#The wayne's meanwhile were amused | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ahqkas · 4 months ago

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Could you do one with the batboys having a S/O that gets lost easily and finds them at the most random places? Like they get lost in the mansion one day trying to find the kitchen and they somehow end up outside, que the batboys "mildly" panicking because their S/O has been gone for an hour. Please and thank you 🙏

♯LOST AND FOUND

— gn!reader, mention of reader’s hair in bruce’s & dick’s

THE WAYNE MANOR WAS A LABYRINTH—an elegant, sprawling maze of hallways, grand staircases, and secret rooms. it didn’t matter how many times you visited; no amount of “turn left at the portrait�� or “take the second right after the library” advice ever stuck with you. you had been in this house dozens of times, and yet, somehow, you still managed to find yourself in the strangest, most unexpected places.

today was no different. you’d innocently set out in search of the kitchen, craving a snack while your boyfriend was busy with his family in the batcave. alfred had mentioned fresh-baked cookies earlier ( your favorite kind ) , and the thought had been enough to motivate you and set you off on your own. armed with directions you thought you’d memorized, you’d confidently strode off down the hall.

and then . . . nothing looked familiar.

at first, you thought you’d missed a turn. then you became certain the house had grown a new wing overnight because the rooms and corridors you passed were entirely unfamiliar. determined not to call your boyfriend for help—again—you kept walking, convinced the kitchen had to be just around the next corner.

somehow, “just around the next corner” turned into a venture outside, where you found yourself on a cobblestone path surrounded by perfectly trimmed hedges. the late afternoon sun painted the sprawling grounds in hues of gold, but the idyllic scene did little to soothe your rising exasperation.

“this isn’t the kitchen,” you muttered to yourself, looking around in disbelief.

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

meanwhile, bruce was beginning to notice your absence. he’d glanced at the clock more than once, each glance sending a ripple of unease through him. you’d left nearly an hour ago, and the mansion, while vast, wasn’t that confusing—well, not to him, at least.

setting down his pen, he leaned back in his chair, a faint crease forming between his brows. he told himself not to worry. you were probably fine. maybe you’d gotten distracted by something or decided to take a walk. but after another five minutes of no sign of you, his patience wore thin. where were you?

he stood abruptly, striding out of the study and calling your name as he began his search for you. his footsteps echoed through the hallways, and as each empty room passed, his worry grew.

“couldn’t have gone far,” the batman muttered to himself, though his mind raced with increasingly unpleasant scenarios. what if you’d fallen somewhere? what if you were stuck in one of the secret passages? scared, alone, with no way to return to him? yeahhh, that frightened him just right.

his search eventually led him outside, where he spotted you—utterly unharmed, but clearly annoyed as you stood in the middle of the garden, hands on your hips, muttering something he couldn’t hear.

“there you are,” bruce called, his voice a mix of relief and exasperation as he hurried toward you.

you turned, startled, but your expression softened when you saw him. “oh, hey. what’s up?”

“what’s up?” he repeated, stopping in front of you with a look that was both amused and incredulous. “you’ve been gone for an hour. i thought something happened to you.”

“oh,” you said sheepishly, glancing around. the time didn’t mean anything out here. “i got . . . a little lost.”

“a little?” his lips twitched, fighting a smile as he took in your surroundings. “you’re in the gardens. weren’t you looking for the kitchen?”

“i was!” you insisted, throwing your hands up in defeat. “but somewhere between the portrait gallery and the second staircase, i made a wrong turn, and well, here we are.”

bruce shook his head, his expression softening as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “you could’ve called me, you know.”

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. “besides, i thought i could figure it out on my own.”

he sighed, his thumb brushing lightly against your temple in an affectionate gesture. “you’re never a bother. next time, call me. or alfred. i don’t like the idea of you wandering around this house like it’s a corn maze.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

you had zero sense of direction.

inside the manor, dick was finishing up his workout when he realized something was off. you weren’t in the gym with him. you weren’t in the living room, the library, or even his old room you two used whenever you decided to spend the night in the manor.

initially, he wasn’t too worried about your well-being. it wasn’t uncommon for you to explore the manor and its grounds when he was busy. but after twenty minutes of calling your name and finding no sign of you, his easygoing demeanor shifted into mild panic. it was like you’ve been swallowed by the ground, no traces or proof that you were here.

“maybe the kitchen,” he muttered to himself, retracing the path he thought you’d take. but the kitchen was empty, the dining room too.

“alfred?” dick called out, jogging into the study. “have you seen [name]?”

alfred, ever calm and composed, shook his head. “not recently, master grayson. though if [name] was attempting to navigate the manor alone . . .”

“don’t remind me,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. he knew you had a tendency to get lost—easily—but this was next level. his mind raced through the possibilities. were you stuck somewhere? had you wandered into one of the less-used wings? where could he find you?

finally, on a hunch, he headed outside, his heart skipping a beat when he spotted you standing near the fountain, arms crossed, glaring at the house like it had personally offended you ( and let’s be real, it kinda did ).

“there you are!” his loud voice carried across the lawn as he jogged over.

you turned at the sound of his voice, relief washing over your face. “dick! thank god. i thought i’d end up living out here.”

he stopped in front of you, hands on his hips, catching his breath. “do you have any idea how long i’ve been looking for you? you’ve been gone for an hour.”

“it hasn’t been an hour,” you countered, though you glanced at your phone and winced. “. . . ‘kay, maybe close to an hour.”

“what happened?” he asked, his exasperation softened by the amused smile creeping onto his face. as much as he was worried sick about you for the past half an hour, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease you relentlessly after he made sure you’re more than okay.

“i was trying to find the kitchen, and then one wrong turn led to another, and somehow . . . you gestured at the sprawling green around you. “ . . . here i am.”

he pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between laughing and pulling you into a hug. “you do realize you could’ve called me, right?”

“i didn’t want to interrupt your workout,” you said sheepishly. “plus, i thought I could figure it out on my own.”

dick shook his head, stepping closer and resting his hands on your shoulders. “you’re something else, you know that?”

“hey, at least i didn’t wander into the batcave this time.”

“don’t remind me.” he chuckled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “next time, just call me, okay? you’re too important to go missing for an hour without me knowing where you are.”

as you walked back together, you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for your terrible sense of direction. after all, it gave dick another excuse to keep you close—and he wasn’t about to complain.

. . . JASON TODD !

it should have been simple—just follow the directions your boyfriend had given you: down the hall, past the grandfather clock, first left. there’s the kitchen.

easy, right?

wrong.

somewhere after the grandfather clock, you’d gotten distracted by a painting. then a turn you thought was the right one deposited you into a hallway filled with suits of armor, which definitely didn’t lead to the kitchen.

“okay,” you muttered to yourself, looking around for any sign of familiarity. “i can figure this out.”

spoiler: you couldn’t.

what started as a confident stride through the manor became a journey through increasingly unfamiliar territory. at one point, you ended up in a library you were pretty sure wasn’t the main one, and at another, you swore you saw the same suit of armor twice.

then, somehow, you found a door leading outside.

now standing in the middle of the garden, you let out an exasperated sigh. “this is fine. completely fine. i’ll just . . . enjoy the fresh air until i figure out where i am.”

back in the manor, jason was starting to get worried.

you’d been gone for nearly an hour. the kitchen wasn’t that far, and he’d walked you through the directions at least three times. at first, he figured you’d gotten distracted by something, but after calling your name a few times and not getting a response, a knot of unease formed in his chest.

“babe?” he called, heading toward the kitchen himself. it was empty.

a quick search of the living room and study turned up nothing, and his patience wore thinner with each passing minute. “you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he checked another hallway.

by the time he reached the garden door and spotted you standing near a hedge, staring at a rosebush like it held all the answers to the universe, he was caught somewhere between relief and exasperation.

“there you are,” he called out, striding toward you.

you turned, startled by his voice, before breaking into a sheepish grin. “oh, hey, jay. what’s up?”

“what’s up?” he echoed, stopping in front of you with a look of disbelief on his face. “you’ve been gone for an hour. i thought you fell into one of bruce’s secret tunnels or something.”

“i didn’t mean to!” you protested, gesturing at the manor. “i got lost. again.” not an unfamiliar situation for you.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh. “how do you even manage to get lost this badly? the kitchen is literally the easiest room to find.”

“well, not for me,” you replied, crossing your arms and letting your eyes set into a light glare. “this place is like a maze. and in my defense, your directions weren’t super clear, either.”

he raised an eyebrow. “not super clear? i told you to turn left after the grandfather clock.”

“okay, but what about the painting next to it? was i supposed to pass that too?”

“you don’t take directions like suggestions,” he said, a teasing smirk creeping onto his lips despite his earlier frustration.

you huffed, but before you could respond, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“seriously, though,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “i was starting to think something happened to you.”

your expression softened as you wrapped your arms around him. “i didn’t mean to worry you. i just . . . have the worst sense of direction.”

“yeah, no kidding,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “but next time, just call me, okay? you’ve got my number, and i’ve got a built-in gps for this place.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

TIM HAD GIVEN YOU DIRECTIONS to the kitchen before he went to work in the cave, but between the hallways that seemed to stretch forever and the identical-looking doors, you were hopelessly lost within five minutes.

“okay, past the piano room, and then . . . left? or was it right?” you muttered to yourself, trying to backtrack.

your stomach grumbled in protest. the kitchen wasn’t supposed to be far, but every turn you made seemed to lead to another unfamiliar wing of the manor. you wandered through a corridor lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the expansive grounds. one window was cracked open, and a soft breeze tugged at your curiosity.

“maybe the kitchen has a garden entrance?” you reasoned aloud, stepping through the side door.

before you knew it, you were outside, standing near a hedge maze that seemed like a metaphor for your situation at that moment. “great,” you muttered. “lost inside and outside. perfect.”

you plopped down on a bench near the maze entrance, deciding to take a breather before figuring out how to get back. the breeze was nice, the gardens were peaceful . . . maybe this wasn’t so bad.

meanwhile, in the batcave, tim was focused on a particularly stubborn piece of tech when he glanced at the clock and realized you’d been gone for an hour.

an hour. to get to the kitchen.

at first, he brushed it off, assuming you’d gotten distracted by something—probably a painting or one of the endless wayne family heirlooms like you always did.

but when you didn’t answer his texts and a quick check of the kitchen proved empty, he started to worry.

“alfred?” he called, jogging up the stairs. “have you seen [name]?”

“not since they went looking for the kitchen,” the old butler replied, though there was a faint twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. “they’re lost again, aren’t they?”

“quite possibly.”

your boyfriend set off to search, his worry growing as he checked room after room. the library, the sitting room, even the game room—all empty. “where are you?” he muttered, glancing out a window just in time to spot a familiar figure sitting outside near the hedge maze. relief washed over him, quickly followed by exasperation.

he made his way outside, his footsteps crunching on the gravel path as he approached. “there you are,” he said, his voice a mix of relief and incredulity.

you looked up, startled, and then gave him a sheepish smile. “hey, tim. uh, fancy seeing you here?”

“you’ve been gone for an hour. the kitchen is inside the house.”

“i know,” you said quickly, standing up. “but i got a little turned around, and then j thought maybe there was an outside entrance, and—”

“and you ended up here,” he finished for you, gesturing to the hedge maze. “why didn’t you call me?”

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice small.

he sighed, stepping closer and resting his hands on your shoulders. “you’re never bothering me. especially not when you’re wandering around like a lost puppy.”

“hey!” you protested, though you couldn’t help but smile at the affectionate teasing in his tone.

tim shook his head, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “come on, let’s get you back inside before you decide to explore the maze and I have to send out a search party.”

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okasuka · 3 months ago

Text

woah!

Trapped Together – A mission goes south, and Damian and Reader get locked in a small space, forced to work together until help arrives.

The mission had gone to hell fast. What was supposed to be a simple recon job turned into a full-blown mess when an unexpected security system activated, locking down the building and trapping you and Robin in what seemed to be an old storage closet.

You glared at the heavy metal door as if you could will it open with sheer frustration. “This is your fault.”

Damian scoffed. “My fault? You were the one who tripped the sensor.”

“It was hidden under a damn rug, Wayne!” You crossed your arms, back pressed against the shelves behind you. “Who even does that?”

“A competent security team, clearly,” Damian muttered, arms also crossed, his posture stiff as he leaned against the opposite wall. Not that there was much space between you two—this closet was tiny, and no matter how much you tried, you kept brushing against each other.

You huffed, shifting to sit on the floor with a wince. “Alright, whatever. Batcomputer will notice the lockdown eventually, so all we have to do is wait for backup.”

Damian checked his comm, expression souring. “The signal is jammed.”

“Of course it is,” you muttered, tilting your head back against the wall. “So what, we just sit here and contemplate our life choices?”

“Tt. I could attempt to override the lock if—”

A loud clatter cut him off.

You both froze. The source? The tiny vent above your heads.

Then came the unmistakable sound of scurrying.

“…What was that?” you whispered.

Damian’s expression darkened. “A rat.”

You immediately lifted your legs off the floor. “Oh, hell no—”

Another sound. This time closer.

Without thinking, you grabbed Damian’s arm, dragging yourself against him. The space was already cramped, but now you were practically pressed up against his chest, both of you tensed. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away—though, from the way his shoulders stiffened, you knew he was trying to act unfazed.

“You’re afraid of rats,” he noted, voice neutral but with the faintest edge of amusement.

“I am not afraid of rats,” you hissed. “I just don’t like them. There’s a difference.”

“Hn.”

The silence stretched, the only sound your still-too-close breathing. You realized suddenly how warm he was, how his heartbeat was steady beneath his suit. Your grip on his arm loosened, but you didn’t let go entirely.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumbled, tilting your head to look at him.

Damian met your gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “You make it difficult not to.”

Your breath caught, pulse stuttering. Was he… flirting? No, that couldn’t be—

Another loud scritch from the vent, and you flinched again, instinctively pressing your face into his shoulder. His hand twitched before carefully resting on your waist, almost hesitant.

“I will ensure the rat does not harm you,” he murmured, voice quieter than before.

You scoffed, but it came out weaker than intended. “So chivalrous, Wayne.”

The moment stretched between you, tension of a different kind settling in the small space. Neither of you moved away. Neither of you wanted to.

And then, of course, the door unlocked with a beep.

You both turned toward it as the heavy door swung open, revealing Nightwing standing there, blinking at the sight of you practically tangled together in the dim closet.

“…Should I come back later?” he asked, lips twitching.

“Shut up, Grayson,” Damian muttered, quickly stepping back—though not before his hand briefly, deliberately, squeezed yours.

Your stomach flipped.

Maybe being trapped with Damian Wayne wasn’t the worst thing after all.

The entire ride back to the Batcave was painfully silent.

You sat next to Damian in the Batmobile, arms crossed, eyes locked on the glowing city outside the window. Every so often, you felt his gaze flicker toward you, but neither of you said a word. Nightwing, meanwhile, was having the time of his life trying not to burst into laughter from the driver’s seat.

“So… storage closet, huh?” he finally broke the silence, barely concealing the amusement in his voice.

Damian exhaled sharply through his nose. “Drop it, Grayson.”

You shot Dick a glare. “There was a rat.”

“And yet, somehow, that’s not the part that made it weird.”

You groaned, sinking further into your seat. Damian stayed rigid beside you, and you could feel the barely restrained irritation radiating off of him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was embarrassed.

But no, this was Damian Wayne. He didn’t get embarrassed. Right?

By the time you arrived at the Batcave, you were already bracing yourself for the interrogation. Sure enough, the moment you stepped out of the Batmobile, Bruce was there, arms crossed, looking every bit the imposing Dark Knight.

“What happened?” His voice was all business, eyes flicking between the two of you.

Damian stood straighter, falling into debriefing mode. “A hidden security sensor was tripped, resulting in a full lockdown of the facility. Y/N and I were separated from the main entry points and forced to seek shelter in a storage space while we awaited system override.”

You nodded, rubbing the back of your neck. “Comms were jammed, but once the security failed, we were able to extract without issue. Mission was a bust, though—whoever set up that system knew what they were doing. There was nothing left to salvage.”

