#The wayne's meanwhile were amused

[r3ynah]

Someone's Oughta Change

Jazz waited impatiently for Danny to finish preparing for the gala, they were invited as guest due to jazz being one of the most successful therapist at Arkham.

Jazz wore a simple mountain green off shouldered floor length silk gown, with her hair tied neatly into a bun making her look ethereal and calm, which was very different to what she was feeling currently: she was practically walking around the whole living room in nervousness and checking her dress in the mirror every second to see if she dirtied it.

"Danny! are you done?" Jazz shouted from the living room. as she tapped her right foot on the tile continuously.

Cue Danny entering the living room with the same outfit if the dress made Jazz looked Ethereal like a goddess, it made Danny look radiant that made all the stars above envious, they were practically the exact copy of each other if you ignore Danny's short black hair and Jazz's orange hip-length hair, and they're height difference.

The siblings stared, then looked at each other up and down for a good 2 minutes.

Silence

"Well someone's oughta change" Danny crossed his arms over his chest, while Jazz just chuckled her nervousness disappearing.

[madelynraemunson]

— 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

[wheneverfeasible]

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

[nosyrobin]

“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.

[pedgito]

okok hear me out. eddie x reader literally despise each other, for no particular reason. reader just thinks he’s gross and weird. eddie thinks reader is stuck up and prissy. BUT one day reader walks into the dnd room on accident. eddies the only one in there, setting up for the new campaign ofc. and they just get into a really heated argument that ends up w reader bent over the dnd table w eddie pounding into her from behind.… PLS IM BEGGING I LIVE FOR A GOOD HATE FUCK

author’s note: this is all over the place i’m sorry lol, i can’t write hate fucks for the life of me but i tried.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) mean!eddie, mean!reader, slight perv!eddie, just a lot of harsh shit talking between eddie/reader, degrading language/shaming, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, again just straight smut and not the sweet kind, if i missed anything lmk

word count: 3.4k

Eddie Munson was the bane of your existence, that’s one thing you knew for sure. Some of it was intentional, some of it not—but he got under your skin in the worst way. It wasn’t his obnoxious volume or ridiculous acts of show, throwing himself around in a way that was meant for amusement, drawing a few laughs from his friends and even a couple strangers—but most of it wasn’t received well and definitely not by you.

The thing was, you didn’t hate him for the same reason everyone else did. He dressed differently, sure, listened to the kind of music that has you covering your eyes from the harsh percussion and scratchy, screaming voices—but that’s because it woke you in the middle of the night, your own trailer rattling from the vibrations. The smell and smoke of his weed wafting into your open bedroom window, white cloud bellowing into the humid air of your room, it was a nightly occurrence.

There was also the misfortune of having to listen to his escapades, whether daily or nightly, and having to suffer through the sounds of whoever Eddie decided to hook up with on that particular day—the walls of your trailer were entirely too thin and did nothing to muffle the sounds shrieking from your neighbors home. But, at least he had enough respect to do it while Wayne was away—because while Eddie was the most annoying part of your daily life, Wayne was one of the better ones.

He greeted you kindly, always asked how you were—meanwhile Eddie would lazily stomp along to their trash bin, shirtless and a half-smoked cigarette tucked behind his ear, staring you directly in the eye before spitting on the pavement. Wayne always reprimanded him for it, complained about how disrespectful it was, but Eddie knew it got under your skin. It’s exactly why he did it.

He snickered at your starch ironed skirts, pleats along the front and always the softest shade of pinks and blues and purples, fitting an even softer sweater over your starkly white button ups—and if he wasn’t commenting on it as you were leaving your trailer, cigarette shoved between his lips as he leaned against his van, it was in the hallways as he approached behind you swiftly, your body smacking into him amongst the hoard of people swarming the halls.

“Might want to watch where you walk, sweetheart .” He whispers, voice low and in your ear, “Get too close to the trash and you might get dirty, right?”

You shove him away haphazardly, nose scrunching up in annoyance. You couldn’t remember speaking more than five words to him at any given time, regardless of how often you saw him. It was physically painful to be in his presence, mentally exhausting, and you shoved a forceful middle finger his way as he laughed at the gesture, throwing them back as a double.

And it felt like fate was forcing you two together despite your obvious distaste for one another; running into each other during bathroom breaks from class like they were planned, both of you sharing an awkward look in return, eyes lingering on one another.

It had to be the disgust you felt, there was no reason your eyes should stay stuck that long.

Or how he always ended up behind you in line at lunch even though he rarely ate—sometimes a couple of measly snacks, a pack of almonds or a small water bottle, mostly too enveloped in his own conversation to remember that he needed to eat until it was already too late, bell signaling you back to class.

You didn’t know that because you watched him at lunch, that was the case at all. Definitely not.

But the truth was, you weren’t much different from Eddie. In fact, if you thought about, Eddie was a lot better off than you. He had a group of friends, a community he felt safe participating in, and no shame in the way he carried himself.

But you, you were terrified—never a hair out of place, never a wrinkle in your outfit, and how dare your grades dropped lower than a B. You were jealous of Eddie, but that wasn’t something you could easily admit to his face. You envied his ability to be so careless, but in that same breath, you absolutely hated him.

You’ve also involved yourself in too many school clubs at this point, overwhelming your schedule and spending most of your days frazzled trying to keep up—so by the end of the day when you’re running back to the classroom to grab your things before heading home, it’s not a surprise that you don’t realize the flooring as you skid to a stop—the room was low lit, some song you don’t recognize set for quiet ambience and you freeze, eyes connecting with the only person in the room.

“Can’t stay away, can you?” Eddie teases, head turned up slightly, vivacious grin plastered on his face.

“My mistake,” You interrupt him, turning on your heels swiftly to flee the space, a small chuckle escaping Eddie’s chest, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Clearly,” He remarks, plucking the small figurines from the table and shoving them away in a box, carefully piling the other items inside, “but if you wanted to see me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

And as much as you want to keep quiet, act like he doesn’t bother you—you can’t. It’s the one last bridge he hasn’t burned, until now. The teasing has only ever gone so far, mostly harmless, but his voice is edged with a dangerous intent—not so much toward you, but it lingers.

“Excuse you?” You ask tensely, turning back around, face pinched up in anger. “See you? Why would anyone want to spend more than five minutes around you?”

“You tell me,” He shrugs, finally managing to clear the table amongst your hatred filled gaze, resting his rear against the edge, arms crossed heavily over his chest, “you’re the one still standing there.”

“I tolerate you, at the very least.” You spit at him, finger held up scrutinizingly as you took a few slow steps toward him, “your horrible manners, the decency and respect you lack for others—if it weren’t for having known Wayne I could blame it on your family for raising you that way, but no. It’s all you.”

“Careful, princess,” He replies teasingly, “words hurt.”

The nickname always drove you mad, fist clenching in frustration.

“Good.” You say forcefully, know only a few inches from him—he smelt like cheap tobacco and old leather, nostrils flaring in disgust. “Maybe you’ll think twice before watching me change from your bedroom window—“

Eddie’s eyes widen, face paling at your admission.

“Yeah,” You reply knowingly, nodding your head as a taunt, “I know all about your little secrets, Eddie.”

But instead of giving in, Eddie doubles down and fights back just as hard.

“At least I don’t have a stick shoved up my ass,” He replies, “I guess mommy doesn’t know you’re blowing guys behind your trailer late at night—does she?”

