame with his smarmy smile plastered on his face.

“The only way you're sleeping in this bed tonight is by sharing it with me.” He sounded smug.

“Fine.” You shrug barging past him, trying not to let him get you, but thinking you would rather sit in a snake pit. You take off your skirt and tights leaving on your shirt and panties as you climb into bed. Billy watching you as you undressed like he wasn't there. He decided to follow your lead and undressed himself and climbed into bed next to you taking all the blankets from you. “Leave some for me!” You hiss yanking them back which made him pull them back.

“You're a nightmare.” He hisses back.

“You're not exactly a dream either.” You pull them back and roll yourself up slightly which immediately triggers another tug from Billy making you fall onto the floor and you burst out laughing, partially because you're a bit tipsy and you just sit there still laughing. Billy starts laughing and pulls you up from the floor when you calm down slightly. You lay on the bed still laughing looking at Billy who is looking at you. You suddenly feel the sparks and you're not sure if it's the alcohol or Murray's words but you suddenly found your lips locked with Billy's, you could taste the vodka on his lips. He pushed you off slightly.

“What are you doing?” Billy looked at you slightly wide eyed but with a half smile.

“Getting you out of the my system.” You smile and start kissing him again, you rolled on top of him, straddling him and pinning him down, you can feel him chuckling at you pinning him down. You let go of his wrists and started to run your hands through his blond curly hair getting your fingers tangled up in it as your hips were grinding against his. Both of you moving in sync. He bit at your lower lip which caused you to smile and deepen the kiss. You could feel his hands exploring your body and hair like he was hungry for you and had been for a long time. He sat up with you still in his lap, not breaking the kiss. He started kissing along your jawline and neck small moans escaped your mouth as he left small bites to mark you as his for the night. That's exactly what you were, his for the night.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things Imagine #Billy Hargrove #Billy Hargrove x Reader #Billy Hargrove Imagine #Billy Hargrove x You #Stranger Things x You #Stranger Things x Reader #Stranger Things One Shot #Billy Hargrove One Shot

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rwmhunt · 3 years

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Leviticus, Chapter 22

1. Lo, for That I cannot prosecute my thoughts; I needst here cultivate caution- Then put a hold unto my options, That I cannot challenge him. Any source of information, That be of an admixture truth, And of an admixture untruth, is of a danger, Did you know that? Humbly needst I move toward diamonds and gold's Otherwise-useless demarkation on worth; My face must stay its specter in clay, For it is my career; That I can say: It is mine.

2. Thus, to Aaron, gold and diamonds Bringeth ignominy and unwarranted power; Strewth, they are only much use for The rings of your finger; So let alone the past, Which you mark As a messed up place, How then, is this the valid Strategy for the future? Lo, let us divide and game.

3. Increase the paywall; Holy things are ringing in changes; You are the visitor here- I'd like to take the time To consciously consider you so, for We have reached besmircher's cutoff. It's me, mark it; and Either I am a negative nebulae Of unimaginable everything, And you are a little golden bull, Or you are a negative nebulae Of unimaginable everything, And I am a little golden bull;

4. But know that I shall not give you the word For the thought-track down which You might draw the line Of asymetry, such, That you wouldst know How to rend a perfect opposition To go between. And whosoever soweth dead seeds Among young female researchers Hath faileth the épreuve- It shalln’t do for thy running issue, Moreover, those women who are of Quite senior position and are doing it Unto the coercive nature of such a power's New destruction of ability to focus, As unto the camp's commander, With how Peleg begat Reu; Well, it might be enough to get you pregnant, But wait, where am I going with this?

5. Worm touchers, Creepy pressers, Come, come, observers, Keep from that strange creature; Don't be giving unto me None of thy screaming abdabs; I think on you, Pig dressed as a clown, Eructing unto, then drawing forth A near-entire white, plastic fork; And know you not how this came to me- Lo, it came up with a sequence of items that appeared Not unlike balls of meat, Furred, wistfully, in a grey cowl of reactionary mucus; A kind of veil, a barrier, in effect, Penetratable, at any point, But equally real as a barrier, Gainst our otherwise passive environs, Such as be the diffusion of inert thoughts, or spores, murky, and maintaining of a human resource, I liked to thrill it- The direct and immediate livid relationship Between a font of funding and a media event, O, harmless dalliance of the stationary cupboard- You are knowingly walking, As against your will, A wrong into the carpet, Within the tent of meaning.

6. Looking up to see God's face in the moon, Or whatever it was That can't be drawn, And I won't be drawn; His hands he filled with moisture and His own was sent for ablution Into the improvised basin. So denieth all such allegation Through the washing of thy soule, Clean off; so sloughed away, Away with the diminishing liquid.

7. Sundown with the unseen Woman's leverage on the situation- if you should find a way to redress balance, So she gaineth a bit more power in some manner, Then so what? it was no loss. A new deal, And the bill shall embolden survivors.

8. Positions of power shall have of a hard time In recognizing the coercive nature of that power Within an unbridled relationship; Things that die 'Of themselves', Or are yet rent by nature's horn, Are defiled; while I, a malign influence, lie with my soul distracted; Oh lord, but I've been swallowed by narrative, And tried to keep it communal, Inside and outside; As you are.

