#also richards calling him out for not taking his hand off the cup for the media portion is SO EVIL

[ratatatastic]

ekky praising pomo never gets old because a river will just flow from his mouth but also "gonna be really happy and really bittersweet to get rid of [the cup] but to give it to [paul maurice] is gonna be really sweet, really cool opportunity" gonna be normal about that one!

Ekky Cup Day | 8.17.24 (x)

[mistymisfit]

first off, I absolutely adore your writing!! It’s got me kicking my feet and giggling.

Can I please request a domestic Dick x reader where they’re having an at home date night (like watching a movie, doing face masks, cooking together - any of those kinda things) and it keeps getting interrupted by Dicks siblings?

thank youuuuu <3 and sorry this took too long (and if the ending feels rushed), hope you like it

warnings: no plot just fluff and batfamily cameos, established relationship, a few dirty jokes, suggestive content, Tim getting traumatized.

wc: 2,2k

You smile to yourself, finally you get to have a normal night with you boyfriend. He's staying at home, having a date night at home, ah the wonders of a dislocated shoulder. His injury would only put him out of action for a couple of weeks since it wasn't that bad, but you would still try to enjoy the time you get with him--even if hes puffing and huffing in annoyance. He's been a vigilante since he was 12 and he doesn't know anything else, so he's especially reluctant to accept the time off. Lucky for him, he's quickly convinced when you tell him how much he deserves a break and that you'll take care of him until he feels better.

"Here, just make sure it doesn't burn" You signal, putting the spoon on his good hand and letting him take care of the sauce.

"Sure" His eyes follow you as you move around his --not so big-- apartment kitchen. You wore one of his t-shirts, why he owned merch of himself was beside you but you couldn't ignore the smile that appeared on his face every time you wore it."So what are the plans for tonight?"

"We're having dinner, then we'll do some face masks," you list off "we could bake brownies if you're up for dessert, and there's this new movie I want to watch"

"Of course I'm up for dessert" He jokes, catching your arm when you step closer to him.

He has a devilish grin when he kisses you, forgetting he was supposed to be cooking dinner with you. You let him distract you, but not before your hand quietly lowers the stove to minimum heat behind him. The spoon falls, left behind as he walks you until you're trapped between the kitchen counter and him. The hand that's not caught in the arm sling cups your face, getting more demanding with the kiss. You sit on the kitchen counter before he asks and he nods, grateful. You're not sure he could lift you up with one arm, even if he's proven the past few days he didn't need both of them to manhandle you as he usually does. The perks of training your entire life.

There's a noise outside the window right when you wrap your legs around him. At first, you both ignore it, but as it repeats again and again, you realize it was not a random noise but someone knocking. There's not that many people who would be able to knock on an eighth story window.

"I'll go," He sighs, reluctantly letting go of you.

You nod, picking up the spoon and washing it on the sink as you try to listen to the hushed conversation. You can tell it was one of his siblings, even if you could only hear half of what they say. So when you finally take a look, hiding behind a wall, you are not surprised to see Damian in his Robin suit in the living room.

"Hi Damian, isn't it a bit too early to be Robin?" You wave

"Richard, you did not tell me that your beloved was here" He recriminates; you think it's adorable to see such a cute thing talking like an old man. He greets you, calling you by your last name as he usually does. Then his nose scrunches up,as if sniffing the air like a cat "are you making...?"

His question is not even finished as he walks past his older brother, who rolls his eyes saying"Yes, it's their gnocchi recipe, yes, you may stay for dinner"

You pout, silently telling him he's cute so he should be more forgiving towards his younger brother. He loves that you like his sibling, the one he raised for a while, but he also hates that all the little demon has to do is make a puppy face and you'd agree to anything.

Later in the evening, you found yourselves hyper focused on a backgammon game. You were both sitting on carpet in the living room, the game set on the coffee table. It was a hilarious sight for you, him competitive as always with his hair pushed back by one of your headbands and brows so furrowed you could see them under his blue face mask. Which he only agreed to do once you sat on his lap and offered to put it on for him; suddenly, all his complaints about "I'll break out" or "I don't like the way it feels on me" silenced. You know he secretly loves doing skincare with you, he just likes what you do to convince him more.

"Stop staring, you're trying to distract me"

"Am not!" You gently shoved his healthy arm, pretending to be offended at the accusation.

"Yes, you are" He childishly sticks his tongue out before moving his piece. You huff, taking the dice and rolling them in your hand but not letting go of them yet.

He moves closer to you, his breath fanning over your neck before you ask; "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't cheat"

"And how would I do that?" You turn your head lightly to look at him.

"That's why I'm looking at you" He shrugs

"Sure," You smile, amused,"and you're not projecting onto me, Richard"

He puts his hand over his chest, as if holding his heart, and pretends to be deeply disturbed by your words. Even going as far as falling on the carpet behind you. Done with his distracting antics, you finally roll the dice. Your lips tug in a big smile when you see the numbers.

"I got two sixes," you announce, and he quickly gets up.

"No way,"

"Yes way" This was your turn of sticking your tongue out to him.

He can't believe how much you're kicking his ass when he was the one who taught you how to play. He wants so badly to kiss that smug grin off your face, and he is about to turn your focus from moving the pieces when someone else surprises you both.

"How old are you two?" Steph jokes, closing the window she came in through

"Hi Steph," you smile "I'm winning"

She steps closer to high-five you as he shakes his head no, disapproving your celebration before adding; "Only 'cause you're cheating" as he gets up.

"Can I have your files on the Riddler, pretty please?" Steph asks, getting to the point of her visit.

He warns you not to touch anything before he gets up to find his secured laptop on his safe. He's going to be out of action for a while, so it's not like he could after him, might as well give them to someone else. When he returns a few minutes later with a flash drive full of the information she needs, he finds you both gossiping on his couch way too comfortably. You gasp as she tells you something, Steph clearly agreeing with your reaction. He waits, he doesn't want to interrupt just yet. His heart feels so full when he sees you get along so well with his family that he wants to save the moment for a little more.

"You got those files?" She asks when she finally notices him standing on the doorway outside the bedroom.

"Yeah," He throws the flash drive and she catches with impeccable reflexes"you're welcome"

"Thanks," She smiles before heading back out the window and telling you;"Kick his ass in that game"

You smile and promise you will, and he looks down to realize just how really over it was for him. So when you're distracted waving at Steph, he kicks the table to move the set. You turn back to see him, and before you can even get mad, he tells you he wants to cuddle up and watch a movie.

You let his little plan work, but not without calling him a sore loser. He pats the space next to him on the couch with a proud grin as he turns the TV on. You roll your eyes, settling down next to his good side so he can wrap an arm around you the way he likes. He may be a sore loser, but you're the one letting him get away with it. Halfway through the movie, you pause to take off the face-masks and catch him staring a little too much in the mirror.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You raise an eyebrow, not believing in his reply"I don't have eye bags and I'm not used to it"

"Duh, you've been sleeping at night like a normal person recently"

"I'll give you a reason to stay up all night" He bites back, his hand skillfully landing on your hips to make sure you stay in place as he takes a step to stand behind you.

"Come on, I wanna see how it ends" You're fast to move out of his hold, God knows how easily you fall for his charm every time.

You cuddle back on the couch hitting play on the horror movie you watched again, the lights were off to help the mood. He liked when you flinched as held him tighter even if the movie was scaring him more than you. You relax with your head on his shoulder, both arms wrapped around his as his sat on your thigh.

"See? Your skin is so soft" You smile, a hand reaching to caress his cheek.

"You're the one who wanted to watch the movie," He puffs "now I wanna know if they exorcise the demon"

You roll your eyes, shifting back your attention to the screen. The movie was building up to a jump scare, the tense music and ambient, something scary was bound to pop up in seconds. What neither of you expected was that the scare was going to come from outside the movie. Cass stepped in front of the TV to get your attention, and you both screamed. Dick could swear the stitches in her mask moved up in a smile as you both held tightly into each other.

"Steph came by and left like an hour ago," He says, once he regains his composure. He's aware now of how down his guard was, it was not normal for him to be startled this easily.

She hums and nods, leaving as fast as she appeared. Giving you both a wave before jumping off your window. Now you're too freaked to go back to the movie. Suddenly, watching horror movies in the dark didn't seem like a good idea anymore, especially when he had a plethora of younger siblings willing to break in at any given moment. His hand rubs your back gently, and you giggle once the adrenaline worn down over how silly it was. He laughs with you, telling you that he's never going to live it down and how they're going to make fun as soon as he sees them again. You smile before pressing a kiss to his lips, he looked too handsome when he laughed.

"I don't want to watch the movie anymore"

"Okay, I can lock the window," he offers, grinning when you nod.

Some time later, you were still on the couch, though now your clothes were scattered around the living room. A sitcom plays instead as you rest on top of him with your head on his chest, the blanket covering until your waist while he has his arms on top of you, his hand tracing circles on your bare back. He was still all smiles and loopy from you riding him, maybe being injured had a good side. Maybe Gotham could afford not having Nightwing every once in a while.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You,"He replies, flustering you and making you hide your face in his chest. "maybe I could stay in with you"

You lift your head to look at him, eyes shining with joy before he says; "Once a month" You pout in response, even if it's better than nothing.

"Maybe I convince you to once a week" You flirt, your lips finding the spot in his neck he likes having kissed way too much.

"Once every two weeks," He smirks, his hand going from your back to your hips again.

"Dick!" A younger voice yells from a different room in the apartment, "Why did you give Steph your files?! I called dibs on them when you got inj-"

He's quick to react, pulling the blanket higher to cover you. He is almost as fast to scold his younger brother; asking how did he come in as the other profusely apologizes, covering his eyes and turning his back. Your face heats up, you have never been more embarrassed in your entire life. you hide under the blanket as he reaches for his underwear, which luckily was close enough that he didn't have to get up to get it. If any humor was left in you, you'd laugh at him showing Tim the way out as he teaches him a lesson on basic boundaries and the consequences of breaking into someone's place. You would've laughed at Tim's comment of needing therapy to delete the image from his head if it happened to anyone else.

"I'm never showing my face to your family again" You say once he comes back and he laughs, clearly taking this way better than you.

[yourladyem]

Beetlejuice 3 Story Idea

Delores and Rory plan to kidnap Lydia for a special Afterlife sacrifice that would give Dolores power over the Living and immortal beauty without the scars of her death. She uses her power of manipulation to trick Rory into believing she loves him and says the ceremony is for Rory to take Beetlejuice's place in her heart as her immortal partner/lover. But secretly it would bind Beetlejuice to her forever and give her the power she desires to return to the Living.

Beetlejuice, Astrid, and Delia team up to save Lydia. Lydia tries calling for Beetlejuice but Delores blocks her ability. Beetlejuice is the one who notices their connection is severed which causes him to reach out to Astrid for help after finding Delia who also notices her connection to Lydia was also cut. They realize none of them can get a hold of her. But Beetlejuice does figure out he can still contact her through a dream it's a connection with bizarre elements but doable for them.

They could travel through something like Dante's Inferno and Beetlejuice could brag that he literally went through Hell and back for the woman he loves.

No contract this time. No forced wedding. He just does it risking everything for her. But no one realizes it until after they save Lydia who starts questioning his motives immediately after she reunites with them after she found a way to escape. Clues in the dreams he sends her. Beetlejuice sacrifices himself to save her solely out of true love.

Lydia escapes and meets everyone just outside the gates of the sacrificial sanctuary. But her body starts illuminating. She doesn't have much time. They all reunite. Beetlejuice heads for the Hellish sanctuary with fire all around them. Lydia goes after him.

"What's going to happen to you?" Lydia asks.

"I'm giving her what she wants so you can go free?"