And frankly, it’s none of his business. But then again, the same thing could be applied to you. There was too much shared anger, shuffling back and forth between hate and jealousy—you weren’t sure if you actually hated Eddie, or just the idea of him.

At face value, Eddie was attractive, likable, and had the calmest demeanor you’ve ever seen—but the moment his mouth opened, it was ruined.

“It’s no different from you fucking girls with your window wide open—half the neighborhood could hear it.”

“Oh, so you listen?” Eddie asks, disregarding the obvious problem. “Naughty.” He remarks softly, smirk settling into a dark grin.

You roll your eyes in annoyance, dropping your finger down at your side. “It’s kinda hard not to, you know?”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly.

“And what about you?” You ask, “Doesn’t that make you a creep when you’re watching me?”

“I go out for a smoke around midnight every night,” Eddie reminds you, “It’s not my problem if you’re there—I’m not changing my routine for you.”

“So, you’re okay with peeping?” You ask redundantly, but Eddie has a response anyways.

“You’re the one sucking cock in public,” Eddie reminds, “are you forgetting that’s technically illegal?”

You shrink back slightly, lips turning down in a frown as you glare at him. “No one’s out there—at least no one but—“

“You like it, don’t you?” Eddie asks, lids shifting down, eyes lingering with darkness. “You could go anywhere—a car, in the woods—but you like the idea of being watched, being caught, don’t you?”

Your silence is telling—but you didn’t have to explain yourself to him.

Eddie hums in response, nodding.

“I think you’re doing it so I’ll watch,” Eddie tells you, like he’s suddenly got you all figured out—and so what if he did, “at least I can admit I do it for fun, knowing half of those guys won’t last more than a few minutes.”

“You’re disgusting.” You reply quietly, watching as he rises slowly, stalking toward you. “And a fucking dick.”

“Oh, sweetheart—don’t go soft on me now.” Eddie chides, “Tell me how you really feel.”

There’s a beat of silence, eyes never leaving each other's gaze. Eddie speaks first.

“And don’t act like I don’t know you like listening to me,” Eddie admits, “Why do you think I get so loud?”

“Because you’re obnoxious,” You start, “and rude, and—“

“Three nights ago, Friday, you remember?” Eddie asks curiously, stalling your attack.

“Yeah?” You reply wearily, wondering where he was taking this. “I saw that girl you let inside—you fucked her, do you want a ribbon?”

“What girl?” Eddie asked before it dawns on him, “Oh shit—Chrissy, yeah.”

You raise an eyebrow inquisitively, waiting for him to finish.

“She left five minutes after she got there—in, out. It was a quick deal.” Eddie tells you, before leaning toward you menacingly, face only a few inches away, “But sweetheart, that noise? It was all me.”

The heat rises to your face in an instant, the guilt in your expression obvious.

His tongue peeks out slightly, running along the top row of teeth, “It was good, wasn’t it?”

Your gaze is fierce, refusing to give in to his game.

Eddie takes another step closer, raising his arm—for a brief moment you expect him to touch you, bracing to grip his wrist and shove him away, but it lingers, finger pointing toward the open door as he talks to you petulantly, instructing you through his next few moves.

“Now—I’m going to close that door,” Eddie explains, “do you want to leave?”

You hesitate for a brief second, before shaking your head slightly. If Eddie wasn’t watching you so intently he probably would’ve missed it.

“And, with your blessing of course, I’m going to bend you over that table and fuck you how I know you want me to,” Eddie says haughtily, tipping your chin up briefly, touch disappearing as quickly as you felt it, “then maybe you won’t have a reason to hate me so much.”

“I’m going to hate you regardless.” You answer weakly, confirming his suspicions. You couldn’t say no. You wanted this.

“Somehow I think I’ll survive.” Eddie smirks, vanishing behind you quickly, leaving you stuck at a standstill, heart pounding in your chest. “Last chance to back out, just say the word—“

“Lock it.” You tell him firmly.

Eddie snorts softly, flipping the lock closed.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate in his movements, shoving you harshly over the edge of the table, lifting your skirt up lazily, slipping the soft white cotton of your underwear down your legs without a word, the light jingling of his belt behind you as he stripped himself of it, working himself out of his jeans enough that his cock springs free, bouncing upright into the cool air.

“What’s got you so quiet?” Eddie harps, fisting his hand into the end of your hair and tugging, eyes connecting with your own—it was an awkward angle and Eddie was slightly upside down from where you were peering back, hip held tight in his grip. “I thought I’d at least have to get my dick inside you first.”

You shove away his wandering hands, fingers drifting over your entrance and pressing against your clit, thick juices coating his fingers briefly.

“I didn’t say you get to touch me like that.” You tell him sternly, “If you’re so desperate to fuck me, then do it. Stop wasting my time.”

“Your time?” Eddie repeats, “Princess, I’ll make this last an eternity with that mouth.”

“You don’t scare me, Eddie Munson.” You say to prove a point, holding in a ragged gasp as he presses inside slowly, a dull sting as he stretches you open, inch by tantalizing inch.

Eddie wraps a gentle hand around your throat, squeezing the tiniest amount of pressure. He’s testing your limits, already well aware of what you like—he may not be the brightest, but he’s not that dim. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

“Then?” A sudden thrust of his hips has you tumbling forward, hands forced out in front of you to keep from slipping. Eddie pulls you back up swiftly, back flat against his chest as he speaks, leaving you fully under his control, hands instinctively grabbing at the fabric of his shirt on either side of him.

“I’m just giving you what you want,” Eddie explains, “and letting you walk home full of me—“ He turns your head slightly, forcing you to look at him, bottom lip puffy and parted as he drags his finger along it, “you want me to come inside you, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me get this far.”

No response has Eddie tugging at your face, pulling you even straight, hand pressed firmly around your neck—mostly just to keep you in place.

“Answer me.” He warns, “Tell me how badly you want me to fill you so fuckin’ full, sweetheart.”

You moan embarrassingly loud as he pulls his hips back before shoving them against your backside harshly, skin slapping against skin, his own mouth parting on a silent groan as he stared down at you.

“If it will shut you up, yeah.” You tell him, earning a deep chuckle before you soften your eyes, peering up at him sweetly, sickeningly, “Come inside me.”

Eddie releases you with no warning, forcing you back down against the hardwood, resuming your previous position as you used the leverage to push back against him, creating a pace that was almost unbearable, feeling the soft string as he slapped his hands against your skin—your ass, your thighs, any exposed skin he could get his hands on, painting you with temporary marks for his eyes only—he’d make them more permanent if you let him, but that was far from possible.

Your blood still boiled in his presence, even with his cock buried inside of you.

You groan in frustration, agitated with the position, the lack of technique—but given you two were at each other like animals, it wasn’t entirely his fault—regardless, you weren’t going to leave without some satisfaction or at the very least, an orgasm.

“Stop, stop,” You urge him and Eddie doesn’t question it, letting you go immediately, “it’s not—“

“What—it’s not what?” Eddie asks with minor frustration, watching as you turned to him, scooting your ass up toward the edge of the table.

“As much as I hate looking at you, this might be the easiest way for me to cum,” You admit and Eddie smiles softly, the urge to retort a sly remark creeping up on him, “—what, why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie shakes his head, refusing to answer before he pulls your hips flush, slipping back inside of you with ease as he crowds you space, lips brushing your own but never daring to reach out and kiss, you let out a sudden huff of air, reaching for his forearms to stabilize yourself.