9. Pit stop- The horror is the fact; The horror it unfolds Through legions of would-bes Without a meter, like me, Who have applied, Will apply, in perpetuity; Just do it, Or die; if then, As I am still.

10. The individual is always Hedging toward A private business model. Attention-seeking shalln't be of sin, no! Tis sensible, keep with a forward optioning- That's why i tell you, Soujerners and servents, Who art sent to the concession to collect me my messages- My tutu is a Fendi, And my codpiece is a Bosch. We live unto a roaring attention economy. But you're not up to it. I've given them a tomato one, And also I gave them a spaghetti- We struggle to attune to where I'm compelled- Ourselves, as groups, who feel of themselves As blunted against their lack in deserved attention, Because it is a powerful, a dangerous feeling.

11. So eat souls As paid for with a priest's money, On escrow, attention Has always been currency Though rendered unimaginable Since the falling-away of the gold-standard, As was borne unto the tent of meaning, Where every page has a piece carved out, To house an advert's grab For égards; No space is secure, For security hath put an advert thither.

12. Jade lock, To knock the donald offline, So unto a stranger, Gone off to scavenge, The framers that frame themselves As refuges for free-expression Shall be rent at the fringes, forcing A redirection, away from my personal kingdom.

13. But should she go prodigal, Whosoever you are, Howeverso you might express thyself, You may now have a crack at a global audience, With incentives and disproportionate benefits Offered unto the most shameless, The demand of each to pay what scarce attention Might be rendered unto others, To get some fraction of this nominally limited resource, As unto yourself alone. Such are these poor weapons, An oversharing, That, essayed to the personal, Stretcheth my nancy stories To breaking.

O Marigold, I was bad At that, in the territories of fandom, As forced to return Unto the track over and again- Such was my leaky comprehension; Only apparent to me in the afterward, And now, I cannot say I am better.

14. Whence, Enroute from the concession Shouldst be eaten of the item Without, thence, So anguished in the relish, Thou giveth a fifth Of the holy thing; So that the leg shall grow A starfish, whole . Then let us bend our dark tubers towards, And look the knot, as in at an eye-

15. What's gold and glitter, But to mock a toom, And maketh of myself A symbolic same, Wrought as an aesthetic echt; Where diplomacy is weak, The aesthetic be yet The sole portal unto The conveyance of meaning; Verily, here, that I keep within The aesthetic of thought Whereby action is always y, You are i, and The antagonist be markated x; Where holy might only Fall down to one's discretion, You should've known That I wouldst be so solid.

16. Or suffer them to bear the enquiry of trespass, Felt as an information glut, Whilst eating of their holy orders, Found relishing within the anguish, And those who want it, Want it as much as they can get it, And there is more access than can be vaunted, For, in an attention economy, one is never not on. Yes, me. O the guilt.

17. Attention is akin to the spirit; That it be vital but conventionally invisible, And thus, think not very much upon it, But unto whom, being unable to share A simple encounter with it, Wouldst soon become an artifice of torture.

18. Tell Aaron et al ensundry, To take up of stock with sarcastic markets, Sarcastic markets and I, impunity; The sacrifice of your own will I hand you freely; or no; T'was never yours to oblate, But sacrifice thy quasi-will, As will thee, Which is mine, against The short hedge, Thus maketh me of a currency exchange.

19. And an haut stud dost thou, unto me, weasels? By your whimsically free-will sacrificing? How charmingly lame. I sense Actors at play, in a very long game Of grooming the disaffected- Call me my boys in- then Send a lie to the long deceiver, To use the ruse, in turn, like poison, For to wish you that which upon may be Enabling unto the benefit of thine enemy.

20. It's no hambone, No hobbling billy- If he tells or interferes I'll fill the well in; its Prophets in stocks and neck-irons time, Else tolerate such increasingly radical agendas Of such gleefully uninhibited platforms as Where followers might laugh At biblical memes and opine such as- 'I'd rather do drama than a play, where, You can't say, really, What you want to say.' Go long, my cowhands, go long.

21. And peace is a sacrifice Of the streaming platform, while Attention has always been currency, Same. Our abilities to pay heed are limited; Not so our abilities to theoretically receive of it; No need to adequately substantiate If you can bamboozle With all the time in the world, Ka-pow-ka, ching-ching, da-da, Badoo-daboo-baday; Trust-modesty, yay, verily. Humility is hard to sustain In an attention economy. I only see me accelerating.

22. Blind, broken, maimed; Cankered, scurvied, wan with the wen, Thus, by my lights, The fault shall be displaced, Be it cleaned or weeping, Tis a no-no, get me another. Such was The schism that fractured the donald, Sent out to extend a tortured metaphor, Became too much of a liability To be held in high office- But if the stranger doesn't come, After all the things I’ve done for him,

23. Well, it's alright for a free-will offering Which you feel compelled to go along with, But it's not good enough for a vow offering As be brought unto online-influencer culture, And it might be enough to get you pregnant But it shan't be enough to stir my interest- I require an extreme case of humility, Whereby a person giveth his all to a presence so completely selfish As to serveth no other purpose. It's me.

24. But the reality is far less complicated than Moses, Hiding his damage behind a veil of linked-up back-channels, Recoiling at what his fellow hardcore moderators attempt to oblate; Too engrossed within the tents to consider anything outwith While hoping the whole doesn’t spin out of control.