Bruce gave a slow, assessing nod. “Understood. I’ll have Tim and Barbara analyze the security logs, see if we missed anything. You two—” His gaze lingered, sharp and unreadable. “—did well.”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Should there be something else?”

Dick coughed behind you, clearly still holding back laughter. Damian shot him a warning glare before stepping forward. “No. That will be all, Father.”

Bruce seemed to consider pressing further, but after a beat, he just nodded. “Good. Get some rest. Dismissed.”

The moment you and Damian turned toward the locker area to change out of your suits, Dick finally let loose the laughter he’d been holding in.

“You two looked cozy back there,” he teased, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the Batcomputers.

You groaned, peeling off your gloves. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

“Absolutely not.”

Damian scowled. “Grayson, your commentary is unnecessary.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Dick grinned. “Especially with the way you had your hand on—”

“Enough.” Damian’s voice had an edge of finality, his ears suspiciously red as he turned away.

Dick just smirked. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off. For now.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you grabbed your duffel bag. “I’m going home.”

Damian turned slightly, hesitating for just a second before saying, “I’ll walk you to the Zeta Tubes.”

You blinked, a little surprised. But you didn’t question it. “…Sure.”

As the two of you made your way deeper into the cave, Damian was uncharacteristically quiet. Not tense, not angry—just… thoughtful.

You glanced at him. “You good?”

He exhaled through his nose. “I dislike inefficiency. We were reckless tonight.”

You frowned. “Dami, we handled it fine. No one got hurt.”

“That’s not the point,” he muttered, then hesitated before adding, quieter, “You were afraid.”

Your stomach did something weird.

“…Of the rat?” you tried to joke, but your voice came out softer than intended.

He didn’t smile. “You held onto me.”

You swallowed. “You didn’t let go.”

That made him pause.

The two of you stopped at the entrance to the Zeta Tubes, the hum of the teleportation system filling the air. He looked at you then—really looked at you, eyes unreadable, expression unreadable, but something flickered behind that perfect mask.

You shifted on your feet. “…Thanks, by the way. For, you know. The whole… chivalry thing.”

A beat of silence.

Then, with the faintest smirk, Damian tilted his head. “It was nothing.”

And before you could respond, he turned, walking away, disappearing into the shadows of the Batcave like he hadn’t just left your heart hammering in your chest.

A Few Days Later…

You hadn’t seen much of Damian since the storage closet incident. Not that you were actively avoiding him or anything—but you were also not not avoiding him.

Because every time you thought about that moment—his hand on your waist, his steady presence, the way he hadn’t pulled away—you felt weird. And not in a bad way. In a dangerous way. In a I-think-I-like-my-best-friend kind of way.

And that was a problem.

You sighed, slamming your locker shut at Gotham Academy, only to nearly collide with Damian himself.

You jumped. “Dude!”

“Tt. Overreacting as usual.”

You scowled. “You lurking as usual.”

He smirked, but there was something deliberate in his presence—something focused. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked at you with the kind of intensity that usually meant he was about to drop some life-altering information.

You crossed your arms. “Okay. Spit it out.”

“I require your presence this evening.”

You blinked. “Require?”

“Yes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly am I required for?”

His expression didn’t waver. “Dinner.”

You narrowed your eyes, scanning his face for any hint of a joke. “Like… a mission briefing dinner or a ‘we’re both too exhausted to cook after patrol’ dinner?”

His jaw tensed, just slightly. Then, evenly, “A date.”

Your brain short-circuited.

“…A what now?”

“A date,” he repeated, just as matter-of-factly as before. “You and me. Dinner. As a couple.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, and for a second, all you could do was stare at him. He, of course, looked perfectly calm—like he hadn’t just casually shattered the entire foundation of your understanding of your relationship.

“I—” You cleared your throat. “I—uh—when did we—?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he cut in, tilting his head. “Which means you’ve been thinking about it. Which means there’s something to consider. Which means I am correct in assuming there is mutual interest.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “That is a lot of assumptions, Wayne.”

“Am I wrong?”

Your stomach flipped.

You could lie. You could make this weird. You could pretend the idea hadn’t crossed your mind every second since that damn closet.

But… it had.

And he wasn’t wrong.

You inhaled deeply, narrowing your eyes. “Where?”

He smirked, victorious. “Seven o’clock. I will pick you up.”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel, walking away like he hadn’t just completely upended your reality.

You stared after him, heart still hammering, mind still reeling.

And then, despite yourself, you smiled.

That Evening – Gotham’s East End Diner

You weren’t sure what you expected when Damian Wayne said date, but sitting across from him in a run-down Gotham diner—complete with squeaky booths, dim lighting, and a jukebox that only worked half the time—was definitely not it.

“You picked a diner,” you said, still processing.

Damian didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

“Like. A greasy diner. With milkshakes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

You leaned back in the booth, eyeing him skeptically. “You, Damian Wayne, son of Gotham’s most expensive man, heir to a literal empire, picked this place for our first date.”

“Tt.” He took a sip of water, entirely unbothered. “I assumed you would prefer something casual.”

You frowned, caught off guard. “…I mean. Yeah. But you—” You gestured vaguely at him, still in his usual crisp, well-fitted attire. “You don’t do casual.”

Damian exhaled, setting his glass down. “And yet, here we are.”

You blinked.

Huh.

He really had picked this place for you.

A warmth settled in your chest, and you found yourself smirking. “Alright, Wayne. You get points for effort.”

He smirked back. “As I should.”

A waitress in her mid-fifties appeared at your table, popping gum as she eyed you both. “What can I getcha, kids?”

You hummed, scanning the menu before grinning. “Cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake.”

She scribbled it down before turning to Damian. “And you?”

Damian barely looked at the menu. “The same. But vanilla.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Boring.”

He shot you a look. “Classic.”

The waitress chuckled, shaking her head. “Cute. I’ll be back with your food.”

As she walked away, you realized something.

This was… normal. No mission. No patrol. No masks. Just you and Damian sitting in a diner, ordering food like any other couple.

The thought made your stomach flip.

Damian seemed perfectly composed, but there was something softer in his posture—something almost relaxed.

You tapped your fingers on the table. “So, Wayne. What’s your game plan here?”

He tilted his head. “Clarify.”

You smirked. “You ask me out, you take me to a diner, we eat greasy food—what’s next? A moonlit stroll? A kiss under a streetlight?”

Damian’s lips twitched. “Would you like that?”

Your stomach did a whole thing.

You scoffed, pretending your face wasn’t heating up. “I’m just saying, this is shockingly good execution. Almost like you planned it.”

He sipped his water. “I always have a plan.”

You snorted. “Of course you do.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the hum of the diner filling the background. For once, there was no pressure, no expectations—just easy conversation and unspoken understanding.

And maybe—just maybe—you could get used to this.

Later That Night – Walking Through Gotham

The diner food had been greasy, the milkshakes had been perfect, and somehow, somehow, the night had turned into you and Damian walking side by side through Gotham’s quieter streets. The neon lights of corner stores flickered, casting a soft glow over the cracked pavement.

It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was nice. Peaceful, even.

You snuck a glance at Damian, who walked with his usual calculated precision—hands in his pockets, gaze scanning the area like he was still on patrol.

“You’re tense,” you noted.

“I’m aware of my surroundings.”

You smirked. “So, tense.”

He exhaled through his nose, side-eyeing you. “I fail to see how observation equates to tension.”

“Observation is good.” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “But we’re off duty, Wayne. You can relax.”

He didn’t respond right away. Then, almost reluctantly, he sighed and rolled his shoulders, loosening his posture ever so slightly. “Happy?”

You grinned. “Very.”

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, the cold Gotham air nipping at your skin. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it did make you tuck your hands into the sleeves of your jacket.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Damian shift slightly—like he was thinking about something.

Then, suddenly, his hand brushed against yours.

You blinked, heartbeat stuttering.

Was that… on purpose?

You glanced at him, but his face remained unreadable. He didn’t pull away, though. Didn’t correct the contact. Just kept walking.

Testing the waters, you let your fingers graze his again.

This time, he did react—by intertwining his fingers with yours.

Your breath hitched.

You looked up at him, half-expecting some snarky comment, but there was none. Just a steady, quiet confidence as he held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach flipped.

“So,” you said, voice quieter than before. “You’re really committing to this whole… dating thing, huh?”

He glanced at you, smirking slightly. “Would I have asked if I weren’t serious?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Guess not.”

The night air was cold, but Damian’s hand was warm—steady, sure.

And maybe that was all you needed.

—

When you finally reached your apartment building, you lingered outside, neither of you making a move to leave just yet.

You hesitated, then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him in a hug.

Damian stiffened for a fraction of a second—like he hadn’t expected it—but then, slowly, his arms came up to hold you in return.

He was warm. Solid. His heartbeat steady against your ear.

“…This is nice,” you admitted, voice muffled against his shoulder.

His hand rested against your back, his grip just tight enough to make you feel it. “It is.”

You smiled against his jacket, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

Yeah.

You could definitely get used to this.

Outside Your Apartment – Late Night in Gotham

Neither of you moved.

The city hummed around you—distant sirens, the occasional honk of a car horn, the low buzz of a flickering streetlamp—but none of it seemed to matter. All that mattered was the warmth of Damian’s arms around you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his hand rested against your back like he belonged there.

You weren’t sure how long you stood like that, but eventually, Damian exhaled softly, tilting his head just slightly so his chin brushed against the top of yours.

“You should go inside,” he murmured.

You huffed. “You’re the one still holding on.”

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t let go, either.

Instead, he just said, “I will walk you in.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, still holding onto his arms. “Damian, I live here. I think I can manage walking up a flight of stairs.”

His gaze flickered toward the building entrance, then back to you. “…I’ll feel better if I see you inside safely.”

Your stomach flipped.

You bit back a smile. “You’re really leaning into this ‘boyfriend’ thing, huh?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Should I not?”

You shook your head, amusement tugging at your lips. “No complaints here, Wayne.”

With that, you stepped out of his arms—immediately missing the warmth—before taking his hand and tugging him toward the entrance.

He followed without hesitation.

—

Inside Your Apartment – The Doorstep Dilemma

When you finally stopped at your door, the realization hit that you had officially reached the end of the date.

Which meant…

You swallowed, suddenly feeling weirdly self-conscious under Damian’s gaze. He stood close—hands back in his pockets, posture unreadable, but his eyes… soft.

“You’re staring,” you muttered.

His lips twitched. “I am looking.”

“Same thing.”

“It is not.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto your face.

Then, silence. Not awkward, but charged.

There was an unspoken question hanging in the air—one you weren’t sure either of you were brave enough to answer.

Damian’s fingers twitched at his sides, like he was debating something.

Finally, he exhaled. “May I—”

Before he could finish whatever thought was forming, you made the executive decision to hug him again.

Because, honestly? That felt safer than dealing with whatever tension was currently buzzing between you.

He tensed slightly—probably surprised—but then, just like before, he melted into it, arms wrapping around you easily.

“…You do this often,” he murmured against your hair.

You smirked against his shoulder. “I like hugging you.”

Damian went quiet at that.

Then, softer than before, he admitted, “I do not mind it.”

Your heart did something stupid.

Slowly, you pulled back, lingering just long enough to meet his gaze. His face was close—too close. Close enough that if you just tilted your chin up—

A breath passed between you.

Your stomach flipped, your fingers twitched, and then—

“Goodnight, Damian,” you whispered, because if you stayed any longer, you might actually spontaneously combust.

His eyes flickered slightly, scanning your face, but he nodded. “…Goodnight, Beloved.”

And with that, you slipped inside, shutting the door before you did something reckless.

Like kiss him.

Later That Night – Sleepless Conversations

You had been lying in bed for a solid twenty minutes, staring at your ceiling, trying not to think about the fact that you had just been this close to kissing Damian Wayne.

But, of course, that was all you could think about.

The warmth of his hands, the way his voice had softened, the way his eyes had flickered down to your lips for half a second before you bailed—

You groaned, rolling onto your side, yanking the blanket over your head. What the hell was wrong with you?

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand.

You hesitated before reaching for it.

Dami: Are you awake?

Your stomach flipped.

You stared at the screen for a second before responding.

You: No, I’m sleep-texting.

There was a short pause before the typing bubble appeared.

Dami: That would be concerning.

You smirked, rolling onto your back as you texted back.

You: What’s up?

Dami: I have been thinking.

Your heart did a stupid little lurch.

You: Oh no.

Dami: Tt. Do not be dramatic.

You: Impossible. What are you thinking about?

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then—

Dami: The moment outside your apartment.

Your breath caught.

You stared at the text for way too long, rereading it at least five times before you finally worked up the nerve to respond.

You: Oh.

Great. Brilliant. Fantastic response.

The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared. Then reappeared. Like he was debating what to say next.

Finally—

Dami: You left rather abruptly.

You scoffed, sitting up.

You: What was I supposed to do? Stand there and stare at you all night?

Dami: I would not have minded.

Your brain short-circuited.

You: …Damian.

Dami: What?

You: Do you realize what you’re saying right now?

Dami: Yes.

You flopped back onto your pillows, gripping your phone like it was personally attacking you.

You: Are you saying you wanted to kiss me?

Your heart hammered as you hit send.

He didn’t respond right away.

The typing bubble appeared. Then disappeared. Then—

Dami: Would that be surprising?

You squeaked out loud.

You: YES???

Dami: Why?

You: Because you’re you.

Dami: And?

You groaned, shoving your face into your pillow for a second before responding.

You: And you’re all proper and composed and disciplined and intimidating.

Dami: Intimidating?

You: You know you are.

Dami: Tt. That does not answer my question.

You exhaled sharply, chewing your lip.

Okay. Fine. Screw it.

You: Because it’s YOU, Damian. My best friend. And if we kissed, it wouldn’t be just a kiss, would it?

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

Dami: No. It would not.

Your chest ached at how quickly he agreed.

Fingers trembling slightly, you typed—

You: And that doesn’t freak you out?

This time, he took longer to respond.

Then—

Dami: Not as much as it excites me.

Your breath hitched.

You stared at the screen, pulse pounding.

Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you typed—

You: …So if I hadn’t chickened out, would you have kissed me?

Your phone vibrated immediately.

Dami: Yes.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, muffling a noise that you refused to acknowledge.

Then—

Dami: And the next time I get the chance, I will.

You nearly died on the spot.

The Next Morning – Sick Day Shenanigans

You woke up feeling like absolute death.

Your throat felt like sandpaper, your head was pounding, and every inch of your body ached. It took way too much effort just to roll over and grab your phone from your nightstand.

Squinting at the screen, you groaned and typed out a message.

You: I think I’m dying.

A response came almost instantly.

Dami: Tt. Do not be ridiculous.

You: No, seriously. My body is shutting down. Tell Gotham I loved her.

Dami: You are being dramatic.

You: I literally can’t get out of bed. This is it. I’m done for.

A short pause.

Then—

Dami: I am coming over.

Your eyes widened.

You: Wait, what??

Dami: I will be there soon. Do not die before I arrive.

You groaned, flopping back onto your pillows. Of course he was coming over.

—

20 Minutes Later – The Cavalry Arrives

A firm knock rattled your door.

You barely managed to roll out of bed, wrapping yourself in a blanket like a pathetic sickly burrito as you stumbled to open it.

Sure enough, Damian stood on your doorstep, looking perfectly put together, not a single hair out of place. In one hand, he held a brown paper bag. In the other, a plastic bag filled with medicine.

“You look awful,” he said flatly.

You squinted at him. “Wow, thanks, boyfriend of the year.”

He smirked, stepping inside and nudging the door shut behind him. “You are welcome.”

You barely made it two steps toward the couch before you collapsed onto it with a dramatic groan. “I told you. I’m dying.”

Damian simply rolled up his sleeves.

“I will not allow it,” he said, marching into your kitchen.

You blinked after him. “…Are you cooking?”

“You need proper nutrients,” he called over his shoulder, already rummaging through your cabinets like he owned the place. “And hydration. And rest. Fortunately for you, I am well-versed in all three.”