“Tell me how much you hate me.” Eddie eggs you on, grinning evilly, hands balled into fists as he pressed them against the tabletop, fucking you achingly slow.

“So much,” You assure him, not missing a beat, “you’re gross, rude,” Eddie moves his hips sharply, forcing a wrecked moan from your lips, “fuck—you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Uh huh.” He agrees, eyebrow furrowing as his stone faced expression falters slightly, “Is that all?”

“No manners,” You tell him, “and no respect for anyone.”

“Oh, you want respect?” Eddie gloated, “You want me to respect you?”

“Never said that.” You reply bluntly, his shirt in a vice grip as you yanked at the material, pulling him impossibly deeper.

He ignores you, “Now, why should I respect a whore like you?”

“I’m not a whore.” You pout slightly, “Oh, fuck—that’s—“

You slump slightly, but Eddie catches you, face tight in his grip, one hand pressed into the dip in your back.

“Say it like you mean it.” Eddie challenges.

“I’m not—“ Eddie tugs your face up, cheeks squeezed between his fingers, “not—not a whore. Or a slut. Or whatever the fuck you want to call me.”

Eddie nods, not believing a word you tell him.

“I forgot—you’re that stuck up little princess who lives next door to me. Perfect life, perfect family—if they only knew the shit you got up to.” Eddie says menacingly, “Letting the neighborhood trash fuck you raw, come inside you—god forbid I knock you up, right?”

And the idea is terrifying, but you know it’s all talk. You had nothing to worry about, birth control be damned—but it leaves a pit in your stomach that lingers. Eddie was self aware, he knew people hated him, knew you hated him—but that didn’t change his unnatural attraction toward you, nor yours for him.

“Eddie—Shut. Up.” You emphasize, pulling him tight against you, cunt clenching around him as he hits a dangerous spot inside you, sweet but alarming.

“Well, maybe you’ll think twice about walking in here again.” He replies snidely, his faltering slightly as he lessened his grip on your face, touch stalling at the side of your neck as gave in, letting the sounds of your bodies fill the silence, hearing every soft little moan he punches out of you with his movements, becoming addicted and yearning for more. His hands move without any real direction, landing sloppily over your clit as he circled it lazily, head hung back and eyes closed.

“Fuck—Fuck you.” You sigh, whimpering quietly as his movements over your clit increased, mouth falling open wide.

The slap is a surprise, soft but enough to startle you, eyes staring up at him in shock. And you hated yourself for enjoying it so much, but the knowing smile on his face is too good to be true, and your mouth is moving without filtering through your brain.

“Harder.” You counter, eyes darkening as you challenge him.

He slaps you once more, forceful, noise crackling through the air. You huff a soft laugh, causing him to laugh in response—and truthfully, you both forget how this even started in the first place. It was all just an outlet for your own shared anger and it turned into a giant mess.

“Girls don’t—they don’t usually—“ Eddie doesn’t admit it outright, breath quickening as he attempts to speak through his unskilled thrusts, groaning loudly, “—they don’t like that.”

“Now Eddie,” You tell him, voice delicate, “I’m not most girls.”

But, he already knew that. You were nothing like the girls he was used to. You were everything he wanted but couldn’t have. You were a disease, a disgrace—in his eyes, and it made him want you that much more.

The climax hits you heavy, a gasp ripping from your chest as he tips you over that peak, following suit with one hard thrust, coming deep inside you until he can’t handle the stimulation any longer, pulling out with a weak groan.

The air is thick and tense, but Eddie helps you up carefully, slipping your underwear back into your palm. You stare at the fabric, balling it up in your hands briefly before making a sudden decision, reaching for his own hand and shoving them back at him, his pants still hanging unbuttoned around his waist.

“Keep them.” You shrug, smoothing out your skirt.

Eddie eyes you suspiciously, but pockets them nonetheless.

“This is never happening again, just so we’re clear.” You clarify. Eddie chuckles, not so sure. He can see the way your eyes linger on him, not fully believing yourself as you speak.

“I’m offended that you think I care that much, sweetheart.” Eddie replies back just as meanly, also lying to himself.

“Close your goddamn window from now on.”

“Not a chance.” Eddie smirks.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[thesuperiorrobin]

“He lost his virginity?!?”

❥pairing: Damian Wayne x fem!Reader

❥word count: 695

Summery: the batfamily notice Damian acting off these past couple of months and come up with weird ideas as to why

Warning: mentions of the loss of virginity. Slightly cursing’

No one really paid much attention to Damian at first. It was normal every night. Everyone would hang out in the batcave, Bruce by the computer doing nightly Batman work and the others either sparring in the middle or doing their own separate thing. Damian would come late as usual. He normally takes on the “night shift” as one would call it—glancing at the city's dangerous streets before he switches off with Jason. It was the same.

Jason and Dick were sparring while Tim watched, having been beaten by Jason early—Dick challenged him. Both men Holden had a fight and both of them paid no mind when Damian came back from his patrol. Until he walked right past them and Jason got a whiff of his scent. It was his body Odor no, it didn’t smell bad at all. It actually smells like perfume. Not cologne because there’s a distinct difference between the two.

Damian Wayne smelt like Ariana Grande god is a woman's perfume.

Now how Jason knew that was a mystery. But now he was taken aback by the smell; it left an opening for Dick to land a blow. And he did. A very hard one at that which nicked the air out of Jason and he fell to the ground.

“Ha!” Dick laughed out in victory “got your ass!”

Jason mumbles something under his breath as he rubs the pain away from his side harshly. Tim’s chuckles could be heard from afar and Jason glared at him. Dick out stretches his arm and hand. A gesture that helps Jason off the ground and onto his feet.

“Somethings off about the demon spawn” Jason groans out as he bends back and a slight crack can be heard from behind.

“Little D? I haven’t seen anything strange coming from him”

Jason rolls his eyes “yeah because you’re too busy ogoaling kory to notice that the spawn of satan smells like Ariana grande's God is a women perfume”

“I-“

“How do you know what Ariana’s perfume smells like Jason?” Tim asked. An amused grin plays on his lips as he stares at the older man.

“Barbra uses it a lot”

“Mhm sure”

“It’s true!” Jason yells “to be honest I’m more of a Lady Gaga fan. Ariana’s alright I guess”

Dick lets out a dramatic gasp, catching the other two men’s attention. “What if he has a girlfriend?!”

“Doubt it. Have you personally met him? That boy need to fix his attitude before he can get with a girl”

“Good point”

“Don’t be rude you two”

That’s when they decided they were going to break their boundaries. Only by a little, not a lot. They all kept a close ear and eye on him. Every night they would watch him. A little creepy sure but they notice that something would be off about it. One day he came back from patrol with messy hair—it was more messy than usual. The next day came back with his mask slightly crooked. And then the day after that day he comes back smelling like women's perfume, his hair is messy and his mask is crooked. Not to mention his skin was glowing. Dick was the first to say something.

“ oh my god he’s turning into Bruce!” He was more dramatic than the other two were. “He lost his Virginity!”

“How do you know he lost it!?”

“That boy was glowing Todd! He was glowing!”

“Okay what if he’s been taking good care of his skin? I’ve noticed a lot less bumps on his face”Jason taps his cheek. Dick still believes Damian is turning out to be like Bruce. Which is honestly far from it considering the fact that Damian has mentioned a few times that he doesn’t want to be like his father at all. It was decided whether or not he should tell Bruce but it wasn’t any of his business and it would just seem like Dick was sticking his nose somewhere he shouldn’t have in the first place. Meanwhile Jason and Tim were beating money in the corner.