"What's the catch? Another bizarre wedding? For a third time? You know you could have asked someone for your Afterlife Green Card. Don't tell me you tricked Astrid into something!"

He sadly smiles at her outburst. He places an ancient sealed scroll in her hands. He holds her hands for a moment and she doesn't pull away. He cups her face and looks deep into her eyes.

"Even after all this time you still haven't figured it out."

She doesn't move away when he kisses her pulling her into his arms. Before she knows it, she's kissing him back.

He lets her go.

"I love you, Lydia." Before she can say anything, he runs towards the sanctuary. Lydia is left stunned watching him disappear into the blazing fires confronting Delores for a final stand off as Delia and Astrid pull her away as they escape.

They make it back to the graveyard outside the church through the same exit Richard showed them. It's a beautiful peaceful day.

Astrid and Delia are delighted the nightmare is over. Lydia stumbles towards the bench in front of the crypt and plots down still reeling from the events.

She looks down at the scroll. With shaky hands, she breaks the seal that is bound with a thin ribbon of red lace. Very familiar red lace. Gold lettering appears on the page.

It's a contract. But not just any contact.

Delia and Astrid join her. Delia sits beside her asking her what's wrong. She's unable to speak and hands the scroll to Astrid, who reads it.

The contract states he willingly traded his Afterlife for her life solely on the basis of true love and selfless sacrifice. No mutual trade-off except her freedom.

Lydia bursts into tears at the surprise of Delia and Astrid and even herself. Delia comforts her.

"Let me guess. You love him too." Delia smirks. Lydia just cries even more. After decades of denial, Lydia finally accepts the truth but now it's too late. Delia just holds her.

"Well, this explains so much, believe it or not. Still. Even after all the hell we went through with him, still better than Rory."

Astrid smirks in agreement. She started liking him too. He wasn't all bad. He was obviously crazy about her mother and now she knew the extent of it.

Time passes.

Lydia is never truly the same again. She checks the mail at the old Deetz home seeing the postcard from Astrid saying she's having a great time in Brazil with her college friends. She talks with Delia and goes through the rest of the mail finding an old folded-up piece of paper stuck to the back of one of the envelopes. She opens it up and it's an old flyer.

Missing the love of your life? Can't live without someone? Realizing you've made a terrible mistake pushing them away?

Same my name 3Xs.

"No way." Delia states

"It can't be." Lydia whispers. They stare at each other. Oh why not.

Beetlejuice.

Beetlejuice.

Beetlejuice.

Nothing.

They head for the foyer. Still nothing.

"Ok. He's not exactly one for subtly. Where is he?" Delia demands placing her fist on her hips. "Where are you! Great. Even I'm starting to miss him."

"The attic." Lydia concludes. They race towards the stairs when a knock comes at the front door.

They freeze. Lydia runs for the front door. A very attractive man with peach fuzz grayish/white hair and very striking familiar eyes smirks at her.

"Miss me, Honeycakes?"

Lydia feels their connection reform. His old self flashes before her then morphs back to the man in front of her. Lydia's jaw drops for more than one reason. "You..."

"It's me. The Juice in the flesh." He grins striking his signature pose.

"It's you?" Lydia finally manages to form a sentence.

"It's me, Lydia." Still grinning.

"It's really you?"

"Mmm hmm."

Her eyes crack in anger. "I'm going to kill you!" She screams charging at him. His smirk drops and bolts for the yard with her not far on his tail.

"Lydia! Lydia! Now wait a minute, Honey!" He keeps screaming at her as she continues trying to grab hold of him.

Delia watches from the porch with headless Charles. "She's going to marry him, isn't she?" She continues watching Lydia's game of murder tag.

"She wouldn't. Would she?" Headless Charles chimes in. Blood spewing out.

"Yes, she would. Still better than Rory, though."

Back in the yard, BJ twists away from his Gothic assailant. "Honey! Honey! Lydia! Babe! Stop!"

"Why? Why should I! Do you know what you put me through?! How are you even alive? How do you look like that?!"

"Did you read the scroll I gave you?"

"Yes!"

He laughs enjoying her irritation catching his breath.

"Then that's all you need to know. I thought it was pretty obvious. I thought it was obvious a long time ago."

She swallows the rising emotion.

"I traded my life for yours that granted me freedom from the Afterlife. Yes, I traded in my good looks for this." Pointing to himself. "Even sacrificing my luscious blonde locks but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make to help the woman I love. Again."

She shoulders sag. She looks at him with guilty eyes.

"Since I died on my wedding night - murdered by a death cultist actually who tricked me into marrying her for my soul - only if I selflessly sacrificed myself to save a person out of pure love I would be freed from my death sentence and could return to the Living and Delores would have no power over me again and she couldn't hurt the person I loved. Didn't think it would ever happen until I met you. By the way she is gone for good. Rory too by the way."

Lydia smiles a little. "So not someone else? Why me? You could have had someone else and gotten your Green Card marrying someone else or sacrificing yourself for someone else?"

"Yes, I could have. Even tried a few times before meeting you. But they weren't you. It was always you. It was always going to be us. And despite your best efforts, you've known that too. You can't stop this. You can delay it but never truly stop it. And you knew that too."

She bites her lip.

So," He pulls out a ring from one of his pockets. "What do you say, Honey? Will you marry for real this time? Third time's the charm." He grins.

She bites back the growing tears and nods. He slides the ring on her finger.

"Ok but no take back this ti-" She cuts him off with a rough kiss.

"Called it." Delia smiles. Charles digs into his pocket and hands her some cash.

Beetlejuice and Lydia break the kiss. Lydia smacks his chest.

"Ow!"

"I love you but don't ever do this to me again! That's for the literal Hell you put me through! Including not answering me when I called for you. I know you heard me!"

And they're back to arguing.

"Yeah, that marriage is going to last forever." Delia shakes her head. "Just like us." She turned to Charles.

Third wedding and they're finally married for real. Vows exchanged and he kisses his bride.

"I just have one question." Lydia whispers. "What is your real name?"

"Well it's actually B-"

Bam! Black screen and credits roll

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire//biker!older!Eddie x fem!Reader//90's au

Part 12: For Whom the Phone Rings

WARNINGS PLS READ: 18+ONLY, MATURE THEMES, violence, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), creampie, jealousy, threat of violence, homophobic slurs, threat of sexual violation (does not actually happen), threat to someone's family, foul language, derogatory slurs in general, mention of a gun, financial struggle, bribes, mention of blood, ANGST, biker MC, mention of violent past, hurt and comfort. WC: 8.2k

Summary: You and Eddie take another leap in your relationship and get cozy together, while Steve rolls into high gear with the MC, biting off a bit more than he can chew. Robin takes matters into her own hands to protect Oliver, and past relationships come back to haunt. Playlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: I rarely go into these chapters knowing what will happen, and this story in particular definitely has a mind of its own now. That being said, you won't ever read about the act of sexual violation in these or any of the main characters getting killed or detrimentally hurt, because I just can't stomach writing about it. This part is definitely angsty, but I hope you enjoy ❤️

pls NO MINORS beyond this point

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For Whom the Phone Rings

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You decided that making it through the rest of the dinner with John would be too painful knowing that Eddie was in love with you and he was out there on his motorcycle waiting like some Cool Rider dream out of Grease 2. Knowing that you were also in love with him and all of the endorphins that went along with that feeling made your body tingle. You didn’t want to let go of his hand; you wanted to just walk right out with him. Yet, the business side of you didn’t want to lose John as a contact, or Richard Gere for that matter. No need to burn unnecessary bridges.

You went back to the table and gave John a reluctant, sad smile, and told him the phone call was an emergency and you had to run. He got to his feet and insisted on driving you, but you assured him that your boyfriend was coming to pick you up. You realized in that moment that’d you’d never referred to Eddie as your boyfriend out loud before, and it felt really fucking good.

Eddie was straddling his motorcycle and smoking a cigarette when he caught sight of you coming out the front door, and you both grinned like idiots at each other.

“That was quick,” he swung his leg off, taking hold of your hand so he could yank you toward him faster, cause he couldn’t wait to get his lips on you again. He pulled his leather jacket out of one of the saddlebags and opened it up for you to put on. “It’s cold out on the road, baby.”

And so you let the heavy jacket with all of it’s zippers and buckles envelope you, smelling his cologne and a hint of nicotine in the leather. You of course hadn’t brought the helmet he bought for you, so you wore his again, buckling it under your chin as he revved the bike, throwing one of the body guards a dirty look for keeping his eyes on you for too long.

The only problem was your dress. Eddie anticipated the slit that went all the way up to your hip when you mounted behind him and the material fell back, exposing your entire leg. He instantly swung his arm back to block the view of your limb from the other dudes present, palming your knee. “Scoot in as tight as you can, baby,” he said to you above the growl of the engine, his wrist working at the throttle. During the ride home, his hand kept returning to the same spot, and you rubbed his chest with your hands, pinning your cheek to his shoulder, liking the way the ends of his hair flew back and tickled your nose.

Back at the garage, neither one of you could keep your hands off of each other after Eddie parked the bike. He actually tossed the helmet skidding to the pavement when you handed it to him because he didn’t want to miss a moment of being able to cup your ass and pull your mouth to his.

“God, I love you,” Eddie breathed, parting ways only to get the key out and unlock the door, and then you both stumbled in, laughing as you playfully bit his arm. You shrugged out of his jacket and he threw that over his head to the bottom of the stairs, just as your fingers hooked into his back belt loops and you stomped up the old wood stairs behind him.

This was one of those moments you knew you would cherish for the rest of your life. Even as it was happening, your body was registering it as one of your favorite memories. This new love with Eddie, this intense urgency to get somewhere to worship each other in peace.

He tugged you inside his apartment, pushed you back against the door, and held your hands above your head, kissing you as he braced you there. Tongues were quicker to touch than lips, and then his forehead pressed to yours; adrenaline surging.

Eddie’s hands released yours and slid down to feel you, pulling your breast free from the front of your dress so that his thumb could graze your nipple. His other hand found your bare leg beneath the slit of the dress and dipped down between your legs.

“Shit, baby,” he hissed, fingering your arousal as his cock flexed in his jeans.

“See what you do to me?” You slid your hands around the back of his neck, fingers into his hair, and picked your chin up to find his mouth again.

His knuckle dragged along your damp underwear, and you had your hand down his jeans now, palming him through his boxers. Your pussy throbbed as you got a hold of the bare skin of his length, tip leaking for you.

“Get me out of this dress,” you begged against his mouth, knowing that you couldn’t reach the zipper in the back by yourself.

“I hate this fucking dress,” Eddie added, blocking you against the door, slipping your underwear aside, dipping his finger into your pie, making your breath catch. “I hate that he bought it for you.”

You pushed away from him only to try and pull the dress up over your head, but the material was too stiff, and you were only able to wiggle the lower part of your ass out.

“Stop right there, baby,” Eddie mumbled. He came up behind you to pull your thong aside and press his cock up along the warm wet silk of your slit. “Fuckkk,” he groaned, cupping the front of your throat and pulling you back.

You shivered as his tip got close to entering you; the need pulsed at your core, and you whimpered as his tongue found your ear, flicking around the outside. With his cock stiff and lifted enough to ride between your legs without assistance, both of his hands pushed the front of your dress down, cupping your breasts, pinching and twisting the nipples, making you drop your head back with a gasp. You were only wearing the dress around your mid-section now, knees weak, sighs hot and heavy.

“Are you my girl?” He grumbled it, and then blew air on your neck where his saliva was, making you shiver.

“Mhmmm,” you responded. His pelvis was bouncing off your ass as he worked his length along your dripping slit.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me who you belong to.”

You reached a hand up to grab his head, ass pressing back against his thrusts, pussy clenching. “You, baby, only you,” It was urgent; the hole between your legs begging to be fed and filled by this man, and this man only.

