Could I Make A Request For Stanford X Reader Where Reader Finds A Cat With A Sixth Finger And It Reminds

Could I make a request for Stanford x reader where reader finds a cat with a sixth finger and it reminds them of Ford so they take it home and show him?

A/n: SO CUTE!

Doing your best to balance the grocery's, you paused hearing small little meow. Placing the bags in the car, you slammed the trunk shaking your head thinking you were going insane. About to leave, you only stopped hearing it again.

Taking a few steps, your eyes went wide seeing a small little bundle by your tier. A gasp escaping your lips, you quickly shrugged off your coat wrapping it around the kitten. "You poor little thing."

Looking the kitten over to make sure there weren't any wounds a sigh of relief escaped your lips when you couldn't fine any though your eyes went wide spotting the paw. "So cute!"

Grinning, you hugged the kitten close as you slipped in the car. "You're just like my Ford."

"Meow"

With the kitten now curled on your lap, you drove off to the shack excited to show the man the newest member to the family.

"Ford! Ford!"

"In the living room dear."

The home seemed awfully quiet but then again you guessed Stan must have taken the twins somewhere, you couldn't wait to show the kitten to Mabel and Dipper.

Stepping into the living room, you stepped over the paper holding out the kitten. "Look! Look at his little toe beans, he's just like you!" You did your best to not squeal.

Adjusting his glasses, Ford eyes went wide for a moment then chuckled petting the little paw seeing the six toes, just like his six fingers. "Fascinating"

"We are keeping him by the way."

Parting his lips, Ford smiled then shook his head as he wrapped his arm around your hips pulling you into his chest careful to not squish the kitten. "I wouldn't have it any other way dear."

The Act of Stealing a Loved One |3| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

Hi y'all! I am overwhelmed by the amount of love this fanfiction is getting. Thank you so much, I am glad y'all love it and hope you enjoy it!

Story Guide

Why the hell was he doing this? Maybe it was to try and make up for all that he did to his brother, or maybe it was to attempt to not let Ford ruin something good that finally came into his life. Whatever the reason was, Stan was putting fake glasses on, wearing an outfit similar to what his nerdy brother would wear, he was going to the show. He was going to see you perform.

“God why does he dress so dorky” Stan muttered in annoyance as he looked himself over in the mirror. He adjusted the glasses that sat awkwardly on the bridge of his nose and grabbed the poster before heading out to his car. He drove off to where the show was taking place, in somebody’s basement.

“Do you think he’s going to come tonight?” you muttered, looking at Gabs.

Their band was currently tuning their instruments and checking over equipment in the basement, preparing for the performance.. How the neighbors didn't complain was beyond you, they probably are used to this by now.

“Do you want the truth or for me to lie?” Gabs glanced at you with an annoyed look in her eye, sighing, she continued to tune her guitar “...I don't know why you're still with that bum. You invited him to how many shows now and he just wont show?” She rolled her eyes, directing her attention back towards you.

“He’s super busy, and I get that... His degree is super difficult, so I get it” You muttered, beginning to untangle some of the wires you shoved inside your bag in a hurry “..if he doesn't show tonight, I might just have to talk about where this relationship is going.. I really just don't get why he doesn't support me on this..” you mutter frowning slightly as you progress with the mess of wires

“If that's what you feel is best then do it, besides, you'll always have me and the band,” Gabs smiles softly at you placing her guitar down as she looks at the clock on the wall “Doors open in ten, maybe you'll see him before the show starts.. I'm hoping for his sake or I swear I will beat the absolute sh-”

“Gabs! You're not beating up my boyfriend” you laugh, gently shoving her “But I hope he’ll be there too..”

Stan was glad he got there when he did, considering the fact it was a basement show it was pretty packed. Parking was a bitch, so he ended up parking on the front lawn to which everyone else followed suit once they saw him do it.

“Ford, don't make me regret this…” he muttered getting out of the car before heading to the door. Ignoring the looks of everyone else, he stepped inside. The house smelt of cigarettes and booze, it was rather full at the moment with groups of people talking. It made Stan stick out like a sore thumb while he was trying to find you in the room.

“Holy shit! Ford you actually came!” He heard a female voice yell out before he was suddenly embraced. Looking to see who embraced him, he saw the girl from the photo on Ford's desk, it was you. Returning the hug Stan smiled “I apologize for missing your other shows I got too caug-” he was cut off by you kissing him, shutting him up completely.

Was this wrong? 100%. If Ford ever knew about this he would be in even deeper shit. But the way your soft lips felt against his rough ones pushed that thought aside. Your scent of vanilla, mixed with cigarettes was like a drug he craved. He couldn't get enough of it. You pulled away after a few seconds looking into his eyes smiling

“As much as I love your rambling, shush. I'm just glad you're here!” she said giddily as she wrapped her arms around his neck, the Vodka you tried hiding with a piece of strawberry gum, hitting his nose in the closeness.

“Noted. You look absolutely beautiful, now when do you perform?” Keep your cool Stanley shit!

“Oh I'm on after the first band! Ya know… There's rumors of some school scouting agent showing up tonight.. god can you imagine if it was true?” You smiled, a sparkle in your eyes as you speak “The band and I, in the big leagues..On tour never having to look back? That's the dream” you removed your hands from Stan’s neck

When you pulled away he turned his attention to your ensemble for the show. Your hair was done with brushed out curls, falling towards the low cut neckline of the red shirt you had on underneath the black leather jacket that completed the look.

How the actual hell did Ford score you?

No seriously how the hell.

“Regardless, we got a huge following now, the word got out about us all over campus and some parts of your school so whatever happens I don't give a shit. This is so fun!” you giggle, slightly tipsy from the shots you definitely didn't have earlier

“Whatever makes you happy, I'll support you” Stan smiled gently, squeezing your hand.

He hates that he just added fuel to the fire of lies he is making, but he didn't want to crush your dreams. Stan knows his brother was definitely not supportive of your music career, he knows that he would probably tell you to be more realistic, that's just how his brother was. Stan wishes that somehow, he would have been the one you met, he longed for someone exactly like you. Carefree, up for the thrill of not knowing what's next, and not giving a shit while doing it.

“And that's why I love you Ford” Y/n says, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Y/n! Come on, we have to figure out all our shit before we go on! You can make out with him later!” Jamie yelled out to you, holding up one of his drumsticks, pointing out at you

“Ugh, I'm coming! See you on stage lover boy” You kiss him one last time before running off with Jamie.

God he was down bad

Taglist @bluepanda08 @slay-thou-pookie @karmaisacatluzi @fries11 @marvelous-maniac @cherryblom @leo4242564 @zuzzybakaemperiment @boba-is-a-soup @bigteefsmallbrain @originalalienlawyershark @darlingdia1007 @kismogizmo @heysam09 @mottysith @fudosl

Glass Bones and Paper Skin

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

More Platonic Bruce x Reader than Batfam, but they are mentioned and will have a bigger role in the future.

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect

Just a reminder for everyone, your bodies are perfect and beautiful! Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Part 2

Part 3

Blinding lights and hundreds of eyes are enough to thwart people from the runway. It makes people stumble, trip, or even run from it. Their mind focuses on if they mess up, the world will see. Their managers, agencies, everyone will forever refer to it when they ask them to walk for them again. 

They focus on their walk, the way the clothing either hugs or drapes off their bodies, how the shoes don’t fit, the way their hair is styled, and how the makeup can burn. They try not to focus on how their stomachs ache, how the heels cut into the thin skin on their feet, and that everyone in this room that is dressed and prepped, are equally or more or less beautiful than them. 

Y/N L/N seemed to be the topic of conversation at all of these events. A newer runway model who has been eating it up. From their first runway debut to this one, they have always left people in awe and dropping to their knees for more. It is hard to believe that they are only 18. Y/N has been a photoshoot model since 15, but on their birthday when they turned 18, they finally agreed to their agency’s desire to make them take on the runway. 

It was the best choice for their career. Y/N’s manager was the daughter of their mother’s manager, back when she was alive and used to do modeling. Her manager threw her own daughter at Y/N, and stated that they were the best people to work with because they know Y/N. Whether Y/N was cursed or not –they have yet to figure that out– has nearly the same exact features as their mother and the same ‘air.’ One that demanded everyone to pay attention to them, and is a natural for posing and had a natural strut. 

They’ve been right, and Y/N doesn’t know if it is because of them that they all made it this far. They knew what looked best on Y/N and what wouldn’t work. They knew which designers would adore them and which designers wouldn’t fit. 

Those who know Y/N though understand that the ‘air’ was only on the runways and photoshoots. Y/N is actually a very demure person, while not a wallflower, they were someone who could blend in the crowd. 

Alfred once told them that every country should be grateful to not have Y/N working against them, because Y/N can just disappear. 

“Y/N, are you ready?” They smiled at their fellow models, slipping into the person of Y/N L/N, child of M/N L/N and Bruce Wayne, and nodding, “Of course. When am I not?” 

Cheryl whistled, a fellow model that has been Y/N’s mentor in some way, walking around Y/N and smiling, “Designers sure know how to dress you up. I think almost every runway walk has had your hips on display” Y/N chuckled at her, “It’s because of these hips dips. You can probably drink soup out of them.” 

“If it was ice cream I’d be down, but not soup.” Jon was another model who has been in the scene for a long time. He was a handsome man with a diamond face. 

“Models get ready.” A shuffling of feet and high heels clip clopping sounded in the backstage, and Y/N took their place in front of everyone. They will be the one opening the show today, an honor that the 18-year-old took gratefully. 

Opening a show was a big deal, setting the tone for the show in general and also the tempo. Y/N took a deep breath, and at the cue, their mind went blank as they began walking. Their eyes focused on the end camera, and the walk on beat to the music. Once at the end, they looked directly into the camera and struck a pose. Highlighting the slit hips and underboob design, showing off the almost sheer fabric that had the slightest hint of shimmer in them. A statement piece. 