25. Corruption is in them, strangers, Bethinks, flooding an affiliated image board So thoroughly that it becometh abomination. Here increaseth the shamelessness of wanton Allegation, terror co-option of a social platform, which struck with the rise of a reality magik-vision, Alike as came unto a mid-80s index of abundance, Shewn running away whilst attempting to make focus On the ever-deterioratingly indistinct Object of the distancing, that It’s only when, at stopping to think about it, That the understand can be ascertained as to quite how rife it is.

26. Here, he left a passing message for Those who might collectively commandeer: Abide by life; that, if, then, I wouldn't be here.

27. Debates about amplification And attention-hijacking form a Siege mentality Of the corrupted Federal Apparatus- For seven days beneath the dam, As then a fire spiralled further Toward a more outlandish means Of unconstitutional civic theatre,

28. Whereby a calfling must be made to last The night and know it's mother As having died before slaughter; So the community Moved in after it went dark, Enjoining, then modulating, then killing off, And now Your complexes are all cooked in, Deeply infringing upon the weirds of others.

29. So must you make sacrifice To your very free will, As to common patriotic causes, Or else be sieged Within the corrupt Federal Apparatus.

30. The fundamental thing is: You cant escape my attention economy; Eat everything now, For nothing shall be saved, And this same day shall be Until tomorrow; when again, it's me.

31. Lo, and you must; it's me, remember? But by now all this blood and all this law Was affecting them, as had long been within their dream, Where they have their own rules, quirks and cultures, Which they ignore at your peril; Where environments play out upon a knife-edge, And attention might simply be a lens Through which to read the events of the moment While running away.

32. Herein, power shall not be trusted To recognize affiliated abuses of power; Yet, check, however, before Redirecting such missives from my personal kingdom, For lo, there shall be nonesuch insubordination, As might mitigate against, for I shall be hallowed; Me me me me, So you;

33. Thus, I lay my notional claim Unto my servant-leadership- as bang, That brought you out of the land, Didn't it? Akhenaten to me. So Leviticus stood at The simply-inflated Size of Capitalism, To whom, hereto, On a bench they'd built Between themselves, Be here, thisway, is addressing- 'Imagine; You have been wrong For a long long time now.'

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bigfan-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Making Bad Look Good Part 2

A second part! Featuring... Two-Face, Deathstroke, Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, Hush, Zsasz, Klarion the Witch Boy, and the Court of Owls!

I got a ton of requests for these, and you’ve all been so helpful! This one’s for you!

Making Bad Look Good part 2 - a.k.a. another 6 Degrees of Evil Bacon

Warning: Long post ahead.

Two-Face - Harvey Dent

You met Two-Face back when he was District Attorney for Gotham.

He was no “Ce-SEAL-Your-Fate” Horton from Central City, but he was doing a bang-up job putting criminals behind bars, cracking their insanity pleas.

So you went to meet him after a case where he got the Penguin sentenced to Blackgate instead of Arkham.

Sure, he’ll probably escape, but the precedent the case sets is important.

“Mr. Wayne! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just came to meet our amazing new D.A.”

You make small talk, until you decide to ask him to lunch to congratulate him on the case.

He grins. “Okay. But we’ll flip a coin for the check. Heads, you pay. Tails, my treat.”

You shrug.

He flips a strange coin that he tells you is his lucky charm.

It comes up heads, on the side that looks like it’s been corroded.

You smirk. “That’s a double-headed coin, isn’t it?”

He laughs. “Yup. Most people don’t get it so quick.”

He shakes your hand and offers to pay anyway since you were such a good sport.

After he becomes Two-Face, it’s this moment you choose to remember...

Deathstroke and Deadshot - Slade Wilson and Floyd Lawton

There have been quite a few times when you were targeted by an assassin or two.

But that particular time, you were the prize for a competition between them.

Slade and Lawton had been hired to take you out, but only the actual killer would get the other half of the payment.

So one day, Deadshot is setting up the hit, angling a crazy shot to hit you through the back of the skull and bamboozle all ballistics tests. You come into range, and he shoots -

-only to see you get shoved out of the way by the eyepatch-ed Slade Wilson.

Bruce wants to sequester you in the Batcave, but instead, you tell him to set up a meeting as Batman.

It’s fun to throw money at problems.

On a rooftop, the Bat behind you, you offer Slade and Lawton double the total for your contract to give you the name of their employer and void the hit.

It’s technically against whatever assassin code there is, but you know, money tends to grease the wheels of any machine.

Deadshot takes the money and tells you it was some crackpot billionaire trying to get at Bruce. He also chuckles and says that he’s available if you ever have more money to throw and a grudge for him to carry out.

Deathstroke also takes the money and nods at you before leaving.

And while Slade comes back to torment you and your sons time and again, Floyd is actually quite pleasant. You sometimes hire him when you need security, which he calls easy money, and from that point, your husband almost never encounters him on the job...

Harley Quinn - Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel

“Paging Dr. Quinzel. Dr. Quinzel, to the front desk.”

You and some other Gotham big shots were invited to Arkham for a publicity tour. Reporters are there, too, including Clark, so you feel pretty safe.

A surprisingly young woman comes to play tour guide, her hair in slight pigtails.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Quinzel. Currently I’m junior psychologist here at Arkham Asylum.” She has a bit of a New York accent, though you can tell she’s worked hard to soften it.