“I bet forty he does his skin care routine at barbas house”

____________________________________________

Jason Todd is a lady Gaga fan he told me that himself 😋

[sherewrytes]

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.”

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— 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

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

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

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

[atlasthegreatest]

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.

[heqvenlymoons]

Marinette's Joke: The Showdown of Damian's Pets Fighting Over Homework

For Maribat March Day 7 & 30: Joke & Showdown

@maribatserver

Marinette stumbled into her mathematics class five minutes after the bell rang.

The teacher, Mrs. Steeles, had her back to the class, scribbling down what Marinette assumed to be the math homework questions from last night on the whiteboard. 

Marinette tried to sneak past Mrs. Steeles, heading towards her seat in the back, where Damian was already sitting and watching her with exasperation. 

She kept her footsteps light, barely making any sound, but somehow, the mathematics teacher seemed to have eyes on the back of her head. 

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I wonder why you are late this time.” Mrs. Steeles said dryly, capping her marker before facing the late student. 

Marinette looked like a deer caught in headlights as she whirled to face the front, the stares she was getting from her classmates making her skin prickle. “Uh, I—”

Mrs. Steeles pinned her with a look of disapproval, waving her off. “Just head to your seat.”

Marinette wasted no time rushing to her seat, setting her bag beside her desk. 

Damian leaned over and spoke in a hushed tone. “Tt. Why were you late?”

She didn’t respond until Mrs. Steeles turned her focus back to the whiteboard, the blue dry-erase marker in her hand uncapped once more. 

“Akuma in Paris. I had to voyage,” Marinette whispered just low enough for him to hear. 

He nodded in understanding. “Did you do the math homework from yesterday?”

Her eyes widened, a look of horror taking over her face. “Oh no—”

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, do you have the homework from yesterday?” Mrs. Steeles asked, shattering Marinette’s hope that the mathematics teacher would forget. 

What was the point of being the embodiment of luck when the luck didn’t manifest when she needed it? 

Marinette swallowed, glancing to Damian for help, who heartlessly shrugged as if saying, ‘You’re on your own.’

“Well?” Mrs. Steeles prompted with a raised brow, giving her foot impatient taps. 

Marinette panicked and blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. “My homework got torn up in a game of tug of war.”

Her classmates burst out laughing, and she played with the hem of the black skirt of her uniform. 

“Really, Dupain-Cheng? Tug of war? You could not have come up with something better using that scattered brain of yours?” Damian hissed out, speaking over the loud peals of laughter from their classmates, looking unimpressed. 

“I was under pressure, and I panicked!” she whispered back, a sheepish expression on her face. 

“And just, who were you playing tug of war with?” Mrs. Steeles asked, looking just as unimpressed as Damian. 

The gears in Marinette’s head turned as she struggled to think of a somewhat half-dignified response. “Damian’s pets! I was, um— we were doing homework together at his house, and I left my homework on the floor by accident. Titus— uh, Damian’s dog and Alfred— um, cat got ahold of it…”

She could feel Damian staring daggers at her, but he hadn’t exposed her to the lie, so she took it as a win. 

“Who won? The dog or the cat?” someone called out, sounding invested in the non-existent war that had taken place between Damian’s hoard of animals. 

Of course, Marinette, the queen of inventing excuses when it calls for protecting her secret identity, found it within reason to respond with something even more absurd.

“Well, uh—  technically neither? Mojo- um, the ape! The ape hijacked my homework from Ti— the dog, which tore it in half. Then Goliath— the dragon bat breathed fire, and because my homework was caught in the crossfire, it disintegrated into ashes.”

The students were fascinated by the narrative and amused with her ability to spin such a tale on the spot. They spoke over one another, voicing their thoughts. 

“Dragon bat? What new species is that?”

“I didn’t know Damian Wayne had an ape as a pet!”

“What happens next? Who ate the ashes?”

Meanwhile, Damian glared at her for exposing his supernatural pet. “You do realize Goliath is supposed to be kept a secret? How am I supposed to explain a dragon bat somehow ending up in my possession?”

Marinette winced, looking apologetic. “Sorry, Dami. In my defense, this wouldn’t have happened had you helped me think of a plausible excuse! Whatever happened to cover for one another?”

“I can’t believe you are blaming this on me,” he said in disbelief, crossing his arms and turning away from her with a hmph. 

“Class, settle down, please.” Mrs. Steeles said, looking tired. She shot Marinette the stink eye, looking unmoved by her dramatic tale of a showdown between Damian’s pets fighting over her homework. 

“Do keep disputes between pets away from your homework in the future, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I think this joke of yours, rather unique as it may be, has entertained the class enough, and it is time to return to the lesson.” 

Mrs. Steeles directed one last stern look at Marinette, then turned to write more questions on the whiteboard. 

Marinette at least had the decency to mutter a “Sorry” to Damian. 

His lips twitched like he might smile, but he kept the act of staying mad with her. His arms still crossed, and his body angled a little away from her. 

To Marinette, it seemed like he was pouting, and that caused her to giggle. Because Damian would deny and insist he doesn’t pout. 

The sound softened his demeanour at once, prompting her to smile in victory. 

“Whatever. You better not expose even more of my pets— supernatural species or not— to these imbeciles next time,” he grumbled, trying and failing to glare at her. 

“Of course~ we wouldn’t want people to think the Ice Prince of Gotham is secretly a softie, would we now?” she teased, smiling the bright smile she knew he melted for. 

She could see the tips of his ears flush pink even as he turned from her to face the front. 

“Tt,” was his only response, seeming unaware she could see him sneaking glances at her through her peripheral vision. 

She found his behaviour adorable. 

[vodrae]

This is Thanksgiving in Wayne Manor, well, a day chosen when everybody is available.

As requested by Dick years ago, who took example on Roy's demand back in their Teen Titans days, the redhead who's been raised by Natives-Americans, was always uncomfortable around this period. He never knew where to put himself. He's looking like the Irshiest Irish of all time but it's far away from his culture.

On this day of june, Wayne Manor is celebrating I Love My Falmily And Eating For 5 Party.

Everybody is here, it's starded with Bruce, Alfred, the children, legal, emotional and biological

Then Jasons asked if Artemis and Bizarro could come, because they were alone with nothing to do.

Of course !

Then Damian talked like a sim to ask for Talia, Respawn and Mara.

They're already on their way chum.

...Can Rachel and Jon come too ?

When Tim's approched him, Bruce just called everybody in the Justice League, Young Justice and Titans.

For the first time, the manor seems...Small. They put several large tables together in the garden.

Quickly after they cut the turkey, everybody is walking with his plates, hanging out in trees, in the waterpool, in the air. Hawkgirl is unable to stay STILL.

"THEY DON'T KNOW ME SON ! THEY DON'T KNOW ME SON !" Says calmy Harley as she tried to push Diana into the pool.

Stephanie, Tim, Bernard, Cassie and Bart have constant bi panic.

Titus, Ace, Murder King and Krypto are being good boys.

The Martians are the furthest possible from the barbecue.

A push ups contest is ongoing between Donna and Artemis to know who's having the best bird between Dick and Jason, the two boys are at 200 hundreds for now. Kori next them is at 600 but "She doesn't even play !" As the Robins say.

Duke is talking about power control with Raven and he's actually REALLY happy having someone understanding him.