Turning around they walked back to where they emerged from, making sure they kept their face in control for the last camera. However, a sight at the corner of their eye momentarily broke them out of their blank space. Five familiar people that should not be here. Sitting in the front row, wearing nice tuxedos, and almost making Y/N stumble. 

Almost. Controlling their features, Y/N returned their focus to the camera and disappeared in the entrance they emerged from. Smiling at all the 'congratulations’ ‘you looked great,’ ‘you look beautiful,’ they went back to their manager, Maya, and whispered, “I need you to confirm five people in the front row on the left side. They are four chairs down from the camera.”

Maya nodded, scurrying away and without a doubt checking it out. Y/N could feel the curiosity and dread build in their stomach. If they are who Y/N thinks they are, then the after party is going to be interesting. 

“What’s wrong?” Jon wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, bringing Y/N out their thoughts, “Nothing really. Just thought I saw some familiar faces.” Jon made a weird face, but dropped the issue when another model, Logan, strolled on over. 

“Did you see them?” 

“See who?” 

“The Wayne family! They are in the front row!” Y/N closed their eyes in misery and a headache began forming. They saw Maya running back, her face pale and a large frown on her face. Jon glanced at Y/N, taking in the annoyed expression and scrunched nose, “Hmm, no I didn’t. I was too focused on looking at the camera, Logan.” She rolled her eyes, “Oh, it was only a second.”

Jon and Y/N gave each other a dry look, remembering the last time Logan had said that and somehow the camera managed to snap a photo when she was oggling at someone. Y/N shook their head, “I momentarily saw them, but I didn’t think it was them. Do you think I can get the oldest son’s number?” 

‘You’re not his type.’  Y/N thought but didn’t say, shrugging and smiling in amusement, “Logan, what would your girlfriend say?” The model stuck her tongue, “She’d ask to join.” Before Logan could say anything else, Cheryl waltzed over, “Stop being inappropriate, there’s a kid present.” 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry, if you can’t drink yet you can’t have this conversation.” Y/N made a face, “That’s the stupidest sense of logic I have ever heard.” Everyone laughed at them, clapping Y/N’s shoulders and helping each other fix their wardrobes. Some stylists came over to fix their makeup and hair just in case. Everyone was getting ready for the last walkthrough, and honestly, Y/N was dreading it. 

As the front runner of it all, Y/N’s face will be seen by the now confirmed Wayne family and Y/N isn’t confident in themselves enough to not make a face. 

The show will be closing soon and then there is the afterparty that all models are expected to attend. It's a networking place, where other designers, brand ambassadors, and just people who are rich enough to get a ticket can talk to the models and try and recruit them. Its a place and time to mingle for those who have an open schedule and unfortunately, Y/N has an open fucking schedule. 

This was their last show in Paris, and then they have one destination and then it will be done. Runway season will be officially over and then it will be smaller gigs and back to the every now and then runway. 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took a deep breath and fixed their face, eyes forward and chin up. 

‘I’ll call Alfred when I get home.’ 

+++

‘I want to go home.’ Y/N nursed the drink in the flute, filled with sparkling cider instead of champagne. They stood off to the side, changed out of the clothes they wore on the runway, and instead in a deep-v top and leather pants. Still dressed to impress, but at the moment they just wanted to curl up and go away. Y/N’s hotel room has a bathtub in it and Y/N really wants to just sit down in hot water and relax. 

Y/N was constantly scanning the crowd, moving further against the wall whenever they saw black hair and blue eyes. 

Maya said one more hour, then it will be acceptable to leave. She was doing all  the talking and networking for Y/N, trusting that when it came to meet the designers Y/N will charm them enough to want to have them keep coming back. Sighing once more, Y/N took a longer sip and wished to be home. 

Something moved the hair near their ear, and Y/N almost threw their glass at whoever it was until they caught sight of blue eyes and black hair, staring at and analyzing them. 

“Tim…” 

“Hello, Y/N.” Y/N gave a practiced and polite smile, “Odd to see you here.” Tim shrugged, “Seeing that the designer is friends with Bruce, and told us of your show and that you will be leading the walk, of course we had to come.” Y/N nodded, “In Paris?” 

“Where else? You’re next one is in New York right?” Y/N gave a polite chuckle, “Since when did you pay attention to fashion week?” Tim took a sip of champagne, “Since my younger sibling decided to run off and become a model.” 

Y/N took a sip of the sparkling cider, not missing the way Tim was eyeing them with interest and curiosity. They smiled against the rim of the flute, “ ‘Run off’ huh. I don’t think those are the words I would use. I never hid it and I didn’t pack my bags in the middle of the night and sneak through a window.” Y/N set the empty flute down, still smiling politely at Tim who was still watching them, “I simply walked out the front door and no one stopped me.” 

“Y/N–” 

“Y/N! There you are!” A tall woman, hair dyed a shade-off from white gray and wearing the crispest red suit, strolled over. Y/N gave a larger smile, opening their arms and welcoming the hug, “Ms. Gabbana, you look lovely as always.” The woman laughed, “That’s the botox. Anyways, you looked so amazing opening the show!” 

Tim was quickly forgotten as Francesca Gabbana, an Italian high-end fashion designer and luxury brand owner, chatted away with Y/N. Her presence called forth other designers and models and soon enough, Y/N was entrapped in a small group talking about the next runway show next week. 

They talked about the dreaded flight to New York, and where they will be staying. It will be Francesca’s show next week, along with some other high end designers. Francesca seemed particularly excited for Y/N’s, and when Y/N first saw the design, they had to hold back the shivers.

“Right, Y/N you’re from Gotham aren’t you? Will you be visiting your family?” With the attention all on Y/N, they smiled tightly and shrugged, “We’ll see. They are always so busy so I think it's best if I don-” 

“I hope Y/N visits, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.” A large hand clapped Y/N’s shoulder, and from the facial expression everyone was making, Y/N knows who it was. Peeking up through their lashes, Y/N could see Bruce’s smile on his still handsome face. 

Cheryl was the first to recover, her eyes narrowing slightly, “How… how do you know each other?” Y/N glanced at Bruce, who right now is Brucie, and before he could say anything Bruce gasped, “Y/N, you haven’t said anything?” The young adult shrugged, “It never came up. Bruce Wayne is my father.”

The room erupted, and Y/N actually wanted to go die in a hole. What proceeded afterwards was the most intense questioning for the next two hours. 

++++

“Bruce, why are you here?” Y/N asked over dinner. He tossed the crouton around in his salad, waiting for his father’s response. They have never had a 1 on 1 meal together. It was alway family meals, and even then Y/N rarely showed up for those. There was no need too. They never noticed when Y/N was there or not. 

The Billionaire playboy shrugged, “Is it wrong to see my child open a highly sought after show?” Y/N chuckled, “No, but you have never shown any interest in this before.” Y/N never hid his modeling gigs. Often using the family weight room to keep in shape and also turned one of the unused offices into a strut practice room when Y/N lived in the manor. Hours and the amount of money spent to ensure their skin was perfect and their hair was nice, and that they looked beautiful. 

Y/N never hid their modeling job, even as a teen, and yet the only one who seemed to notice was Alfred. 

“You never said anything.” 

“I didn’t think I had too.” Y/N can recall trying to show Bruce, Dick, Jason, anyone that would bother to look, a photo of them making it onto Vogue. Not the cover, not yet, but as a newer model within the prestigious magazine. They made it at 16. 16, and only modeling for a year! Francessca had them in a piece that was first page worthy, and it fit Y/N like it was meant for them. 

Alfred was the only person to look at the magazine Y/N held open with their trembling hands, and ruffle their hair and congratulate them. 

“You didn’t even tell Alfred where you are living.” No, because Y/N doesn’t want Alfred showing up unexpectedly and seeing the almost empty fridge. The thought of the older man’s disappointed look and inquisitive questions would have Y/N breaking down crying. 

“Hmmm, I’m always moving around so I didn’t want him showing up when I am not there.” Bruce nodded, taking a bite of his lobster, and watching Y/N take a small bite of the salad. Y/N swallowed with great difficulty, “Bruce-” 

“Since when does a child call their parents by their first name?” Y/N sucked their teeth, “The only one who calls you ‘father’ is Damian.” 

“You used to.” Y/N shrugged, “You never seemed comfortable with me calling you that.” Bruce rarely answered when Y/N called him ‘dad’ or ‘father,’ and yet he alway responded when someone else called for him.  Y/N would watch from afar as Bruce came running to them in need, but when Y/N needed help they had to figure it out on their own. 

At some point Y/N stopped calling for Bruce entirely, running and calling only to Alfred.

Y/N is not mad about it. They never were. Dull E/C eyes accepted it and pushed forward, watching the explosive fights, the angry words, and the silent apologies. Alfred’s words affirming that they all loved each other, despite everything saying otherwise. Y/N watched, and continued to watch as they focused on themselves when Y/N began making a name for themself. 

They’re not mad. Y/N never was. Hurt? Maybe, but not mad. That is just their hand in life. Besides, it made the modeling career easier. No need to worry about missing any events, Y/N wouldn’t be invited even if they had lived there. Holidays weren’t huge, nor were birthdays. The only one Y/N sent a card to was Alfred. 

It made traveling easier. There was no such thing as homesickness. It made taking more gigs easier, more destructive behavior easier to handle. 

“Y/N,” Bruce called to him and Y/N paused while eating. Raising an eyebrow in question as Bruce set down his own eating utensils. Ocean blue met E/C, and Y/N tried to place the emotion in those blue eyes. 

“For what it is worth, I… I am sorry about the neglect you have faced within our home.” Y/N’s mind stopped functioning and they stared at Bruce in shock. The man either ignoring him or not realizing that Y/N was staring at him continued. 