Eddie reached down to finger your core with his big hand, cock kicking up at the mess he found there soaking through. “I love you so fucking much. You’re killing me.”

He ducked back to try and find the zipper, but it stuck at the top. In a moment of passionate fury, he took hold of the material with both hands and ripped the back open with a grunt. The threads spit open at a jagged angle, exposing the soft skin of your back, and then he just kept pulling, yanking the material away. “Fuck this dress,” he hissed as it met the ground in pieces.

He ripped your underwear off with a single yank, the sensation of breaking material hot against your hip, and you yelped at the surprise, but then he had you on the bed, pulling his shirt up over his head to expose the wash of tattoos, and pushing his jeans and boxers down. The length of his cock bounced up, showing the thick vein underneath, the upper shaft still glistening with your juices.

He crawled on the mattress after you and you urged him closer, sealing his mouth to yours, brushing his hair out of his face. “I need it so bad right now baby, please,” you mewed, a desperate whine in the back of your throat. You felt the head of his cock knocking at the swollen folds above your entrance, and you spread your legs wide; dripping and begging.

“I need it too, baby,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. “So fucking bad.”

You looked down to watch him hold his huge cock at the base so he could run the tip along your slit; preparing it for duty. “Tell me if it’s...too much?” He whispered it just before he kissed you again. You were sure it would just melt right in.

But then he buried the tip and your body stiffened, a tiny squeak escaping your throat. Eddie’s hand clamped onto your hip as his lips parted and his eyebrows cinched together. “Fuck, you’re so tight baby,” and he rose up a bit to look down at the way he disappeared inside of you, working the tip back and forth, taking his time. “This is all mine, yeah? No one else.”

“No one else, baby,” you gasped grabbing his neck, meeting his eyes. He searched your face, flexing his hips to sink in another inch. He had one hand braced on the bed while the other cupped your jaw, and then his thumb sank into your mouth and you sucked it.

Eddie glanced down again at your beautiful body open for him, and decided he couldn’t wait another second to own you, and buried himself the rest of the way in, cursing, feeling like he might cum right then and there. You cried out, exposing your throat for him to paint with his tongue.

He sat back on his knees briefly to thrust in hard a few times, base deep, needing to know he was deeper than anyone had ever been inside you before. Needing to look at what he did to you; the way you unraveled for him.

But then his eyes snapped to yours, needing something else.

You could see the ask in his soft dark orbs as he braced his hands at your hips, locking his length inside of you for a few breaths as the gravity of emotions vibrated in the air.

“I love you,” you told him. And then the dam broke and you said it over and over and over, and he dropped his body close, bucking his hips, his own affirmations of love flowing with each breath. You clung to his shoulders and wrapped your legs as he stretched you out, digging heels in, needing him to be as close as two humans could possibly be.

The intensity of the experience mounted a quick release and soon Eddie’s face was right above you, taking your chin to turn your face. “Look at me,” he said. “Don’t look away, okay?”

His pace quickened, forehead tightening, and a warmth started to spill through your body like liquid sunlight until all you could do was search his eyes and babble, “fucfuckfuckIloveyou...fuck.”

Eddie slowed for a moment. “I’m gonna cum so hard inside you, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes baby please,” you whined. “Fuck, please, all of it.”

And then he was down close to you again, slamming into you with purpose, one hand on your throat, headboard banging the wall. Your eyes locked and then you were cumming, hard, seeing white, velvet tugs rippling at your core.

Eddie felt your walls clench like a heart beat around his cock and watched your eyelids flutter, sending his release into action, the bark of an exhale in his chest.

You were riding the wave of your orgasm when you felt him tremble, his hips stuttering, pupils blown. The feel of his warm seed pumping extended the ripple affect, and you both clung to each other with aching breaths as Eddie dropped his head to find your mouth.

You palmed his cheek as he finished, eye clamping shut for the first time to take in all that had just happened. He brushed his lips on your palm, your eyelids, your cheeks, all while buried inside you; nurturing a desire in his belly to curl up and live there forever.

His jeans and boots on, denim pooled at his ankles, too ripe with eagerness earlier to even consider the seconds it would take to remove them. It was a while before he pulled out of you, and the tender way he brushed his lips across your face and neck had your ears ringing, skin buzzing. It wasn’t fair that you would automatically think the worst in a situation such as this, but you were afraid of how much you loved this man. Already considering the rejection or the thing that would inevitably go wrong, and how bad it would break you. How you might never recover from this one.

He officially had your heart and he could do whatever he wanted with it. There was no longer a decision to be made or pros and cons to consider: you were completely, utterly gone.

---------

“I hope you rot in hell you greedy cunt!” Steve said as he slammed the phone down on the receiver with a clang.

Robin rushed into the kitchen from the living room, eyes wide, hoping that Steve’s outburst hadn’t woken Oliver from his nap. They both froze for a few seconds, ears perked to listen for the sound of his tiny footfalls or a door opening.

“I hope that wasn’t your mother,” Robin chided, throwing the dishtowel in her hand over the side of the sink.

“Think bigger cunt,” he said in a much lower voice, throwing on his leather Coffin Kings cut. “They’re staying at that seedy motel over on Chestnut.”

Robin bristled, knowing it has been Tina, Oliver’s biological mom. She crossed her arms. “Do we need to get a lawyer?”

“With what money, Rob?” He braced his hands on the back of one of the dining table chairs, facing her, rolling his neck.

Robin was taking on more shifts at the hotel and Steve at his two jobs, but it felt like they could never dig out of the hole they were in lately.

Steve took a deep breath and straightened, rolling his shoulders. “Don’t worry, okay? I got some things lined up. We’ll have enough to make that pickled whore and her dog-faced pimp go away for a bit. Hopefully they overdose and fucking die---”

“Steve.”

“What? I hope they die. I’m not afraid to say it.” He snatched his sunglasses off the table and slid them over his eyes. “I won’t be back till late. I got a thing with the Kings, and then I’m at the Hammer tonight.”

He said it all over his shoulder as he was crossing the distance to the door and opening it.

“Wait,” Robin called after him. “What thing with the Kings?” He’d promised her numerous times that he wasn’t doing anything illegal or detrimental to his health for Oliver’s sake, but the Coffin Kings weren’t ones to just meet up for a casual cheese and wine picnic in the park.

He stepped outside into the early afternoon sunlight and shut the door behind him. “It’s nothing,” he told her through the open window. “Kiss my boy for me when he wakes up.”

--------

Earlier that morning, around 4am, you were tucked close to Eddie as he spooned you, the fingers of one hand intertwined with yours, his warm breath on the back of your neck. His cum sticky between your legs. You were out of the habit of sharing a bed with someone, and so your sleep was a bit restless, but every time you snapped awake and remembered where you were---a warmth came over you, and you nuzzled against him, kissing his hand.

Eddie, on the other hand, was sleeping like a bear. Knowing you were safe in his arms was like a sedative for him. He stirred briefly a few times only to squeeze your hand or kiss your shoulder, but for the most part, you listened as his heavy breathing turned into a rattling snore in the back of his throat, and it made you smile.

You jumped when the phone rang loud and shrill, and Eddie’s head popped off the pillow with a grunt, his eyes closed.

“Whoever it is, they are dead fucking meat,” he mumbled out of the side of his mouth after dropping his cheek back to the pillow.

You moved as if you were about to get out of his way so he could reach the phone that was on your side of the bed, but Eddie’s arm held fast, locking you in place. “Let the machine get it, baby,” he whispered, tongue clicking in his dry mouth, already halfway back to dreamland.

It was so cute to think about how he ran out and bought an answering machine because you asked him to. You knew he hated them, and it was something he’d done just for you, so that he would never miss a message if you called.

It rang three times before you heard beep and the machine click on, and then there came a woman’s voice you didn’t recognize:

“Um, hey Eddie baby, long time no talk…”

Behind you, Eddie stiffened. Your eyes blew wide open.

“...I can’t believe you finally stepped into the modern age and got an answering machine. Maybe people do change, I know I have,” there was a shuffling and the sound of ice clinking in a glass. “I’ve really been missing you lately and thinking about that time we went to Sturgis and we missed Steppenwolf because we were too busy fucking in the back of the…”

Eddie started to crawl over you, ready to yank the phone cord out of the wall, but you put your hand up to stop him, and he paused there, one hand braced on either side of you, hair hanging down. “This is nothing, baby, she’s--” he whispered, but then the message continued.

“...and then on the way home ate burgers in the park. Fuck, those were good times. I know you never sleep, so I figured you’d hear this message and pick up, but maybe you don’t want to talk to me anymore? I can’t say I’d blame you. Anyway, I’m coming to town this weekend for a wedding and I’d love to see you if you want to see me. I’m staying at Chrissy’s moms house, I think you still have the number.”

Eddie fell back on the bed, gnawing on his bottom lip, one hand on your thigh, waiting for the nightmare to end so that he could explain to you that it was all ancient history. He hadn’t been with Melanie in almost 5 years, and he hadn’t from heard her for at least 2, and he didn’t want to hear from her, not ever again. If he had to guess, he’d bet that she’d dumped another one of her boyfriends and was looking for comfort; the likes of which he had none to give. God, why was this happening to him? Why now of all the times in the fucking world for her to call?

He wanted to pick that answering machine up and break it in half with his bare hands.

Meanwhile, you were trying to push down the discomfort rising in your throat. This was clearly someone from Eddie’s past, someone he hadn’t spoken to in a while, but you couldn’t help the jealousy that tightened your flesh over your bones and made your tongue push against the back of your teeth.

“Anyway, maybe if you’re up for it, we can get a drink at the Hideout for old time’s sake? Well, now I feel stupid talking to this thing. Call me, okay? Same number as before. Oh, and this is Melanie by the way, remember me? The one you were supposed to grow old with?” Melanie took a moment to giggle to herself before she finished. “Okay, miss you lots. Bye bye.”

The phone clicked on her end and the message beeped again to announced that it was finally over. You and Eddie lay in the loud silence for a few seconds, and then Eddie swallowed hard.

“Let me explain? I haven’t talked to her in---”

But you cut him off, rolling over on your other side to face him, nudging his arm to open up so you could slide into his armpit and put your head on his chest, your leg stretching over his, hand palming his bicep, thumb grazing his nipple.

“We can talk about it later,” you hushed.

He pulled you close, kissing the top of your head, “she means nothing to me, baby,” he reiterated, and then it wasn’t long before you heard the purr of his snores again. His arm went lax and slipped down to the bed with a flop.

But you, you were wide awake. Blinking ever so often with the rhythm of the red light on the machine cast on the ceiling, announcing that there was a new message.

---------

In the dark corner of an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district, Steve’s fist cracked into the jaw of a guy tied to a chair with duct tape over his mouth. This was not the first punch, and his knuckles were raw. The guy in the chair was a snitch who’d tried to run, but Steve and a few of the others caught up with him. He had a shaved head covered in tattoos, his eye was now swollen, and nose broken, so he was struggling to breathe through the snot and the blood.

Steve stepped back, kicking his chin up, signaling to two of the Hell’s Belles that were there. “Take his Kutte,” he told them.

One of the two women slipped a knife of of the sheath at her hip and twirled it in the air before slicing the leather of his cut off at the arm hole so that they wouldn’t have to untie his hands. They cut and yanked on both sides until the material opened up and The guy screamed inside the duct tape, drool dripping down his chin from a tiny gap in the tape.

Steve’s tattooed hand was seeping watery blood from one knuckle as he pinched a cigarette between thumb and forefinger and took a drag. “You know, Jerry Dog wants your head. He told me to bring it to him in a bag with a pretty bow on it.”