"Miss Kyle, the party is this way." Says Alfred, who just popped behind Selina.

"Sorry, i'm lost, this manor is so big!" She says, in Bruce human size secret safe layer 5.

Barbara, Helena, Ivy and Dinah have the karaoke session of their life.

Ollie and Hal are teenagers again with the outdoor shooting simulation.

Meanwhile, Damian, Mara, Respawn and Rose are all pushing the hardest on Jon's arm in a arm wrestling contest.

Next to them, Kon is screaming "AGAIN ! AGAIN ! AGAIN !" When Cass is beating him "It's the technique." she says with butterfly eyes

All under the amused eyes of Clark, Lois and Talia.

Meanwhile Bruce is crying, not of joy, but for his draining system. Waterpool, bathtubs, showers...They will all spend the night...AND TAKE A SHOWER WITH THEIR LONG HAIR. DID YOU SEE ARTEMIS AND KORI ?

AND SOMEONE TOUCHED THE THERMOSTAT !

(I wanted to do this joke, but you know. Stream of consciouness)

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

Mary Todd pt 3

Previous

Marinette knew she looked beautiful, and not just because her friends, family, and the kwami's had told her so repeatedly. She had made her dress specifically for this night taking into account everything from her body shape to her skin tone. This was her night, celebrating her victory. So, she was going to look her absolute best, by pouring every ounce of her skill and artistic powers into the perfect dress. When Roy had turned to look at her, she had seen in his expression that her efforts had not been wasted. However, this Jason was starting to make her doubt, because he was staring at her with nothing short of pale faced terror. His body was tensed like a rubber band about to snap. His jaw was clinched so tight, it might have been glued shut. And those strange green, blue eyes were filled with such open shock and fear, that she had to stop and make sure she wasn't turning into an akuma. It was more than a little unnerving.

Roy seemed to think so as well, since (after seeing his friend's posture) he tensed and began looking between him and her with a mix of confusion and uncertainty. After an awkward moment Marinette decided that she would have to break the tension and thus offered up a gentle smile saying, "It's nice to meet you M. Todd, I hope you are enjoying your stay in Paris."

Her words seemed to shake the man a little, as he cleared his throat, loosened his shoulders, and said, "Yes. Very much. Thank you," before immediately turning to his drink. He then proceeded to ignore her completely, which Marinette found to be more than a little insulting. After all, what could she have possibly done to this man, this stranger, to deserve such a reaction. 

"Any way," Roy said turning his back on Jason, "Are you enjoying the party?"

Marinette smiled as she glanced at the Eiffel Tower, still a brilliant red. "I am, and you?"

"Well, I wasn't until about a minute ago," Roy said his flirtatious smile returning in full force. 

"Let me guess," Marinette said allowing some slyness into her voice, "Is that when you saw me?"

"Would it be too cringy if I said yes?"

"Yes, but not the bad kind."

"I didn't know there was a good kind of cringe?"

"Of course, there is!" Marinette exclaimed, "Like dad jokes or bad movies. In flirting, bad cringe is when the cheesy pick-up line is unwanted. Good cringe means that it is wanted."

Roy beamed at the implication, "Good to know." Marinette returned the smile, but it dropped to concern when something deep and ferocious growled. Roy turned, and Marinette saw Jason scowling into his glass of whiskey. "You’re sure you're alright, Jay?" Roy said now more annoyed than concerned.

Jason drained his glass in one shot before growling, "I'm fine." As he signaled for another.

Roy was now watching his friend with such a strange mix of complete concern and gentle annoyance, that it contorted his face in a wat that made Marinette suppress a giggle. It was just too cute, and she decided that despite this Jason's rudeness, she wanted to continue their conversation. "So," she said casually, "If you don't like these kinds of parties then why come?" 

Roy sighed as he sipped his drink and then nodded into the crowd, "Our adoptive fathers. They love these things. They like to compete to see who can throw the most money around. Mainly to charities and the like, but still, it gets old real fast."

Marinette raised an eyebrow but followed his gaze to a group beneath an ice sculpture of King Monkey. There were two men in the center of a group of socialites, both smiling and laughing and making fools of themselves. Marinette gave them the benefit of the doubt, and assumed that they were a little drunk. Meanwhile, their dates stood off to the side consoling each other as they watched with poorly concealed amusement. "Your adoptive fathers are Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen?"

"Yep," Roy said with some level of exasperation, and Jason drained his glass again. 

Marinette thought about everything she had heard of the two gentlemen. They were both on her waiting list. So, she had researched them, and found that either the tabloids had it out for the richest men in America, or they were exactly the type of client that she did not want to work with. "That would get old," she said at last and then slapped her hand over her mouth. She had not meant to say that out loud. 

However, Roy laughed, and Jason might have cracked a smile as he sipped his drink. "I am so glad you agree," Roy said. 

Marinette laughed nervously desperately trying not to stutter. She had worked hard to overcome her nervous tick, and she would not start again now. So she took a deep breath, and focused on each word that came out of her mouth as she said, "What I meant was, that...I don't think they'll have a lot to compete for here, since Ladybug fixed all of the property damage from each attack." 

"Yeah," Roy said, "You're lucky your hero has such an amazing power. Back in Star City, our guy is only just useful enough to stop the occasional mob boss. And if you ask me the only reason, he's half as successful as he is, is because of Black Canary. She's the real power behind our heroes."

Marinette laughed and was about to playfully argue with him, when Jason said in a low, unsteady voice, "Was it hard? The akumas, I mean. Were...did they...did they ever hurt you?"

Marinette sighed and downed a large portion of her glass before setting it down. The bartender wordlessly refilled it and met her eyes. She and him shared the same haunted look of pain and sympathy, before she turned back to her companions and said with a deep breath, "Yes, it was hard. Not many outside of Paris truly understand what we went through. And even if they know the facts, it’s hard to explain how it changed us. I don't think there is one single Parisian who hasn't been akumatized, brain washed, maimed, or killed over the last five years. Many have experienced all four and more than once. And on top of it all, you could barely process any of the events you were going through because then you risk becoming part of the problem. You became a slave, doomed to hurt everyone and everything around you until you've been freed, or served your purpose."

"But we always had Ladybug," the bartender said confidently. "She never failed us, fixed our buildings, healed our wounds, raised our dead. She saved us almost every single day, and in the end, she freed us. We will never not owe her everything. We will always be eternally grateful to her."

Marinette smiled softly as she let the stranger's words wash over her. Letting her eyes drift towards the Eifel Tower with tears and gratitude, she remembered the distant words of a half-forgotten story and said, barely above a whisper, "She cast her magic spell, and made everything better."

A sharp intake of breath drew her attention, and she turned to see Roy staring at her with eyes full of pity and understanding, and Jason pale and shaking staring into his glass. "Did you..." Jason began in a choked voice, "Did you...die?"

Marinette sighed and nodded, "A few times. But I'd rather not talk about it if it's alright with you. We're supposed to be celebrating after all."

"Of course," Roy said smiling. And it was a much better smile than his flirtatious one, full of understanding and maybe even a little adoration. "So, tell me, what brings you here, other than celebrating the greatest heroes in the world."

Marinette felt herself blush at the compliment, as unintentional as it was, and said, "Oh well, I am a designer. I was commissioned by Style Queen to design some outfits for some of the VIPs here tonight. I gave her the designs and her team made sure they were done in time. And thank kwami for that, otherwise I would have never finished."

"Really," Roy said in wonder. "Show me! Which ones?" 