“You… you didn’t deserve that, especially when you were grieving and that fact that I could not see that shows my fail–” 

“Wait wait wait!” Y/N held their hands up, cutting off Bruce, “What are you talking about?” Bruce stared at Y/N with questions in his eyes, and blinked in shock when he saw the genuine confusion in his child’s eyes. Y/N looked floored, “Bruce… I-I… what?”

Bruce knows he’s not a good parent. He is intimately aware of his failings and shortcomings, and how some of them haunt him. They claw into his skin, his mind, and chest as a reminder of all the times he has failed his children. He and Dick barely started talking, Jason and him are slowly mending that bridge, and Tim and Damian seem to hate each other and Bruce doesn’t know what to do about that. It seems the only children he hasn’t officially fucked over are those that aren’t even his. 

Then there’s Y/N. A child of his genetic makeup, just like Damian, only Y/N’s mother was a model Bruce had treated as a hookup whenever she was on the east coast. Y/N was 13 when they came into Bruce’s care, older than Damian and a few years younger than Tim. Their mother was caught in a drug-use scandal, one that cost her her career and then her life. Her choice left behind a traumatized child, walking in on the body as she decomposed in their bathroom. They had been forced to pack up their bags and move across the country to live with a parent that they only heard about once or twice. 

Bruce somewhat knew of Y/N. He knew that Y/N’s mother had been pregnant, but when he asked if she wanted child support, the woman huffed and said ‘no thank you.’ Her income was enough, as a high in demand supermodel, and she didn’t need Bruce’s ‘pity’ money. 

So, he never sought after her and she never phoned him. 

Until CPS called and told him of the news and the now homeless 13-year-old child he was now in charge of. 

Y/N and him never really connected, and Bruce wonders if some of that is his own fault. He was always too busy with Batman, then his drama with Dick, and Jason’s whole dying thing, the persona of Brucie Wayne, then there was Tim, then Jason coming back from the dead thing, then Barbara’s whole Joker incident, then Damian…. 

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t too busy, he just never made time for Y/N. Which, the other never seemed to complain about. If they did complain to Alfred, the butler never said anything, and neither did their brothers. Y/N was just a ghost living in the manor that showed up for meals because it was expected, and then… left. 

Now he sits here, across from his child who doesn’t seem to understand the wrong done to them by not only Bruce, but the rest of the family. 

“Where did this come from?” Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it was because of Alfred that Bruce and the family finally realized what was wrong. The tour of Y/N’s old room, still kept clean due to Alfred’s insistence, but instead of clothes on the ground and signs of life within the room, it had photos of Y/N's past modeling gigs. Hundreds of photos, some framed, some not, as they covered the walls. Magazines that had Y/N on the front cover, magazine pages that had Y/N taking up the entire page.

The tour of the room-turned-practice room. Full of mirrors, and a 4 inch wide ply board used to practice walking. The shoes that were hidden in the closet, some too big and some too small. Blood staining the heel area of most of them as the image of Y/N practicing until and through the blisters filled all their heads. 

The meal regime, still written hastily down on the post it notes, and the exercise routine that didn’t match the calorie intake. The broken mirrors in Y/N’s closets and the clothes that now looked like they would be too big on the present-day Y/N that is sitting in front of Bruce.

The written blogs, printed and folded in one of their drawers, relating them back to their mother. Accusing them of the same thing they accused M/N. Highlighting Y/N’s faults, Y/N’s mistakes, Y/N’s features, and Y/N’s heritage. 

‘Child of drug-abuser model M/N L/N, Y/N L/N using the same drug?’ A 15-year-old Y/N posed in a way to show their figure was the picture that was used. 

‘Child of famous model M/N L/N able to hold up to the heat?’ Another photo of a 16-year-old Y/N looking exhausted as they walked out of a building. Eyes red and bags under their eyes. 

‘Beauty genes skipped a generation.’ Y/N is 17 in that photo. 

‘Y/N M/N will never be as beautiful as M/N L/N without extensive work.’  Y/N is 15 again in this photo. They had kept every critique, every mean and poorly written article about them, and kept them. Some of them were tweets, printed instagram photos, and magazines. 

Bruce could see the drastic changes in Y/N throughout the photos. The strict lifestyle changes affected their appearance and made them look even more like M/N. The Y/N in front of him, still beautiful, but Bruce knows the thoughts behind the perfect skin and perfect hair. 

It would seem that one of the things Y/N inherited from Bruce would be the internalizing of every little bad thing to happen, and deny that it has affected them while they wore the scar of it on their sleeves. 

“Bruce, you didn’t neglect me. I had food, clothes, a manor… where did you get all of that from?” 

“Emotional neglect is still neglect.” Y/N still looked confused, setting their fork down and controlling their expression as they processed that. Okay, so yeah maybe Bruce wasn’t an attentive father, but the man never hit Y/N. He never said anything about Y/N that Y/N would have to go to therapy for. Besides, Bruce’s lack of attention paved the way for Y/N to do this! 

Y/N’s lips formed a serene smile, “Bruce, I’m not mad that you didn’t pay attention to me. You were busy with your company, you are legally a dad of five kids, not everyone is going to get the same attention.” They took a sip of the water, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“It wasn’t that I was busy, I just never made time Y/N… and for that I am sorry.” Y/N hates this. Absolutely hates this. All of their excuses for Bruce are being shot down by Bruce himself and it was leaving Y/N feeling a little raw. Wounds they didn’t even know about now being rubbed with salt. 

Y/N stuck their tongue in their cheek and looked around, before smiling once more, “Bruce, I am literally giving you a way out for your guilt, which I still don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty, so why aren’t you taking it? 

“What are you hoping to do?” Bruce stared into E/C eyes and he could see the irritation in them. He set his fork and knife down, and leaned forward, “Is it wrong to try and mend broken bridges?” 

“The bridge was never broken in the first place.” 

“You’re right, and that’s because there was never a bridge in the first place.” Y/N cocked their head to the side, watching with an intense expression. Those E/C eyes flickering around, taking in the restaurant and narrowing their eyes, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but did you rent out the entire restaurant?” 

“I did. So we can talk freely.” 

“The other ‘customers’ are Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Bruce nodded, “Family dinner.” Y/N’s smile held no amusement, “You know, if you were anybody else I would be thinking this is a way for you to slide back in my life in hopes you could get some of my paycheck. But what is a model’s paycheck to Bruce Wayne’s?” Bruce chuckled, “You are making quite a bit. I’m happy you're conscious of your position now.” 

Y/N sipped the water, “How do you know how much I’m making?” Bruce only smiled and continued eating. He watched his child contemplate asking the question again, but then decided to drop it. 

‘Smart.’ Y/N continued to watch him, no longer touching the food and seeming unwilling to even look at the dessert menu. 

“You’ll visit when you’re back in the states, right?” It didn’t feel like a question. In fact, it felt more like a demand poised as a question to keep intentions hidden. Y/N gulped, “I’ll try.” 

“You should, Alfred misses you. Besides, Manhattan, New York isn’t too far from Gotham.” It was such an innocent sentence. One spoken with a smile on his lips and kind sky blue eyes. An innocent sentence, except Y/N has never once told them where they live. 

“A beautiful place, I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave. With windows like those and that giant skylight, it is truly a wonderful place befitting a top model such as yourself.” Y/N’s mouth went dry, and they could feel the sweat on the back of their neck as they continued to stare at Bruce. Their instincts implore them to go along with this. 

Urging them to carry on the conversation as they felt the gazes of four others on their back. They gave a wobbly smile, “Ye-yes. I really love it, I am super lucky that I managed to have enough saved up, and that I make enough to own a beautiful home such as that.” Bruce nodded, “As an apology for all the missed birthdays and Christmases, I decided to help out a bit.”

“...Excuse me?” Bruce ignored them, and instead looked at their plate that was still untouched from when Y/N had put down the utensils. He took a bite, “Do you not like your food? I can get something else made for you.” 

“N-no, I’m-I’m just full.” Bruce’s eyes narrowed before making a show of shrugging it off, “If you insist. Do know Alfred will want to feed you when you visit.” Y/N’s smile was becoming hard to maintain, “It was a pleasure to have dinner with you, Bruce, but I have to go. Long flight tomorrow and I need to be ready for next week.” Y/N fished out their credit card, but Bruce stuck his hand out, “Don’t worry about it, dinner has been paid for.” 

Y/N didn’t fight, only nodding and smiling pleasantly, “I suppose I will see you next week?” Bruce stood up, and brought Y/N into a tense hug. Feeling the bone and sinewy muscles in his rough hands. Y/N’s top is open back, exposing the shoulder blades and some of Y/N’s spine. Each one a small knob against skin, looking like the Rocky Mountains. 

“Safe flight, Y/N. See you at the shows next week.” Y/N gave a tight smile and quickly left. The four other pairs of eyes never left their back, and when finally in the safety of the streets, Y/N pulled out their phone and checked their Mortgage app. 

‘Successfully Paid!’ In bright green letters, bolded as if it were a game. 

It’s been paid off. Y/N now owed nothing on that house, and while that might have been freeing, it meant someone could now have access to their mortgage account. An alert sounded on their phone, and when Y/N saw that it was their bank account, notifying them of a deposit Y/N felt the breath leave their lungs. 

A large sum, one that had Y/N blinking at the amount of 0’s, was just deposited to their checking account. Right under their bill for walking on that runway. 

‘Shopping money, for when you visit.’ - Dick 

They have access to their bank account. Y/N’s family, because while Bruce was a solitary kind of guy he never was one to withhold information from his former Robins, now had access to their account. They could see what they were spending money on. 

They know where Y/N lives. From the sounds of it, Bruce was even in the penthouse. Y/N covered their mouth and tried to stifle a sob, the feeling of an invasion of their privacy weighing heavy in their chest. 