One reporter asks just how “junior” she is, and she gives an indulgent chuckle. “Yes, I graduated med school early, so I’m a bit young for a specialized doctor. But I’m also one of the only medical professionals still willing to work at Arkham, so I think that’s what counts, right?”

The tour goes well enough, until you raise your hand. “You’re the psychologist in charge of the Joker, right?”

Dr. Quinzel smiles in a strange way. “Yes, that I am.”

You frown. “And do you think, as a junior psychologist, you’re adequately prepared for him?”

“I know that I am a medical professional, Mr. Wayne, and I am certainly qualified to examine my patients.”

But Dr. Quinzel, just for a moment, looks fractured, torn. Like there’s some sort of internal war raging in her soul. But it gets absorbed in her too-wide smile.

You put it down to nerves about meeting the press, and let it go.

You always wonder if there was something you could’ve done for the woman, prevented it from all going wrong, prevented her from becoming Harley Quinn...

Poison Ivy - Dr. Pamela Isley

Pamela was going to college at about the same time you were.

You weren’t friends, exactly, although you did both share a class in Professor Crane’s Intro Psych course (an elective for both of you).

There were a lot of rumors about her. You chose not to engage in the gossip, especially as it was a lot about her sleeping with her Biology professor for a better grade.

You had to do a project with her for your final grade, and she invited you to her apartment to work on it together.

It was full of plants. She mentions it before you have a chance to even think about bringing them up.

“They’re my babies.” she jokes. “So much easier to take care of than pets.”

You smile. “All the oxygen probably helps you work better, right?”

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

She talks about how she’s going to be a botanist when she graduates, and she’s going to work for the EPA. She’s very self-interested, but genuine, and you have fun while working on the project.

But only a few weeks after you turn in the project, she disappears. Rumors abound about how she ran off with the Bio professor. Some say they were having an affair. Others are kinder and say they’re on a botanical conservation mission in some swamp somewhere.

Either way, you never see Pamela again.

At least, until Poison Ivy shows up in town...

(Side note: Drew Barrymore as Poison Ivy? Thoughts?)

Mr. Freeze - Dr. Victor Fries

Fries shows up one day out of nowhere

Just shooting with that cold gun.

He attacks a gala event for the Wayne Foundation and holds it up for jewelry and the cash being raised for the underprivileged of Gotham..

You glare at him. “You know you’re just taking money right out of the pocket of needy kids, right?”

“It’s for a good cause.” He says darkly.

“And what cause would that be?”

He sneers at you. “Disease research, mainly.”

The phrase surprises you.

Later, Bruce is doing research at the Batcave. “He goes by Mr. Freeze. Born: Victor Fries. Wife Nora suffers from Stage Four of a rare pneumonia-like condition known as MacGregor Syndrome. He had her cryogenically frozen, and now it seems like he’s turned to crime to fund his research into a cure.”

You hesitate. “Well... is there something we can do to help him?”

“Help him? May I remind you that he held hundreds of people hostage?”

“Well...” you shrug. “I just figure that maybe he wouldn’t be so... crime-y if his wife was being taken care of. I don’t know what I’d do if I was so close to losing you.”

Bruce softens slightly. “Look, Freeze committed a crime - several crimes, and he has to go to jail. But if it makes you feel better, we can have Wayne Enterprise’s medical division look into studying her disease. Judging from what I see here, MacGregor Syndrome has similarities with many other diseases. It might be a key in finding lots more cures.”

You smile and hug him. “Lead with that. Tell Fries that we’re willing to do that.”

Of course, Fries’ future crimes are due to the cost of maintaining his portable cryogenic suit, but you hear a lot less about it than you expect, especially since Nora is being taken care of...

Mad Hatter - Jervis Tetch

You were meeting a couple of old school friends at a tea parlor one day. It’s nice to escape the stress of your life and reminisce.

Roland and Alicia are a cute couple, and they tell you they have a baby on the way.

But the day is marred by a strange incident in which a small man in a top hat and tails (tuxedo tails) comes up to your table and starts babbling at Alicia, calling her “Alice” and trying to touch her blond hair, despite her attempts to shove him away..

Roland gets angry and punches the man, but before he can go any further, you pull him back.

The strange man glances at you. “The Dormouse...” he mutters, and walks away.

“What a creep.” Alicia shudders.

You’ve already figured it out. The man is deluded, thinking he’s the Mad Hatter, and he seems to be trying to fit everything into his Wonderland-inspired delusions. You tell Bruce about this, and he immediately agrees that Alicia is in danger.

You go to their hotel room to see them, warn them, but Roland answers the door wearing a bowler hat and Alicia is nowhere to be found.

Roland attacks you, knocking you out and kidnapping you.

Thankfully Bruce has been watching as Batman and follows.

You wake up tied to a chair around a tea table. Alicia is tied to another chair in an Alice-in-Wonderland costume, looking terrified.

Jervis Tetch reveals himself and points out his minions, enslaved with his mind control headwear.

“Very spiffy, if I do say so myself.” you say cheerily. “Quite the milliner you are, my good sir.” (Alicia looks at you like you’re crazy)

Jervis loves the flattery, and it distracts him long enough for Batman to smash through the glass ceiling and knock the hat off his head, disabling the control.