The guy had stopped trying to battle the restraints, but he glared at Steve with hard, dark eyes, shouting something that only came out as muffled noise. Two of the Coffin Kings were standing at Steve’s back, legs braced wide, hands resting on the hilts of weapons at their sides. Steve turned on his heel, following the Hell’s Belle with the torn leather vest out of the damp building and into the sunlight. She had shoulder length, orange hair with one side completely shaved, and she went by the name Ratchet.

Ratchet made sure to put the cut in the saddle bag on the back of her bike and tighten the buckle closed before she turned around to address Steve again. “I thought you and War Machine were taking a step back from the life? That’s the rumor, anyway.”

War Machine was Eddie’s nickname, and had been ever since they were young and he was always getting into fights with kids who tried to pick on him or others. Steve had been known as Taz around the MC, in honor of the Tasmanian Devil, because if he was in a mood, he’d fight anyone--even if the odds were stacked against him. The gold tooth he had was to replace one of his incisors due to the original one getting knocked out when he was 21 by a guy with metal rings on. Steve’d spit the tooth out at the time and started laughing, blood dripping down his chin like a mad man. He never though things through like Eddie did. Back in their school days, Wayne would come around the corner to the principals office with that tired look on his face as he removed his hat, and there’d be Steve and Eddie; bloody noses and swollen lips. They were both never far from each other, and neither one let the other go into battle alone.

But Eddie hadn’t gone by War Machine in years; he’d grown to hate it, actually. The things he’d done in the name of the MC as War Machine were some of the things he hated most about himself.

“I got a son now, ya know,” Steve sucked hard on his smoke, cheeks caving in, and then he exhaled to the side. “And Eddie’s just, a good guy I guess. Just cause you grown up in the life doesn’t mean you’re made for it.”

Tiger Lily—the other female biker with Ratchet--and the two Kings with Steve were also wandering around, having a smoke break and taking a piss, while they let the guy inside sweat, wondering if these were his final moments.

Ratchet tucked the long side of her hair behind her ear, her nickname tattooed in cursive on the side of her throat. “How’s Robin?”

Steve hadn’t seen Ratch in a while, but it was standard procedure for her to ask after his best friend. The two had a thing many years ago, but Ratch was a dog at the time and went sniffing too many other butts for Robin’s liking. Fucking things up with Buckley was still one of her biggest regrets.

“We’ve got our share of the shit pie,” Steve assured. “But we’re making it work. I couldn’t do it without her.” He tapped his heel on the toe of his boot and flicked his cigarette. “I’ve got a gig lined up with some rich bitch. Easy bag, some lame body guard gig. It should get our heads out of water, at least.”

“Who’s it for?” Ratchet squinted, exhaling smoke out her nose, down the piercing in the middle of her bottom lip.

“I don’t really know,” Steve shrugged. “She seems to have a lot of money to throw around, that’s all I give a fuck about.”

“Careful, bro,” Ratchet held the two fingers up holding her cigarette, chipped black polish on her fingernails. “There’s a wealthy cougar in town who likes to hire MC’s as body guards and she’s been pitting different clubs against each other. Three of Lucifer’s Own got the piss beat out of them the other weekend trying to defend her fortress. Put Donnie in intensive care.”

Steve’s mind flicked to the night Eddie was stabbed, and the way Eddie wouldn’t tell him who did it because he knew Steve would go off the rails.

“Like I said,” Steve rolled his neck, crushing the end of this cig into the mud with the toe of his boot. “I don’t care what the drama is, long as she pays.”

Ratchet respected this, offering a twitch of her brow.

“Let’s get this over with,” Steve motioned to the rest as he opened the aluminum door to head back into the building. “I got shit to do.”

The guy in the chair was struggling to breathe through some miracle opening in his inflamed and bleeding nostrils. His broad chest heaved, nearly popping open the buttons on his black and blue flannel, gasping for air, cheeks puffing out, his bald head slick with sweat.

Steve took position in front of him again. The whole cutting his head off thing was a bluff. Jerry Dog had never requested such a thing. The other two Kings, Rooster and Emmett, would toss him in the back of the utility van and dump him down at the train yard and wait for further instructions.

The guy in the chair barked something at Steve through the tape, eyes narrowing, but it only came out as a strangled mumble.

“You trying to say something to me, Inky?” Steve cocked his head, referring to the man’s nickname.

Steve reached across to rip the tape off in one quick swipe, taking some of Inky’s mustache with it. The guy wheezed, bending his head to take a few deep inhales through his mouth, coughing a few times at the greedy pulls of air his body was taking.

“I got good news, man,” Steve’s tone was sarcastic as he rested his hands on his hips. “You get to keep your head. For now.”

Inky spit. He’d clearly intended the projected saliva to land on Steve, but it hit the ground next to his boot instead. Steve looked down at the spit, and then back up at Inky. “To think I thought you’d be grateful?”

“Fuck you, Taz,” Inky sneered at Steve, his voice full of vitriol. “I never did like you. Jerry Dog is gonna let me walk, and then you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna come to your house and fuck the gay right outta that dyke roommate of yours, and I’m gonna make your kid watch.”

If Steve ever had a voice of reason that spoke to him in his head, it wasn’t about to change the impact those words had on him. There would be no more talking, no more negotiation, and no one in that room would dare to try and stop him, even if they wanted to, as he started pummeling his fist over and over into Inky’s face. At one point, Inky lost consciousness, jaw broken and slack, and the chair fell sideways, landing his head to the cement with a thunk. Steve followed, dropping on top of him, seeing red, unable to stop his fist from working, smashing, breaking.

When the other four were finally able to pull Steve off, it was too late for Inky.

---------

“Who is this Melanie bitch?” Katie came to visit you that night during your shift at the Velvet Hammer because you felt like you needed a pep talk. You’d just come up next to the bar where she was having her whiskey sour, and the ask was loud enough for Shanna, the longtime bartender and manager to hear.

Shanna had on a platinum blonde wig shaped in a 1920’s bob cut, a row of 6 tiny hoops curving up one ear, and a long, red upside down cross dangling from the other. She squinted at Katie while she squeezed fresh orange juice to make a screwdriver, and then her eyes shifted to you. “Melanie. You mean Melanie Drake? Your old man’s ex?”

You knew Eddie had a past, and you were glad for the most part. He was in his early thirties, for godsake, and if he hadn’t at least tried to commit to someone before you, it could easily be seen as a red flag. And it didn’t matter how much in love you knew you both were, or how devoted he clearly was to you—there was something unsettling about the girlfriend before you coming to town. Not just any girlfriend or one night stand, but someone he’d clearly had deep feelings for. Not only was she coming to town, but she explicitly wanted to see your boyfriend.

“Yeah,” you moved your jaw and absently straightened the little black pocket apron around your waist. “She left a really flirty message early this morning on his machine while we were in bed together.”

“Nooooo,” Katie blanched, making a yuck face. “What did you do? What did you say? What did HE say?”

Shanna passed the screwdriver and two pints of beer over to Jackie who loaded them on her tray. The dancer in the back was giving a wild show to the tune of Unsung by Helmet, sliding down the pole slowly, both legs spread wide, dropping to the floor in the splits with a head bang.

Shanna was clearly invested in the story now too, waiting with baited breath for you to answer Katie’s questions. “We just...went back to sleep. I told him we could talk about it in the morning. But then we woke up late and he had to rush out.”

Shanna and Katie exchanged a look.

“He loves me, we are good, I trust him,” you moved the four tequila shots and limes to your tray as Shanna passed them to you, and you couldn’t tell if you were trying to convince yourself or them.

“Of course he loves you, but is he planning to meet up with her, though?” Katie asked, taking the two tiny red straws out of her drink. “Cause, I don’t like that idea. Feels wrong. Sends her an encouraging message.”

You didn’t have a chance to answer before Shanna spoke up. “Melanie won’t show her face in here if she knows what’s good for her,” she paused only to rim a margarita glass with salt. You and Katie both directed your attention to hear the rest. “Years ago, she was hired on as one of the dancers for a couple months. Found out she was stealing from the other girls and giving blowjobs to customers in the bathroom.”

You blinked a few times, not liking the fact that she’d also had a job there. Katie lifted her glass to her lips but paused there, giving you a side eye.

Shanna raised an eyebro, smoky eye makeup rimming eyes that were so brown they were almost black. “And that was when she was still supposedly with your old man. I’m not even sure if he ever found out about it. Probably would’ve killed someone if he had.”

The news of Eddie being blatantly disrespected and cheated on like that didn’t sit well with you, either, and you realized that you knew nothing about this woman, how long they’d been together, and why it ended. You had to run your tray of drinks over to a table, and Katie ordered another whiskey sour while she waited.

You checked on other tables, and then on your way back to Katie at the bar, you saw Steve come in. He was an hour late, but he’d already called to let Shanna know, and one look at him told you why he was late.

While normally Steve had a charming, cheerful disposition, tonight his jaw was set at a hard angle, his eyes cold and weary. He was favoring his right hand, holding hit against his stomach. It was wrapped up, but poorly, as if he’d done it himself in a rush, red/orange seeping through at the knuckles. Normally, Steve would saunter over to see what the girls were gossiping about at the bar, and be eager to give his two cents. But, that night, he found his stool, and prepared to do nothing above the bare minimum required for his job. He lit a cigarette and checked ID’s, but made no move to add any banter to his interactions.

And no one bothered him or asked any questions because they were all realizing, perhaps for the first time, how scary he was once all of the casual, jovial exterior was removed.

----------

The rain was drizzling that night as Robin sat in her car facing the seedy motel on Chestnut, planning her words. She dropped off Oliver with Wayne for the night, and when they got there, Wayne already had cartoons on and some pigs-in-a-blanket in the oven; his face lighting up in a way they all thought the cancer had long ago removed.

Behind the wheel, facing room 11, here were two manila envelopes in her lap: one was full of cash and the other contained official government paperwork. She had a private savings account she’d been trickling money into for years. Even then, it only had about six grand in it. She pawned some of the gold jewelry her grandmother passed down to her, and a few other keepsakes she’d been saving to pass down to Oliver, and the final product was the best offer Tina would ever get from them. They were usually able to buy her off for a year or so with a grand or two, so ten grand should make her eyes sparkle long enough to sign away her rights to Ollie.

Steve and Katie had no idea what she was up to. Steve would’ve tried to stop her. He would’ve showed up and caused a scene, and his temper would get the best of him. Robin was calm. The only endgame that mattered to her was keeping Oliver safe and in her arms, and she didn’t care how broke she was or how low she had to grovel to make that happen.

She could see them through the window between the break in the curtains. Tina with her curly black hair, long and wild, wearing a tight, red spandex dress, and then her fiance Louis, shirtless, wiry muscles littered with prison ink. They appeared to be in the middle of an argument, but that was nothing new; they both thrived on chaos.

Robin also had a gun.

She strapped her bag across her body and reached in to palm the cool steel of Steve’s protection piece he usually kept in a safe in the closet. There was always the chance that Tina and Louis would try to jump her and take the money without following through on the paperwork, but she wasn’t going to let that happen; her plan was solid.

This bullshit would end tonight.

---------

It was so early in the morning when Steve’s bike rumbled around the corner to Astrid’s house that it was still dark. He dismounted right next to the dilapidated picket fence with the chipped white paint, and looked up to see that she was already on the porch in her nightgown, arms wrapped in a shawl, waiting for him. He hadn’t called to tell her he was on his way, in fact, it had been a last second decision as he idled at a stop light on his way home after work.

Steve needed comfort, and for some reason, Astrid always knew how to give it without him needing to ask.

“How’s your hand?” She asked across the lawn, even though he’d taken the bandage off and, from that distance, in the dark, there’s no way she could’ve known it was swollen and fleshly with raw patches.

He didn’t answer, he just came through the gate and made his way at a tired pace toward her, clomping up each step in his heavy boots, wallet chain jangling.