Marinette giggled and began pointing out her friends. They had all wanted outfits reminiscent of the heroes of Paris knowing full well that this might be their last chance to go all out in their personas without raising suspicion of their identities. So, Marinette had gone all out. She pointed to Zoe and Cloe, who were matching in their elegant Queen Bee and Vesperia dresses. With Queen Bee being yellow with black accents and Vesperia being black with yellow accents. Mayor Bourgeois was standing near them with his wife, and they were honoring both of the heroes, with equal parts black and yellow. They didn't know that Zoe was Vesperia, but everyone knew Chloe was Queen Bee, and she had insisted that they honor the new Bee Hero along with the old. Kagami was holding Zoe's hand wearing a red Ryuko dress that was styled after a traditional Japanese kimono and embroidered with a black and gold eastern dragon. She then pointed out Alya (her mom was catering the event), who was wearing a burnt orange Rena Rouge dress with white accents, dancing with Nino, whose dark green jacket was stitched to give the illusion of a Carapace shell on his back.

Pointing to Luka in his dark blue suit Viperion suit, Marinette stressed how important it was that the embroidered snakes had to be silhouetted and not full color. She then saw Juleka in her Purple Tigress dress, and she complained about how long it took her design team to get just the right shade of purple in the painted stripes that framed the bodice and bled into the skirt. However, it was nowhere near as difficult as Jagged's suit because he had decided that he had to support both of his children's favorite heroes, while maintaining his own style. However, the most touching request had been Clara Nightingale's because she had wanted to honor all of the Miraculous. So, Marinette had taken extra care in designing the white dress embroidered with every single Miraculous animal dancing around her skirt and bodice. However, Marinette's favorite was Adrien's Chat Noir suit. It was the simplest, but it was the only one she had made without Audrey's team, and she had spent hours embroidering hidden black cats in the black fabric, and a golden bell on the tie. However, she did have to spend three hours convincing him not to wear cat ears.

When she was done point out all of her friends, a few others, Roy was staring wide eyed and amazed, at all of her hard work. He shook his head in wonder and said, "Wow, just...wow...you are amazing. Those are incredible. And I assume you designed your own dress as well."

"Yes," Marinette said stepping back to display the flowing red gown with black accents. Her hair was pinned up to into a bun with red crystals, and her accessories were encrusted with black jewels that twinkled in the party lights. "I actually made this one myself, although Mme. Audrey provided the jewelry." 

"Incredible," Roy breathed. "You are so talented. But wait...I thought Jagged Stone only wore suits designed by MDC. You're not..."

Marinette blushed and adverted her eyes. But when she did, she caught a glimpse of something on the Tower that she didn't notice before. She squinted at it, and then gasped when she noticed what it was. She laughed her clearest and most heartfelt yet, causing the two men to look at her in confusion. But before they could ask what had caught her attention, Luka and Adrien pushed through the crowd. 

"Mari!" Adrien called, "There you are! Come on we have too---"

"Adrien!" Marinette squealed, "Look! Look! I didn't notice it before, because of the gaps in the metal. But look! The spots on the Tower. They’re not spots! They’re cat paws! Adrien! They're projecting cat paws on the Eiffel Tower!" 

Adrien blinked and stared in awe. "Huh," he said, "Well how about that?" Marinette beamed as his eyes began to water, and Luka hugged him from behind. They all stood in quiet gratitude to the city that they had fought for for so long. They had never taken up their mantels for praise or validation. But to be given that praise and validation after so many years of suffering and sacrifice, was a boon that they could never appreciate enough. They didn't need it. They didn't ask for it. They would have done it all over again without it. But still it was given, and the two heroes felt the love of the entire city surround them in that moment. And despite all of the scares from the past five years, in that moment they were fulfilled with the gratitude of their city. 

Their reverie was broken when Roy cleared his throat and said, "So, you all are big Chat Noir fans huh." 

Adrien blushed, but Marinette said confidently, "Ladybug would never have succeeded without Chat Noir. She could not have asked for a better partner, and he does not get nearly enough love and appreciation as he deserves."

Adrien hid his deepening blush in his boyfriend’s arm and said, "Well, we'd love to stay and chat, but our friends are looking for us."

"Oh right," Marinette said upon recognizing their code phrase. She finished her wine and turned to face her drinking companions. "It was very nice to meet you, Roy. You too, Jason. I think."

Roy chuckled and said, "It was very nice to meet you too, Marinette. And don't worry about the ass, he's never nice to meet. Do you mind if I find you later?"

Marinette paused, eying him. Roy was a stranger, but it was hard not to like him when he seemed so sincere and kind. His friend was strange and rude, somehow familiar, but Roy seemed sweet. Besides, he was cute. So she smiled slyly and said, "You're assuming that you can find me."

"Do you doubt my abilities?" Roy said.

"I do not know your abilities."

"Then I will have to find you, and show you about how amazing all of my abilities are."

"We will see," Marinette mused. And as Jason's growl turned Roy's attention way, she pulled her friends back into the crowd. As they moved to the spot where they could transform, Adrien laughed at her saying,

"Why did you never flirt like that with me?"

"Or me?" Luka grinned.

Marinette rolled her eyes and said, "Because you're dorks. And I was a dork. And dorks don't know how to flirt." 

"You knew how to flirt with him!" Adrien exclaimed. 

"Because I'm no longer a dork. I am a successful business woman, and world renowned designer. But you...you will never change. You will forever be the King of the dorks. Long may you reign."

"Ouch." Adrien mock protested.

But Luka said, "Good I like dorks."

Marinette rolled her eyes, and she pulled Adrien away from the party. Hiding behind the vendor trucks, Adrien and Marinette let Tikki and Plagg out into the night air. The two kwami immediately began bickering. But Marinette and Adrien only turned to face each other with gentle smiles and shinning eyes. "Ready for our final bow, Chaton?" Marinette asked softly. 

"My final bow, milady," Adrien corrected. "You're show is only just getting started. And I am so excited for where it's going. Just remember, if it ever gets to be too much, all you have to do is ask. And your entire team will come running. We are all here for you, miraculous or not. We are family, and we love you."

Blinking back tears, Marinette hugged her partner, as the music quieted and the Mayor of Paris introduced the President of France to the waiting audience. She held him long and tight because, this was it. It was over. Their war was done. They had won. And now they had to move forward, to whatever the hell came next. 

next

Let me know if you want me to tag you

@laurcad123 @craftgremlin @toodaloo-kangaroo @blackroserelina

[puppetmaster13u]

You're not going to believe it but I am in fact drinking a smoothie right now and almost choked on it laughing when I read this.

First of all, I absolutely adore AUs where Gotham believes the Bats are something More. I bet they first started thinking it around when Dick became Robin, like that's when it first spread from just the worst of the worst areas to ones that are slightly better off.

But I bet it really explodes when Cardinal appears. Enough for Outsiders to notice, for the small homemade shrines to no longer be hidden in alleys and homes. Because while there's been mass revivals in DC before, it is said repeatedly that Jason's revival is different. And I freaking bet that the Gothamites can tell. Especially whenever the Pit coils around him during patrol. Cardinal (Which can I just say, perfect bird for him) smells of both life and death.

Which kind of random but again, Cardinal is a perfect name for Jason. Those birds have a couple different meanings/myths but they're seen as the messenger from beyond the grave throughout so many different places. Some sailors even got tattoos of cardinals so that they might carry their souls to the afterlife if they died at sea.