Sure, no one was hurt much, but needless to say you would have to visit Alicia and Roland in the future instead of ever having them come to Gotham...

Hush - Dr. Tommy Elliot

“We’re having lunch with an old friend of mine.” Bruce announces.

You raise an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Why don’t I know who this is? We have pretty much all the same old friends. I mean, we were together, like, all the time.”

“You remember Tommy, right?”

“Tommy? No, Tommy doesn’t ring a bell, hon.”

Bruce sighs, and you laugh. This is as animated as you’ve seen him in a while. “Come on, Tommy Elliot! Back when we were little! We used to play Robin Hood together in the park, and you two always fought over who got to be the Sheriff of Nottingham?”

“Yeah, nope. No memory of that.”

He sighs, but you go with him anyway. It hits you when you see the man at the restaurant. He was that kid! His parents were friends with Bruce’s parents. They had almost died in an accident when Bruce’s dad saved them.

He’d always try to play this strategy game thing with you and Bruce. It was only two players, and while he’d always beat Bruce (your husband wasn’t always the tactician he was now), he’d get really frustrated playing against you.

Tommy liked to try and get inside your head to beat you, figure out what you were going to do and then planning for it.

But you could tell what he was doing, and kept doing random moves you wouldn’t normally play, throwing him off and winning.

You didn’t like him much, and you kinda got the feeling he didn’t like Bruce that much either.

“Oh. That Tommy.”

Bruce looks at your worried face. “What’s wrong? If you really don’t want to, we can cancel.”

“Oh, hush. We’re already here. Least we can do is have a nice lunch...”

Zsasz - Victor Zsasz

It’s never a good sign when a payphone rings. So many bad reasons...

Not the least of which is that barely anyone even uses payphones anymore.

Let alone to call another payphone. I mean, how does that even work?

So it startles you when you’re walking Gotham (during the day, of course), and a payphone rings. No one else is around to answer it.

You start to walk away, and then the next payphone rings when you reach it.

The other guy near it jumps like fifty feet in the air, but then goes to answer it.

He looks scared. “It’s... it’s for you.”

You sigh and take the phone

“Ignoring my calls? Naughty...”

“Um... wrong number. This is a payphone, not, uh, whoever you were calling.”

“This isn’t Y/N Wayne?”

“Yeah, no, it isn’t. May I ask who’s calling, though?”

“I know it’s you, Y/N. You don’t know me. Yet.”

“Look, I know Halloween’s coming up, but I’m not in the mood for Scream right now, okay?”

“This isn’t a scary movie, it’s real. My name is Zsasz.”

“Z- zsa... okay, how is that spelled?”

“Z. S. A. S. Z.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful. If you don’t mind me asking, is that Polish?”

“...What?”

“Sorry, I have to run, but it was nice talking to you!”

You run home and immediately tell Bruce you talked to Zsasz. Luckily you were running a trace with your phone - a little extra Tim developed for you. Within the hour, Batman has Zsasz in custody, saving the poor people he had kidnapped to add to his tally...

Klarion the Witch Boy

“Oh, hello! Who are you, little guy?”

The orange tabby glares at you with utter hate. It flicks its tail, but surprisingly, comes closer and curls around your legs.

It allows you to pick it up, and it purrs.

“Teekl! My word!” a boy comes running up to you, wearing a tailored suit and a newsboy cap.

The boy snatches the tabby from you and pets it, despite how it looks like it wants to go back to you. “What were you doing with Teekl?”

“That’s its name? He’s a cute little guy. Uh, he just wandered in front of me and basically asked me to pet him.”

The boy glares at the cat. “You TALKED to him?”

The cat looks at him and rolls its eyes.

“Um, who are you, kid?”

He looks at you incredulously. “Seriously, mortal? You haven’t heard of me? I am Klarion! Klarion the Witch Boy! And this is my familiar, Teekl.”

You nod seriously. “Good for you, kid.”

He seems about to throw a tantrum, so you wave and leave the boy dumbfounded...

The Court of Owls

“Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,

Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.

They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed,

Speak not a whispered word of them

Or they’ll send the Talon for your head...”

“That’s a stupid poem. It doesn’t even keep time.”

“It’s free verse.”

“Yeah, free ‘cause no one would pay for it.”

You and Bruce were only kids when you heard the old rhyme. Bruce was trying to scare you as a Halloween season joke, but it wasn’t working.

“Come on, Y/N! At least pretend to play along!”

Thomas Wayne enters the living room, and pretends to scold Bruce. “Now, Bruce, be hospitable to your guest. What’s the argument about?”

You smirk. “Bruce says that there’s a Court of Owls who eat limes and put talons on people’s heads.”

Thomas hunches down, making a spooky face. “Well, Y/N, it’s an old Gotham story. It’s a very bad thing that Bruce told you. You’ll have to be very careful now.”

He looks dead serious, and now you’re scared. “Really? What should I do, Mr. Wayne?”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll have to be a very good kid all your life, Y/N. Never go out after dark without your parents’ permission. Don’t ever cheat on a test. Don’t lie. And if you ever see someone in an Owl mask, look the other way and forget you saw it.”

He grins, dropping the facade. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just couldn’t help it. Hope I didn’t scare you too badly.”

Being a stubborn child, you insist he didn’t. After all, you’re old enough not to be scared by that stuff anymore.