“Let me see,” she said, holding out her hand, palm up, for him to oblige. She hissed at the damage, and when she tapped his middle finger, he winced. “Honey, we need to get this cleaned and bandaged properly. It might even need a splint. Come inside. I put a beer in the freezer.” She always moved a beer from the refrigerator to the freezer when she had a hunch he was on his way so that it would be extra cold for him. She also had leftovers heating in the oven because it was typical of him to forget to eat.

Once inside the house, while he followed her through the candlelit living room to the kitchen, Steve caught her elbow and spun her around. Astrid’s eyes sought his, trying to anticipate his needs, but then what she found there was exhaustion, both emotional and physical, and a palpable sense of dread. Of fear that life would always take and never give. That time would continue to accomplish nothing but to wear us down and break our hearts.

He bowed his head, and then he dropped to his knees, arms wrapping around her legs, cheek pressing into her thigh, a sob hitching in his chest. He loved the fullness of her stomach and hips, the way his fingers sank in. She used both hands to comfort him, one stroking his cheek that was already damp, while the other combed through his thick head of hair, gently tucking strands behind his ear, tracing down the back of his neck.

She lowered to her shins and met him on the hardwood floor, scooping his head against her bosom while his shoulders jerked and the tears rolled. She was the only person Steve let himself cry in front of. Maybe only once or twice it had happened around Robin, and he always left the room to pull himself together. His father had drilled it hard into his head that crying was a weakness and it made you less of a man. It turned you into a sissy boy or a faggot, as if that were the worst thing, and set you up to be bullied and teased for days to follow. Better to yell, better to hit things, and make other people afraid so that they could be just as sad as you.

Wordlessly, they held each other there for a long while, as Steve choked on sobs and Astrid kissed the top of his head over and over, content to stay like that for hours if that was what he needed. After a bit, there were tears streaming down her cheeks as well.

"You're safe with me," she hushed.

-----

Eddie extended you an open offer to stay with him whenever you wanted, he even casually mentioned that he planned to have another spare key made so that you could come in and make yourself at home even if he wasn’t there.

Giving someone a key to your place was no small step in a relationship, and your heart swelled at the sincerity of the gesture.

But, you decided to go back to your place after your shift at the Hammer. You were tired, needed a shower, and some time to yourself. Plus, your cat Charlie had a lot of questions about where you were the night before.

Just as you were getting home, Katie was headed back out, her pajama bottoms still on. Apparently, she’d received a call from Robin that spooked her a bit, and made her want to go and check on her girlfriend, even though she had to be up early for work. She was in such a hurry, you didn’t have time to ask any questions, but you hoped that Robin was okay.

After washing your face and getting into something more comfortable, you were just about to sit on the couch to let television numb your brain for a bit when the doorbell rang.

Eddie’s head was bowed when you opened the door, one knee cocked out to the side, thumb hooked in his belt loop while the other fingers fanned out on his thigh.

“It’s a little late to be visited by a Bible salesman, isn’t it?” You teased.

Eddie met your eyes and leaned forward to brace his forearm on the door jam, white tee straining against his muscles just under the cut of his Coffin Kings leather. Not for the first time, you noticed the War Machine insignia on the front and realized you kept forgetting to ask him about it.

“I waited up,” he mumbled. “I hoped you’d come over tonight.”

“Work was exhausting, and I needed to feed my cat,” you explained. “But I’m glad to see you. Come in?”

Eddie couldn’t get what had happened that morning out of his mind, and the last thing he wanted to do was give Melanie any more of his precious air, but he also didn’t want you to think he had any residual feelings for her.

The living room was dark, but for a soft light from the kitchen and glow of the TV, when you tilted your chin up to meet his lips with yours. You didn’t stay there to kiss him, though---you didn’t linger with hungry sighs like you were prone to do—you just spun on your heel to head back around the couch.

Eddie let the screen door shut behind him as he grabbed your waist with both hands. “Hey now, don’t run away from me,” he came up behind so that your body was flush with his. His mouth came down to graze your ear, “tell me you fucking missed me.”

“Of course I missed you,” you tried to shrug away from him, albeit playfully, but he was too strong; you were completely locked in place. “I always miss you.”

He released you only so you could turn to face him again, reaching up to cup your hands behind his neck, fingers dipping into the downy hair behind his ears. The kiss that came next was the kind that sent emergency bells off in your loins; tongues twirling each other, tight groans on the exhale.

You pulled back to meet his eyes before you were completely incapacitated again. “Please tell me you’re not planning on meeting up with your ex this weekend?”

“Hell no,” he responded quickly, a tightness in his brow as if it were ludicrous for you to even ask. “Believe me baby, if I never see her face again, it will be too soon.”

“What are we even doing?” You asked, throwing your hands out to the side as you stepped back to rest your hip on the back of the couch. “I mean, look at us. We’ve barely known each other for two months and everything that possibly could go wrong has. It’s just one stressful situation after the next. I’m exhausted, Eddie, and I’m sure you are too.”

Eddie brought his chin back and crossed one arm over to hold his bicep. “Are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?”

“No,” you coughed a laugh. Surely he didn’t think he could get rid of you that easily. “Believe me, I couldn’t stop being in love with you at this point even if I wanted to.”

A smile twitched on Eddie’s lips, and he came close, straddling your hips between his legs, taking your face in both of his hands. He kissed the tip of your nose, the look in his eye was tender but serious. “She never had my heart like you do. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever. I’d kill or die for you, baby.”

Clothes started to come off right there at the couch, but then you remembered that Katie might not stay at Robin’s and could be home any moment, and so you moved the party to your bedroom with Eddie’s belt undone and your shirt bunched up around your neck.

Eddie was on his knees with his head between your legs in a flash, flicking his tongue right where you needed it, making you fist his hair and bite your lip as you watched.

After the first orgasm, you were on your side while Eddie held your leg up and sunk his cock in over and over, hips clapping at your wetness. You turned your head to take his mouth while he stretched you out again and again, making you whimper, and your wrist flexed at your swollen nub, another release mounting.

“Oh godohgodohgod,” you whined. Eddie’s cock slipped out briefly, and when he thrust it back in, you began to see stars.

You looked up at him as your body rocked from the impact, “no one has ever been so deep, baby,” you promised, and the admission brought Eddie to the edge, twisting you to piston his hips faster.

He barked a groan of pleasure as he emptied himself inside of you, holding one of your legs up by the crook of his arm, and your walls clenched around him, producing a mingling of cum on his shaft.

Still inside of you, Eddie grabbed your chin so that your blown pupils could meet his. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” he said, sealing the words in your mouth with a kiss, hoping to bury them deep in your heart.

-------

Hundreds of miles away, a phone next to a full ashtray and a tumbler of whiskey was ringing.

Before the second ring, a guy with a military insignia tattooed on his forearm picked up.

“Yo,” the voice on the other end greeted. “This Craig?”

“Yeah, dumbass, who else would it be?” Craig answered gruffly.

The other guy cleared his throat. “It’s Gopher. Hey, listen, that chick you’ve been trying to track down? I had my guy look her up at the database over at the station. She ain’t in no Oregon, man. She’s in some podunk town in fucking Indiana.”

Craig sat down on the bed next to the gun he was cleaning, eyes hooded, blonde hair in a buzz cut. “You sure it’s the right girl? My girl?”

“No doubt about it man. She just had her license renewed.”

Craig pulled a notepad and pen out of the top drawer. “You got an address for me?”

“She’s got a roommate. Katie Clayton I think her name was.”

“Fuck, of course,” Craig worked his jaw, excitement edging in his veins. All this time he’d been nosing around in the pacific northwest while you were only a state away, right under his nose.

He should've known you’d never want to be too far away from him. A love like the two of you shared never died.

Part 13

Thank you for reading! xoxoxoxo

-------

Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @eighty6babyyy @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer @manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare @hellv1ra @chaoticgood-munson @ms1oftheboys @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @lma1986 @falling-solar-system @secretdryrose @kurdtbean @whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @dandelionnfluff @lilpotatobean2 @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @munsons-mayhem28 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @onegirlmanytales

[bluemoonwolf17]

Holy Shit!? This got more attention than I thought it would. Lucifer Damn!! Anyway, as promised! Here is the second part of this shit show Part 1

Okay, Again, listen. At this point, I just like the idea that Danny knew the Bat kids before everythin' happened, okay?!

And cannon? Who's she? I don't know her.

Also!!! A little warin' at one point, it gets a little gory.

_______

While Danny and Alfred were catchin' up, plottin' is where a 12-year-old Dick Grayson came down the stairs to see if Bruce was back from his meetin' that ran too late for the kids likin'.

When the kid saw a giant man who looked like Bruce near his Dad Bruce, he might have blurted the first thin' that came to his tired mind, "Do I have another Dad that's a giant, or am I that tired?" Bruce groaned Alfred, hid a smile behind his hand, and Danny, full-on cackled.

Danny, after laughin', froze then whipped his head towards Bruce so fast that his neck cracked. Bruce flinched away from his Pa because of the look he got or the sound no one knew.

Danny stared at Bruce with a look that could freeze a man. Bruce gulped and sent a silent prayer to any Ancients that'll listen while he looked between Danny and Dick. He settled for Dick.

"Ah, no, chum, this is your grandfather, Daniel Nightingale-Wayne Pa. This is your Grandson Richard Grayson, although he prefers Dick," Bruce said to Dick, then turned to Danny at the last part.

It was quiet until Danny spoke up, "Bruce Thomas Nightingale-Wayne! You are in so much trouble, young man!" Every Bein' in the room flinched (Yes, even Alfred). Bruce nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

Dick spoke up next. "Wait! I have another Grandpa!?" Danny sighed and looked at the kid. "Apparently so, kiddo. If you'd like, you can call me Pops or Papa" Dick had a bright smile on his face and launched himself towards Danny, yellin' out Papa with a gleeful giggle.

Danny just chuckled and hugged the kid back. "Y'know, I never expected that I would reunite with my son after years and then learn that I also have a grandson," Danny glared half-heartedly at Bruce.

After that fiasco, they moved to the kitchen. Danny made some of his famous hot cocoa and gave everyone a cup of it (Again, yes, even Alfred!) and just sat and talked until Dick was noddin' off into his empty cup of cocoa. Danny then told Bruce to take his kid upstairs and go to bed.

Bruce tried to fight about him goin' bed, sayin' he had work to do, but quickly shut up when Danny gave him a look. After that, Bruce bid Danny and Alfred goodnight.

Once the two were gone, Danny turned to Alfred and asked to know everthin' that happened, so Alfred and Danny stayed up late in the night. Alfred explained what happened while he was gone for almost four years without visitin' Danny almost went back to the realms to ice the Observents thoroughly once and for all, for keepin' Danny in the domains for so long.

After the talk, the two bid each other goodnight and went to bed. Over the next few weeks, Bruce got Grounded multiple times.

The cause of said groundings? 1) not tellin' Danny he was home 2) lettin' Dick be a vigilante Danny wasn't even that old when he became Phantom!

Dick was also not allowed to patrol on school nights anymore and was also to learn techniques from Danny to keep him safe after Danny knew he was a bit liminal. 

3) Scarin' him to complete death when he disappeared, yeah, he's not happy about that one, nor is he happy about how he portrays himself as a playboy. He does get it. He needs his "Brucie" persona and all, but still!

And finally, 4) this one is mainly Danny groundin' him from the Bat-Computer to get sleep. He still remembers how taxin' it was to have little to no rest in his teenage years and then go to school or just have to show his face. Yeah, it's not fun.

He also got to know Dick more. He learned about his parents and fears (he also may or may not have let Dick talk to his parents,) and he likes to call Dick Shootin' Star or Star. He knows that he prefers to be called Dick, but Danny just can't, and hey, he is his grandson, so of course he gonna give him a nickname.