You stared. “You know how to cook?”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “I was trained by the greatest assassins in the world. Do you honestly believe I am incapable of making soup?”

“…Fair point.”

Satisfied, Damian set to work.

You, meanwhile, remained face-planted on the couch, listening as he moved around with practiced ease. The rhythmic sounds of chopping, stirring, and the occasional clink of dishes were weirdly soothing.

You must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing you knew, Damian was crouching beside the couch, nudging your shoulder.

“Wake up, Beloved.”

You blinked blearily. “Mmm?”

“I have made soup.”

You cracked an eye open, catching the self-satisfied look on his face as he held up a bowl like some kind of prize.

Your heart melted a little.

“You’re proud of this, aren’t you?” you rasped.

He smirked. “Very.”

He helped you sit up—gently, like you might break—and placed the bowl in your hands.

You took a sip.

And holy crap.

It was… good.

Your eyes widened. “Damian—”

“I told you,” he said smugly.

You slurped down more, warmth spreading through your chest. “Okay, fine. You win. You are officially the best boyfriend ever.”

“As I should be.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

When you finished, Damian took the bowl, setting it aside before reaching for the medicine he’d brought. “You will take this.”

You made a face. “But—”

“No arguments.”

You groaned but obeyed, swallowing the bitter liquid with a shudder. “Gross.”

Damian smirked. “Good.”

Then, before you could react, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You froze.

The warmth of his lips lingered, and then he pulled back, his expression smug.

You stared at him. “Did you just—”

He kissed your temple. Then your cheek. Then another on your forehead for good measure.

Your brain short-circuited.

Damian sat back, completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t just left you flustered beyond belief. “Physical affection is known to boost recovery.”

You gawked. “You planned this.”

He smirked. “I always have a plan.”

You groaned, shoving your face into a pillow.

Yeah. You were definitely going to survive this illness.

But Damian Wayne?

He was going to be the death of you.

#dc #dc comics #dc robin #damian wayne #fluff #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n

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pinkhoodi · 4 months ago

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can’t pay rent, sorry !

✎ᝰ — telling the batboys that you can’t pay rent this month as a prank

♡⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff & jason and tim catching on immediately mmcht

♡⃕ — a/n: it’s this tiktok trend where the woman would tell their partner/husband “I can’t pay rent this month” and the reactions be sooooo funny 🤣🤣

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ “I hope you’re not at mad at me love but, I can’t pay rent this month.” bruce turned around to face you and his face displayed a mix of confusion and concern. he’s thinking to himself, “when have y/n ever pay for the rent?”. he’s genuinely concerned cause why would he let his significant pay for rent when the mansion is paid in full?

Ꮺ you’re trying your best to keep a poker face and look sad, but you can’t fool the greatest detective. he notices the small details of you biting your cheek, suppressing a smile, your hands behind your back, he notices you trying to trick him

Ꮺ “my love, when did we ever have to pay for the home? you know what, do you know what company takes care of any of our bills? why would I let you stress about any bills? have I ever asked you to pay a bill?” the questions continued on until you stood there with not a single answer. bruce leans back in his chair and waits with a smirk on his face

Ꮺ “when those bills show up again, let me know so I can take care of it, okay?” he gets up to kisses your forehead and goes back to his work

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ “dick I’m sorry but I can’t pay rent this month.” dick paused what he was doing and turned his attention to you. he was extremely confused cause last time he checked, he assigned you as his beautiful partner who spends his money willingly and not to worry about bills

Ꮺ he went on and asked you the reason as to why, you explained how your job haven’t been giving you hours lately. he slightly cocked his head to the side, responding with, “baby, how many times have I told you never to worry about the bills?” “I know but I didn’t want to have you stressing and I feel like I should do my part with living here :(“

Ꮺ he cups your cheek with his hand and brushes it with his thumb, “your part is being the pretty, funny, and smart partner that lives with me. in addition to rambling about anything and loving me, ‘kay?” you stayed quiet and he lightly squished your cheeks, waiting for an answer

Ꮺ you nodded and gave a small smile at him. he smiled back and placed a kiss on your lips and said, “love you” afterward <3

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ “hey jay, I don’t wanna stress you but I can’t pay my half of the rent. I’m sorry, this month came up a bit short for me.” you try to say in distress. jason had his back turned and snickered to himself. he questioned himself as to whether or not he should play along with your lil prank

Ꮺ of course he chose to mess with you, very jason of him, and played along with whatever scheme you’re plotting. the thing is that he already seen that trend on his for you page, but for your sake, he’ll go with it

Ꮺ he asks why and you tried to give him a terrible excuse of your spending habits, you told him that you’ll do better and tried to make it seem like you were stressing over this. Meanwhile, the man in front of you is keeping his poker face in check and trying not to laugh at your attempt of worrying him

Ꮺ he ends up laughing, you looked confused as to why he’s laughing, and he explains how he’s seen this before. it shouldn’t be shocking cause you send him couple tiktoks all the time, of course he would see it at some point

Ꮺ you stood there dumbfounded, he shrugged his shoulders and continued about what he was doing. he looked back to you and let out another snicker, in amusement of your reaction of course

꒰ TIM DRAKE ꒱

Ꮺ “hey tim, don’t freak out but I can’t my part of rent. I’m really really sorry.” you try to say in distress. tim hummed and continued on the research that he was doing. he wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying to be honest. well, at least you thought he wasn’t…

Ꮺ you repeated your sentence again and he responded with another, “mhm, don’t worry about it love.” you were confused as to why there was no reaction and went up to face him

Ꮺ “aren’t you going to ask me why I can’t help pay?” you asked him. tim shocked his head and continued on with his research

Ꮺ you walked away in frustration that the prank failed and before you left the room completely, tim replied, “my parent’s pay for our housing and even I don’t stress about that. also, seen the trend y/n, it won’t work.”

Ꮺ a reaction of surprise came upon from you, you forgot that tim’s for you page is almost like yours, and didn’t think that he would see the trend before you do. you cursed yourself from sending him so many couple tiktoks

♡⃕ HIIIIIII I MISS THIS BLOG SO MUCH :((( I miss writing for my batboys

♡⃕ this my first time writing for tim, im scared i miss characterized him 😞

♡⃕ I’ve been gone for so long but I promise I’m back fr 🙂‍↕️

♡⃕ lowkey wanna do this for jjk too….what we thinking ?

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: psalm 86:11

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invincibledc · 6 months ago

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“Fair Amusement”

Damian Wayne x Roth! Male reader

Summary: The small Roth spending time with the small Wayne, the two boys start to have fun until Damian gets annoyed at seeing a boy acting a little too “friendly” with the raven he finds beautiful.

Note || Y/N is the little brother of Raven, hero name is Corvus. The Latin name for Raven.

“Roth..” Damian says looking at the boy in-front of him walking ahead with excitement. “Huh? Sorry Damian what were you saying?” Y/N says looking at Damian who kept his signature frown on his face. “Why must you be so excited for such…amusement..” he says, Y/N pouted.

“Damian..I’m excited because I’m spending this amusement with you! Plus I never really had fun in a fair.. or is this an amusement park? I never knew the difference.” Y/n admitted with with an awkward chuckle. Damian looked away from the boy, he felt his face getting heated as he gritted his teeth together. “Aye! Niños, don’t go too far okay?” Jaime yells as he sees the two boys being slight further from the rest. Garfield was already loose from the team. Probably doing something reckless or gaining mad tickets.

“On it! Cmon Damian, I heard there’s a game where you can shoot these fake ducks and win a big stuff animal!” Y/N says excitedly, Damian only kept his facial expression. Trying not to show too much emotion but his eyes showed curiosity. Y/N started to get distracted by things like cotton candy and music. Damian knew the boy wants to try the shooting game, so he made you focus on your so called “journey.”

Finally making to the stand, the bright light and colors made your eyes shine with joy. Damian looked at you, time felt slow when you turned to look at him. Was this what those main characters felt when those cheesy romance movies did the slo mo? Yeah this is how he feels. You point to a big penguin. “Look! Look! They got a big stuffed animal like I said!” Damian crosses his arms loosely, “I see Roth.” You immediately nod with excitement grabbing the shotgun that was plastered. You handed the man the money and got to business.

Or at least tried to get into businesses. You seemed to have trouble holding the shotgun, the man behind the counter showed annoyance. Damian gave the man hard glare to “fix” the man’s attitude which worked. The poor small Raven must have attracted attention as a boy that seemed to be your and Damian’s age walked in and started to guide you.

Damian narrows his eyes at the boy beside you who was showing you how to shoot. He didn’t like how the boy was looking at you, Damian crossed his arms. He couldn’t help but glare, but when the boy whispered something in your ear and you chuckled. He had enough, he pushed the boy aside and got behind you. His arms and hands already making sure you were positioned to shoot the ducks. Your eyes widen seeing his eyes trained in front while being behind you. Too close behind you.

“Y/N, focus on the ducks. Shoot.” And you did. You listen to his words perfectly which made him smirk. He backed away when you won the penguin. But what he also did next was pettiness as he also went and did a try at the game. Shooting perfectly without a struggle, getting you another big penguin. Your eyes were wide in admiration, meanwhile Damian glanced at the boy who seemed to scoff and walk off. Damian walked off smugly, wrapping an arm around the boy who seemed so happy hugging the two big penguins!

“Best night ever!” You yelled as you came back into the car with the team. Garfield was already sleep with Jaime almost being the same. Kory was in the driver seat with your sister in the passenger. Raven smiled seeing her little brother happy with two penguins. “Little crow, where do you get them?” She asked softly.

“I got one for myself with the help of Damian. But Damian got me another one.” You say with a soft smile. You then lean against Damian who stiffened at the sudden action. But he soon relaxed with a smile that was covered with his hand. He looked out the window, staring at the boy’s reflection.

“That was nice of you Damian. Thank you.” Raven says. Damian only hummed, still looking at the reflection of the Roth male who seemed happy. And that made Damian happy as well.

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cupids-diner · 18 days ago

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The kiss he can’t forget - part two!

A/n: sorry this took awhile, I’m currently switching rooms in my house and it’s taken a lot of energy lol

Damian Wayne was not one to be easily distracted. He had trained under the League of Assassins, honed his focus under Batman’s strict guidance, and faced countless enemies without so much as a flinch.

And yet…

All it took was one kiss—one brief, featherlight kiss on the cheek—to throw his entire world into chaos.

It had been three days. Three agonizing, infuriating days since you had kissed him and gone about your business like nothing had happened. Meanwhile, he had replayed the moment in his mind more times than he cared to admit. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of your lips against his skin.

And the worst part? You were acting like everything was normal. Like it was just some casual, friendly gesture. Like you hadn’t sent his pulse into overdrive and shattered the carefully constructed walls he had built around his emotions.

It was unacceptable. Unfair. Maddening.

So, naturally, Damian did what he did best—pretended he was completely fine.

He was not fine.

You found him in the Batcave that evening, sharpening a batarang with a level of intensity that suggested he was either incredibly focused or trying very hard to ignore something.

“Hey, Damian,” you greeted, hopping up onto the nearby workbench. “Busy?”

“Tt. Not particularly.” He didn’t look up, keeping his hands occupied.

You swung your legs idly, watching him. “You’ve been weird lately.”

His grip on the batarang tightened, but his face remained impassive. “I’m always ‘weird.’”

“Yeah, but this is a different kind of weird.” You tilted your head, studying him. “You’ve been distracted. Avoiding me.”

Damian internally cursed. He should have known you’d pick up on it.

“I have not been avoiding you,” he said evenly, finally looking up. “I’ve been—”

“You so have,” you interrupted, smirking. “It’s almost like… I don’t know… you’re flustered about something.”

Flustered. Flustered?! The word itself was an insult. Damian Wayne did not get flustered.

“I do not get flustered,” he said firmly, narrowing his eyes.

Your smirk grew. “Says the guy who can barely look me in the eye right now.”

Damn it.

You hopped off the workbench, stepping closer. Damian didn’t move, but he felt his heartbeat pick up slightly. He refused to let it show.

“Damian,” you said, your voice softer now, teasing but curious. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that I kissed you the other day?”

His muscles tensed. He had walked straight into that one.

For a brief moment, silence stretched between you. His mind raced, trying to calculate the best way to respond without giving too much away.

“…Tt. Hardly,” he scoffed, turning back to his batarang. “It was an insignificant gesture.”

Your lips twitched. “Oh? Insignificant, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So if I did it again right now, you wouldn’t care?”

Damian’s hand twitched. His entire body betrayed him for half a second before he forced himself to stay still.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, though it sounded more like a challenge than a statement.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t I?”

And before he could react, you leaned in and—this time—kissed the other cheek. Slow enough for him to process it, but quick enough that he couldn’t stop you.

His breath hitched. Just barely.

You pulled back, watching him with amused eyes. “Still insignificant?”

Damian clenched his jaw, staring at you with an unreadable expression. On the outside, he looked as composed as ever. Inside?

Absolute. Utter. Chaos.

You grinned. “Thought so.”

With that, you turned and walked off, leaving him standing there—stiff, stunned, and utterly doomed.

@catholicladybaby

A/n: sorry it took awhile lol!

#fluff #sweets #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #batman #batfam #batfamily #oneshots #drabble

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madelynraemunson · 1 year ago

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— along for the ride ☆

🐃 the tag team (co-writers): @joshlmbrt @swiss-mrs @mediocredreams 🩶

eddie x fem!reader

a/n: reading flight of icarus and finding out eddie is from tennessee REALLY husked my corn 🤠 also, this may or may not have been inspired by the bull fight scene in hoard

cw: daydream p in v sex, riding, eddie gets a hard on watching reader ride, innuendos, play on words

Stamina. Strength. Strategy. Safety. The Four Important S’s when it comes to bull-riding.

‘Support’ is your unofficial fifth. You’ve generated quite the following after showcasing your riding skills at Whisky Jim’s every Saturday night, the ooohs and aaahs of your spectators filling the air as the spotlight drenches your cute… calculated… perspiring body.

Bull-riding at the dive bar every weekend has become a favorite hobby of yours. It’s a perfect outlet for all the stress, the rough-and-tough of it all perfectly counterbalancing your slow-as-snails, but somehow busy and draining 9 to 5. Riding gave you something to look forward to.

“Look at her go,” an onlooker coos in admiration. “She’s got life by the goddamn horns.”

You toss your head back, glossy lips parted in excitement as the crowd’s appreciative hoots and whistles filled the air. You could get used to this. You have gotten used to this.

Even with the world at your feet, things were starting to get boring again. And you are constantly craving something wild, something new. Something or someone that will make like the bull by sweeping you off your feet and taking you out for a spin.

Someone like Eddie Munson, perhaps.

Eddie isn’t sure what drew him… here out of all places. But something about the rowdiness compels him as he climbs out of his van, Halen and into the bar, boots scuffing the hard wooden floor. But the flight-risk metalhead is determined to find out, itching for adventure as he saunters with feigned confidence into the southern saloon.

He flags down the closest bartender, a country heartthrob of a man with black hair and blue eyes. The Casanaova places a coaster down in front of him as Eddie steps up to the plate. “What’ll ya be havin’?”

“Anything local,” Eddie replies, more of a question, unsure of what exactly is available. “Anything hoppy.”

“Bottle or Tap?” the man follows up after a curt nod, mindlessly running a hand over his thick mustache.

“Tap. Pint, please.”

The bartender gives another nod before disappearing to fulfill Eddie’s request. Meanwhile, the outcast takes this short window of time to look up and down the bar at the different patrons.

All from different walks of life. But all here for presumably the same reason.Whisky Jim’s is decently packed, but for the most part, the crowd is congregated either in booths, at tables, or in the middle of the floor.

A glass is placed onto the coaster. The same deep country twang effectively regains Eddie’s attention.

“Wanna start a tab, brother?” The older man asks with a polite grin, eyes crinkling up at the sides as he does.

Eddie offers a polite smile in return.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

The bartender studies him intently this time, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“First timer?”