But on the way home, after your parents pick you up, you notice something.

A tall figure in an alley, wearing a stylized white Owl mask.

You quickly look away, trying to put it out of your head, mumbling the rhyme to yourself.

“Beware the Court of Owls...”

You forget about this until far later in life, after you, as Y/N Wayne, have become an enemy of the dreaded Court...

#batdad reader #male reader #batman x male reader #batman headcanons #dc headcanons #headcanon

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letterboxd · 4 years

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How I Letterboxd #7: Cinemonster.

Hooptober’s head honcho opens up to Jack Moulton about his love for Texas-born horror director Tobe Hooper, the joys of running Letterboxd’s most beloved Hallowe’en community challenge, and the “terrifying, magical” experience of seeing Frankenstein at the age of four.

“You can’t spell October without Tobe.” —Cinemonster

Cinemonster, known to his family and friends as David Hood, is a restaurateur in Pittsburgh by day, and the head honcho of Hooptober by night. Now in its seventh year, the horror film challenge sees participants set their own 31-day viewing agenda of 31 films, curated according to a list of criteria set by its creator.

‘The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’ (1974), directed by Tobe Hooper.

With over 5,000 films logged on Letterboxd and a growing collection of posters, DVDs, Blu-rays, laser discs and film memorabilia, Cinemonster is a literal monster of cinema. He has created more than 500 lists, including a ton of year, director, actor, actress, franchise and memoriam lists.

What brought you to Letterboxd? I found Letterboxd while I was doing a Google search for a horror film that I had forgotten the name of. I ran into a list that Hollie Horror had made and wound up starting a profile and it went from there. That would have been a little over seven years ago.

How freakin’ cool is last year’s Hallowe’en Easter egg with the dripping blood from our logo? [Pro members get this added to their pages by mentioning #horror in their bio.] I’m a fan.

Unfortunately I haven’t heard of a single one of your four profile favorites! What’s urging you to highlight these films? They are just lesser-seen and have something good or great about them. Eyeball is a great little underseen Umberto Lenzi film. Death Machines is an awkward, weird and wonderful film with kung fu and blood. Massacre at Central High is one of my favorite films and sadly lacking a disc release of any kind—anyone who has seen Heathers will recognize a couple of things if they watch it. Rituals is a criminally underseen stalked in the woods film from the ’70s.

In this this list description, you explain how the original Frankenstein (1931) hooked you into horror at four years old. Can you describe what you most remember about that life-changing experience? It was both magical and terrifying. The space, the creature, the little girl. I had trouble sleeping for weeks afterwards. No matter where I am in the world, if there is a screening of Frank, I’ll go. I watched most of the major universals by the time I was six or seven. I saw Alien and Jaws 2 with my folks and those stuck with me. Cable and a local UHF station showing Hammer films on Saturdays are what really allowed me to get sucked in.

‘Frankenstein’ (1931), directed by James Whale.

The horror films of 1980 and 1981 were the most impactful and are the ones that mean the most to me to this day; Fade to Black, Night School, Motel Hell, The Fog, Alligator, Altered States, Terror Train, Death Ship, Scanners, An American Werewolf in London, The Howling, The Funhouse, Dead & Buried, Hell Night, Wolfen, Ghost Story, The Pit and Evilspeak. I saw all of them five to ten-plus times on cable as a kid. They’re still all high on my list. I am glad that Fade to Black is on Shudder. People need to watch it. More relevant now than then.

What exactly provoked you to start Hooptober seven years ago? I moved into an old spooky house and had a backlog of Blu-rays to watch and the 4K of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre was about to come out. I’d done some interactive stuff on Letterboxd previously and had a decent amount of people involved. I was also at a point in my life where 31 films in 31 days is tough, as it is for a lot of us now. So I thought ‘Why don’t I do something that starts a little early, clears some of my list out, and has some parameters that don’t feel like I am handing out an assignment?’ I grew up in Texas, Tobe [Hooper] is close to my heart, and with all the Hooper I owned and the 4K coming out, I decided to christen it with his name. You can’t spell October without Tobe.

What’s the most members that have participated in a Hooptober? The number of people who participated was a little more than I expected, but that wasn’t what I was surprised by. I never thought of it as a recurring event until I started to hear from people the following summer about ‘the next one’. I just kinda chuckled after about a dozen people had asked and I said out loud to no one, “I guess I’m doing another one of these”. We are well over 700 this year, and still climbing.

‘Fade to Black’ (1980), directed by Vernon Zimmerman.

Where do you get the ideas for the rules for films to consider watching? At this point, I look back at past years so that I don’t repeat myself. I look to the current year for inspiration. Is there a film from a sub-genre that was prominent? Was it a strong year for output from women, Mexico, Asia, Black filmmakers, something cultural, and so on? I may focus on effects creators, an actor or writer on a whim. I try to keep an eye out for blind spots I haven’t covered. Shudder, archive.org, the big streamers are all resources. Sadly, rarefilmm no longer exists.

In last year’s interview with Merry-Go-Round magazine, you mentioned plans to turn Hooptober into a film festival. How’s that going? In a post-pandemic world, how can we keep independent niche film festivals thriving? The world has not been agreeable, obviously. I’m not even sure how viable something like that will be next year. I’ve been taking a look at streaming options. Post-pandemic will require more creativity and outside-the-box thinking, and will probably continue to feed some drive-ins. Been a while since more than a handful of people wanted to put money into a drive-in, which is nice to see.