++++

Y/N stared at the article of clothing with anxiety. When Francesca had first shown them the clothing, it had only caused slight discomfort. Now, now that Y/N knows that their family is here, and watching, the clothing had felt like it was a metal ball. Francesca stood next to them, admiring Y/N’s hair and makeup, and how it all looked with clothing item. 

“I knew this would look great on you. As a Gothamite, this must feel great right? To be wearing the symbol of your City’s greatest vigilante.” Y/N swallowed down the bile, “He’s typically seen as the boogeyman, but yes. I suppose it does feel odd wearing the symbol.” 

The piece of clothing was quite scandalous, a bat symbol made out of gold rest across their chest, attached to a black silk fabric and lace. It hugged their body, bringing out the hip dips and long legs, as well as exposing their toned stomach. 

“Why didn’t you say anything about you being Bruce Wayne’s kid?” Francesca asked, and Y/N could only shrug, “Just… it just never came up.” Y/N loves that Francesca drops that. There are tons of models who have family issues. Y/N’s are minor. 

Not worthy of anything. 

“Y/N, for what it is worth, I do think you are a one in a century model. No one has taken to the runway quite like you have. I think if you had started the runway earlier you would already be a supermodel.” Y/N smiled at Francesca’s kind words, and they wondered just how they got so lucky to have befriended her. 

“Thank you.” 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took to the back of the line, being offered to close the show just after they had opened one. Another prestigious offer that Y/N gratefully took. Sighing heavily, they watched as the line grew shorter and the sound of cameras flashing and grew louder. 

Taking a deep breath, they steeled their breathing and controlled their expressions. Blocking out the world in the way they do best, strutting. The intensity of the flashes increased, and Y/N made a show of keeping their face neutral. 

Just how Batman does. 

They made a point to not look at the people in the front row. When they made it back behind the entry way, there was no time to catch their breath. They were ushered back into line for the final walk out, and Y/N wonders if they can all see how pale Y/N is. Can they see the sweat on their brow or the fact that their E/C eyes are terrified? 

“You did great Y/N!” 

“Looking beautiful Y/N.” 

“C’mon Y/N, after this its a party!” 

No, no they can’t see it because they are all focused on what Y/N wants them to be focused on. Y/N has spent countless hours into ensuring they loook beautiful without makeup, and ethereal in it, no one will care about their inner thoughts and turmoils. 

Y/N strutted to the music one last time, focusing on the flashing light and hoping that the photos they captured showed exactly what Y/N wants them to see. Once they were in the back, the models stripping and changing into comfortable clothes and all of them getting ready for the afterparty, Y/N stayed seated. The pads of their fingers running against the cold metal that was in the shape of a bat across their chest as their makeup artist and hairstylist undid all of their work. 

Francesca smiled, “You were great Y/N, I knew you would be the right person to pull this off.” 

“Thank you, what inspired this piece if you don’t mind me asking.” Francesca smiled, “Oh, I got a call actually. It was just a call to run the idea by me, but I loved it so much that I accepted it.” Y/N furrowed their brow, “A call?” They began to strip out of the clothing, but Francesca’s startled look made them pause. 

“...What?” 

“You’re not going to keep it on?” Y/N gave a confused look, “We don’t keep clothes, Francesca.” The stylist smiled, “Well, no. But Y/N, that was a commission for you.” Y/N stared at Francesca with a new found fear, and their mouth going dry as they processed it all. 

“Who… who did you say the call was from?” Francesca beamed, “Your father, who by the way I am offended you didn’t say anything about, Bruce Wayne.” Large hands clapped their shoulder, and Y/N would have shouted if it weren’t for the familiar smell of cologne. 

Turning around, they met Bruce’s blue eyes, and the blue eyes of their siblings. All of them dressed to the nines and eyeing the clothes. 

“Truly a wonderful piece, Ms. Gabbana. I could not thank you enough.” 

“Of course! Thank you for the idea!” Y/N felt their breath quicked when Dick’s hands gripped their wrist, and gently tugged them in his direction, “C’mon Y/N, you’ll be late to dinner. Alfred is making your favorite.” 

“At least let them change, Dick.” 

“Todd is right, a drive in that would be difficult. Not to mention that  it is snowing outside.” 

“Y/N, we have some clothes for you. They should be more comfortable then the clothes you came in.” Y/N couldn’t even say anything as they were dragged away, Bruce keeping Francesca busy while their brothers pushed them into a changing room. Dick smiling gently as he passed the bag of Y/N’s clothes, taken from their penthouse, into Y/N’s trembling arms. 

“Bruce paid for that outfit, so try not to ruin it, okay? We’ll be waiting out here for you.” Dick booped their nose, and left Y/N alone in the changing room taht only had a curtain for a door. With trembling hands, they searched the bag for their phone. They have to call someone. Cheryl will help them. So would Jon. Maybe even Maya! Y/N just needs to call– 

“Y/N, we have your phone out here, so don’t panic.” Y/N bit their lip to stop themself from sobbing. One thing. They just want one thing to go right today. 

A knock sounded on the wood that was hoolding the curtain, “Y/N, do you need help?” 

“N-no! No, I’m just try-trying to be gentle with the piece.” Bruce hummed, “Well, try and hurry. Alfred is excited to see you and is expecting us for dinner in three hours.” Y/N gulped, carefully stripping and putting on the sweats and hoodie. Clothes that still smell like their laundry detergent and shoes Y/N knows were in their closet. 

‘Dear God.’ They whimpered as they slipped on the comfortable pair of shoes, and bagged the shoes from teh show, and carefully picked up the article of clothing. The gold bat symbol shining mockingly at them. 

The curtain pulled open, and like a horror photo, the light from behind them casted and eerie shadow. Bruce’s face hidden in teh darkness as he reached his hand out for Y/N, knowing full well his child cannot run. 

“C’mon Y/N, time to go home.”

______________________________________________________________

A Part 2 will definitely happen! Kinda has to, to be honest.

BYE BYE, MISS AMERICAN PIE || JASON TODD X WIFE!READER

master-list || CHAPTER TWO: SWEET AND BLOOD.

summary: it always him. a unhealthy reminder of jason’s nightmares and demons.

pairing: husband!jason todd x wife!reader, bruce wayne, dick grayson, jim gordon, damian wayne, ginger the pup.

warnings: ptsd?, traumatic experiences, talks of death, almost panic attacks? a little bit of smut??? y/n gets tackled twice, violence, injuries, almost attempted kidnapping.

previously || next

why is it called a secret, when you can’t be careful?

oh wait..it never was a SECRET.

“what..”

was all jason todd could say. not RED HOOD. not the man who killed criminals and terrorized any crime boss in Gotham city and left their heads rolling for police to take care of. but JASON. the boy who was left to fend for himself and starving until he met bruce wayne. same scared kid who was murdered by a clown. a clown who wore caked on face paint, green hair, laughed like his life depended on it. one who murdered so many lives. he didn’t take Jason’s life…he used it…and than torn it. all because, he was robin and because he was the son of his number one enemy.

memories of that torturing hours, of just being there with him.

he could hear him laughing, laughing so much like he was so goddamn funny to brutally beat a kid. jason could feel his hands on him. he could feel, EVERYTHING.

the crowbar, he could feel the metal beating him senselessly. from to his face to his toes. the ache and the throbbing. than to the numbness. it was like when you get sick, the chills and the fever and the feeling of not being able to get up mixed with getting stomped on by a giant over and over was what it felt like. it never stopped. the pain.

but that doesn’t compare when he had his finger nails pulled off. limbs broken. hanging by a thread. the cuts that fuckin’ clown would give him. but the most memorable besides the crowbar was HIM… carving a J on the side of his cheek. it was slow. painfully agonizing. he could hear his own screams begging to stop. he remembered he would always purposefully go slow and dig deeper into his bleeding skin. something the lazarus pit couldn’t fully heal, not even his autopsy marks on his chest.

he was littered, of death. and he cheated death, without him even letting it happen. you could say that the lady death let it slide…for now.

“jay?”, he hears his wife, oh his wife…the love of his life.

y/n sat down in front of jason who stared blankly ahead of her. his gaze was into space. gone he was. unresponsive. she was used to seeing her husband like this after he has his nightmares or panic attacks. a lot of times she would see if he wanted to have her console him, if not she wouldn’t touch him unless he gave her consent. she was patient. and that’s all jason asks.

“baby…you need me?”, y/n whispers to him but still not daring to touch him. she could hear his breathing hitch, it looked like he wasn’t breathing at all. “jason”, y/n calmly called out his name.

that caused him to blink a little before robotically looking down at her in between his legs. y/n held a worried look, worried he was going to have an episode. “jay? how can I help? mhm? do you want to list off some things?”, she questions him slow. jason blinked, shaking his head. y/n muttered a small ‘okay’ before placing herself fully on their carpet floor.

“okay…can i touch you?”, y/n asks him with her hands on her lap.

he stared down at his wife, all he sees..is her. jason nodded, his hair flopped as he did. y/n nodded with a frown. her hand reaches up with a pace of calmness, both the husband and wife’s hand clasped together. her thumb rubs against the scar on his knuckles.

“jay…I need you to breathe with me..okay? I need you to take deep breathes”, y/n reminded him. something jason tends to forget when he feels like something is going to cause him to have a panic attack or when an nightmares occurs. he inhaled from his nose before exhaling quietly, he does that a few times as y/n watched to make sure he wasn’t overdoing it. “there ya go…”, she cheers on.

jason closed his eyes, feeling a sense of relief. reminding himself he wasn’t there anymore and he was safe with his wife. “I know baby..I know. do you want to go and lie down? glass of water”, y/n began to ask him. ready to go and get some water anyway for him, jason grabbed her hand. her ringed hand. the gold wedding ring stared back at him. his calloused thumb runs over the band.

pressing a firm kiss on the ring he put on her himself. jason finally spoke to her “im fine..thank you babe”, he whispers under his breath.

worried still, y/n nodded her head as she reaches up and rubs jason’s knee that was shaking violently. he takes deep breathes to calm himself and allow his wife’s presence as well. his jet black hair tossles forward, in the sunlight, a few white streaks glides. the hair dye finally fading away.

y/n always remember when jay needed some help in dying his hair, said it was better than a constant reminder of his fate before. she did always like the white streak in his hair though. like a cute skunk. she looked at his hair before reaching up gently tugging on the growing whites. “you’re right.. we do need to dye it”, she whispers.

on jason’s face was a growing smile until it dropped remembering what y/n had previously told him. his frown deepened, “it’s my fault…I should’ve been more careful..I fucked up”, he says. hearing the fear and the blame coming from jason made y/n look up into his eyes. her eyebrows furrowed, shaking her head more.