And Oh my god, Barbara being known as both Batgirl and the Cuckoo is such a fun idea. I wonder if she leans into that as Oracle, making sure to look almost completely 'normal' with something off. Like something merely mimicking.

Question is if these are their normal vigilante names or something Gotham alone calls them, like some true name thing.

Gosh, do you think Gothamites treat some of them as embodiments of the different dynamics? Like Batman is already seen as the feral mom of Gotham, and so far only Nightingale/Nightwing is an alpha in the vigilante family. Hm...

Oh my god Damian is following Tim like a little duckling and there's definitely some drake/duck jokes. Small teasing ones of course. Never any cruel ones. Mostly just buying Tim a duck-themed hoodie and Damian a duckling onesie and getting the most adorable video ever. Though yess, he definitely likes to be just completely encompassed by his pack's scents. Buries himself in the middle of the nest with everyone else curled around the progressively younger pack members.

PFFT, it'd be hilarious if the video is how everyone learned about Bruce Wayne's newest child. He's so small and loves his big brothers so much, just look at him!

OH MY GOD. We haven't even talked about the fun identity shenanigans. Like Bruce Wayne is everywhere, even without those gossip magazines trying to stir up a scandal and getting an angry pup after them. Meanwhile the league barely knows about Batman's family due to his well-founded paranoia and anxiety. Especially about the ones who don't know how to pup or were mistreated. Do you think they'd gossip about the magazines as well and turn expectantly towards B asking what he thinks about it lol

Bruce is amused when Tim huffs up to him and says he has an interview to do to stop the stupid magazines from saying he's a bad dad. Well, he's amused until Tim complains about a reporter trying to grab him while he was at school before Steph and several other kids decided biting was more than okay in that situation.

Hey mutual, figure the third Omegaverse thing was startin to get long again lol. So I thought I'd respond here instead >:3 (Also have links to the previous ones for easy access lmao) 1_ 2_ 3_

You know what would be kind of adorable? If it was Tim who got all angry at the gossip magazines. Everyone else is used to it and finds it kind of funny after all, since as you said, people outside of Gotham don't know the nuances of Gothamite body language. But Tim has been slowly coaxed into acting like a pup, been reassured that him acting like that is okay and is perfectly natural. So seeing people trying to claim Bruce isn't a good caretaker in a way that straight up targets that behavior? Oh baby boi is going to throw a fit.

Also love the idea of even other Gothamites going, yeah, the bats are more than a little feral, even for us lol. They've seen it all from the gleeful murder-baby first Robin to the trying-to-bite-your-ears-off second Robin to gonna-jump-off-this-bridge-and-take-you-with-me Batgirl. To the big bat himself who will see what could account as a straight up mob worth of people and go yeah I can fight that, and actually does, and wins.

Like that's just utterly hilarious to me lol.

Actually, before I forget, I feel like Damian's and Tim's relationship would be better in this. Seeing as Damian is younger and both Tim and Dick are very familiar with being unfamiliar with pup behavior or being forced to try and stop doing it. Which thankfully it wasn't to the extent of Tim, but still. He's the itty bitty baby of the pack who doesn't want to let anyone go the moment he realizes they won't betray him. Similar to how Tim is once he finally realizes the Waynes won't leave him and actually want him to stay.

Also remind me to sketch out the different fangs when my hands aren't shaking lol

Oh Tim DEFINITELY rips into the gossip mags.

He may be a lil pup and semi-recently got placed with the Wayne Pack, but by GOD is he going to send some angry emails.

Honestly I can see him reaching out to the daily planet as ‘Bruce’ and setting up an interview to clear it all up.

But until that happens, Tim gets scruffed and brought into the nest SO often to calm him down.

Like. Calm down pup! You are TOO angy!

Speaking of Tim and Damian’s relationship- they have the best relationship by far in the Pack. Tim can and will throw down for his new little brother. And the brotherly instincts he never had before (and thusly never had to stifle before) doesn’t help either.

Dami is more or less constantly following either his Mum, Jason, or Tim.

If he has to, he’ll tag along with Dick and Alfred, but in order of his favorite pack members Tim is definitely up there with Jason and Bruce.

He can and will use the fact that he’s just an itty bitty pup and whine and whine to get carried around. He may be an independent pup, and he DOES like to wander around on his own, but he absolutely loves being engulfed by his packmate’s scents.

It’s so very different to when he first left the cloning pod and all he could smell was blood and sterile alcohols.

And finally for how Gotham views the Feral Bats??

It’s DEFINITELY like that. Gotham is in awe over their guardians (and I can’t help but see them putting the Batfamily up as embodiments of the city, Gothamites definitely definitely made shrines for the Batfamily that dot about the city)

The Agent, the one who walked the streets long before the Bat flew for the first time, who holds ears in the highest of places and knows far too much that he rarely shares with others. The one who was only connected to the bats far, far down the line.

The Motherly-Protective Bat who has claws like in the old days, who bares his fangs and rips into flesh with no hesitation to protect his city-pups and actual pups. Who dragged the first of the costumed rogues back to Arkham by sheer force and detective skills.

The First Robin who was gleefully blood thirsty, somehow the most animalistic of the pack as he chirped and trilled and danced in the air. Flying like his namesake as he bares his puppy fangs in a barely constrained aggressive smirk.

The Batgirl (Cuckoo) who nearly flew as well as the First Robin, the one who chirped and warbled and forced herself into the Bat’s nest and first showed the City what happened to those who hurts those the Bat holds dear and who showed what happened to who the Bat deems as unwelcome to his territory.

The Nightingale, the first of the robins to grow up, the one with fangs he never hid and a voice as sweet as his feathers. The one who talks as much as he growls, the one who shreds his enemies with enough cheer and electricity to drown a clown.

The Second Robin, (Cardinal, clad in blood reds and spiked feathers, somehow still in the familiar designs of the First Robin) the one taken far too soon who didn’t quite fly as he did glide. The one who hid in his mother’s cape, only leaving to fight and protect-protect-protect just like his mother. The one who showed what happened to those who ignore that they were chased out of the Bat’s territory.

The Third Robin (Crow, Clad in blacks and shiny feathers but still the familiar Robin design) The one who is too smart for his own good- the one who ended the grip that the Bat’s bloodstained claws held on the city. He clings to his mother, only leaving to find more of his pack.

The Forth Robin, (Starling, purples and blacks and shimmering feathers that seem to mirror your face back at you) The blending of Batgirl and Robin, the one who was dragged into the Bat Pack when Crow wandered too far from his mother and needed her help finding his way back to the nest. All the gracefulness of the Bats and the Aggressiveness of the Robins twirled into one sparkling purple attack.

The Cardinal, the second of the robins to grow up, the one who took the name that was whispered in the alleys as his own. Who came into the scene with a splash of blood as bright and soaking as his initial departure. Who’s eyes glow with Unseen bloodlust and protection that followed his mother’s steps.

[itsoutrageouss]

Hey if you still takes request, and if it's not too much trouble for you to write, can you do one where the reader (gender neutral) is the older sibling of Dustin and they just hit one year anniversary of ED (abnormal anorexia) free but no one seems to remember except Eddi who prepared a nuce dinner for them to celebrate ?

My family just ignored me all day and I just want someone to be proud of me...

a/n: we’re all proud of you here sweetheart <3 also hi I’m still alive i think so.

warning: mentions of ED, Wayne and Eddie being the best thing ever

word count: 1k ish

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

Don’t cry yet - e. m.