This time, Danny spent most of his days in the dimension, and the only way he would go back to the realms is if Frostbite Clockwork or Pandora called him to the domains then and only then.

Danny did help a lot with Bruce and his terrible emotions. He could've sworn that Bruce wasn't that bad before he left. Yeah, Danny and feelings don't get along but damn.

Danny watched as Dick grew up into a good man and watched as Bruce bettered himself, and one day, Bruce came home with a nasty bruise. Danny just raised his eyebrow until Bruce told him the story, and then Danny was on the floor laughin'.

Then, a couple of days later, Bruce came home with the kid that did the bruise on him. Danny just snorted and welcomed Jason into the family. Then Jason learned that Bruce was Batman, Dick was Nightwing, and Danny was Phantom.

(Danny would help Batman every now and again, and Bruce and Dick didn't get into that huge fight, but he did still want to become Nightwing)

And you better believe that Jason got the same rules as Dick, and yes, he got a nickname, Danny, calls Jason Supernova. and Jason, in Danny's opinion, was sometimes more chaotic than Dick was.

Then, a few years later, Jason got takin' by the Joker. Danny was again at a meetin' in the realms, but this time, it was because Fenton's weapons were found in the domains.

Bruce knew he wouldn't get to his son on time, so he did the only thin' he could. He yelled and asked his dad to save Jason.

Danny heard his call and quickly got up with a growl. Every ghost in that room shielded themselves. They didn't want a repeat of the last time. Danny tore open a portal. When he got there, he yelled for the Joker to stop. Jason looked up and smiled. His Papa came, although the joy didn't last long. Joker screamed at Danny, sayin' that he had ruined his plan. Joker then turned to Jason and smiled.

Danny rushed forward to get Jason but wasn't fast enough. Danny screamed as the Joker brought down the crowbar. 

Danny, honest to the Ancients, couldn't tell you what happened next. One second, he was rushin' to get Jason then. The next thin' he knew, He was standin' over. The Joker said clown was on the ground lookin' up at Phantom.

Phantom heard his Son quietly cryin' for Jason. Phantom felt his anger skyrocket. Phantom felt his body shift to his more Eldritch form.

His teeth elongated, and his eyes shifted to glowin' pools of toxic green. His frame started to change into a four-armed bein' his skin took on a star-like appearance.

(I can't really explain it well, so I'll just put the thing that I took his look off. Also, it is considered Pompous-Pep. If you don't like it, then ignore it. I just like Danny's design, Space Monster Danny!

Although I have a slightly different idea. Instead of the blue and pink and bits of purple, he's full black with a bit of blue and purple swirlin' around, with toxic green eyes. And the stars tend to shift on his body)

"Joker, as the King of the dead, I know that everythin' must end and that everyone has a time when they die," Danny heaves a huge sigh. "But it does not mean that I'm okay with you killin' people, and even more so you've just. Killed. My. Grandson." The earth shakes when the last words are spoken.

"D-dad..." Bruce croaks out, Phantom. He tilts his head in acknowledgment that he Heard Batman Joker laugh. "Aww, does Batsy need his Daddy to fight his battles?" Bruce's eyes glowed a light green. "No, I don't, but I know when I need to back down, Joker," he growled.

Phantom Looked to Batman, and the man bowed his head. "This man has done terrible things, and I believe he can never be saved. You can do what you want with him," Phantom hummed.

He then turned to the Joker. "I do not prefer killin', but if you do survive this and go back to your ways, then I will have no choice but to kill you with my bear hands," Phantom's voice boomed.

The ghost then put one of his hands on the Joker's head. The man screamed and flailed. After a minute, he stopped, and Phantom let him go. Then, the man flopped bonelessly onto the ground. His face contorted into fear, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

Phantom sighed. He turned to Batman, and Robin, the boy, lay in Batman's arms. As he walked towards the two, his form shifted again. Back to his original, Bruce looked up as Danny kneeled. "W-what did you do him?" Bruce asked.

Danny growled. "All I did was put him through the same things that he has done to other people," He told his son in disgust for what he saw the Joker do. A small part of him wishes that the Joker lives so that he could kill the man.

Bruce looked down at his son. "Dad, can you make sure he's alright in the realms, and please tell him I'm sorry for not makin' it on time?" he asked Danny with tears threatenin' to fall.

Danny nodded his head. "I will make sure he is alright when I find him. I will tell you, I promise, Little Galaxy," he promised his son.

Bruce broke down after those words were said. Bruce hugged Jason and cried. Danny wrapped the two in his arms and cried with Bruce. Danny had failed again, he couldn't save Thomas and Martha, and now he couldn't save Jason.

The funeral was normal as any funeral could be, although Danny hoped he would never have to go through another one after his late partners. It was his first funeral and what he hoped was his last, but the Ancients weren't on his side, he supposed.

Danny still couldn't find Jason in any of the realms a few weeks after the disaster. He was gettin' upset that he couldn't find his grandson, and Bruce, Dick, and Alfred could tell.

One day, he came across an island just a short distance from Phantom's Keep. At this point, it's been two an half months since Jason's death, and one that little island was Jason, his grandson, his Supernova. When Jason saw Danny, he flung himself towards the man.

"PAPA!" Jason yelled after he was in Danny's arms. He bawled his eyes out. Danny joined him while sayin', "Oh, Supernova, I found you!" "I'm so sorry for not savin' you on time," "Your dad's sorry too," "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay!" and so on.

Danny was the first one to calm down. He managed to get Jason's sobs into hiccups Once the kid finally calmed down. He spoke, "Papa, what happened? I-I remember you lungin' towards and pain, then I just woke up here in the realms." he asked Danny.

Danny sighed. It seems that Jason doesn't fully remember his death. "...It was the Joker he- he Killed you, Jason..." the man whispered.

Jason froze the Joker...killed him? Is that why he woke up in the realms? Is he a ghost? If so, does that mean he'll never see his family again? Not his big brother, the goofball Dick. or Alfred's cookin' lessons, or Bruce's his Dad's hugs? His Papa's comfort. Will he never see his family again?

Jason knew he was spiralin’, but he couldn't stop.

Danny saw that Jason was spiralin’, so he quickly brought him into his body, curled around him, and tried to pull him out of his head. After a few minutes, it worked.

Danny had a feelin' what was goin' on in his Supernova's mind. "Yes Jason, your a...Ghost now, and I'm sorry for that, but it does not mean you never see the rest of the family again. I can always take you back, y'know" Danny smiled, tryin' to cheer up Jason.

Jason sighed with relief. Danny took that as a win in his books. The two just sat there and talked for a while, but somethin' was botherin' Jason the Joker. What happened to him? Did Bruce keep him alive like the other times? or is he dead?

Danny could tell that somethin' was on Jason's mind. "Alright, Supernova, what's up? I can tell there somethin' spinnin' in that head of yours. Jason flinched and alerted Danny.

"Whoa, whoa, what's wrong? Are you okay, Nova? Danny asked worriedly. Jason gulped. Here goes nothin', he thought, "U-um, the Joker...What happened to him?" Jason asked

Jason watched as his Papa's face darkened. "That man has been put through what he has done to his victims, although the fool bein' is in a coma has been since you died." Danny told Jason with hints of anger in his voice, "They also say that he will never wake up." Danny smirked. He hoped it'd stay that way, but he also didn't mind if he had to entirely kill him if the roach survived.

Jason laughed and asked, "Did Da-Bruce agree to that plan?" Danny smirked. Yes, he did indeed catch that slip. "Yes, he did, in fact. He gave me full permission to do what I wanted to the man." Jason's mouth dropped.

Bruce actually let someone die? Huh, he guesses that the rumors on Batman's refusin' to kill people were fake or somethin'. After that earth-shatterin’ information, Jason asked if he could see them. Danny smiled And got up. He tore open a portal and reached out his hand towards Jason.

Jason laughed gleefully and jumped on Danny's shoulders. Danny laughed with Jason. The two went into the portal and walked straight to the entry of the Manor.

Danny went back to human while Jason went invisible (No, Danny did not feel jealousy at all, no sir), and the two walked to the kitchen. Danny had a feelin' the three would be there. And the man was right Alfred was just puttin' a plate of cookies down when the two walked in. Both Bruce and Dick had a cup of tea in their hands.

Bruce and Dick looked like absolute shit, in Jason's opinion. Bruce, more than Dick and Alfred, looked like he aged twenty years. The three turned their heads when Danny walked in. The three noted that Danny looked happier than when he left. His eyes also looked a bit red.

"Is everythin' alright, Master Danny?" Alfred asked. Danny smiled his megawatt smile. Bruce sat up straighter. His Dad hadn't smiled like that since Jason died. Does that mean...?

"It's so much better than alright. Alfie!" he said. Danny then turned his head to his shoulder and tilted his head to the three. Dick and Alfred raised their eyebrows. Bruce stood up and looked at Danny with hope. Bruce then felt arms wrap around his torso. He then looked down and saw Jason appear.

Bruce looked to Danny for confirmation. Danny simply smiled. Bruce then quickly wrapped his arms around Jason. "Oh, Jason. I'm so so sorry, baby boy. I'm sorry that I couldn't save you." Bruce choked out. Dick quickly stood up with tears in his eyes. Alfred brought his hand up to his face.

Jason was also cryin'. "N-no, Dad, it's okay. Papa already explained everythin' to me." Bruce reached out for his Dad, and Danny complied. Danny also brought Dick and Alfred into the hug for the rest of the night. There was a pile of Waynes on the floor, huggin' and cryin'.

Over the followin' months, the Family was whole again. Jason decided to stay in the dimension with his family. And Jason learned how to copy Danny's ability to shift into his human form. It didn't work entirely, but it did help Jason look a bit more human, and it did get him out of his Robin costume.

Everyone was happy that Jason was no longer in the outfit he died in, and he was glad that no one in the family minded that he was a full ghost, unlike his Papa, that he'd never be warm again, or that sometimes he might be a little too inhuman.

About five months later, the Waynes learned that the Joker somehow survived what Danny did to him, but instead of showin' him that it was wrong to do what he did, he became worse than before the first encounter after he broke out. Bruce almost lost half his body.

Danny managed to save him by takin' the blow meant for Bruce. It took Danny a week to recover from what the Joker did. Danny lost the left side of his body and part of his face. Danny had to stay in his ghost form the whole time, or he would've died completely.

After the Joker hit Danny, the clown laughed and pointed to Batman and told him he'd be back after all. He had a score to settle, and the clown disappeared. Both Nightwing and Batman ran towards Phantom.

After Danny recovered, he noticed that Jason became angry. No, he was furious. He was afraid of what that meant for his Supernova, then a couple of days later, Jason went missin' the Bat-fam couldn't find him at all. Danny couldn't even feel him anymore.

One month later, Batman brought home a kid. The kid had to be no older than thirteen. Danny learned the kid's name was Timothy Jackson Drake. He preferred to go by Tim.

When Tim saw Danny, he asked to join the Bat fam. Danny raised an eyebrow at Bruce, and the man looked away and then explained what had happened. All anyone in the Manor could hear was Danny's absolute insane cacklin' amazin' feet since the Bat cave was several feet underground and considered soundproof.

After Danny calmed down, he asked, "Now, why in the realms would you ask me that question, Little Comet?" Bruce groaned. "He figured out our identities somehow and learned that I listen to you the most." Danny snorted.

"Well, yes, I do hope that you'll listen to your father, y'know," he sassed to his son. "And you," he turned to Tim."Why would you want to join us, and if you knew our identities, why haven't you told anyone?" Tim had his mouth on the ground.