“it is NOT you’re fault jason. none of it was your fault..you-”, cupping jason’s scarred cheeks into her warm hands. the cold wedding ring touching his skin. “protect me so well my love..you keep me safe. you never fuck up. you are the best husband I could ask for, no matter how many times you doubt yourself. know you done this for us. you are the greatest man I know..”, her words of truth and love made JASON TODD cry. tears fall drooping down his cheeks. one, two, three, four and five tears as more keeps on coming.

jason bites his lips as they wobbled. he lets out a choked sob before wrapping his hands around his wife’s. y/n’s eyes softened at the sight. “oh jay”, she coos at him.

her thumb wipes away his falling tears letting her husband cry.

everyone is allowed to be vulnerable. just because you’re vulnerable doesn’t make you weak. you have so much pain yet you still carry it, letting that pain go will set you free. be angry. be sad. whatever you’re emotion you feel, turn it into something greater.

those are what y/n told jason. on the night he revealed to her that his true identity and his story. he didn’t cry, that night. he just stared at the city. scared but accepting if she was scared and wouldn’t want to see him again. yet she never did. she stayed. and when she told him those words, god did he grew to love her more and more.

“why did you marry me?”, jason asks y/n from behind her. laying inside the porcelain bathtub was the two couple, naked and covered in foamy bubbles. the room smelled of warm cocoa butter and brown sugar, a hint of lavender essential oil. the only light in the large bathroom was red and white thick candles. the large man’s figure was behind y/n’s, he was pressed up against the cold porcelain.

playing with the foam and blowing into them creating the smallest tiniest of bubbles, y/n turned her head to look at jason with a curious look. “what? what kind of question is that?”, she asks him. her full attention to him.

he shifts, moving y/n along on his lap. “i just..want to hear it again. please?”, jay asks. she looks down at his wet chest before looking up at him. from her back being turned away, she quickly moves over chest to chest.

and as their chests touch each other..y/n wraps her wet arms around his thick neck. “the reason why I married you. is because I could have of chosen to be married to someone else. somebody who wouldn’t love me, as much as you do. you love me. but not as much as I love you. that night you saved me, I knew. and when you told me who you truly are. I knew. I love you and all you’re days and nights. red hood, robin, jason todd…all of you is what I love. marrying you, is my gift till the day I die…”

the words, so beautiful. jason stared at her with devotion, his heart beats every second. his eyes turned into hearts eyes the minute she spoke. “god I love you”, he whispers looking down at her lips.

his thumb runs along the plush skin. his right hand goes down to her hip and the other hand on her back. pushing her forward onto him, bringing each other closer and closer. their lips clasp each other.

y/n turns her head slightly to the left, taking in jason’s lips deeper. her hand grips the hair on the back of his head. she slightly tugs causing jason to groan. the room becomes more heated and intense. pulling away from her jason moves his face onto her neck. he plants soft kisses and as he touches the spot y/n likes, he pulls her skin in and sucks. “jay..”, she moans. the hand on y/n’s hip rocks her back and forth. the room is now filled of moans and groans.

a soft sad whine is heard by door, a little black wiggling nose peeks right out from under the door. tiny claws scratching against the wood. both jason and y/n stop their actions before slowly turning to the door. a giggle comes out from y/n’s mouth from watching the poor alone pup on the other side of the door. “oh ging..”, she mumbled.

another whimper in response from ginger, begging to be let in with her parents. y/n giggled once more about to let herself up until jason goes back to nibbling on her neck. “jayyy”, she drags out.

continuing on his action of giving his partner pleasure, jason lifts up y/n in his hands before harshly slamming her on his lap. y/n shouts, feeling fullness before looking down at jason with widened eyes. “jason!”, she yelled. he pulls away from her neck to look up at her. an innocent look with a small grin before saying “what? im not getting cockblocked babe”.

rolling her (e/c) eyes at him slapping his chest. it wasn’t till jason rocks her back and forth once again that y/n stopped complaining. her eyes shut letting her husband do the work.

dried off, y/n runs a brush against her dampened hair. the smell of her shampoo and conditioner lingers in her roots and ends. in her view from behind is jason, still shirtless except for a pair of grey sweats cling to his hips. he always looked good in them. his large figure comes up from behind y/n before playfully flexing.

y/n laughed, “looking good babe…”.

from the mirror in front of them jason sends her a cheeky wink. “damn right I do”, he says back. looking down at the floor was ginger who happily sits on her butt with her tongue lolled out. “do I look good ginger?”, jason now asks the pup. the german shepherd barks in response cause the two to laugh.

y/n turns her head to where jason stood, his neck was littered of hickeys from their bath. she smiled before biting her lip to hide it. back to hair, y/n grabs a small bottle of oil now smothering it in her hands before running them against her hair.

amongst to her once she does her routine, jason watched her. it was satisfying to watch in his opinion. just now she takes care of her and now she does it, was nice. breaking the comfortable silence, was a phone ringing. y/n stopped herself, making eye contact with Jason from the mirror.

tension sprung. it wasn’t his personal phone but one he uses for work. jason drops his shoulders, he wasn’t leaving again. not when he just got back..it wasn’t fun to hear that familiar ring. he decided to just let it go on. and what felt like an eternity, it stopped. y/n knew it her stomach, it must be important enough for jason to be called. even though she just got him back. in defeat, y/n sighed. causing jason to shake his head in protest. “no..no I’m not gonna get that”, he argues.

“yes yes you do. jason it’s important” “not as important as you”

closing her eyes as jason argued, deep down he knows she is right. but she was more important than anybody else. this is his WIFE.

“jason…” “im not leaving. I don’t care. not after what happened today, fuck no im not leaving you alone”, he pushes on. his large hands turn y/n around to face him by the waist. y/n still under the influence for him to go. her face read of conflict. “y/n..look at me”, jason whispers to her. from looking at the floor to her husband. it was clear of his decision. his dark blue eyes looks into hers, y/n sighs once more. “im staying. okay?”, he asks her.

she was never the type to stop jason from helping others. neither was he. finally accepting his decision, y/n nods her head. quickly moving to go over and hug his large body. pressing his lips onto the top of her damp head. “come on, ill start dinner”, jason offers dragging her towel clung form.

guess jason will know what his family wanted him for tonight..

⋆˙.☾. ⋆˙

DICK curses under his breath annoyed and worried, his phone gripped tightly in his latex hand. the phone goes straight to voicemail making him whisper ‘shit’. he turns around to face bruce as batman who talked to JIM GORDON. “come on jay pick up..”, he prays to himself still attempting to call his younger brother who was absent as of right now.

only for him to sigh in disappointment. “YOU’RE CALL HAS BEEN FORWARDED TO AUTOMATED VOICEMAIL-“. dick pressed the end button before shoving his phone in a hidden pocket on his suit. his legs carry him over to bruce, looking more worried. bruce sees dick as he approaches him. “nightwing…anything?”, the batman asks in an deep voice. in a simple nod, jim sighs before looking up at the vandalized building.

“guessing he isn’t in Gotham right now. red hood leaving means more crime, no offense”, jim nods to Batman taking a smoke out of his cigarette.

batman stared at the commissioner blankly till turning to nightwing who looked at the building as well. “where could he be?”, dick asks under his breath. the building gave him the chills. mocking everybody but more so at both the two men. bruce turned his head away. where was his son? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t know anything. apparently a enemy does. “robin”, bruce calls out to the youngest one in the crime scene.

ROBIN, DAMIAN WAYNE, stands up tall and proud looking at the crime scene before him. he was disgusted on what was in his sight. the young boy walks over to batman with his katana by his side. “batman..”, damian says back to him.

“find red hood, he needs to know about this tonight..” bruce says. robin gives him a ‘tch’ scoffing at the idea of finding his incompetent brother who happened to leave two days ago. “wouldn’t be hard to find him anyways…commissioner gordon, nightwing” damian bids his goodbye before shooting an grappling hook to an building.

leaving three of the men looking up at the painted and bloodied building.

and on that specific building was a woman…all the once white sheets of paper had a large zoomed photo of either a cheek, an eye, a whole full. all the pictures glued together, like a puzzle it was. this woman had (h/c), (e/c), and had a smile so happy. but what made it more sickening was a familiar painted carved in smile of crimson red.

covering her (e/c) eyes was an ‘X’ mark on each eye.

all around the woman’s picture was big green and black colored ‘HA HA HA’s and just by looking at it was overwhelming for dick and bruce. he never stops. and just below the picture was bloodied words saying :

WHY KEEP MISS AMERICAN PIE A SECRET?

WHEN SHE DESERVES A LITTLE GREETING FROM ME? FLY HIGH BABY BIRD. WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU AGAIN BIG RED.

a white card of a joker, placed purposefully at the end.

⋆˙.☾. ⋆˙

it was another quiet night.

too quiet. almost haunting and cruel.

it was mocking her. taunting her. laughing at HER.