Eddie clears his throat uneasily, kicking at the peanut casings at his feet to avoid contact with the John Wayne of a man that was in front of him.

“Obvious?”

The man cackles at Eddie, the slight patronization of the old-timer’s demeanor making him want to evaporate. But the amused blue eyes and downturned smile indicates it’s all in good fun, much like his uncle Wayne who always liked giving him a hard time whenever he made himself too small.

“Son, you couldn’t stick out further if you were a dog’s balls.”

A fellow bartender laughs at the man’s remark. Then Eddie joins in. It was pretty funny.

“You just don’t really look like the kind to be into square dancin’, is all,” the bartender remarks as he narrows his eyes at Eddie. Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, slightly wincing as the first sip hits him.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Just thought I’d explore a bit outside of my usual.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Eddie.”

“Greg.” The bartender gives him his hand to shake. “You from around here or you comin’ from outta town?”

“Hawkins.”

“Not too far from home then. And it seems you came on a good night.”

And as if on cue, the crowd towards the middle of the building erupts in cheers. Eddie briefly glances over his shoulder in the general direction before turning back to Greg with a curious head tilt.

“What’s happening?”

Greg nods his head over in the direction of the crowd.

“Bull Ridin’ Night.”

Your thighs are wrapped around the firm leather seat as you’re whisked around in one fluid motion. You turn to give your rapt audience a wink. The crowd eats up your presence, evident by the adorn kisses they blow your way. You buy into the theatrics, pretending to catch them before putting them in your back pocket for later. It only riles the audience up more.

“They bring that thing out on Saturdays,” Greg explains. “Between the Karaoke Nights and the Hoedowns, Bull Ridin’ is one of the most popular.”

Eddie tries another glance in that direction, but due to the crowd, he doesn’t have the best view of who is actually riding.

“You gon’ give it a try?”

Eddie’s head whips back around to the older man to find a teasing smirk on his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“I… don’t think so.” He chuckles. “I’m not the most balanced or coordinated person.” He admits that with a grimace and another sip of his Hawkins Pale Ale.

“I’m just teasin’ ya, boy. HEY!” Greg whistles at the bartender next to him. “Who’s up there now?”

The coworker throws a quick glance over their shoulder before replying. There’s a bashful smirk when they reply,

“Who do you think?”

The crowd erupts again, cheers and whistles alike. Who else gets this kind of crowd engagement? No one else other than you, of course.

“Looks like my girl is up there breakin’ hearts again.” Greg lets out a soft laugh.

Eddie gulps as his breathing shallows. A girl? Up there? On that thing?

Eddie, once again, nearly strains his neck trying to get a glimpse of the rider. When he fails, Eddie turns back to the bar, downing the final quarter of his pint, before looking back at Greg.

“Fetch me a bottle for the road, yeah?”

Greg issues him a chuckle, grabbing the empty glass and handing him a bottle version of that very ale, while Eddie sets off on his curiosity journey to the middle of the floor.

“Boys will be boys.” Greg’s female coworker remarks with sassy pursed lips.

Eddie closes in on the crowd, slipping through the few empty spaces between the onlookers with half-assed ‘Excuse me’s. Though no one was paying him any mind. And when he settles by the barrier, just a mere two rows behind, he finally gets the perfect view of you.

Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face at the sight of you working the crowd. He watches as you give a practiced flick of your hips to get the crowd going and the enticing jiggle of your breasts under your tight shirt. Drew in Eddie’s eyes like a laser beam. The thin material was stretched taut, giving a hint of the perfect tits underneath as you arched your lower back and thrust your chest forward to keep your balance.

“Christ,” he exhales sharply, in awe of your natural performance, the boisterous, unpredictable gravity of the machine whirling you around as you wrestle to hold on.

His eyes drink in the sight of the soft, rounded curve of your ass that peeked out of the bottom of your faded Daisy Duke’s as you lean forward to steady yourself in the saddle.

WHOOSH!

The bull jerks sideways and you flex your thighs and circle your hips in the saddle to keep yourself astride. The plush skin of your upper thighs press tightly against the seat and your upper body sways in rhythm with the bull’s movement.

You were born to ride.

“That’s how you do it, Indiana!” a spectator hoots in adoration as you cling on for dear life. “That’s how you do it!”

You give a deep roll of your hips to meet the thrust of the machine, causing Eddie to run the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip before sucking in a shaky breath. Your hips… the way they roll… is almost hypnotic, and Eddie’s brown doe eyes can’t help but linger on the sliver of skin that peeks out, black, intricate swirls of cyber-sigilism that tease him slightly.

Fuck.

“God, she’s so pretty…” he thinks to himself. “And she knows how to ride.”

Eddie’s eyes trail to the white of your knuckles, his own fingers gripping the bottle of his beer when his eyes slide up your arm and land on your face.

The front of his pants start to feel uncomfortably tight. Eddie adjusts himself as discreetly as he could, but even the soft brush of his fingers against the strained denim causes him to hiss under his breath.

“Ride it, cowgirl!” an audience’s comment centers Eddie once again. “LET ‘EM KNOW!”

The way you matched the bull’s gyrations and anticipated its every move made him weak in the knees, and as he watched you swirl your hips in the saddle like a modern day Annie Oakley he couldn’t help but wish it was him straddled between your shapely thighs instead.

As Eddie stood there watching, the dull roar of the crowd faded into the background. At that moment it was just you and him.

In his mind he’s already lassoed you to his bed; and you’re sat astride him like a cowgirl in your saddle, hands splayed on his chest for balance as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. And you’d bite down on your plush lower lip and let out a soft moan as you sank down onto him slowly, taking your time and adjusting to his size.

“Oh, Eddie,” he could almost hear you purring. “It’s so big.”

And he’d chuckle with false modesty and rub a hand tenderly along your thigh as if to soothe the delicious stretch of his thick girth.Then once you adjusted, you’d move, meeting each unpredictable roll of his hips with your own as you mastered the rhythm of your very own long-haired bucking bronco.

And he’d be gripping you tight with each deep thrust, pistoning, plowing himself into you while watching his cock disappear into your slick pussy over and over with each forceful snap of his hips. And with every strained mewl he milks out of you he’d press you down by the hips and drill into you further, your weak cunt just about ready to tap out on top of him. This handsome bull’s sure a challenge, you’d be thinking to yourself. Eddie is a ride you wouldn’t be able to survive.

———

The crowd disperses when the show is over. Eddie stands a bit straighter when you finally leave the middle of the floor, eyes darting towards the plush smirk that your soft lips create. If it’s even possible, he thinks you look even more heavenly. He’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him.

Little does he know that for you, he’s taken that same effect. You’ve grown so accustomed to everyone here that a new face has captured your attention. And you felt him staring at you, with a gaze so impassioned that you just about almost lost your footing up there. But you pulled it off real well, attempting to shake off the redirection in the form of a dramatic bounce of your tits.

It perplexes you. A man making you that nervous? Up until late, it’s become rather unheard of. You want to know this man and see for yourself what his energy is all about.

Eddie finds himself fixing his appearance when he notices your legs striding over, clearing his throat as his palm slides over the stubble that he had been trying to grow.

“You know it’s kinda rude to stare the way that you do,” you remark.

“How so?” Eddie challenges. “Everyone else is doing it. What makes me different from everybody?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” you smile at him.

Eddie shifts his weight onto the counter, bringing the bottle up to his lips, taking another gulp. His eyes dart everywhere -- the metal buckle of your belt, the skin that was shiny with dried sweat, your hands that tap at the sticky countertop of the bar, the way your lips wrap around the tip of your bottle and the liquid that slips out and down your chin that he greedily wanted to tongue away.

“Funny,” you observe. “I’m here every Saturday and I’ve never once seen your face.”

He thinks he’s looking over at an angel, really, heart beating faster when he realizes it’s him that you’d made an effort to come up to. Made an effort to get to know.

“Interesting that you saw me.”

“I see everything from up there. And you’re a newcomer, I can tell. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the best way.”

You invite him into your energy, closing up the distance between the two of you with a graceful stride in his direction.

“You were amazing,” Eddie says to you. “Really know how to put on a show, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists. “Spotlight loves you. Killer crowd engagement as well.”

“You a performer too?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Mmm, I don’t know…” you sigh dreamily. “Just a fellow performer lookin’ for some tips and pointers.”

Not much needs to be said to know that you two ache for each other, judging by how the intimate dive bar grows non-existent for as long as you two are captured in the forcefield of each other. Eddie thinks that there would be absolutely nothing better than giving you some pointers, his hand leaving the bottle, some of the liquid sloshing around the precipitating glass, heart pounding in his ears as he nods quickly. One rowdy night wouldn’t hurt anybody, he thinks to himself. And it’s very apparent that, the stunner that is you, wants take him for a spin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t we ride off into the sunset, just you and me?”

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more @saradika @mikeykuns

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #country!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4

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wheneverfeasible · 8 months ago

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So we all know the mechanic Eddie aus out there, all love a greasy dirty Eddie Munson in coveralls, but what about mechanic Steve?

Steve, who has a nice car, who learned how to take care of it himself. Steve who found that he was actually pretty good with his hands, and a knack for fixing things. He understands cars, likes to tinker with them in his spare time, even if he had to teach himself at first.

Eventually he sees a Help Wanted sign at the mechanic’s and…well, why not? He applies, and he’s inexperienced, but they hire him. He sweeps and keeps things clean and tidy at first, and then he learns some hands-on experience, moves up in the job, and eventually he becomes the guy everyone wants to work on their car.

When the owner retires, it’s Steve who takes over the place, making the shop his own and making certain that it’s a safe place in a town where safety isn’t always guaranteed. The kids he used to babysit who aren’t kids anymore all learn car basics, Steve making certain they’re not caught in a jam and unable to help themselves, especially the girls. In the window, a small picture of Dorothy from Wizard of Oz rests, letting those who know…know.

And then maybe one day rockstar Eddie Munson returns to the small town he blazed out of after finally graduating, packing his shit up and high tailing it outta there like the bats of hell were chasing him. Maybe he’s still driving a shitty van, or maybe he got something a little more fancy. Maybe fame and money got to him a little bit and he’s got some fancy high end sports car and a bit of a dick personality. And this car breaks down. Who does he have to call?

King Mechanics.

And Eddie is huffing and complaining at it all, at his car for crapping out, for being late to meet his uncle, for having to wait for some mechanic to show up. And one does, not too much later after that first annoyed phone call. And the mechanic has surprisingly well-styled hair, and a body firm with muscle, filling out those oil stained coveralls nicely, and maybe Eddie starts to sort of flirt with the guy, until he looks at him properly.

Until he sees it’s Steve fucking Harrington.

And maybe they don’t get along well at first, and it’s all Eddie’s fault really, who is now huffy and puffy about having to deal with King Steve. Steve, on the other hand, is nothing but polite and professional, maybe even friendly. He might have taken back the moniker of king for his shop, might have even taken it as his last name after his parents disowned him when he came out as queer, but he’s far from who he was in high school.

And honestly? Teasing Eddie is kind of fun. Watching him get flustered and annoyed is funny because enough time has passed that Steve is comfortable with who he is and everyone in town knows he’s turned over a new leaf and it’s just amusing watching Eddie not realizing this yet.

They didn’t really have the parts he needs to fix Eddie’s car at the moment, however, so he orders them in. Offers to give Eddie a ride to wherever he needs to go. Maybe even mentions Wayne, with whom he actually got kind of close with, and who sometimes comes around for a cold drink now that he’s retired and has more free time on hand.

Eddie is incensed Wayne never told him he was friendly with King Steve, but Wayne never cared much for gossip, and Steve has been a godsend more than once when Wayne’s old clunker died frequently.

And so Steve and Eddie are thrown together, and Eddie realizes that maybe there’s more to Steve than meets the eyes, and that’s even before he discovers the Dorothy in the window. Sadly, he doesn’t discover it until after he goes on some rant about how Steve is clearly homophobic, but Steve just stares at him amused because he hadn’t even known Eddie was gay back in high school.

Eventually, Eddie realizes he and Steve have more in common than he ever realized. Realizes he’s become the sort of people he always despised and was a bit of an ass. Steve meanwhile was already aware of his crush on Eddie and was merely waiting for the right time to make his move.

Anyways. I just like the idea of done-up Eddie, slick and fancy, and dirty grubby mechanic Steve.

hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

#mechanic au #steddie au #mechanic steddie #mechanic steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #plot thots

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sherewrytes · 5 months ago

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No letting Go, Connie x Black fem reader

Reader is Black Caribbean living in the US. So Caribbean themes are mentioned.

Song Inspo: No letting go - Wayne Wonder

The evening was alive with laughter, the dining table was crowded with platters of food—a mix of roasted turkey and baked ham alongside macaroni pie, callaloo, collard greens, the whole nine yards and then some. Y/N leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold as Connie sat at the all fours table with her uncles. They were deep in the game of all fours, cards slapping onto the table, and voices raised in competitive banter.

Connie had been holding his own pretty well, but her Uncle George was relentless. “You sure you know how to play, young man?” he teased, eyebrows raised in challenge. “Ain’t no mercy on this table, yuh know.”

Connie shot back a grin, eyes gleaming with determination. “I’m from Chicago, Uncle George—I think I can handle a little heat,” he replied, playing his card with a dramatic flourish.

“Look at this one eh, all this big talk!” another uncle laughed, shaking his head, but even Y/N could tell they were warming up to him. She hid a smile as she saw her cousin’s kid tugging at Connie’s arm, wide-eyed.

“Uncle Connie, you playing games like an old man!” one little cousin giggled, arms crossed. “When yuh done losing, gimme a piggyback!”

The kids swarmed him, nearly tipping him off balance as they clamored for a ride, the uncles’ game momentarily forgotten as they chuckled at the commotion.

“Hold on, hold on, I got y’all!” Connie laughed, setting down his cards and lifting the youngest one onto his back. He was soon parading around with a line of laughing kids, doing playful spins and ‘galloping’ around like a makeshift horse. Y/N couldn’t hold back her laughter as she watched him be surrounded, completely at ease in the midst of her big, boisterous family.

Meanwhile, her aunties had been giving Y/N sly looks all evening, observing her and Connie from across the room. Eventually, Aunt Marcia sidled up beside her, nudging her with a playful smile. “So… this is the boyfriend, eh?” she whispered, eyes twinkling. “He’s handsome, I’ll give you that.”

Y/N tried to play it cool, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah, he’s alright,” she teased, though her grin betrayed her.

“Alright? Girl, please!” Auntie Pam chimed in, fanning herself a little too dramatically. “That boy is good-looking, polite, and clearly gets along with the family. He ever been to church with you? We got space in the pew for him.”

Y/N chuckled, trying to keep her tone casual. “We’ll see, Auntie Candice. One step at a time.”

Just then, as if sensing their attention, Connie looked over at her, catching her eye with that smile that had won her over the first time they met. Her aunties noticed and began nudging each other, a chorus of “ohhhs” and “mmmhmms” echoing as they shared amused glances. Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, giving them a playful glare.

As Connie returned to the spades table, Auntie Marsha lowered her voice. “Don’t lose that one, baby girl. He looks like the type that’ll stick by you.”

The conversation was cut short by the sound of music shifting in the background, and then that song started playing. The opening notes filled the air, and Y/N’s heart skipped as she felt a thrill of recognition.

Connie turned his head, his face lighting up as the beat hit, the unmistakable rhythm of Wayne Wonder’s “No Letting Go” drifting through the room. His grin widened as he looked at her, and without a word, he pushed his chair back and made his way over.

He reached for her hand, his eyes warm and mischievous. “Alright now,” he murmured, pulling her toward the makeshift dance floor in the center of the living room, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what you know about this song?”

She let out a laugh, feigning innocence. “Maybe enough to know you don’t have the moves to back it up,” she teased.

“Oh, is that so?” He tugged her close, hands settling firmly on her waist. “Guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

The crowd parted a little, and Y/N’s family watched as he began to sway to the rhythm with her, guiding her hips to meet his, their bodies moving in perfect sync. His fingers slipped down her sides, holding her just tight enough to keep her anchored to him as he leaned in, lips brushing her ear as he sang the words to her.