—☕️

It’s not like you expected a parade in your honor or anything, but a little

Hey, congratulations!

Or

I’m so proud of you,

would’ve been nice. Instead you find Dustin already halfway out the door when you and your fuzzy socks pad into the kitchen.

“Hey! Morning! Uh- goodbye!” He says distractedly before slinging a backpack over his shoulder and slamming the door, much to your mothers dismay.

He was probably just busy, you figured. He’d remember sooner or later.

“Have any plans today, sweetie?” Your mom asked from the couch where she was automatically knitting away on whatever project. Her smile was genuine and innocent. They’d forgotten. Maybe you were foolish to think it was even a big deal.

Still you hummed as you made a bowl of cereal- content that you could do this now with no feelings of shame or fear. Still it didn’t feel like much of an achievement when no one was there to support your growth.

The day went by silently for you, and when none of your friends came by, when no one called, you curled back up in bed, furiously wiping away the few tears you’d let spill.

—☕️

Meanwhile eddie was scrambling around the tiny kitchen of the trailer with Wayne.

“I’ve never seen you this worked up over dinner before, kid” Wayne mused as he watched his nephew chaotically trying to stop the pasta from boiling over and not letting the chopped onions burn to coal.

“Well it’s a big deal today. They deserve this,” he replied, eyes never leaving the pots and pans in front of him, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Here, like this,” Wayne said, placing his beer on whatever space was free on the counter before taking the wooden spoon from eddies hands to help him along. He showed him how to go about it before going back to observing with an amused smile.

Eddies face was burning from the heat, curls sticking to his temple and neck. Wayne tsk’ed at him: “all this hair, son. You can’t see shit,” he snickered before retrieving a hair tie from somewhere between the couch cushions. Eddie bent down slightly in the knees so Wayne could reach all his hair, tying it back in a low bun for him.

“Thanks man,” he laughed, eyes beaming at the thought of seeing your face again. Your smile when he’d proudly present his dinner to you, when he’d watch you eat, more carefree than ever.

—☕️

You jumped, nearly falling out of bed at the sound of the phone ringing. You scrambled to get to it. It didn’t even matter if it was for you, any kind of interaction was greatly appreciated.

“Hello?” You asked, voice hoarse from not being used all day.

“Hey you,” Eddies familiar voice hits your ears and it gives you instant comfort. There’s a tiny speck of hope flickering in the wholeness of your heart, nervously licking against the walls whenever he spoke to you.

“How’s your day been?” He asks, but almost hurriedly like he has more to say. You had temporarily forgotten about the neglect you’d felt all day, so you give him a blunt ‘fine’ without more explanation. He hums distractedly and you feel your heart sink, believing he’s forgotten too.

“So listen I uh.. I got a surprise for you, kind of- well it’s dinner. I made dinner. I know it’s like only four but I started wayyy too early and now it’s just waiting so I thought why the fuck not just get you over here, right now.”

He always rambled when he was nervous. You hadn’t even noticed the giant grin that spread on your face, heating your cheeks.

“For me?” You whispered after a beat of silence. You were biting the tip of your finger in an attempt not to cry or laugh- you didn’t even know how to react.

“For you.” He said softly.

—☕️

When you arrived at the trailer, Wayne was on his way to work his night shift. “There you are! You have no idea how much that boy tried not to mess up the food- tell him you like it no matter what will ya? He really cares for you.” He said casually with a hinting smile. The sentient made your chest tighten in the best way possible. To think he spent all day working so hard doing something he hates just for you and your accomplishment. He made you feel so seen.

“I promise, Mr. Munson. Thank you.” You replied.

Eddie rushed out the door when he heard your voice, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His hair was in a loose bun, curly strands framing his face and plastering to his neck.

Before you could greet him he lifted you up into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you” he grumbled into the crevice of your neck before setting you down and pulling you into the trailer by your hand. His words hugged your entire soul, and you couldn’t even thank him before tears welled in your eyes;

The small dining tables had an old cloth covering it, with two mismatched plates of your favorite pasta dish and canned bear in plastic wine cups.

“Voila” he laughs sheepishly, nervous that you’d find his gesture silly or stupid. It wasn’t very formal, the food maybe wasn’t the best but he really tried, and given your response earlier it seemed no one had celebrated you today which made his heart clench.

“The uhh, onions kind of burned. I know you don’t like wine so I hope this beer will do, and-“

You walked over to where he was standing and hugged him so tightly, trying to convey every single ounce of gratitude into it. He stood silent first, stiff, but quickly melted into your touch, his palm gently on your head where you hid in his chest.

“I love it, Eddie. I love it.” You said with a groggy voice, tears soaking into the material of his shirt. He squeezed you tighter, planting a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Now don’t cry before you’ve tasted it allright.” He muttered, and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you.

The food was bordering on really good, and the beer was definitely better than wine. You spent the rest of the evening talking, eating and drinking, with Eddie telling you how proud he was over and over again.

I don’t know how to end this fic I just love him too much. They lived happily ever after guys.

[cahmsandiego]

Theres something amusing to me about Steph and Cass' place being the hangout spot for the Bats when they don't want to go to the manor. They're the only ones with an apartment in Gotham that doesn't have Commissioner Gordon around like imagine:

Stephanie's Study group needs a place to work because the electricity at the Library is down...again (some villian did it)

Stephanie is the only one with an apartment

Group convinces Steph to let them over

She made sure to ask Cass beforehand though

Stephanie hurriedly sends a text to the group chat that friends are coming over and to STAY AWAY (Cass says she cleaned up the batarangs left on the table thank goodness)

Everything's fine until they hear a slight crashing noise coming from the kitchen.

Its Jason. He needs to borrow the oven for Alfred's birthday tomorrow since Harley and Ivy are crashing at his apartment and he doesn't want to walk in on them again

theres also no way in hell was he driving to Bludhaven to borrow Dicks

Stephanie gets annoyed 'did you not read the group chat?'

Stephs group is concerned that a strange man broke into her kitchen

Stephanie assures them that this is fine. She knew him from when she was in high school, that he does this a lot, and is mostly harmless.

Jason comes out promising to bake her a pie as thanks

Everyone freezes because Jason's still wearing his red hood gear

Stephanie freaks and tries to get him to leave

Shes even more mad that she can't yell his name out in anger

Jason refuses to leave, hes got a cake in the oven and he hasn't made the topping yet

He ends up chilling on the couch for a while unnerving her friends

Bruce walks in with groceries asking for help in buying Alfred a present. (He was helping Alfred with errands as cover)

Stephanie immediately starts wondering 'does no one in this family read the group chat!?'

Meanwhile Stephs friends are grappling with the fact that not only does Steph know Red Hood. She also apparently has a close enough relationship with him that he's in a family group chat

They also have to deal with the fact that THE Bruce Wayne is also in said group chat which implies he too has a close relationship with notorious criminal/vigilante Red Hood.

It also proves Steph wasn't telling stories when she said she knew the Waynes

Eventually Stephanie shoves them both out the door

They finish the rest of the study group in silence

The group wonders if they were seeing things but nope theres Red Hood up on the fire escape by Stephanie's window looking like a cat whos been kicked out by their owner (he's waiting for his cake)

They keep the secret because they are too afraid of what Red Hood might do to them.

Stephanie brings them Jasons apple pie for a month as apology

Red Hood is an amazing baker and they don't know what to do with that information

They never go to Stephs apartment again

They are fine with this