ONCE again, in their shared bed. lays both y/n and jason on their respective sides, sleeping peacefully alongside ginger on her dog bed. the tv plays in the background of a random show jason had picked on netflix. with jason’s firm grip in cuddling his wife, y/n slowly opened her eyes. her throat felt dry. just like yesterday night. she cranes her neck over to her husbands side, lifting up to see his alarm clock.

it was 3:00 A.M.

mentally cursing for jason not buying that damn mini fridge, y/n pries his thick arms away from her waist. from her movement, jason groans loudly before turning away on the other side. not caring, y/n yawns scratching her head now getting up from the plush bed. ginger, lifts up and watches her mother lazily walk over to the door. what y/n didn’t see was ginger stands up, alerted. a low growl in warning before whining loudly. but not loud enough for jason to wake up.

it was cold tonight. to the hall and down the stairs, y/n rub her eyes with her index finger. smashing away the eye boogers.

slowly stopping at the end of the wooden stairs, y/n is faced with the emptied living room. the shadow of the trees were still this time, causing y/n to shiver. she crosses her bare arms rubbing up and down on them for heat. her feet pick her up to the kitchen, doing the same routine she had done previously.

picking up a mason jar glass from the dish washing rack, placing it under the water distillery from the fridge and wait for the glass to be nearly full. bringing the cold glass to her lips, y/n drank and chugged the rest of the water. her throat now quenched. setting down the emptied glass, y/n places it in the sink quickly wiping away water droplets from the corners of her mouth.

looking around the kitchen, it was quiet. one that made y/n scared. remembering that jason is upstairs and is there to keep her safe along with ginger. and healthy reminder, that jason had set the security system in the house and told their ‘gate’ security man to keep an eye out tonight. ‘I’m just being paranoid. definitely not going to that grocery store anymore.’

about to head back upstairs, y/n glanced at the counter before looking away. only to stop.

her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, knowing that her and Jason had cleaned up before heading to bed. so why the fuck is a poker card laying on the counter? walking slowly to where the card laid, y/n stares at it. doesn’t pick it up or even touch it. from early events and remembering that what jason said…how you could tell it was also him, was by a poker card with a joker.

not wanting to know what was imprinted on that card, y/n backs away slowly. ready to break for it upstairs and wake up her husband.

and that’s what she does..

her legs speed past the opening of the kitchen and into the living room. hands were quick to grab the railing of the stairs only for a pair of hands to grab her by the stomach. y/n lets out a gasp, “JAS-“. cut off mid screaming, a hand lands on her mouth. muffling her screams of fear.

“i got her, get the van ready”, a gruffly man voice says. with her hand on the railing, gripped so tight she made sure to hold on to stop the man from taking her. his hands pull on her, struggling to take her away. he grunts angrily at the stubborn woman. “fucking stop”, he grits his teeth in her ear.

unable to pull him off and to scream out for the man upstairs, y/n turns her hand into a fist before slamming it on the wooden railing. her hand throbbed from the harsh banging. a loud bark from upstairs alerts the commotion happening. “fuck! enough you fucking bitch”, the man kicks y/n on her back.

pain spreads all over her back making her hunch over. but that didn’t stop her from grabbing on the railing.

y/n, smart she is, she lets go of the railing to unexpectedly kick the wood cause both her and the man to fall over. the kidnapper grunts in pain as he lays there with y/n. her elbow hits the man square in the face feeling a smush of skin and bone. a loud crunch was heard. the impact made the man scream of more enough pain. he lets go of y/n to cradle his nose. giving her the opportunity to run. “JASON!”, she screamed out for him.

from upstairs a loud noise of glass and punches being thrown was heard by y/n. coming down from the stairs now was ginger.

the dog growls of smelling intruders, the four legged pup runs over to the man who was still clutching his nose. ginger’s teeth sinks deep into his arm, growling with the shake of her head. “get the fuck off me!”, the intrude yells out trying to hit ginger. y/n immediately runs over to stop the man from hurting her baby by stomping straight on his crotch. her foot slams harder each time on his crotch effecting more of his mobility. loud footsteps from the kitchen and into the living room just behind her, rumbling and shaking the floorboards. those footsteps hands slam right into y/n’s side. tackling her like a football player.

her head slams harshly against the floor, a pained whimper escapes her mouth.

a sudden weight sits on her stomach rather comfortably. two hands rest themselves on her neck squeezing enough for her windpipe to close. y/n eyes widened, her hands rest against the person’s hands trying to pry them off of her. she chokes, gasping for air. her nails dug into the arms to create some kind of pain. her eyes shift up to who was choking her to see a man figure in a gross white tank top wearing a clown mask, the same one from earlier.

her breathing starts to quicken realizing who this was above her. it was that creepy guy who was watching her when the two of them went grocery shopping. ginger hears the sounds of choking, her attention turning to her mother being suffocated by a man in a mask. canine teeth lets go of the man that was withering on the floor, her throat grumbles into a growl.

y/n’s vision starts to blur, her strength leaves her bones. a loud bark from her left is heard till the sudden weight is gone along with the hands around her throat. the woman gasps for air loudly turning into coughing fits. just as her vision begins to fix itself y/n could hear screams from her right with gingers growling.

“y/n!”, jason’s voice yells out from upstairs. his booming bare footsteps stomp down the stairs. “y/n!”, he once again yells out. gun in his hand and blood on his chest illuminating his autopsy scar.

before going to his wife jason sees a man in a clown mask gripping his crotch in pain. craning his gun, jason pulls the trigger at him. a loud bang makes y/n jump with a scream. a dead man laid on the floor. jason breathes in, his attention now onto y/n who’s hand cradled her sore throat. “y/n”, he says with a sigh of relief. he runs over to his wife gently picking her figure up into his lap as he sat down. “baby…are you okay? are you okay?”, jason anxiously asks her looking all over her body for bruises or any wounds. with ginger, still angrily chewing on the masked man’s arm, jason looks up at where his pup was. a sharp whistle till ginger lets go turning to jason.

soft puppy eyes trot over to the two with a saddened whine in seeing her mother hurt. ginger lays next to the y/n’s side, a whimper escapes once more before sniffing y/n. a pink tongue gently licks against her cheek. “im fine ginger”, she says voice now hoarsely. jason looks down at y/n than back to the dude in a shitty clown mask. about to get up and hit the man into unconsciousness.

the end of a katana hits the man in the side of his head. knocking him out straight and cold. and in jason’s sight, is his little brother in his robin costume. damian.

damian, slides his katana back into his case gracefully. his face in a scowl when he looked down at the masked man. “damian?”, the young boy looks up at his older brother with an unamused look. “todd”, he greets him walking around the unconscious man. ginger and y/n both looked at the younger boy who looked more and more unimpressed as he looked around the living room. “what the fuck are you doing here?”, jason angrily asks.

stopping in his tracks, damian looked at jason than at y/n. a small ‘tch’ from him. “father requested for me to come find you. so I have. and come to find that you were attacked by joker’s men, I came to your rescue”.

“my rescue? im doing just fine damian”, jason points behind him at the dead man with his gun. “well ill have you know todd, all of us know of you’re bride. no use to keeping everything a secret”, damian unconcerned stands right in front of the couple. his smaller frame looks down at y/n who was still coughing as she laid on jason’s lap.

“y/n l/n. nice to finally meet you sister in-law ..”, damian coldly says to y/n. behind his mask he glares down at her form.

if you can’t keep a secret hidden, why even try?

they’ll always know.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi my loves! thank you all for loving last chapter! hehe! big smooches for y’all! here is part two! for part three I’ll be making it longer so if I haven’t really been posting that’s why! but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! if you want to be on the tag list let me know!

BINX

The Act of Stealing a Loved One |2| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

This chapter is a flashback. So are the others. Enjoy! It's super long lmao

Story Guide

It was the Summer of 1972 when you first met Stanford. You remember it almost all too well. You went to a college for the arts, majoring in music composition. Oh! And you were in a band! It was not good by any means, you all were figuring this out as you went but you were all having fun so it didn’t really matter to you. It’s kinda funny looking back on how the two of you somehow became a couple considering how different the two of you were.

You two only met after you accidentally stumbled in his room one night after you partied too hard at someone else's dorm. You thought his room was your friend's room. His dorm had books scattered around, posters of some scientists on the wall and an absolute mess of notes on his desk. Stanford did not want to spend his night with some random drunk girl in his dorm, but he knew he had to let you in, not trusting what any of the other men on the campus would do if they saw you like this. He didn’t know why you made him so flustered, maybe it was your vulnerable state, or just because you were a girl, talking to him.

It was probably both.

“You know, I never wanted to go to this, it was some promotional stuff for my band. Did I tell you I was in a band? We are amazing!” You were laying on the floor staring at the ceiling smiling goofily, flipping onto your stomach to look at the flustered man whose dorm you broke into. He took a glance over his shoulder to look at you, trying to tell you he was listening, even if you didnt care if he was or not. “Okay so that might be a lie, Gabs is super pitchy, Jamie is still figuring out the drums but that's besides the point..I met you by going to this!” you finally sat up running a hand through your hair “You're so dorky it's kinda cute” you let off a soft giggle pointing at him.

This made Stanford physically freeze, his breath hitching slightly “Thank you I suppose, Are your friends looking for you?” He quickly changed the subject, turning around in his chair, looking at you “I think, I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here with you” you smirked. “Well I-” he started before he heard a female voice yelling in the hallway “Y/N! We gotta go!” “Oh that's Gabs! She’s my friend!” You stumbled up before heading towards the door, pausing before going back over to the man kissing his check with a giggle, causing Stanford's face to turn bright red “Thank you for saving me! I’m Y/n by the way!” “Um… It's Stanford, Call me Ford..” he managed to get out, quickly writing the phone number to the telephone that was in his room, down on a piece of notebook paper. “Just.. Call me when you get to your dorm safe..” he quickly turned back to face his textbooks he had his nose buried in hours ago “Aw you care about me… Okay loverboy. Seeya around!” you poked his shoulder before leaving, yelling at your friend ‘Gabs’ to get her attention

Ford had no idea why he did that, he never had the balls to do this sort of thing. Especially with someone as beauti- No why the hell was he having these thoughts? You weren't going to call him. He has to forget about this encounter, he concluded, going back to his uneventful night.