“No letting go, no holding back… because you are my lady,” he crooned, his voice low and steady, each word wrapped in a confidence that made her heart race. The way he looked at her, like no one else in the room mattered, sent a warmth spreading through her chest.

The family watched, amusement and approval clear in their eyes as they cheered him on, encouraging every movement. “Alright now, Connie!” one of her cousins called out, fanning themselves as if the moment was too hot to handle. “Don’t get carried away, it’s Thanksgiving!”

Connie chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as he tightened his grip, leaning closer until their foreheads almost touched. “Not makin’ any promises,” he whispered with a wink.

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling the energy of the song pulse through both of them. The world faded away as he sang along with the lyrics, his hands moving to guide her hips as they moved together, lost in their own rhythm.

“Really appreciate you loving me, after all that we’ve been through,” he sang, voice soft yet full of meaning as he gazed down at her. She felt her cheeks warm, her chest tight with emotion, unable to look away. His smile softened, eyes reflecting that unspoken promise of his, something deeper than she could put into words.

The lyrics hit their final verse, and Connie pulled her in, his hand trailing up her back as he sang, “Girl, I am so glad we’ve dated… no letting go, no holding back…”

Their family’s cheers and whistles echoed around them as the song ended, but Connie held her a moment longer, his forehead resting against hers. The way he looked at her, his eyes warm and full of something she couldn’t quite name, made her feel like she was glowing from the inside out.

“Alright now, alright!” Uncle Leroy’s voice cut through, bringing them back to the moment. Connie pulled back, grinning sheepishly as her family’s laughter filled the room, but Y/N could see it—the way his smile lingered just a bit longer than usual, like he’d had just as much trouble as she did leave the dance floor.

Connie finally stepped back, but not without giving her waist a playful squeeze and a whispered, “You really didn’t think I’d show out like that?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Maybe I underestimated you.”

“Well,” he replied, pulling her close one more time, his voice low and teasing. “Guess I’ll just have to keep proving you wrong.”

#aot connie #connie springer #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x reader #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie fluff #aot x black reader #black reader #aot x reader

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professoruber · 4 months ago

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Damian and Maps meeting in the Batcave...

This is just a thought I had (please excuse the low-quality meme I made to serve as an example)

So following her appearance in Batman: The Brave and the Bold (2023), Maps not only was officially recognised as a Robin also learned the identity of Batman as being Bruce Wayne.

However, if I remember correctly, she never learned that Damian Wayne is Robin. And even though she might now know that Damian's father is Batman, that technically doesn't automatically mean Damian's Robin and also she might be too excited to put two and two together at first.

Meanwhile on Damian's part, he was uninvolved with the events which got Maps as a recognised Robin. Furthermore, there's like five hundred or so vigilantes in Gotham these days and at least half of them are/were Robin. So he might not keep track of every new vigilante that goes through the Batcave.

So the point of this train of thought, harkening back to the poor quality meme I made, is that I figured it could be amusing if Damian and Maps have a reunion due to both happening to be in the Batcave for Robin business at the same time and being like; "Wait, you?!"

Source: Batgirls (2022-2023) #11

Also could picture a similar meeting with Cass. As while Maps does know Cass is Batgirl, she does not not know Cass is connected to Bruce Wayne (as shown in the above image here, she doesn't know Cass' last name and Cass never gives one).

Since its been shown that Maps' mother gets her to attend fancy rich people parties at their house, imagine if Cass attends and is introduced as "Cassandra Wayne".

Maps might be like; "Oooohhhh. That makes sense."

#dc comics #professoruber thoughts #maps mizoguchi #mia mizoguchi #batgirls 2022 #batman the brave and the bold 2023 #robin #gotham academy #damian wayne #damian al ghul #dc comics spoilers #bruce wayne #batman #just thought that this might be kinda funny #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne

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tinydefector · 3 months ago

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Behind the Scenes 3- DC

Tim Drake x Male reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: none

Masterlist

__________________

The group continued their tour of the nursery, with Sarah pointing out various plants and offering suggestions for what might fit Tim’s preferences or rather, Alfred’s preferences, since Tim was clearly here under protest. But as they moved from section to section, Tim couldn’t help but glance back toward the greenhouse every now and then. Y/N was still working, still humming softly to himself, completely unaware of the attention he’d drawn. For some reason. Tim didn't know why it rubbed him the wrong way, but it felt as if his detective scenes were screaming at him that something was amidst.

Alfred was practically glowing as he wandered through the nursery, carefully selecting plants with the enthusiasm of someone who had just discovered a new hobby. Tim, meanwhile, trailed behind, holding a few pots that Alfred had gleefully handed him, a resigned but amused expression on his face, he knew better than to argue with Alfred when he was in his element.

“Master Timothy,” Alfred said, examining a small flowering bush with a critical eye, “I believe this one would look stunning by the east-facing windows in the manor. Don’t you agree?” Tim sighed, shifting the weight of the pots in his arms. “Sure, Alfred. At this point, you could bring home a cactus and I’d agree.” Alfred looked over his shoulder, raising a brow. “Don’t tempt me, sir. I might just take you up on that.”

Sarah, who had been helping Alfred navigate the nursery, chuckled as she placed another plant on a nearby cart. “You’ve got quite the eye, Alfred. Not everyone takes this much care in choosing plants.”

“Attention to detail is a skill I pride myself on,” Alfred replied, his tone light but sincere. “After all, these plants are going to be part of Wayne Manor. It’s only right to give them the consideration they deserve.” Tim rolled his eyes, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘home’ like another dozen plants taking over the manor.”

“Oh, come now, sir,” Alfred said, gesturing toward a particularly vibrant bottlebrush shrub. “Surely even you can appreciate the charm of this. Imagine it in full bloom, attracting bees and birds to the garden.” Tim blinked. “ i see that and think, hmm remember last time America decided to buy a large collection of trees, it's what resulted in there being so many Eucalyptus trees, and I know how flammable they are” Tim remarks but his eyes do catch onto a few small pots with spreader plants, mainly little flowers.

But even while he looked at the smaller plants, his eyes kept creeping back to Y/n, Sarah noticed “ Sometimes I think he's a druid.” She says with a smile, she knew well how much work Y/n put into the plants, testing new fertiliser mixes making sure plants were watered enough. She knew he had multiple notebooks with details in them over different plants.

Tim looked at her curiously. “A druid?” “Yeah,” Sarah said with a laugh. “That’s what the team around here calls him. He’s great with animals too. It’s like he’s got this natural connection to... well, nature itself.” Tim raised a brow, his mind immediately flashing to ‘Her’. It was probably nothing, just a coincidence. But Sarah’s praise, the way Y/N moved so effortlessly among the plants, and the strange sense of familiarity Tim couldn’t quite place. it was all starting to feel a little too reminiscent of Poison Ivy. He kept his suspicions to himself, though, offering Sarah a polite nod as she continued to talk.

---

Alfred’s enthusiasm led to quite the haul, and the cart was quickly filled with a variety of plants,

Correa Dusky Bells

Australian daisy

Violet kunzea

Ragged robin

Foxglove

Snake's head fritillary

American Bellflower

New Jersey Tea Redroot

Eastern Redbud.

Crimson-eyed Rose-mallow

Marshmallow Hibiscus

Royal Fern

These were just some of the newer things outside of a collection of Tea plants and herbs. As the cart grew fuller, Tim found himself holding yet another pot Alfred handed him. He sighed dramatically but couldn’t help the fond smile forming on his face.

“You’re really going all out, Alfred,” Tim said. “Of course,” Alfred replied, selecting a tray of Echinacea. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly.” Tim shook his head in amusement, had he known Alfred enjoyed this he would have told the older man to do it more often, he seemed so in his element reading tags and debating on where the best place to place the plants would be. “Alright, Alfred,” Tim said, adjusting the pots in his arms. “Let’s get these plants home before you decide to buy out the entire nursery.”

“An excellent idea, sir,” Alfred replied with a smile. “Though I must say, there’s still time to pick up a cactus or two.” “Don’t push your luck,” Tim said with a chuckle, following Alfred and Sarah toward the office. Despite the lingering questions about Y/N, Tim couldn’t deny that the trip had been peaceful. For Alfred’s sake, it was worth it and he would happily do it again.

It didn’t take long to get the plants paid for and loaded into the car. Alfred was in high spirits, practically beaming as he helped the nursery staff carefully arrange the pots in the trunk and backseat.“Careful with that correa, please,” Alfred said, directing one of the workers as they secured the plants. “It’s quite delicate, and I’d hate for any of the petals or leaves to be damaged before we even get home.”

Tim stood off to the side,watching the scene with mild amusement. “You’re acting like you just adopted a dozen new kids, Alfred.” “Plants require care and attention, Master Timothy,” Alfred replied, his tone teasing but firm. “Much like a child, they thrive under the right conditions.”

“Right,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. “Except, you know, they don’t cry at 3 a.m. or need college tuition.” Alfred glanced over his shoulder, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps not, but I do recall a certain young man who once managed to knock over an entire potted fern in the manor’s sitting room. Twice.”

Tim groaned. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” “Not likely,” Alfred said with a smirk. Just as the last of the plants were loaded into the car, Sarah walked up to say goodbye. “You’ve got quite the haul here, Alfred. Your garden’s going to look amazing.”

“Thank you, Sarah,” Alfred said warmly, shaking her hand. “And thank you for your help today. It’s always a pleasure.” “Anytime,” Sarah said, waving them off as they climbed into the car. “Come back soon!”

As Alfred started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, Tim leaned back in his seat, finally feeling like the day was coming to a close. He glanced at the carefully arranged plants in the backseat and the small tray of cacti sitting on the center console.

“Wait a second,” Tim said, narrowing his eyes at the cacti. “What’s with those?” Alfred kept his gaze on the road, but his lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I thought they’d make a lovely addition to your room, sir.” “My room?” Tim asked, raising an eyebrow. “Alfred, I don’t even like plants.”

“Precisely,” Alfred replied with a faint chuckle. “That’s why I chose cacti. They require very little care, and they’re quite resilient. Perfect for someone who claims to have no time for gardening. Think of it as a lesson in time management, you only need to water them once every week and only a very small amount”

Tim stared at the tiny cacti, their spiky little bodies mocking him from their neat tray. “You got these just to tease me, didn’t you?” “Perhaps,” Alfred said innocently, though the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. Tim groaned, shaking his head but unable to suppress a small smile. “You’re lucky I like you, Alfred.”

“And you’re lucky I’m so fond of you, Master Timothy,” Alfred replied smoothly. The rest of the drive back to Wayne Manor was peaceful, the car filled with the faint scent of the different flowers. Alfred hummed quietly to himself as he drove, clearly pleased with the day’s acquisitions, while Tim scrolled absentmindedly on his phone, occasionally glancing at the cacti on the console.

For all his grumbling, Tim couldn’t deny that the trip had been worth it. Seeing Alfred so happy and getting a break from the chaos of corporate life made it all worthwhile. Even if he now had a few tiny cacti to look after.

When the car pulled up to the grand entrance of Wayne Manor, Tim immediately noticed his own car parked neatly in the driveway. He narrowed his eyes slightly, already piecing together the situation. “Alfred,” Tim started, a mix of suspicion and amusement in his tone, “did you have someone bring my car back while we were out?”

“Of course, Master Timothy,” Alfred replied smoothly as he shifted the car into park. “It wouldn’t do for you to be stranded here without a means of transportation.” Tim raised a brow. “Let me guess. It was Bruce, wasn’t it?” Alfred’s expression was neutral, but the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes gave him away. “I may have requested Master Bruce’s assistance, yes. He happened to be available.”

“Right,” Tim muttered, shaking his head as he opened the car door. Alfred stepped out as well, walking around to the trunk to begin unloading the larger plants. But before Tim could offer to help, Alfred waved him off with a polite but firm look.

“Go on, sir, and do not forget your Cacti” Alfred said, reminding Tim to grab the small tray. “I’m sure you’ve had quite enough plants for one day. I’ll see to the rest.”

Tim hesitated for a moment, glancing at the tray in his hands and sighed. “You’re really not going to let me forget about these, are you?” “Not in the slightest,” Alfred replied with a slight smile. “Now, off you go. I’m sure Master Damien is lurking somewhere nearby, no doubt eager to interrogate you about your day.”

Tim rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a small grin as he turned toward the Manor. “Fine, fine. Thanks for the ride, Alfred.” “Anytime, Master Timothy.”

With that, Tim made his way inside, the cool interior of the Manor a welcome contrast to the warmth of the afternoon sun. He adjusted the tray in his hands as he walked through the main hall, already mentally preparing for whatever questions Damien might throw at him.

He didn’t have to wait long. As he rounded a corner into the living room, Damien was perched on one of the armchairs, a sketchbook balanced on his knee. He looked up the moment Tim walked in, his sharp green eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the sight of his older brother holding the small tray with a plant on it.

“You’re back,” Damien said, setting the sketchbook aside. “And... what’s that? A tiny plant?” Tim groaned internally, knowing exactly where this was going. “Yes, Damien. They’re cacti. Alfred’s idea.” A smirk tugged at the corners of Damien’s mouth as he stood, crossing his arms. “Alfred bought you plants? Why?”

“Because apparently I need to ‘brighten up my room’ or something,” Tim said, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “And because Alfred apparently has a sense of humor.” Damien stepped closer, inspecting the little cacti with a critical eye. “You? With plants? I give them a week before they’re dead.”

Tim glared at him. “They’re cacti, Damien. They barely need water. Even I can handle that.” “Mm,” Damien said, clearly unconvinced. He reached out and poked one of the tiny things with his finger. “Still, I can’t imagine you keeping these alive for long. You’re hardly the ‘nurturing’ type.”

Tim sighed, placing the plant down gently on the table before flopping onto the couch. “Why are you like this?” he groans while shooting a gallery at Damien “Because, unlike you, I actually have standards,” Damien replied smugly, sitting down across from him.

Tim shook his head, leaning back against the cushions. “You’re unbelievable.” “And yet, here I am,” Damien said with a shrug. He glanced at the tray again, his expression softening slightly. “...They’re not terrible, though. The succulents are well-formed, and the cacti look healthy. Alfred has good taste.”

“Gee, thanks,” Tim said dryly. Damien leaned back in his seat, his smirk returning. “So, what was this all about? Why were you out buying plants in the first place?” Tim sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alfred wanted to pick out some new plants for the Manor, and I got dragged along for the ride. The entire trip was basically him having the time of his life while I held pots and tried not to lose my mind.”

Damien raised a brow. “And the cacti?” “Alfred’s parting gift,” Tim said with a wry smile. “I think he just wanted to mess with me.” Damien hummed softly, shaking his head. “Well, at least he didn’t make you carry home an entire garden. Though I’d pay good money to see you trying to take care of plants.”

Tim shot him a look. “Don’t you have something better to do?” “Not at the moment,” Damien said, clearly enjoying himself. Tim groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. “I should’ve stayed at the nursery.” Damien picks up his sketchbook again. “Maybe next time, you can bring me along. I’m far better suited to such endeavors.”

Tim didn’t bother replying, instead closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh. He’d survived the day, but between Alfred’s teasing and Damien’s relentless commentary, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever live it down. At least the cacti were quiet. For now.

Tim carried the tray up to his room, his mind still circling back to the day’s events. As much as he tried to brush it off, something about Y/N didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t anything overt—no obvious signs of wrongdoing, no strange behavior, but Tim’s instincts were rarely wrong. And today, they were screaming at him that something was off.

Once inside his room, he placed the tray on his desk, staring at the tiny plants with a sigh. “Where the hell am I even supposed to put you guys?” He glanced around the room, mentally cataloging potential spots: his desk already had enough clutter, the windowsill barely got any sunlight, and there was no way he was putting them on the nightstand. After a moment, he shrugged and shoved the tray to the corner of the desk. “Good enough. You’ll survive or you won’t. Not my problem.”