"YOUR BATMAN'S DAD!? WAIT, I THOUGHT THAT HIS DAD DIED YEARS AGO!?" Bruce and Danny looked at each other, then Tim, then at each other again, and started laughin'. To say Tim was confused would be an understatement.

The two men then explained Wayne's history, leavin' out some. Parts since they have yet to know the kid fully, they also learned that Tim never learned Danny's identity out of the four. Danny was a bit smug that the kid never figured out who he was.

Tim also explained that he wanted to become the next Robin. Danny immediately said no. Tim was confused and a bit upset. He asked why not, and Danny told him that he did not want to lose another grandchild again. Tim tried to tell Danny that he would be okay and that he'd make sure he wouldn't die. (Tim totally ignored the Grandchild thin'.)

Danny flared up. Sayin' no again, Bruce put his hand on his Dad's shoulder. Danny calmed down, and a minute later, he sighed. He told Tim that, fine, he could become the next Robin BUT! After he said so and that, he was to get trainin' from all three of the members of the bat Family, and he was to have ground rules set after he became Robin, no if and or buts.

Although not totally happy with the arrangements, he excitedly agreed.

(So~ I just like the idea that Bruce immediately goes to Danny when he wants to adopt a new kid or if the kid wants to be a part of the activities after dark.

And Danny's the one to give the ground rules. Alfred agrees with this plan entirely. After all, Danny runs the realms in between realms and was once a teenage vigilante/town hero himself.

It also helps that Danny will sit down and talk with Alfred about certain things.)

The Joker was sited again a week later, and that's when Danny felt somethin' shift. It felt like anger and revenge. Danny knew what this was. A reverent was just born into this world.

Danny suspected that one day this might happen. He was hopin' that the ectoplasm in Gotham wouldn't be enough to do this. And the question, who was the soul who turned into a reverent?

After a couple of weeks with the Joker bein' more brutal than he used to be, Danny finally managed to trap him. While doin' so, he lost his left arm. Man, what's with Joker and takin' Danny's body parts? And another thin' why did the Joker not attack the city and only went after the Bats?

The Joker's laughin' brought Danny out of his mind. Danny raised a brow at the man. The Joker was held tightly by glowin' green chains on his wrists and ankles. Joker just smiled wider when he had Danny's attention on him.

Okay, no, seriously, was the man obsessed with him or his son? "My, my Phantom, I must say you look dreadfully terrible. Is it because I killed Robin? Your grandson? Is it how I bashed his head in?" He said in a mockin' tone.

Danny snapped. A chain wrapped itself around the Joker's neck and squeezed, cuttin' off the airflow to allow the Joker to breathe. Danny then got up into the Joker's face.

"You have no right to talk about my Grandson like that! And if you remember correctly, I gave you a warnin' if you survived," Danny hissed. "Enjoy hell or wherever you are placed in my realm, farewell Joker." The chains around the Joker's Neck got tighter. Danny pulled the chain with all his strength, rippin' the Joker's head off his body.

Blood splattered onto Danny's face as the body dropped to the ground, creatin' a puddle of blood along with it. Danny just stared at the man with no remorse. Danny will also later admit he felt great satisfaction that he got to rip off the Joker's head.

Danny sighed. He brought up his finger and snapped the body went up in flames while he put the joker's head into a bag. (Hehe, not sorry at all~)

Danny then went back to the Batcave. When he got there, he found Batman Nightwing and the new Robin. Even though little Comet was not allowed to be on any patrols, he was allowed to help in the Cave somewhat.

Bruce raised a brow at the bag. Danny nodded his head towards the med-bay with much confusion. Bruce walked to the med-bay, and Dick and Tim tried to follow the two men. Danny brought up a hand and told them to wait there. Both of the boys pouted at their Papa.

Danny showed Bruce the bag's contents when the two were in the med-bay bay. Danny heard Bruce gasp. He didn't see the look on his son's face since he turned away. He knew he would get angry again if he saw the Joker's head.

"...Dad?...What did he do? I've never seen you this mad before." Leave it to his son to figure out he was so mad that he decapitated the Joker. "He was mockin' on how he killed Jason, and I lost my temper," Danny stated. Bruce hummed.

Danny then felt a pair of arms wrap around him. He looked down and saw his son huggin' him. Bruce pushed his face into Danny's chest. "Thank you, Dad...Thank you so much. Bruce half laughed and sobbed. "I just wish Jason could see what his Grandfather did for him." Danny wrapped his arms around his son and rested his cheek on the top of Bruce's head.

"Yeah, Galaxy, me too...Me too." Danny held his son for a bit longer. Until Dick asked if the two were okay. Danny chuckled as he separated from Bruce and yelled back at the two that they were fine and would be out in a second. "So should I torch his head like I did the rest of his body, kiddo?" Danny asked.

Bruce smiled evilly. "Oh, please do, Dad...Also, do you know where he's goin' to go in the infinite realms?" He asked with a dangerous tone. Danny merely laughed and said yes, he does, and when he appears in the realms, he can have a go at the man.

Bruce chuckled darkly, then straightened up and calmed himself. Danny turned back to the bag and held his hand over it. "Burn bitch burn!" he said and lit the bag on fire. Danny had a pleased look on his face.

The two men left the med-bay and found Dick on his hand doin' a one-armed handstand and Tim in front of him laughin'. Both Danny and Bruce laughed at Dick and joined the two on the floor.