He got a call the next day, it was you. There was some sort of music in the background, he couldn't place what it was, some pop music maybe. “Oh my gosh is this Ford? I kinda crashed at your dorm last night, I am sooo sorry I am super embarrassed.” you rambled on before Ford let off a slight chuckle “No it's fine. I’m glad you're safe, you seemed very out of it last night” he leaned back in his chair slightly as he spoke “Ugh don't get me started about the hangover” you groaned causing him to laugh.

After that was the beginning of a relationship, you spent your off time together, he helped you with classes and you expanded his music taste, well tried to at least.

It's been 4 months since you two started dating. Ford even told his brother about this, and to say Stanley was shocked was an understatement, he rushed over surprising Ford “So you finally found a girl who doesn’t run off screaming? Tell me all about her” Stanley smirked looking at his twin brother, noticing a photo of you on his desk in a frame, you had a microphone in your hand giving a peace sign to the camera with your other hand. How the hell did his brother score you? Ford went off to ramble about you, he was a love sick mess, but the way his eyes kept shifting to the photo of you when explaining you made Stan confused, why did he have to keep looking at it to talk about you?

He noticed a few flyers to some music festivals, they looked untouched. “Who gave you these?” he picked one up, the show was for tonight, in a few hours. “Oh Y/n did. She’s in a band” Ford looked at the flier before directing his attention back to the textbook that was in front of him “You plan on seeing her right?” Stan raised an eyebrow looking at his brother “Too busy, I have an exam tomorrow” Ford shrugged it off flipping to the next page in his book “You’re joking right? Have you been to any of her shows?” Stan narrowed his eyes in disapproval, Ford didn't say anything “Some boyfriend you are” He muttered looking down at the flier in his hands. He knew what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let Ford ruin the only potential relationship he would probably ever have.

Taglist: @bluepanda08 @slay-thou-pookie @karmaisacatluzi @fries11 @marvelous-maniac @cherryblom @leo4242564 @zuzzybakaemperiment

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE TALK(S)

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ You get some insight from some friends. And not friends. It's you. Despite everything, it's been you. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none wc: 3.5k

New York welcomes Spinnerette back with open arms.

Several articles span over night, questioning the disappearance and sudden return. They’ll have to keep questioning, because there will be no official statement from you. You’re Spinnerette, not Tony Stark, aka Iron Man.

One of the first things you do is go pick up your order at Delmar’s. It’s been far too long since you’ve tasted heaven.

Pepper comes up with a simple cover story as to why [Name] [L.Name] was gone from public eye. It’s elegant in its simplicity: during the time [Name] [L.Name] was absent from the public eye, they were undertaking an extended philanthropic research expedition abroad, focusing on humanitarian efforts and technological research in developing countries  in order to prepare for when they eventually take over as CEO to Stark Industries.

Delmar doesn’t ask too many questions, anyway. He only says how he’s glad you’re back and gives you your order.

You happily munch on it as you watch New York’s sunset. The view from Avengers Tower is always nice. It casts a warm, golden glow over the skyline, a picturesque reminder of why you love this city so much. The gentle breeze carries the distant sounds of traffic.

“Why are you having these thoughts?”

Wanda’s voice is soft but perceptive, her presence a comforting familiarity. She moves gracefully, even in her casual pajamas, and joins you by the edge, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“What thoughts?” you ask, knowing it’s futile. You can try and pretend all you want, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Even without Wanda’s powers, she could’ve easily figured you out.

Wanda turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “You know exactly what thoughts,” she says gently.

You sigh, taking another bite of your sandwich, buying yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. The flavors are as delightful as you remembered, but they do little to distract from the weight of Wanda’s words.

The sky turns darker, with the sun sinking lower, casting long shadows across the city. Wanda waits patiently, her gaze never leaving you. The silence stretches, comfortable and familiar, but charged with unspoken words.

"I missed this place," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I missed the people, the energy... but…" you hesitate, unsure if you want to voice the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Wanda reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It's okay to feel conflicted," she says softly. "You’ve been through much. It's natural to question things."

You nod slowly, absorbing Wanda's words. The city below seems to hum with a life of its own, oblivious to the inner turmoil tugging at your thoughts. You take another bite of your sandwich.

"I guess I just didn't expect everything to feel so... different," you admit quietly, gazing out at the skyline. "I thought coming back would be like slipping into an old pair of shoes, but it's more like trying to break in new ones. I got so used to life over there.”

Wanda nods, humming. Her expression softens, voice gentle. “Jon. And Damian,” she echoes softly. “They’ve been on your mind since you came back.” You nod slowly, acknowledging Wanda's insight. Her ability to grasp the complexities of your thoughts is both comforting and unnerving at times.

"Yeah," you admit, a faint smile touching your lips. "They have." You pause, considering how much to share. "It's like... being torn between two worlds," you continue, your gaze drifting back to the skyline where the last vestiges of daylight paint the buildings in shades of amber. "I've grown close to them in ways I didn't anticipate. Jon's warmth and openness, Damian's... well, his complexities," you chuckle softly.

Wanda listens intently, her presence a calming presence amidst the bustling cityscape. "It sounds like they've left quite an impression," she remarks softly, eyeing your bracelet.

"They have," you affirm, a hint of wistfulness in your tone. "And now, being back here, it's like I'm standing at a crossroads, unsure where to go."

Wanda's eyes are filled with empathy. "Sometimes, the heart knows things before the mind can make sense of them.”

You look at her. "I remember when Vision and I were navigating similar feelings," Wanda begins softly, her voice carrying a nostalgic undertone. "He was... different, not just because of what he was, but because of how he made me feel." Her gaze drifts to the skyline, memories playing across her features like shadows dancing in the fading light.

"It was challenging, trying to reconcile our differences and the worlds we came from," she continues, her tone thoughtful. "But in the end, what mattered most was the connection we shared, the understanding that despite everything, we chose each other."

Her words resonate with you, echoing your own internal struggles. "Did it ever get easier?" you ask quietly, seeking reassurance in her experience.

Wanda smiles softly, expression tinged with fondness. "Not easier, but... clearer," she replies, her gaze returning to meet yours. "Love has a way of guiding us through uncertainty, showing us what truly matters." You don’t know about love exactly, but maybe…

"It's like they've opened doors I didn't even know were there," you confess, a sense of revelation settling over you. "And now, I'm standing here, wondering which ones I should go through.”

Wanda nods understandingly, a soothing presence in the midst of your introspection. "The paths we choose often define us," she muses softly. "But sometimes, it's not about choosing one thing over another, but finding a way to integrate both into who you are."

“What would we do without you, Wanda?” you say in lieu of thanks.

She returns your smile warmly. "Anytime."

With a final glance at the city below, you finish your sandwich, savoring the flavors that remind you of home. Whatever lies ahead, you know you'll face it head on.

You find Tony tinkering away in his lab (because where else would he be?) He looks up as you enter, a small grin spreading across his face. “Pass me that wrench, will you?” You pass Tony the wrench, settling into a comfortable silence as he continues his work. The hum of machinery and occasional sparks fill the air, a familiar backdrop to your thoughts.

Tony mumbles lightly, adjusting a few components on his latest project. "Pepper told me about the cover story," he mentions casually. "Philanthropic research expedition, huh? Not bad."

You chuckle softly. "Pepper has a knack for making things sound believable," you comment, recalling how she effortlessly crafted the narrative to explain your absence.

Tony grins mischievously. "She's got a way with words," he agrees, his gaze flicking back to his work. "So, how was it, really? Did you make friends with Superman?”

“No, I made friends with his son,” you jest.

“Well, of course you did,” he nods seriously. “You have a certain effect on people.”

You place your arms on his desk, leaning. “You know, you were my dad there.”

Tony looks up, eyes boring into yours. For a moment it’s silent. “Made up an identity for myself. Had to, of course. Listed you as my rich dad who was on vacation and had left little ole me all by myself.”

"Ah, playing the absent but wealthy father role, I see. I hope I lived up to your expectations as the neglectful billionaire." He leans back, crossing his arms with mock seriousness. “Though a vacation does sound nice.”

You grin. "They bought it though, surprisingly enough. I think they were more curious about figuring out if I’m Spinnerette or not than my supposed absent father." You lean back. “They did, by the way. But it all worked out.”

Tony chuckles, a hint of pride in his expression. "Well, that's my kid—always keeping them guessing."

“You’ll also be pleased to know that I did a "Tony Stark" while I was there,” you grin, coming up next to him.

“That’s not good.”

“I remade your new element.”

Tony raises a brow, but doesn’t look all that surprised. “You’re becoming just like me. Pepper won’t like that.”

“I was gonna use it to power my way home, put it in my watch somehow, but I didn’t get to use it,” you shrug. “Figure it’ll help their world, anyhow. The blueprints you left in the suit really helped.”

“Gotta take care of my own,” he shrugs.

You smile, the warmth of familiarity easing the lingering tensions from earlier introspection. "You did," you reply sincerely, a fondness in your voice. "It was... comforting, having you there in spirit."

As you watch Tony continue his tinkering, a thought tugs at your mind. You take a deep breath  "Tony, can I ask you something?" you venture, breaking the silence.

"Shoot," he replies, not looking up from his work but clearly attentive.

"How do you know when you're ready to make a decision that could change everything?" you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty.

Tony looks up from his workbench, his expression thoughtful. He sets down his tools and turns to face you fully, his gaze assessing yet warm.

"You're asking the big questions, aren't you?" Tony remarks, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Decision-making is a blend of gut instinct, logic, and experience. You weigh the risks, consider the consequences, but ultimately, it comes down to what feels right deep down."