With that settled, Tim grabbed his laptop and flopped onto the bed, his usual habit of multitasking kicking in. He opened his laptop, intending to catch up on emails or Wayne Enterprises reports, along with reading back over the information Dick had sent him over Riddler and his doings. In truth he was just happy to be back in his own domain if only until dinner time.

But one thought kept coming back to him, why did this Y/n remind him so much of Her. “Ivy,” Tim muttered under his breath, his fingers already flying across the keyboard as he started his search. He had never known her to be very social, she had made an exception for Harley Quinn, but even then they didn't socialise with a lot of other rogues keeping to themselves and their ‘territory’

He started with the basics: a quick search of Y/N’s full name, filtering through social media accounts, job listings, and anything else that might give him a clearer picture.

__________________

Slowly working on the next chapter outside of moving horses, I'll be hopeful doing another transformers fic update in the next few days.

#dc tim drake #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #batfam #batman #red robin x male reader #red robin x you #red robin x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x male reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake

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atlasthegreatest · 7 months ago

Text

Under the Spotlight / Helena Bertinelli x Wayne!Female Reader

It seems like nothing can stay a secret in Gotham City. Y/n was used to being under the spotlight, especially for being the daughter of Bruce Wayne. But what she didn't expect was her secret relationship with Helena being outed by the media.

Word count: 3826

TW: violence and blood. The Joker.

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

The morning Gotham awoke to the news, it was like a bomb had gone off.

Every newspaper, gossip column, and online tabloid plastered the same shocking headline across their pages: “Wayne Princess Romances Mafia Heiress!” Below, blurry photographs showed Y/n Wayne, known publicly as the enigmatic “Wayne Princess,” walking hand in hand with Helena Bertinelli, the infamous daughter of Gotham’s most notorious mafia family.

For a city as steeped in scandal as Gotham, this was still a story to remember. The paparazzi had captured them the night before, slipping out of a Gotham rooftop restaurant, unaware that their quiet dinner had been anything but private. Their faces were unmistakable: Y/n with her sharp, defined features mirrored her father’s strong jawline and her mother’s eyes, and Helena’s dark eyes and striking beauty were instantly recognizable to anyone who followed Gotham’s underground.

By morning, the news was everywhere. The photos went viral, and within hours, both Gotham’s social elite and its criminal underbelly were buzzing with gossip.

At Wayne Manor, Alfred stood silently in the doorway of the dining room, the morning edition of the Gotham Gazette in his hand, his brow furrowed in concern. Bruce, seated at the head of the long, polished dining table, looked up from his tablet where the same headline had appeared. His face was calm, but Alfred had known him long enough to detect the tension brewing beneath the surface.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred began, carefully placing the newspaper down, “it seems the press has taken a rather keen interest in Miss… Bertinelli’s connection to the family.”

Bruce’s eyes shifted to the newspaper, the headline blaring up at him in bold print. Mafia Heiress Dating Wayne’s Daughter! He didn’t speak immediately, but his fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, a sign that his mind was processing the situation rapidly.

Selina Wayne, seated beside Bruce, casually sipped her coffee, her eyes scanning the article without a hint of surprise. “Well, it was bound to happen eventually,” she said with a hint of amusement in her voice. “They’ve been circling each other for months.”

Bruce shot her a look. “You knew?”

Selina raised an eyebrow. “Please, Bruce. I’ve been a thief most of my life. I notice things. You didn’t?”

Bruce stayed silent, but his jaw clenched slightly. He had suspected something was happening between his daughter and Helena. The late nights, the cryptic excuses, the way Y/n had started disappearing more frequently from her usual patrol routes. But he hadn’t expected it to go public like this.

Damian, now in his late teens and every bit the sharp-eyed detective his father had raised him to be, strolled into the room, grabbing a piece of toast without acknowledging the tension. He took one glance at the paper and smirked. “So, she finally told you?”

Bruce’s gaze narrowed. “You knew?”

“Obviously,” Damian said with a shrug. “She’s not as sneaky as she thinks. I’ve seen her and Bertinelli together for weeks.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. “And you didn’t think to mention this?”

Damian took a bite of his toast, chewing slowly before answering. “I figured it wasn’t my place. Besides, if you couldn’t figure it out, that’s on you.”

Selina chuckled softly. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

————————

Meanwhile, across the city at the Bertinelli estate, the atmosphere was less amused.

Helena Bertinelli sat at the breakfast table, staring down at the very same headline. Her eyes darkened as she scanned the article, which dredged up every sordid detail of her family’s past—the Bertinelli mafia connections, her father’s bloody legacy, and the violence that had once defined her life.

Her fingers clenched the edges of the paper, crumpling it slightly. She had spent years trying to distance herself from the Bertinelli name, carving her own path as Huntress, a vigilante who fought for justice on her own terms. But none of that seemed to matter now. To Gotham, she would always be the “Mafia Heiress.”

“Helena,” her old family confidante, a man who had served her father before her, spoke up from across the table. “You knew this would happen. Getting involved with the Waynes was always going to put you in the spotlight. And not the good kind.”

Helena shot him a glare. “I don’t care about the spotlight.”

“No,” he said carefully, “but Gotham’s underworld does. Your relationship with the Wayne girl is going to stir things up. There are a lot of people who would love to use this against you. Against both of you.”

Helena knew he was right, but the thought of ending things with her—of letting Gotham’s criminals and its gossip-hungry public dictate her choices—made her blood boil. She wasn’t ashamed of her past, and she wasn’t ashamed of her feelings.

Back at Wayne Manor, Bruce was still processing the news, but his concern wasn’t about public opinion. He didn’t care what Gotham thought of his daughter’s relationship. He was more worried about the dangers it would attract. Helena’s enemies were brutal, and while he had trained his daughter to handle almost any situation, he couldn’t help but feel a father’s instinct to protect her.

“Do you think they understand what they’re walking into?” Bruce asked Selina quietly as they stood on the balcony, away from Damian’s ears.

Selina leaned against the railing, her green eyes watching the city below. “They’re both fighters, Bruce. They know Gotham as well as we do. Probably better, in some ways.”

Bruce sighed. “It’s not just Gotham. Helena’s family… there are people who will see this as an opportunity to come after them. And our daughter is going to be caught in the crossfire.”

Selina turned to him, her expression softening. “Y/n’s not a little girl anymore. She can handle herself. You’ve trained her well.”

“I know,” Bruce said quietly, though his heart was heavy. “But she’s still my daughter.”

Selina smiled gently, stepping closer to him. “She’s also my daughter. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that she inherited your stubbornness—and my instincts. She’ll be okay.”

Later that evening, when Y/n finally returned home, she found her parents waiting for her in the study. She knew the moment she saw them that the news had reached them.

“Before you say anything,” she began, pulling off her mask and tossing it onto the nearby chair, “I didn’t plan for this to go public.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “But you did plan for it.”

Y/n hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I didn’t want to hide it. Not forever.”

Selina smiled her tone light but teasing. “Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance into the gossip columns. Your father and I got a front-row seat to the headlines this morning.”

Y/n looked between them, her defenses still up, waiting for the lecture, for the argument about safety or reputation. But instead, Bruce simply stood up and walked over to her, his eyes serious but not angry.

“I’m not going to tell you who you can or can’t be with,” Bruce said, his voice calm but firm. “But I want you to understand what this means. You’ve painted a target on yourself. Gotham’s criminals will see this as a weakness to exploit.”

Y/n held his gaze, her chin lifting slightly. “I know, Dad. But I’m not afraid. I can handle whatever comes.”

Bruce studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “I believe you.”

Selina walked over, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Helena’s a good woman. She’s tough, but she has a good heart. Just make sure you’re both looking out for each other.”

Y/n smiled, relief washing over her. “We will.”

As she left the study, the weight of her parents’ acceptance settled over her like a protective cloak. The world outside would be brutal, but she and Helena would face it together.

And in Gotham, as the gossip churned and the criminal underworld stirred, the Wayne Princess and the Mafia Heiress braced themselves for whatever storm was coming next. Because, in this city, nothing stayed quiet for long.

—————————-

The days following the tabloid explosion were relentless. The paparazzi seemed to double in number, eager to catch the “Wayne Princess” and her “Mafia Heiress” girlfriend in public again. Every move they made was scrutinized, dissected in headlines that ranged from supportive to sensationalist.

“Love in the Shadows: Gotham’s New Power Couple”

“Bruce Wayne’s Daughter Courts Danger with Bertinelli Mafia”

“Princess of Gotham or Queen of Crime?”

No matter where they turned, it seemed the city was waiting for them to either fail spectacularly or prove the headlines wrong. But Gotham’s elite had its opinions, too, and not everyone was quiet about it.

At the Wayne Enterprises charity gala—a glittering event Bruce Wayne couldn’t avoid attending—whispers followed his family the moment they entered the ballroom. Y/n had accompanied them, dressed elegantly but wearing the same fierce confidence she carried as Red X. Her presence was expected, but everyone wanted to know if Helena would show up.

Bruce didn’t care about the socialites gossiping behind their drinks, but he couldn’t ignore the ripple effect Helena’s association with his daughter was causing. The Wayne name was synonymous with wealth and respectability, and though Bruce had his dark reputation as Batman, publicly, he was Gotham’s golden boy. Now, people were talking—questioning if the Wayne legacy would be tainted by this association with a family known for organized crime.

Helena arrived, fashionably late but every bit as imposing as one might expect from the daughter of the Bertinelli family. She wasn’t hiding in the shadows this time, her dark purple gown hugging her athletic figure, her sharp eyes scanning the room. The gazes of Gotham’s elite followed her every step, but she remained unbothered.

She found her girlfriend quickly, exchanging a glance that was loaded with more than just acknowledgment. In a room full of Gotham’s wealthy and judgmental, they had to be careful. Helena approached her slowly, giving the onlookers what they had come for—something to talk about.

“Helena,” Y/n said, her voice steady but soft, her eyes flicking to the photographers stationed discreetly along the sides of the room. “You’re late.”

“Traffic,” Helena replied smoothly, her smile sly as she closed the distance between them. “Or maybe I just like making an entrance.”

The tension in the room was thick, the two of them standing side by side as the whispers grew louder. Everyone was waiting for a scene, but neither of them would give Gotham the satisfaction.

Bruce watched from across the room, standing with Selina and several board members from Wayne Enterprises. He kept his expression impassive, but his sharp eyes never left his daughter and Helena.

“She’s bold, I’ll give her that,” one of the board members said with a nervous chuckle, nodding toward Helena. “Dating a Bertinelli is…well, it’s something, isn’t it?”

Bruce’s silence was enough to silence the man, but Selina smirked and replied, “It’s exactly the kind of thing I’d expect from her.”

Bruce and Selina exchanged a look, one of quiet understanding. They had been through more dangerous relationships than most people could imagine. If anyone could navigate the treacherous waters of Gotham’s criminal underworld, it was their daughter.

As the evening wore on, the tension in the room never fully dissipated, but the stares became more covert, the whispers more hushed. Helena and Y/n stayed close to each other, sharing a few dances and conversations with notable Gothamites who dared to approach them.

But the real test came when they finally approached Bruce and Selina. They were no longer just a pair of people navigating their way through a ballroom of onlookers—they were meeting the family, officially and publicly.

Bruce turned as they approached, his face betraying nothing. Selina, on the other hand, had a faint smile tugging at her lips as she watched Helena with careful eyes.

“Dad, Mom,” Y/n said confidently, standing beside Helena, “I want to properly introduce you to Helena.”

Helena extended her hand, her expression respectful but unapologetic. “Mr. Wayne. Mrs Wayne. I’m sure we don’t need introductions, but—thank you for having me tonight.”

Bruce shook Helena’s hand, his grip firm but measured. “Helena.”

Selina, never one to shy away from bluntness, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re dating our daughter. I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

Helena met her gaze evenly. “I’ve fought alongside her. I’ve seen what she’s capable of. I know exactly what I’m getting into.”

Selina’s smile widened slightly, clearly impressed by the answer. “Good. Because the tabloids are the least of your problems if you hurt her.”

Y/n looked between them, relieved that the formalities seemed to be going well. But there was still the matter of the world outside this ballroom—the underworld that would see their relationship as an opportunity, not just a headline.

“I know what people are saying,” Y/n said, glancing at both of them. “But I’m not hiding this. And I’m not afraid of what anyone thinks.”

Bruce’s expression softened, just slightly. “You’re both strong. But Gotham’s criminals aren’t known for playing fair. This puts a target on both of you.”

“We know,” Helena replied, her voice calm but determined. “But we’ve faced worse. Together.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “Then you have my support. But if you need help—if things get out of control—you come to me.”

It wasn’t a threat or a demand—it was a promise. Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s silent protector, would watch over them, even if he couldn’t always be there in the shadows.

Selina stepped forward, a teasing glint in her eye as she looked at her daughter. “Well, you’ve certainly given the press something to chew on for the next few weeks.”

“I figured they needed something real to talk about,” Y/n replied with a small smile.

Selina chuckled, leaning in to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “Just don’t let them eat you alive.”

————————-

As the night wound down, Bruce and Selina watched as Y/n and Helena mingled with the remaining guests, still the subject of attention but now more in control of the narrative. The whispers hadn’t gone away, and the press would certainly continue to hound them, but it didn’t matter.

They had made their choice, and Gotham would just have to keep up.

In the limo ride home, Y/n leaned her head against Helena’s shoulder, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up with her.

“You okay?” Helena asked softly, her fingers brushing through her hair.

“I’m fine,” Y/n said, closing her eyes. “I’m just glad it’s out there now.”

Helena’s hand rested over hers, grounding them both. “Whatever happens next—we face it together.”

In the quiet dark of the car, as the city passed them by, Y/n Wayne and Helena Bertinelli understood that they had chosen a path that wouldn’t be easy. But then again, nothing in Gotham ever was.

And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bonus chapter:

Gotham’s skyline glistered under the eerie glow of the full moon. A cold wind swept through the alleys, twisting through the steel bones of the city. It was quiet tonight— too quiet as if Gotham was holding its breath, waiting for the next storm to break.

The storm, it turned out, was already brewing.

Deep in the industrial district, inside an abandoned warehouse lit only by flickering neon lights, chaos erupted. Metal creaked and the sound of violent punches echoed through the empty space. And at the center of it all was Red X, her fists relentlessly hammering down on the body beneath her.

The Joker, Gotham’s eternal nemesis lay at her feet. His once-manic smile was now smeared with blood, his laughter drowned by the sound of her enraged breathing. Bruises and cuts marred his pale face, his trademark purple suit torn to shreds. And yet, through swollen eyes, he still chuckled, the sound rasping from his broken ribs.

“Oooh, you've got your father’s temper”, Joker rasped, blood dripping from his split lips. “I think—” He spat blood, still grinning despite the agony Y/n was putting him through, “ I hit a nerve.”

Red X said nothing. She was beyond words, beyond reason. Her vision was blurred by fury, the world around her reduced to a singular focus— Joker. The man who dared to lay a hand on Helena.

It all happened so fast. Joker had ambushed Helena earlier that night while she was on patrol, his twisted sense of humor driving him to target the daughter of the Bertinelli Mafia. He wanted to make a statement, something to get under Batman’s skin. What better way than to strike at someone close to the Wayne family— someone close to her.

Helena had fought back, of course. She was strong and resilient. But Joker never fought fair. His goons swarmed her, and before she could take them all down, a stray crowbar caught her in the side, knocking her to the ground.

When Y/n found her, Helena was still conscious but battered, with blood seeping from a wound on her temple, struggling to stand. Joker had been long gone by then, leaving his signature smiley face spray-painted on the walls— a taunt, a challenge.

That was all it took for Y/n to snap.

Now, standing over the Joker’s broken body, her knuckles bloodied and raw, she prepared to deliver another blow. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She wanted him to feel every ounce of the pain Helena had endured— wanted him to suffer.

Joker coughed, his laughter bubbling weakly as he stared up at her with wide, delirious eyes. “ Heh… you're just like him. Just like Bat-daddy.”