I’m going to do a tweet along to The Witch Who Came From the Sea in October, and I’ll give you an exclusive here: The George Romero Foundation and I are doing online Horror Trivia on October 11. I had been doing it live with them here in Pittsburgh until the pandemic.

Based on this year’s rules and conditions, if there was one essential you-can’t-miss film you could force all your participants to add to their challenge, which film would it be? Demons, Eve’s Bayou or The Witch Who Came From the Sea.

‘The Witch Who Came from the Sea’ (1976), directed by Matt Cimber.

What have been your own greatest film discoveries through your Hooptober adventures? A Tale of Two Sisters, I Drink Your Blood, Blood Diner, and though it is a bit of a cheat to list this one, The Amusement Park. It’s cheating because it didn’t exist as something that I or anyone else could have watched, prior to when I saw it.

Do you have any acclaimed horror movies still lingering in your list of shame? Eyes Without a Face, Upgrade, Cure and Scream 4.

Have you ever completed one of your own Hooptober challenges yet? Errrrrrrrrr, one. I’m on track this year.

What about the participants over the years—any Letterboxd friends you’ve made who would you like to give a shout-out to? Aaron, Sarah Jane and Chris Duck are people that I talk to outside of Letterboxd. There have been a few others over the years. Slappy McGee has helped me with Hooptober the last two years. They are great. Javo and David Lawrence are pretty great, too.

Before Hooptober, many of your lists invited discussion with your followers. In what ways is Letterboxd the ideal forum to foster a community of film fans? Fans exercise their fandom in so many ways. The platform is so flexible that it allows you to utilize it in a small and personal way, in a promotional way, or to dive into the community pool and see who’s out there that shares something with you or can show you something. The more people that we are exposed to and listen to, we are all the better for.

Which of your review—from any genre—are you proudest of? The Invisible Man or The Hustler, probably. I have a capsule of Hud that I like.

So, you’re the horror guy. Nobody is denying that. You are Cinemonster, after all. But when I look at your top movies list and see that Singin’ in the Rain is your all-time number one, I’ll need you to explain yourself. I go back and forth between that and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. They are 1A and 1B in some order. Singin’ in the Rain is a perfect film and the studio system at its best. I will ignore your implied insult. ;)

‘Fear of a Black Hat’ (1993), directed by Rusty Cundieff.

It’s true, even a horror aficionado needs some levity in their life. What other comedies pick you up from a dark place? Fear of a Black Hat always does the trick. Same with The Awful Truth, Murder by Death, Hollywood Shuffle, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Blazing Saddles, Monty Python and the Holy Grail and Black Dynamite.

Who has been keeping you company during this tough year? I have watched thirteen Spike Lee films so far this year. I’ve taken a break the last few months, but I’ll probably knock out five or six more. With the exception of 25th Hour, everything is a revisit. It’s been a joy to go back through everything. Crooklyn is much stronger than I remembered, and Bamboozled just gets better and more impactful as time passes. I have loved Spike since the day I saw School Daze. His films have always connected with things that are important to me and to those that have been around me. Lee is still grossly under-appreciated as a narrative film director and a documentarian.

We’re bowing down to your epic Blu-ray and DVD collection. Which ones are your most prized possessions? Make us jealous. I have an Anchor Bay DVD of Dawn of the Dead signed by the cast and George A. Romero, a steelbook of Battle Royale, the first Slumber Party Massacre set before they had to reprint the box, the original Star Wars trilogy on Blu. I’m sure there are things I’m not thinking of. I have a lot of out-of-print and laser-only stuff. I’ll never get rid of my Holy Grail, Ghostbusters and Akira Criterion laser discs.

A selection of Cinemonster’s signed memorabilia.

I have a copy of Painting with Light signed by John Alton, John Waters and Steven Soderbergh I’ll send you a picture of. I used to collect movie posters, and I have the original Revenge of the Jedi one-sheet and the Drew Struzan Squirm poster. I do love those.

From your top directors list, let’s put one horror director on a pedestal. Who does the genre better than anyone else and why? George. They’re always topical, intelligent, thoughtful, personal and sometimes prescient. At their best they hold up both a mirror and a crystal ball. He was writing found-footage scripts in the early 70s, for god’s sake. Tobe is grossly under-appreciated. James Whale and Mario Bava could scare you in so many ways.

So, thinking beyond Ari Aster, Robert Eggers and Jordan Peele, which up-and-coming horror directors are you most excited about? Issa López, Gigi Saúl Guerrero, Benson and Moorhead, Shinichiro Ueda, Na Hong-jin, Julia Ducournau, Nia DaCosta, Jeremy Gardner and Leigh Whannell.

The 2010s were a great decade for horror. We have more money on-screen, moving away from the low-budget films of the 2000s. Which favorite horror film of the last decade inspired you the most? Get Out. What Jordan did for generations to come is unmatched in this century.

Chucky from ‘Child’s Play’ (1988).

Which probably-too-long horror franchise gets too much flak and is top-to-bottom a great time? Child’s Play. Chucky has always been treated generally as second tier. [That franchise] has tried a lot of interesting and out-there things during its lifespan that had no business working, but did.