You nod, absorbing his words. "But what if both paths feel right in different ways?" you press further, needing clarity on the conflict within you.

“Why should it be two paths? It could be just one.”

Oh. Hm. Guess so.

“Sometimes life’s about finding a way to blend them together, creating a new path that's uniquely yours."

You ponder his words, the gears in your mind turning as you consider the implications. "So, instead of choosing between them, I should look for how they complement each other?" you venture, seeking to clarify your thoughts.

Tony nods approvingly. "Exactly. Integration rather than separation. You're a smart cookie, kid," he says with a wink. “Trust yourself and go for it, [Name].”

His words echo Wanda's earlier sentiments, reinforcing the idea that perhaps the answers you seek lie within your own intuition. You smile gratefully at Tony, feeling a bit of the weight lift off your shoulders. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Anytime, kid.”

The two of you fall into a companionable silence, the hum of machinery and occasional banter filling the air. As Tony returns to his tinkering and you reflect on your journey, a sense of belonging washes over you, grounding you in the familiar embrace of family, wherever they may be.

Later, you leave Tony’s lab, a sense of clarity guiding your steps as you navigate through the halls of Avengers Tower. Thoughts of Jon and Damian linger in your mind, their presence like gentle echoes urging you forward.

You find yourself drawn to the training room, a sanctuary of sorts where you’ve honed your skills and found solace in the rhythm of combat. The familiar scent of sweat and metal greets you as you enter, the training mats beckoning invitingly under the soft glow of overhead lights.

You start with basic stretches, letting muscle memory guide your movements as you flow through familiar routines. Each stretch and strike brings a sense of  familiarity, a reminder of the strength and determination that brought you here.

As you spar with imaginary opponents, the echoes of Wanda’s words linger in your mind. Love, uncertainty, and the paths that lie ahead—all intertwined in a tapestry of choices and possibilities. In the midst of your training, Jon’s warmth and Damian’s complexities come into sharper focus. Their presence in your life has been unexpected yet undeniable, each offering a different perspective and a unique connection that resonates deeply within you.

You spar with renewed vigor, channeling your thoughts and emotions into each movement. The clang of fists against pads and the sound of your own breath become a cadence, a rhythmic heartbeat of determination and contemplation. Hours pass unnoticed, lost in the flow of training and introspection. By the time you finish, exhaustion mingles with a sense of satisfaction.

A week passes. You find yourself hanging out in one of the numerous lounges at Spider-HQ. You and Hobie wrangled some consoles, bean bags, fairy lights and other cozy things in (in spite of Miguel's exasperations) and dubbed this specific one yours. It's a place where you can unwind and escape the responsibilities that come with being the Spider.

Gwen, Hobie and Pav have taken to playing a ferocious game of Mario Kart. You and all your kindness have decided to help Miles with his Spanish homework. Miles listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with questions or sharing anecdotes about his latest escapades.

You sit down next to Miles, flipping open the textbook with a grin. "Alright, buckle up Miles.. ¿Listo? you ask cheerfully, ready to dive into the conjugations and vocabulary with him.

Miles chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, thanks for helping out with this. Spanish isn't my strongest subject."

You tsk. “Shameful.” He shoves you playfully in retaliation. As you guide Miles through the homework, laughter and banter fill the air, mingling with the sounds of Mario Kart battles and friendly debates over strategy. It's a relaxed atmosphere, a welcome break from the weightier decisions and reflections of the past week.

You sigh eventually, leaning your face into your hand. “How do you do it, Miles?”

“I don’t,” he scoffs, thinking you're referring to the Spanish. “That’s why you’re here.”

You snort, sliding away his assignment. “I mean, how is it so easy for you to just… be you?”

Miles looks at you quizzically, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Being me? It's not always easy, you know," he replies with a hint of sincerity beneath his playful tone. "But I guess I just try to focus on what matters to me, you know? Like family, friends, and doing what's right."

You nod thoughtfully, considering his words. "Yeah, I get that," you say, a small smile forming. "It's about staying true to yourself, even when things get complicated."

"Exactly!" Miles exclaims, his enthusiasm infectious. "You've got to figure out what works for you and roll with it. I mean, look at you—you've got this whole dual life thing down don’t you?”

You chuckle softly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone. "Maybe not always as smoothly as I'd like."

"But you're doing it," Miles insists, his gaze earnest. "And that's what counts. You're making it work. Just, do your own thing,” he trails off, looking at Gwen. It’s no secret that there is something going on between them.

Well, if that is testament enough, then what is?

“...There’s a first time for everything.”

Later, as the night winds down and your friends begin to disperse, you linger in the lounge for a moment of quiet contemplation. With a final glance around the room, you rise to your feet.

There is one more person you’d like to talk to.

This New York isn’t so different from your own. It looks the same, sounds the same, and feels the same. You even spot a Delmar's while you swing around. The nighttime lights blur into streaks as you move. The rhythm of your movements, the thwip of your webs, and the distant sounds of the city create a symphony of familiarity.

You land gracefully on a rooftop, taking a moment to survey the skyline. There’s an Avengers Tower, standing tall and proud in the distance, a beacon of strength. As you catch your breath, you feel a presence nearby—a silent observer, familiar and comforting.

familiar

“Never thought I’d see you here,” they hum. Coming to a stop beside. The spider symbol on their chest is the same since you last saw it. When they visited you to give you the catalyst back in the other universe.

The Spider that threw you there in the first place.

Strange times, huh?

“I guess you found your way?” they ask, fiddling with their web-shooters.

“I guess I did,” you hum. You gaze at them for a moment, the shared history and intertwined destinies palpable between you.

“So, to what do I owe the visit? Not that I’m not grateful that you’re not body-slamming me on sight, because I am.” That gets a chuckle out of you, and they seem to relax a little.

“I’m not so angry these days,” you explain. “Other things on my mind and all.”

“Fair enough,” they concede, their tone softening. They lean against the ledge beside you, their gaze fixed on the city below. “Seems like you've been through… a lot,” they observe quietly, their voice carrying a hint of understanding.

You nod. Silence settles between you, comfortable yet charged with unspoken questions. You study their profile, noticing the subtle shifts in their demeanor, the echoes of shared experiences between your worlds.

“I’m sorry,” they finally say, their voice tinged with genuine remorse. “For everything that happened back then.”

You turn to them, meeting their gaze with a mix of forgiveness and acceptance. “I know,” you reply softly, acknowledging the weight of their words. “We both made choices, good and bad. It’s... part of who we are.”

“As Spiders?” they question hands reaching up to hook under their mask.

“As Spiders,” you agree, eyes watching as their mask slips up.

It’s you.

Despite everything, it’s been you.

Your double, or perhaps you can call them your alternate counterpart, nods in understanding, their expression mirroring the mix of determination and conflict you feel within yourself.

“I’ll be damned,” you mutter as your own suit gives away to reveal your face.

“I suspected, when we had that talk. The one where you were probably gonna kill me,” they chuckle softly. “You said you were the only [Name], and it could’ve just been a dumb coincidence…”

“Dumb coincidences don’t really happen to us.”

They shake their head. “No, they don’t.”

You lean against the ledge, feeling tired all of a sudden. “So, who is it? Who captures the heart of [Name] [L.Name]? An MJ? Gwen Stacy? Black Cat?” Maybe you secretly like to suffer, and that’s why you ask.

They snort, head hanging. “Not sure who they are, but since you're asking…”

“...there’s these guys,” they grin softly, sheepishly, “named Jon and Damian.”

And your will completely gives away.

“Jon’s real sweet, complete cutie. Ball of sunshine, and really pretty eyes. Damian’s a rich piece of work, but he’s honest and loyal. Also really pretty eyes.”

You look into their eyes, wide and disbelieving. “Are they… so do… Superboy and Robin exist here?”

They look at you confused. “Batman? Superman?” you implore. “Not even.. the comics?”

They purse their lips and shake their head. “They’re just normal guys,” they mutter softly.

Your counterpart's words hang in the air, mingling with the cool breeze that sweeps across the rooftop. You can't help but laugh softly, shaking your head in disbelief. "Can’t believe it," you mutter, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m the one who isn’t normal,” they smile dryly. “They didn’t know anything about me until I got back. They were so worried sick, and I realized how much they care about me. What better time to tell them everything?”

“And it was worth telling them?”

“I love them, of course it was,” they shrug, like it’s just that simple. “They see me now, as both [Name] and Spinnerette. I wouldn’t give that for anything.”

You feel a surge of warmth and hope at their words, realizing that perhaps your own path can lead to a similar sense of acceptance and belonging. "It's good to hear that it worked out for you," you say sincerely.

Your counterpart smiles, a glimmer of understanding in their eyes. "It can work out for you too.”

You guess no one would know you better than you.

“Thanks,” is all you say.

“Anytime,” is all they say, nodding at you with a gentle smile before shooting a web swinging away into the night, disappearing amidst the glowing cityscape.

You remain on the rooftop for a while longer, lost in thought. The skyline stretches before you, a tapestry of lights and shadows that mirror the complexities of your own life. The pieces of a puzzle are slowly coming together, guiding you towards a path that feels uniquely yours.

With renewed determination, you take to the skies once more, letting the rhythm of your swings carry you forward. The night air is crisp and alive with possibility, each movement a step towards embracing yourself and your desires.

As you land on the familiar (familiar, but not yours) balcony of Avengers Tower, you take a moment to savor the view. The city stretches out beneath you, a testament to home. You made it back to a place that feels like home, where friendships and connections intertwine to create a tapestry of support and understanding.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. Jon and Damian are waiting for you.

“Trust yourself and go for it, [Name].”

“I’m ready,” you whisper to yourself, a quiet affirmation that echoes in the night.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

You input a location into your Web-watch.

"It can work out for you too.”

You step into the bright amalgamation of light.

notes: does that parallel i mentioned in chap 14 make sense now? lol