Her fist tightened. This wasn't enough. He deserved worse. But before she could strike again a shadow moved behind her.

“That’s enough.”

Batman emerged from the darkness, his voice cold and commanding. Red X didn't turn to look at him. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and her eyes still locked on Joker, who was barely conscious now.

“ He deserves worse” she spat thought clenched teeth, her voice trembling with fury. “ He hurt her. He was going to kill her.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, his cape blowing as he stepped closer. “ I know”, he said calmly. “But this isn't the way.”

Red X’s body tensed, her fist raised, still ready to strike. “ You always let him live. He keeps coming back. He keeps hurting people. He’s never going to stop.”

Bruce placed a gloved hand on her shoulder, firm but not forceful. “ You think I don't want to stop him? Do you think I haven't wanted to finish this once and for all? But if you kill him, you'll cross a line you can't come back from.”

“I don't care”, she snapped, shaking off her dad's hand. “ He already crossed the line when he went after Helena. He went after her.”

Bruce’s face softened slightly, but his voice remained steady. “I care. And so does she.”

At that, Red X’ hesitated. Her fists loosened slightly, her gaze faltering. Helena. The thought of her lying in the hospital, bruised and beaten, tore her heart. She wanted revenge, wanted justice— but her dad was right. Helena wouldn't want her to lose herself to this.

The Joker coughed again, his laugh weak but persistent. “Oh, how sweet,” he sneered. “Listen to Daddy Bat… always so righteous.”

Without a warning, Red X slammed her boot into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. Joker’s laughter sputtered into a strangled cough, but this time, he couldn't speak.

Bruce didn't stop her. He let her have that one last hit.

“Go to her”, Bruce said quietly. “She needs you more than he does.”

Red X stood over the Joker for a moment longer, her rage still simmering beneath the surface. But slowly, she stepped back, breathing heavily as she unclenched her fists. She turned and walked away from the broken villain, leaving him in the hands of Gotham’s Dark Knight.

—————————

At Gotham General Hospital, Helena lay in a recovery room, her side bandaged, her face bruised but still defiant. She had already brushed off the doctor’s concerns, insisting she’d be fine by tomorrow, but the pain in her ribs said otherwise.

The door creaked open, and Y/n— now dressed in her civilian clothes— entered quietly. Her face was still tight with anger, but when she saw Helena sitting up in the bed, a wave of relief washed over her.

“Helena”, she said softly, moving to sit beside her, her hand reaching for hers.

Helena smiled weakly, her dark eyes filled with both exhaustion and affection. “ You should see the other guy”, she quipped, though her voice was hoarse.

Y/n chuckled, but it was a hollow sound, still weighed down by everything that had happened. “ I nearly killed him”, she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “ I wanted to.”

Helena squeezed her hand. “ But you didn't.”

“ I almost did. I don't know if I could’ve stopped myself if—” Y/n broke off, looking away, her shame creeping in.

Helena’s grip tightened. “ Bit you did stop. That's what matters.”

Y/n leaned her head against Helena’s shoulder, careful of her injuries. “ He’ll come after us again”, she muttered. “ They all will.”

“I know,” Helena said softly, her hand moving to brush a strand of hair from Y/n’s face. “ But we’ll face them. Together.”

————————-

Later that night, back at Wayne Manor, Bruce and Selina stood in the Batcave, the atmosphere tense but quiet. Selina’s arms were crossed her expression unreadable as she leaned against the edge of the Batcomputer. Bruce, still in his suit, stared at the monitors, his face illuminated by the pale glow of the screens.

“ You should’ve let her finish him,” Selina said quietly, her voice low but pointed. “She had every right.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his hand over his tired face. “ You think I don't know that?”

Selina moved closer, her eyes narrowing slightly. “ So why didn't you?”

“ Because,” Bruce said, his voice heavy, “ once you cross that line, you can't go back. She was on the edge. I couldn't let her fall.”

Selina studied him for a moment, then shook her head, a small, bitter smile on her lips. “ You and your lines, Bruce. Sometimes I wonder how we've made it this far.”

Bruce turned to her, his expression softening. “ I won’t let her become like me,” he said, his voice low but determined. “ Not her.”

Selina’s gaze softened her hardened exterior cracking for just a moment. She nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ You’re a good father, Bruce. But you can't protect her from everything.”

“I know,” Bruce murmured, looking up at the Bat-signal shining on the cave’s ceiling. “But I’ll try.”

And in the darkened city above, Y/n and Helena, still bruised and battered, rested for the night— ready to face whatever Gotham threw at them next.

#batman #bruce wayne #selina kyle #fem reader #red x #helena bertinelli #huntress #helena bertinelli x reader #joker #damian #alfred pennyworth #gxg

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okasuka · 4 months ago

Text

Damian wayne x reader!!

A Night to Remember

The night was crisp and quiet, the hum of the city muffled by the tinted windows of Bruce Wayne’s sleek black car. Parked on a secluded hill overlooking Gotham’s twinkling skyline, the car provided a rare moment of peace away from the chaos of the city—and the prying eyes of Wayne Manor.

In the backseat, Damian Wayne sat beside Y/N, his green eyes focused on her. The moonlight cast a soft glow over her face, highlighting the mischievous glint in her gaze. She’d been teasing him all evening, throwing playful jabs during their dinner, and now that they were alone, he wasn’t about to let her have the upper hand.

“You know,” he said, leaning closer, his voice low and deliberate, “for someone who claims to be shy, you sure have a way of getting under my skin.”

Y/N smirked, adjusting her glasses as she met his gaze. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to fluster, Wayne.”

“Flustered?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow. “I think you’re projecting.”

“Am I?” she challenged, her tone light but her pulse quickening as he leaned in closer, their faces just inches apart.

Damian didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his lips brushing hers softly at first. Her breath hitched, and she instinctively reached up, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. Encouraged by her response, Damian deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to cup her jaw as he pulled her closer.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, each movement calculated, yet there was a sense of urgency simmering beneath the surface. Y/N let out a soft sigh, her fingers moving to the nape of his neck, tracing the edges of his hairline.

“You’re not as tough as you pretend to be,” she whispered against his lips, her voice teasing.

Damian smirked, pulling back just enough to look at her. “And you talk too much.”

Before she could respond, he kissed her again, this time more assertively. Y/N’s heart raced as she melted into him, her mind blissfully blank as the world outside faded away.

Damian’s hands roamed cautiously, one settling on her waist while the other braced against the seat beside her. Her own hands explored the toned muscles of his shoulders and arms, marveling at the contrast between his strength and the tenderness in his touch.

She pulled back slightly, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. “Is this… okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Damian’s expression softened, and he nodded. “More than okay,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

Her confidence renewed, Y/N leaned forward again, this time taking the lead. She pressed him back against the seat, her hands braced on either side of him. Damian let out a quiet chuckle, his usual composure slipping as he surrendered to the moment.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with something unfamiliar.

“Hm?” she hummed, distracted by the feel of his lips against hers.

“Someone’s—”

A sharp knock on the car window interrupted him, the sound reverberating through the otherwise silent night.

Both of them froze, their eyes widening in unison. Slowly, they turned their heads toward the source of the noise. Standing outside the car, with his arms crossed and a wide grin on his face, was none other than Dick Grayson.

“Am I interrupting something?” Dick asked, his voice muffled by the glass but dripping with amusement.

Y/N scrambled off Damian, her face burning as she adjusted her shirt and pushed her glasses back into place. Damian, meanwhile, groaned, running a hand down his face.

Dick tapped on the window again, his grin widening. “Come on, you two. Don’t make me wait all night.”

Damian reluctantly rolled down the window, his expression murderous. “What do you want, Grayson?”

Dick leaned casually against the car, peering inside. “I was in the neighborhood and noticed one of Bruce’s cars parked in a very… private spot. Imagine my surprise when I saw the youngest Wayne getting cozy in the backseat.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands, wishing the earth would swallow her whole. “This is so embarrassing,” she muttered.

Damian glared at his older brother. “Leave. Now.”

“Oh, no can do,” Dick said, his tone light and teasing. “Bruce would kill me if I didn’t check on you two. You know, for safety reasons.”

“For safety reasons?” Damian repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Absolutely,” Dick said, nodding sagely. “There are all sorts of dangers out here. Coyotes, muggers… awkward run-ins with your older brother.”

Y/N peeked through her fingers, her embarrassment fading slightly as she noticed Damian’s jaw clenching. “Dick,” she said cautiously, “could you maybe not… mention this to Bruce?”

Dick raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “I don’t know. This seems like the kind of thing a responsible guardian should know about.”

“Grayson,” Damian warned, his tone dangerously low.

“Relax, I’m kidding,” Dick said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me… for a price.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “What price?”

Dick grinned. “I get to tease you about this for the rest of your life.”

“Absolutely not,” Damian said, crossing his arms.

“Fine,” Dick said, straightening up. “Then I’ll just head back to the manor and—”

“Fine,” Damian interrupted, his tone resigned. “Do whatever you want. Just go.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Dick said, tipping an imaginary hat. He started to walk away but paused, glancing over his shoulder. “By the way, Y/N, nice taste. I always thought Damian could use a bit of loosening up.”

“Dick!” Damian snapped, his face turning red.

“Goodnight!” Dick called, disappearing into the shadows.

The silence that followed was deafening. Y/N finally turned to Damian, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “Well,” she said, her voice trembling with suppressed giggles, “that wasn’t awkward at all.”

Damian groaned, slumping back against the seat. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Come on,” she said, nudging him playfully. “It’s not that bad.”

He gave her a deadpan look. “He’s never going to let me live this down.”

“True,” she said, smiling despite herself. “But hey, at least he didn’t tell Bruce.”

“For now,” Damian muttered.

Y/N reached over, lacing her fingers with his. “Look on the bright side. At least we know he approves.”

Damian snorted, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “That’s one way to put it.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her earlier embarrassment fading as the warmth of the moment returned. “So… where were we?”

Damian glanced down at her, his smirk returning. “You mean before Grayson decided to ruin my life?”

“Exactly,” she said, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against her temple. “We’ll pick up where we left off. Later.”

“Promise?” she asked, her voice teasing.

“Promise,” he replied, his tone firm.

With that, he started the car, the engine purring to life as they made their way back toward the manor. Despite the interruption, neither of them could stop smiling.

The night might not have gone as planned, but it was one they wouldn’t soon forget—and one that Dick Grayson would definitely never let them forget.

#damian wayne #dc comics #dc fanart #dc robin #dc #damian wayne x reader #dcu #smut

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demetriscorazon · 3 months ago

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Got another idea~ field trip idea but different fandom!

Namimori Class Trip to Gotham

Tsunayoshi eyed the man in front, a representative from the Wayne Industries. When they heard about the contest, the class took the chance and submitted their papers. It took them a month of research, going to the library and Tsuna handing out access to Vongola Libraries, he was that serious something his Father was amused about, and he was sure the whole Vongola is aware of it already.

He shared smiles with his classmates, and everyone felt satisfied when they won the contest. The man in front of them introduced himself as Lucas Giordano. He raised an eyebrow at the Italian last name.

"The CEO did a background check, he did it himself so any findings is only for his eyes and there were no copies made. He chose me to be the representative, did not tell me why," He said with a shrug before clearing his throat and started talking. Lucas expertly ignored the suspicious glances and shared their itinerary.

"Part of the prize for the contest was a three-month long internship in Wayne Industries of your chosen fields," He says before he took out a very thick folder.

"These are agreements and permission slips. Read them thoroughly before signing," He says as he snaps his finger, the guards with him moved and placed the papers on te desk.

"In the meanwhile, I was told to take note if this class have any relations in Gotham, raise your hands if you have any relations please, be it actual blood relations, claimed relations or just friends," He says and Tsunayoshi pitied the man when everyone in class raised their hands. His sigh was loud.

"Right. Name and your relation," He says the class did as told. Tsunayoshi was amused to see how the bodyguards eyebrows rose as his classmates started saying their names and relations.

"Yamamoto Takeshi, Bruce Wayne is my uncle in law," He chirped and the man's eyes went wide.

"Gokudera Hayato. I was told I am Scarecrow's friend," Hayato muttered with his arms crossed.

"Delilah Rayne, I believe my online friend is a Gothamite, a Wayne,"

"Sawada Tsunayoshi, Lex Luthor is my Uncle, and I have friends from Gotham, they're students of Gotham Academy,"

"Jeanette Quinzel, mum is the Harley Quinn,"

Tsunayoshi is very amused at how tired Mister Lucas was.

"Will you require bodyguards?" He asked instead.

"As our class is known to be magnets, the Disciplinary Committee and the Hibari Clan agreed to send bodyguards with us. They will be out of sight but we are told they will be there," Tsuna says and Lucas nods typing on his tablet. By that time, the papers was sent back except for the permission slips.

"I'll need the permission slips tomorrow, I already sent to Kurokawa-san the file for the itinerary as well as the guide in surviving Gotham. That is all," He says with a smile and the class clapped politely and started packing their things.

Tsuna smiles before making a beeline to the man, completely aware that Hayato and Takeshi followed him.

"Mi scusi, signore, can I have a moment?" He called, slipping into Italian before switching to Japanese.

"Come posso aiutarti, erede vongola?" He smiled at that.

"Japanese or English is alright, mister. But can I ask if it's alright to miss a few days during the internship? There might be a time that I am called back to Italy by my grandfather, and I'll be bringing a few of my classmates with me," He asks and Lucas nods in understanding.

"You'll have to do make-up days for every day you missed during your internship, only for you and yours, Neo Primo," He says and Tsuna smiles.

"Thank you, that will suffice. Will the Big Boss mind if I bring my own paperwork with me?" He asks again.

"They won't mind. You will have your own office near the CEO, I heard he contacted the Vongola to construct your room," He said, eyes shining in amusement and he chuckled, knowing full well his Famiglia made sure he would be protected there.

"Thank you, mister Lucas,"

#DC x KHR #dc universe #katekyo hitman reborn #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #Hello katekyo hitman fans!#I know this is an unusual crossover #But might as well type it out here #Tsuna's classmates is aware he's Heir Vongola #What's to say the kiddies didn't know about their parents old jobs #In this AU Namimori is a retirement town #Tsuna was never sealed #And that has changes in this AU #INSPIRED BY THE HIDDEN SKY BY SEFIRU #vongola decimo #vongola family #Namimori #sawada tsunayoshi

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deanbrainrotwritings · 2 years ago

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— BRO, ASHLEY’S HERE

SUMMARY : dean goes all the way to make this slumber party magical, especially for his kids.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : bruce, wanda, and mavis again as oc children, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : angst, fluff, swearing, lots of teasing from little kids, kissing

WORD COUNT : 1.2K

A/N : except the reader’s name is definitely not ashley, it’s just a song by attack attack! that has nothing to do with the story, but it’s still a good song. I tried to copy WandaVision when I wrote this, that’s why one of the kids is named after her. and then I just liked Mavis when I was looking up random names online. I was in my feels, I don’t remember when I wrote this, lmao. x

Dean looked at Wanda and Mavis lovingly. Mavis adorably tried to put her colourful butterfly hair clips in his hair. It was longer now, so it wasn’t too hard, but he could tell that Mavis was trying to be gentle when the clips would snap shut between his locks of hair. Some butterfly clips were glittery, some were clear, others were simply different colours and she even had some in her own hair, in the pigtails Dean did an amazing job on.

Wanda giggled as she traced Dean’s lips with some of Y/N’ lip tint, careful not to overstrain his mouth or spill some of it on his and Y/N’ bed. Wanda carefully closed the bottle and grabbed some eyeshadow Y/N bought for them to play around with.

Meanwhile, Bruce was laughing at Dean while wearing his Batman pyjamas, insisting on being named Bruce Wayne as Dean had planned. Bruce was still participating by choosing the colours for the eyeshadow Wanda wanted to apply. Dean laughed with him too, letting Mavis’ baby fingers brush through his hair and put his honey hair into the smallest pigtails that almost matched hers.