I know it’s been a slow year but you haven’t logged many 2020 movies yet! Which is your most anticipated horror movie of 2020 or 2021? Peninsula, for sure; I love Train to Busan. Then Candyman, The Dark and the Wicked, Grizzly II: Revenge, Bad Hair, #Alive, After Midnight, The Platform, Bulbbul, Underwater, Shirley and Swallow.

Interview by Jack Moulton. Follow Jack on Letterboxd.

#letterboxd #how i letterboxd #cinemonster #el cinemonster #elcinemonster #horror #horror films #horror genre #tobe hoooper #tobe hooper #hooptober #hoop-tober #halloween #halloween films #halloween challenge #letterboxd challenge

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thewriterwithnoplan · 4 years

Text

Dirty and Useless (Part 8)

Summary: Jason Todd had always said there were only two types of cop; Dirty and Useless. So when Y/N comes along with a spunky partner and a laughable code name it’s safe to say they don’t exactly see eye to eye. But if they’ve got anything in common it’s their secrets. Both are hiding behind masks whether they know it or not. Will the Robin get the Nightingale to come out of the shadows? Pairing: Titans!Jason Todd x Reader Word Count: 822 Warnings: None.

Bruce Wayne was not dull and nor was he daft but it sure did take him a good few moments to process the girl’s words. Y/N could almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes as he stared her dead in the eye. It would have been unnerving if she hadn’t been perfecting her own Bat glare from the time, she could open her eyes.

“I’m sorry, what?”The billionaire continued to just look at her. It was slowly becoming unnerving, daughter of Batman or no.

The man’s response was almost laughable. To the point that Y/N was sure she would have been cackling under any other circumstances. Even when he was utterly bamboozled the greatest detective on Earth was still able to remain polite. If someone had accidentally called Y/N their mother, she would have probably begun cursing them out by now.

“Surprise.” Jason’s lips turned down slightly as he lifted his shoulders in a ‘whatever’ gesture. Y/N almost strangled him for his nonchalance. “The new Nightingale is still her.”

“I’m sorry, what?”He repeated.

Y/N was going to strangle him too. In fact, she was about ready to shoot both men and then herself. This was beyond embarrassing. How had she slipped up? She was supposed to be the Nightingale, the Sparrow, the untouchable Wayne heiress. And here she was, sinking further and further into the too-big dining chair as her father refused to say anything other than, ‘I’m sorry, what?’

It was all she could do to squash down the anger. It had been years since they’d last seen each other and if you didn’t count the time, they’d spent faced off in family court it had been longer. And all the great Bruce Wayne could say was three words over and over again. Apparently, he was both daft and dull after all.

Y/N forced herself to remain calm, steady her heartbeat and count her breaths. She had prepared for this, just as she’d prepared for every conceivable situation. Perhaps she hadn’t expected to blurt it all out like that or that her father would be stunned into idiocy. But she’d planned what she’d do, what role she’d play, what mask she’d don.

She was going to be as infuriatingly casual as possible.

“It’s all good,” Y/N shrugged casually, pinching a buttered slice of bread from the splay of delicious food. Mouth full she continued, “I didn’t expect you to recognize me, new outfit and all. But Jason’s right, the new and improved Nightingale is still yours truly.”

“Y/N?”

“In the flesh,” She tilted her head back and spread her arms to the side – toast still in her right hand. “Young, healthy and still very much alive.”

Something clattered from behind the seated trio. Both Y/N and Jason turned to find a stunned Alfred Pennyworth staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. It seemed, however, that Bruce’s eyes were permanently stuck to his daughter.

The butler gave a shuddering breath, “As I live and breathe. I can’t believe it… Miss Y/N?”

“Oh, you better believe it, Al.” Y/N’s fake grin suddenly became so much easier. “I’m surprised and slightly hurt that neither of you recognized me last night. You were probably tired-“She sighed. “And getting old, I suppose.”

“Witty as ever Miss Y/N,” Alfred murmured though that look – like she really was a ghost – was still there. “Well. This is a… Turn of events. Will you be staying here; shall I prepare your room?”

“Yeah I’ll hang around, but I can handle myself thanks Al,” She gave him a small smile, dropping the crusts of her toast onto the plate. “Come walk with me, Jason?”

The boy wonder made a noise in the back of his throat, brushed the crumbs from his hands and followed her into the hallway. The H/C haired girl gave the men behind her a charming smile before flourishing through the doorway she’d come through – Jason at her heels. She made it all of three meters before that simmering anger burst forth.

Y/N spun upon the second Robin and shoved him into the pristine wall, locking him into place with her arms. A scowl fell across her features as she glanced only once to check that neither Alfred nor Bruce had followed them. Jason blinked in confusion, scrunching up his face at the girl’s vengeful expression.

“What the fuck is going on?” He battered at her arms, “I thought we were friends?”

“Friends?” She scoffed. “Nightingale is Robin’s partner, yes. Y/N Wayne is Jason Todd’s friend, sure.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m a Sparrow,” She hissed. “So, listen up. Here are my conditions; One, I am not his daughter and I am not your friend. I will help the Robin; I will save Gotham from this war. Two, you, Mr. Todd, will help me disappear so thoroughly that my father can’t find me.”

“And three?” He heaved a breath.

“Three? Play along.”

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