“You’re so pretty, daddy,” Mavis told him happily, finished with her work.

“Thanks, honey,” Dean chuckled. Mavis pressed a sloppy kiss on his beard before she sat back on her legs and watched Wanda try her best in blending the lavender and baby blue eyeshadow in his eyelids. She blew softly on some of the extra dust just as Sam and Y/N’ voices echoed through the hallway of the bunker. Bruce was careful not to mess up Wanda as he got up excitedly to greet his mother and uncle.

“Hey, there Bee,” Y/N exclaimed happily. He patiently waited to hug her and instead offered to help her with the massive amount of snacks in her arms. “Thanks, sweetie,” she murmured, handing him a few bags of food as Sam laughed with amusement when he saw Dean.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, his face content despite his tone of voice.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Y/N giggled, she dumped the snacks on the bed and Sam placed the bottled drinks on Dean’s empty desk. Bruce copied Y/N and let the snacks fall onto the bed unceremoniously.

“I know, I look sexy, you wanna marry me again,” he flirted, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She smiled and rolled her eyes, Wanda and Mavis both scrambled towards the snacks with Bruce to choose their favourites. Sam started to load the Disney+ app on the television as Y/N kissed Dean’s tinted lips.

“You look lovely,” she whispered against his lips. Her thumb swiped across his freckled cheekbone, and she smiled at him lovingly, a look he easily returned when he took her wrist and kissed it gently.

“I look ridiculous,” he whispered back. He was still grateful and flattered by her words, like always, and she mimicked the kiss he placed on her wrist. She took his own hand and kissed his wrist softly, knowing how much he loved the tenderness of her affection.

“You look like the most incredible father in the entire universe,” she murmured against his sunny and freckled skin. He knew he couldn’t argue with that and he smiled, watching her pull away, dazed and enchanted. She twirled his tiny pigtail with her finger and laughed, watching Sam, Mavis, Wanda, and Bruce picking their snacks and drinks, leaving her and Dean to choose last.

Since it was the winter holiday and the kids had two weeks off, Dean and Y/N compromised to let the kids stay awake a bit late, the most they could do is midnight. It was seven twenty-five, so there was plenty of time to get the Marvel movie marathon going for the rest of the two weeks at night. They’d start in order, with Captain America: The First Avenger which was PG-13 anyway, safe for the kids. Not that they were safe from Dean’s potty mouth.

Eileen was busy, so Sam spent his time with his nieces and nephew without her. Y/N was happy for them, especially now that they've won. Y/N remembered helping Jack taking the variants of Sam and Dean that were in Rio back to their universe and saving Cas from the Empty, but he wasn't quite ready to face his family. Dean was desperate for his best friend. Y/N tried making him understand that Cas needed some time and he’d make his way back to them.

Sometimes Dean was happily caught up in the fact that they were married or pregnant, but sometimes losing the man he considered his brother and best friend was too much. Cas saved him from Hell, Cas was his only best friend. Dean didn’t have one like him before, in all his life, never this deep, this real. Cas was kind to him and he loved Dean, just because. Just like Y/N. Just like Sam. Dean loved him.

Sam squeezed himself into a blue bean bag, massive enough to hold him and Bruce copied him, plopping down on the black one right next to him. He sunk into it, and shimmied playfully before relaxing, and Y/N smiled. She turned off the lights, letting Sam control the settings on the television. Wanda and Mavis laid down on their stomachs at the foot of the bed and Dean went back to where he was, settled against the pillows. She joined him, smiling affectionately, completely amused as he rubbed off some of the makeup.

All of them remained warm in their pyjamas, happily resting in Dean's darkened room, the light of Marvel’s intro illuminating the room and they all felt content. Even Dean, who’d been working on getting used to everything, freedom from all the strings that had controlled him his whole life like a puppet. With Y/N, his kids, Sam and Eileen, it was easier, it was amazing, like a dream. A dream he didn’t doubt anymore. For the first time, he wasn’t afraid, he wasn't worried or stressed, hurt or frustrated.

He looked around the room, watching Sam toast his Coke with Bruce’s Sprite, a little smile grew on his face. His eyes trailed to Wanda and Mavis who giggled quietly, giddy, sharing their snacks and asking if they liked it. His eyes watered because it was real and it was his. He gazed over at Y/N, watching her excited eyes analyse every part of the scene where Red Skull was trying to get the Tesseract. A block of Cadbury chocolate pressed against her lips, invested more in the movie than her melting snack, he wiped his eyes subtly to admire the coruscating rings on her finger, the endless and eternal promise of their love.

She turned to look at him, but he didn’t look away, even though he was crying. And she seemed to know exactly why. Because she gazed around the room quickly, looking for what had stirred these feelings in him, and then she looked back at him before quietly wrapping her arms around him, whispering loving words against his neck until he pulled away.

He kissed her. To him, it was a checkpoint, an affirmation that no one was going anywhere, that he was safe, that they were all safe. Her love was as endless as the universe. He understood it now, how it grew, how it never ended, how ancient and forever it was, and he adored her for it.

taglist

@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @the-achievementhunter @kellynickelss @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @jessllianaquilesrolonworld @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx @lickmybawls (don't change it, it's iconic)

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #dean x you #girl dad #girl dad dean #girldaddean #6.6

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 year ago

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The Right Place in Time

Summary: What if Steve was in the woods with Chrissy and Eddie getting weed for his headaches?

@disrespectedgoatman @estrellami-1 @darkrose517 @panicatthediaz @mandriice @nightmareglitter @ilikeititspretty

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

There had been a lot of arguing, but everyone agreed that the younger teens needed to stay at the Byers' house while the older teens searched the area around the lake.

"It's my goddamn theory!" Dustin had complained.

'We can't be worrying about you guys while also searching the lake for a gate," Steve said, shutting it down. "Please."

Pleading with him had done the trick, and Dustin had shut up. Chrissy had agreed to stay there with Max and Vickie.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked softly.

"Yeah, she needs someone to be here for her who's also going through it," Chrissy replied, and then she raised her cast. "Plus, I have this."

Steve had cupped her face and kissed her deeply before releasing her into Eddie's open arms. He had watched in amusement as Eddie dipped her and kissed her soundly. Suddenly, Max pulled him aside.

"You remember that you're cursed too, right?" Max asked.

"Yeah, of course. Kind of hard to forget," he said, pointing to his head phones.

"It's sometimes you spend so much time taking care of everyone else that you forget to take care of yourself," Max said.

"Max. . . ," Steve trailed off.

"Please, take care of yourself," she paused. "I need my big brother to come back to me."

"Yeah, okay," Steve said, struggling not to cry. "Of course."

Max threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. Meanwhile, behind them Frank started to sniffle.

"She called him her brother!" Frank said.

"Oh, come on, don't this to me. If you start crying, I'm going to start crying, and then Gareth starts crying. We all know what he's like when he cries!" Jeff exclaimed.

"Eddie, there's something wrong with your - nevermind," Max sighed.

To Steve’s amusement, Eddie was crying softly into Chrissy's shoulder. How can anyone think that they're mean and scary? They were all a bunch of softies. Steve laughed and hugged Max tightly, pressing a kiss into his sister's hair. She huffed and rolled her eyes before pulling away.

"Okay, so it's me, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy then?" Steve asked.

"And you're taking us as backup just in case you guys run into Jason," Jeff said, nodding at Frank and Gareth.

"My noble brethren!" Eddie grinned. "Knights of the Round Table! My sturdy protectors - !"

"Enough, boy," Wayne rolled his eyes. "I suppose I should stay here since I have the other gun."

"We'll be back before we know it," Eddie said cheerfully and hugged his uncle tightly. "I mean, before you know it."

"Stay safe," Wayne said softly.

"You too," Eddie said.

Eddie whistled for everyone to gather around, yanking people into a group hug. Chrissy was giggling under Eddie's other armpit.

"Feels very much like when we huddle during a basketball game," Steve said sharing a grin with Lucas.

"This is not a sports game, Steve," Dustin grinned.

"I beg to differ," Eddie said with a wide smile. "What are we going to do?!"

Blank stares blinked at him, and Eddie rolled his eyes. He whispered into Chrissy's ear, and she smiled before whispering to the next person, then the next. Everyone smiled.

"Okay, so, what are we going to do?" Eddie asked again.

"Kick Vecna's ass!" Everyone exclaimed.

"And break!" Eddie yelled, clapping his hands.

As Steve was moving away from the group, he felt a pair of hands slap his ass. He turned around to find Chrissy and Eddie grinning at him.

"Good game," she said and giggled.

"Stop objectifying our babysitter in front of us!" Dustin said.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself," Chrissy said.

"Neither could I," Eddie grinned.

They decided it would be easier to just use Nancy's car, which meant everyone climbing in the front of her car while Eddie and Steve climbed into the very back. Just as Steve was about to climb into the back seat, Lucas and Dustin came out.

"We just wanted to tell you to be careful," Lucas said.

"All of you," Dustin said.

"Both of you have kind of been like brothers to us," Lucas said. "Especially, you Steve."

"And we don't want anything to happen to you," Dustin said.

Steve pulled Dustin and Lucas into a tight hug before releasing them to let Eddie to do the same.

"Keep an eye out for each other," Steve said.

"We always do," Dustin said.

Robin popped her head out the window with a cheeky grin on her face.

"And remember, bedtime at 9, kiddos!" Robin said, laughing when Dustin flipped her off.

"And no parties! Grandpa Wayne will tell us all about it once we get back," Eddie said.

Lucas rolled his eyes as Steve laughed, grabbing Dustin and pushing him inside. Eddie climbed into the back and pulled Steve with him, pulling him in between his legs. Eddie closed the door.

"Alright, let's go!" Eddie hollered and pulled Steve back against his chest.

Steve smiled as Eddie scratched his stomach as he wrapped his arms around him.

"It's weird without Chrissy," Steve said.

"Yeah," Eddie said softly. "Do you miss your parents?"

"Uh, yeah," Steve said as he played with the rings on Eddie's fingers. "Why are you asking?"

"I was just thinking about Wayne, my dad, and my mom," Eddie shrugged. "Is it still crazy that I miss my dad after everything he put me through?"

"No, I think we never stop missing our parents even after they're long gone or after they left," Steve said. "Plus, I think you have a big heart, and you love deeply. It's probably why it hurts so much when you get, well, hurt."

"Talking from experience, big boy?" Eddie asked softly.

"Yeah," Steve replied.

"Does it bother you that they left you for Florida?" Eddie asked. "Your parents, I mean."

"No. It's what they've always wanted to do after they retire. Why would I be mad for them doing something that they wanted to do for a long time?" Steve asked. "We both made our choices."

"That's either really healthy behavior, or you've buried your feelings so deep that it's become unhealthy," Eddie said.

"Jesus. I mean, what do you want me to do? You want me to get mad right now? It's not going to do anything," Steve said. "It's not going to be very helpful."

"I want you to be honest with yourself and admit that you wished that they had stayed for you," Eddie said. "That you wished you had asked them to stay."

"Okay! Okay! Fine! I wished they had stayed! I wished they had chosen me over their careers for once or what they had wanted! I wished they were here and I wish that they knew that I might fucking - that I might. . . that I might die," Steve said weakly.

He turned and sobbed into Eddie's chest. Eddie held him tightly, running his fingers through his hair.

"Oh, baby," Eddie said softly.

"I'm scared. I don't want to die. I don't want to leave Robin, I don't want to leave the kids, I don't want to leave you or Chrissy," Steve sobbed. "I don't want to leave."

As Steve cried, he heard the sound of the others cursing and the sound of people moving around. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his back. He looked up to find that Robin had climbed in the back with them.

"Steve?" Robin asked.

"I think it's finally hitting him," Eddie said softly.

"Oh. . .," Robin paused. "I think I might have accidentally kicked Nancy in the face when I was climbing over the seats."

Steve snorted with laughter and pulled Robin into his arms, hugging her tightly. Now, they were both lying awkwardly on top of Eddie.

"I'm scared, Robbie," Steve said in a small voice.

"Me too, Stebie," Robin said. "We won't let anything happen to you, dingus."

Steve, Eddie, and Robin groaned as they rolled out of the back when Nancy pulled up to Lover's Lake. It had been very uncomfortable with all three of them in the back. Nancy stood at the edge of the lake with Dustin's compass in her hand.

"Your face okay, Nance?" Robin asked.

"I've had worse," Nancy said in amusement. "You were checking on your best friend. Are you okay, Steve?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine. So, the compass?" Steve asked.

"Dustin's definitely onto something," Nancy said as she frowned at the compass. "There's definitely a gate here. I think it's inside the lake."

"They did say they found Patrick's body in the lake," Steve frowned.

"We need to find a boat," Jeff said.

"Well, we're by a lake, so there's a possibility there might be one lying around here somewhere," Frank said.

"You think, Frank?" Gareth asked sarcastically.

The group began to move around the edge of the lake, using the moonlight streaming through the trees to light their way. They did bring flashlights, but they didn't want to use them in case it gave away their position. Jason was still on the loose. They found one lying close to the shore, making it easy to push into the water. Steve and Eddie held it down, so it was easier to get into the boat. Steve held out his hand to help Robin into the boat, but she just grinned. Steve groaned as Robin used his head and Eddie's to get into the boat. Eddie just laughed.

"Seriously?" Steve asked.

Nancy giggled at Steve as Eddie helped her onto the boat. Eddie held out his hand to Steve with a grin, and Steve blushed as he took it, getting into the boat. Eddie jumped in and turned to the others.

"What about you, boys?" Eddie asked.

"We'll stay and guard the shore, m'lord," Frank said.

"For not all of us will fit on the boat," Jeff said.

"Safe passage, return to us and our Lady of Hellfire," Gareth said.

The three of them bowed, and Steve laughed when Eddie could only nod, waving his hand at them.

"Nerd," Steve said affectionately.

"Dork," Eddie giggled as he brushed his nose against Steve’s.

They pushed the boat to the middle of the lake, and the compass started going haywire. Steve stood up.

"What are you doing?" Nancy asked.

"Someone has to go down there to make sure," he said.

"And it has to be you?" Eddie asked.

"Anyone else on the swim team or work as a lifeguard for three summers?" Steve asked and paused. "No? It has to be me."

"Is there anything that I can say or do to talk you out of this?" Eddie asked, and Steve shook his head. "Ooh, what if I offer to give you - "

"No!" Robin and Nancy yelled at him.

"I was going to say give him a really good kiss," Eddie said, rolling his eyes. "Jesus, get your head out of the gutter, ladies."

Steve laughed, bending down to kiss him deeply. He stood up as Eddie blushed and began wrapping a flashlight in a bag. Steve took off his socks, shoes, Walkman, and then, finally, his sweater. He could feel Eddie's eyes on him, and he smirked. He tossed the sweater at him. Eddie scoffed and handed him a flashlight.

"Be careful," Eddie said, taking his hand and kissing it. "Come back to us."

Steve knew he was talking about him and Chrissy.

"Always," Steve said, and then he dove into the water.

He started swimming down with the light guiding his way. He didn't need it for long because a moment later, a red light started coming into focus. Steve swam all the way down and came face to face with the gate itself. A weird feeling came over him, a feeling he couldn't quite describe. He held out his hand toward it, a move that he knew was stupid. Suddenly, he saw some move underneath the slimy red skin of the gate, and he swam backward. Steve was quick, and he started moving back towards the boat. He resurfaced, gasping as he breathed in the fresh hair and held onto the boat. Eddie looked relieved.

"Yeah, there's a gate down there, but it's not a full sized gate. It's more like a snack sized gate - woah!" Steve exclaimed when he felt something brush against him.

"What?" Eddie asked. "What is it?"

"I thought I felt - "

Suddenly, something wrapped around his ankle and pulled him down beneath the water. Whatever it was, it was yanking down and quickly, too. Steve was moving his arms, trying to get away, but it was useless. He couldn't fight against whatever was trying to pull him away from everything and everyone he ever loved. As the darkness took him, he wondered if his parents would miss him or be relieved that he was gone. Would they even care?

Chapter Fourteen

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