Later, when the Wayne's were havin' dinner, Danny felt somethin' would come in the near future. He couldn't figure out if it was good or bad. Only time will tell. And why did the omen feel so familiar?

~~~~~~~

Oh boy, this took a while. The last parts were also extremely satisfyin'. I don't like the Joker at all, so I had fun writin' that part.

And I can't promise that I'll continue this. I tried to get this as close to the comics, but there is too much lore. But if I do decide to continue this, I'll probably just skip to Jason's return and him learnin' that Taila lied to him and such.

Anyway, thank you for readin' this! I hope you enjoyed this idea that refused to leave my brain! Have a good day or night, wherever you are! 

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 39 (New Romance!)

Weather was perfect the day of the Romance Festival, but Heather's stomach twisted with nerves. "He's basically Prince Charming," said her sister, Holly, as they arrived. "What are you afraid of?"

"The last time I felt butterflies like this, I couldn't have been more wrong about the man I fell for."

"Stop thinking about Malcolm before Conrad gets here or you'll have to drink two Sakura teas just to get out of your bad mood."

Heather shuddered. "I don't know why anyone would want to feel that flirty!"

"Maybe you'll want to feel that flirty if he's the right guy."

Kris was the first to spot Conrad across the plaza and waved him over. Heather introduced him to her friend, Dylan, and her husband Gavin (yes Richards, sorry no screenshots here. I was laser-focused on Heather and Conrad), who had left their daughter Pearl and newborn son Darrell at home in the Spice District with her mother. Dylan eyed his outfit. "Are you on duty tonight, Detective?"

"Crime doesn't always take a weekend." Conrad blushed. "I got called into work this morning and didn't have time to change before I said I'd be here, but I guess I should take off the badge."

"Don't worry about it," said Kris. "The vendors won't try to overcharge if they see us hanging out with a cop."

"Who wants Sakura tea?" asked Holly, as the group finished bowls of spicy ramen. With Heather's mouth on fire, the flirty pink tea actually sounded appealing. She followed the others to the tea fountain, where Conrad poured two cups and handed one to her. This delighted Holly. "You're a gentleman, Conrad!"

"Thank you," Heather said as she took a sip. Instantly, the flirty brew raced to her head. Her fingertips tingled as they slid over the plastic cup.

"Thanks for inviting me."

"I didn't. I mean, I wanted to, but I don't know if I would've asked if Holly hadn't said anything. I'm not very good at this."

Conrad smiled. "I haven't dated seriously since college. Girl broke my heart, and it's easier to focus on work."

"I know what you mean."

She pulled out the clay from the gallery and fiddled nervously. He smiled. "Did you ever play that video game where you had to dig for clay and jewels and av-"

"-and avoid the demons? Yes! I loved Maniac Miners!"

"When they announced they turned it into a TV show I thought it would be so cool!"

"But it was for babies! My sister Hazel was five then, and she didn't even like it!"

He smiled, taking the clay from her hands. His blue eyes gleamed in the pink light of the festival.

With her hands free of clay she took a breath and emptied her tea cup. The tangy beverage made her lips tingle, but it also made her feel brave. She pulled herself against Conrad and pressed her lips to his.

He didn't even have time to drop the clay.

They pulled apart and shared a quiet look. Both vulnerable, afraid to say out loud how the kiss really felt. But in that look, they knew it meant something. "You can kiss me like that again. Anytime," he said.

Though he spent time getting to know Holly, Kris, Dylan and Gavin, Conrad spent most of the festival at Heather’s side. It might have been the Sakura tea, but that first kiss wasn't their last. Heather had never had a better first date.

At the end of the night, Conrad didn't want to leave her side. "I have to get home to let Gord out, but if you wanted to come by and say hello, I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you as always."

"She'd love to," said Holly with a grin.

Buoyed by the effects of the Sakura tea, Heather followed Conrad to his apartment building a few blocks away... ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[helpimstuckposting]

TW: mentions of homophobia, brief f-slur mention More silly conversations and goofy friendship moments that Steve hasn't had in a while! I just love the Robin/Steve/Eddie dynamic, it's my favorite out of everything so I hope you like and I did it justice

I’m a ghost and you are a shadow

Part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven

—

After their midnight talk, Steve couldn’t just go back to bed. There were too many thoughts, too many emotions, too much going on in the past day for his mind to quiet enough to let sleep take him. Instead, Eddie kept him company in the kitchen. They talked about the other Steve, Eddie hesitant at first, but Steve reassured him he wanted to know more about the man he could have been, the one everyone saw when they looked at him.

It was interesting, hearing all the differences of his life that appeared from the crossroads of his father living and dying. Apparently, Richard Harrington had died in some sort of travel accident when Steve was four. Eddie didn’t quite know the details, he’d never asked, but the rumor around town was that Mr Harrington had gone off on a business trip the morning of Steve’s fourth birthday. He came back in a casket.

Steve could vaguely recall begging his father to stay home for his birthday that year. He’d begged and begged until his father relented, it was probably the best birthday Steve could remember. And yet, because of that, the rest of Steve’s childhood suffered. Oh, the irony, Steve thought.

They went over some of the pictures hanging on the photo wall, Eddie dramatically re-enacting a few of them, though Steve could tell it was hard. If Eddie’s rings were his armor, Steve thought maybe his DM persona was a shield. Like it was easier to remain detached if he pretended they were campaigns and not memories.

Steve also noticed that since their talk outside, Eddie refrained from calling the other Steve ‘his Steve’. He just called him Steve, just like it was another person who happened to have the same name. It was nice, like Steve wasn’t a replacement or the same person or a mistake. He was just Steve, and so was this other guy. Two different people with the same name, like it was normal.

It was a relief, in those moments, to be someone new, someone separate from the other Steve. It made him feel a little less like he was taking up space he shouldn’t be in, and Steve thought maybe that was Eddie’s intention. He said Steve wasn’t taking someone else’s place, and he kept his word.

At some point, before the sun rose, the stairs creaked with footsteps. The two had been crouched over the counter with cups of coffee, legs too numb from sitting for hours. Robin swayed sleepily into the kitchen, blinking one eye at a time before rubbing at them with her balled up fists. She looked kind of like a toddler who was searching for her parents. Steve snorted into his mug, setting it down before he choked on the liquid inside. Robin’s eyes narrowed at him, before she rolled her eyes and lazily lifted two fingers up in a peace sign.

“Sup, Dingi,” she croaked, voice not quite awake yet.

Steve shared a look with Eddie, scrunching his nose up in a sneer and nodding silently toward Robin, what the hell did she just say?

Eddie snorted and took a gulp from his mug, a silent don’t ask me, sent back.

Robin sighed and pointed to Steve, “One dingus,” she said, then pointed to Eddie, “two dingi,” she concluded, before wandering over to Steve and stealing his mug of coffee. She clasped it in her hands and shuffled over to the other side of the counter island, plopping herself into a stool. “So what were you two lovely ladies talking about at four in the morning?”

“I was telling Stevie here about that one time Steve bet you couldn’t beat his track time and you sprinted so hard you threw up in your lunch bag before band.” Robin squawked, slamming the mug down on the counter and leaning threateningly toward Eddie.

She jabbed a finger at him, “Not cool Munson, we agreed that story went to the grave!”

Eddie laughed maniacally, bouncing in his place, “I lied, Buckley, tough shit!”

As Robin leapt from her stool to chase Eddie around the kitchen island, Steve silently stole his mug back to watch it all play out. He’d dreamed of this so many times, the casual teasing and horsing around just like the kids did. He’d never had a large group of genuine friends, just Tommy and Carol and whoever else they deemed cool enough to join them that week. It was never light hearted jokes and stupid faces, it was silent smoking and jabs that were too sharp, too mean spirited. Carol taught him how to hold himself, how to look intimidating and aloof. She’d never in a million years stoop down to make herself look stupid for a laugh or to cheer someone up. She was calculated, like his mother, but now he wondered if things had been different, would she have been happy too? Does a Carol or Tommy in this universe chase someone around a counter to make them laugh? Or any other universe?

After a couple laps around the kitchen island, Robin caught up to Eddie, tugging his back to her chest and lifting him off his feet. She looked like a wrestler trying to suplex Eddie into the ground but she couldn’t get him higher than a couple inches, tops. Steve snorted into his coffee again as Eddie shrieked, shards of pain stabbing through his nose as he coughed the liquid back out of his lungs and sinuses. There were tears in his eyes from the choking and the laughter and the tightness in his chest, and after hacking up the dredges of coffee in his lungs he kept watch as Eddie kicked and screeched and Robin struggled to keep him in her arms.

Eddie threw himself forward so his feet finally landed back on the ground, and it was Robin’s turn to yell as she was hoisted onto Eddie’s back from the sudden movement. She still refused to let go as Eddie rapidly stalked around the counter, squatting to keep Robin’s weight on his back as she kept his arms pinned to his side.

Steve could watch them fight it out for hours, if he were honest and it had been years since he’d laughed this hard. The rest of the party was going to show up eventually today and they’d have to start looking into the gates, but for now Steve watched and laughed and rolled his eyes as Robin finally gave up her hold and slid off Eddie’s back, pooling onto the floor like a sad little puddle.

“First you break our vow, then you try and murder me, and for what? For what, Munson? I know where you sleep!” She mumbled into the tile.

Eddie crouched down to lean over her, smug look plastered over his face. “I’m pretty sure you tried to murder me, this was purely self defense.”

“And I’m sure the cops would say you had it coming!” She said, lifting herself off the floor and sitting back in her stool. She snatched Steve’s mug up, took a sip and then squinted at him, slowly lowering the mug to the counter and pointing at it.

“Did you spit in this?”

“Not on purpose,” he replied, voice still a bit hoarse from the coughing fit. She gagged dramatically and shoved the cup back in his hands, standing to pour her own.

“It’s about time you learned how to be self-reliant,” Eddie teased, sitting down in the next stool over, across from Steve who remained leaning over the counter, elbows holding his weight on the shiny granite while his ankles were crossed behind him.

“Shut the whole fuck up, Munson, or I swear to god-,”

“How did you three meet, anyway?” Steve asked, cutting off whatever threat Robin was about to throw out. He looked back and forth between Eddie in front of him, and Robin behind him fixing her mug of coffee. He watched as the two shared a look, both a little sad at the reminder that their Steve was gone. Or at least, that’s what Steve assumed the look was, the droop to their smiles telling Steve maybe he shouldn’t have asked. However, before he could take it back, Robin sat back down in the stool next to Eddie and started to answer.

“We were all in band together,” she said as Eddie nodded and silently took a sip from his mug.

“Band?” Steve asked. He knew Eddie and Robin were in the high school band in his universe, but they hadn’t become friends as far as he knew.

“You and Eddie played sax,” she said. Steve tried to cover his flinch at the mention of ‘you’, the reminder that they all expected him to be someone he wasn’t sparking uncomfortably in his head.

“Steve and I sat right in front of Buckley here, who always had a penchant for playing just a little too close to my ear,” Eddie chimed in, shoving his shoulder against Robins.

“Well Eddie here was never a team player, always skipping ahead or pretending to play when he didn’t like the music,” she shoved right back.

“I never-,” Steve started, pausing when the two pairs of eyes locked onto him. “I never learned any instruments.” He sighed, fiddling with the mostly empty cup in his hands. Their eyes felt like lasers boring into his head. “Mom signed me up for piano classes when I was little, but my dad said the arts were for ‘females, fruits, and fags’ so I never got the chance to finish.”

“Well hey, I’m a female and a fruit,” Robin said.

“And I’m a fag!” Eddie said, turning to Robin for an enthusiastic high five. “Guess Mr Harrington was right, huh Stevie?” he said sarcastically. Steve swallowed nervously around the saliva pooling in his mouth. He actually didn’t know about Eddie, had maybe suspected sometimes but it had never been confirmed. It felt… weird that this seemed like something he should know, but he didn’t and now he does but Eddie never told him. Or, well, he did just tell him but he also didn’t and now he knew something that he wasn’t sure he was allowed to know.

“Oh shit,” Eddie mumbled, “did you… uh,” he glanced between Steve and Robin, “did you not know about us?”

Steve shook his head, “I uh, I knew about Robin, but not…”

Eddie winced. The giddy look in his eye from the playful banter was gone, and he seemed… sadder, like Steve had just tossed water over a campfire and killed the light. “Why does it feel like I just outed someone else?” Eddie mumbled to Robin. She grimaced and set a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder, sharing a warm look that Steve once again couldn’t read. Again, he felt like an outsider watching over two strangers. The side of the counter he was leaning against seemed cold and wide, a million miles away from where Robin and Eddie sat side by side.

“Well anyway,” Eddie scooted closer to the counter, clinking his empty mug against Steve’s, “regardless of the Eddie you know, I’m gay so… welcome to the Queer Closet of Hawkins, you’re officially on the guest list and it’s a very exclusive honor.”

Steve chuckled, awed by the way Eddie had just closed the chasm between them. The metalhead grinned, patting the stool on his left and closing that gap even more. Steve placed his cup in the sink behind him and walked around the counter to sit in the vacant seat, the gap completely shut with a final click as Eddie lightly patted Steve’s knee.

“So what about you?” He asked, “how did you meet Robin and Eddie?”

Steve laughed, “it’s uh… a much longer story.” Eddie nodded eagerly and Robin pulled a leg up to squish under her on the stool, leaning against the counter to look over Eddie and nod just as enthusiastically. Steve looked back and forth between the two, feeling more whole than he had even just a few hours ago.

He shook his head fondly and launched into the story of Scoops, Russians, Steve and Robin’s unfortunate drug-filled escapade through the mall, and Dustin’s weird ability to imprint on older teens. Eddie laughed at that, tossing his head back and almost falling backward out of his stool.

“I was so annoyed! Dustin wouldn’t shut up about his cool new friend Eddie who played D&D and understood all his references. Eddie who was ‘the best DM ever’, who was ‘so cool, you don’t get it, Steve’ the little shit.”

Robin was leaning against Eddie’s back now, arms thrown over his shoulders to keep him planted in his stool. “Oh, oh!” she exclaimed, smacking Eddie in the chest as she thought of something.

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her from hitting him again. “Jesus, Buckley, spit it out,” he grumbled, shooting eyes at Steve, who just smiled back at him.

“Does your Robin have any game? A girlfriend? Is she cooler than me?” She asked excitedly.

Steve snorted, “I don’t think any Robin Buckley has ever had game.”

“Hey!” Robin exclaimed, and then squinted at him, assessing something in her head. “No, yeah, that makes sense,” she conceded, bobbing her head back and forth.

“She did have a massive crush on this girl Vicky from band, though, and they got pretty close. I always told Robin to go for it, because Vicky? Not straight, not at all,” he swore to them, pointing back and forth as emphasis.

“Ah, Vicky,” Robin sighed dreamily, “she was so cute.” Eddie rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Steve like he’d heard way too much about Vicky for a lifetime. “I never did get the chance to see if Steve was right about that.”

This time Steve rolled his eyes, "Of course I'm right, she was totally giving you eyes, like, constantly I can't believe you would doubt me!" he scoffed, missing for a second that he had slipped in and made himself her Steve, what he'd been trying to avoid this whole time. He had to remind himself constantly; he wasn't their Steve, he was an outsider, he was a different person. He remembered what Eddie had said by the pool; he's not a placeholder, he's not stealing someone's spot, he's his own person.

Still, with the jokes and banter and laughter, it was so so easy to just slip up and forget. He brushed it off, hoping they would too or even better that they wouldn't notice his mistake or the slight dim to his smile before catching himself. Luckily, Eddie and Robin were as close to reading his mind as possible it seemed and the three powered forward as if the slip never happened.

As it turns out, in this universe the Russian fiasco still happened, in nearly the same way. The only difference between Steve's story and Robin's story was that they'd already been friends for years, had applied to Scoops together, just like Family Video. Eddie had been working in the record store on the second floor, but was off with Wayne for a fishing trip at the time. Everything else was the same.

"I can't believe that was our first test of friendship, oh my god," Robin whined, smushing her face up with her hands and dragging them down, pulling her features with them.

"I'm still so mad I missed that, I was so useless and I had no idea until Wayne and I came back and everything was fucked. What if Samwise was on vacation and he just came back and Bilbo was suddenly a hero, missing a finger, traumatized from all this shit Sam had no idea about! I spent the rest of that summer feeling like I had missed your whole lives," Eddie said. Steve wasn't quite sure who the hell he was talking about, but there was something else in his eyes, something that Steve still hadn't translated and couldn't put his finger on. He wondered if Eddie would tell him, eventually, wondered if he'd ever be able to read those looks before they had to shove him back through the gate to his desolate wasteland of a universe.

He shoved that thought away from his mind, locked in a little box labelled 'for later', and trekked on through their morning. It would probably only be an hour now before the party showed up to finalize plans and start splitting up to put it in motion. He sighed and looked between Eddie and Robin, still going through random memories, teasing, poking, and laughing at each other. 'For Later' he whispered in the dark of his mind, joining back into the conversation as if he'd never left. He'd worry about it then, for now he was more content than ever to just sit here at the dark kitchen island as the sun kept up its rise over the horizon. He'd sit, and listen, and contribute, and laugh, and everything else could come later.

—

@devondespresso @weirdandabsurd42 @sirsnacksalot @space-invading-pigeon @aliea82 @goodolefashionedloverboi @emly03 @bestwifehaver @mentallyundone @13catastrophic-blues @estrellami-1 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @likelylad @aellafreya @wxrmland @shunna @fangirltofangod @howincrediblysapphicofyou

[minigirl87]

The push broom

Richard Muñoz x GNReader

Summary:-

Both you and Richard are invited to the wardens Halloween party, and you come up with a couples' costume idea nearly giving Richard a heart attack of the middle of it.

Pure Fluff, gender neutral, no mention of readers looks. I love Richard. I did some research and couldn't find the dogs name. Also looked into American prison library info and found that the staff call the inmates patrons as it gives a more relaxed atmosphere. Also, the libraries tend to be underfunded, and some library staff are happy to take book donations.

It's my first time writing for Richard and for Halloween, so I hope you enjoy.

Please feel free to comment and share

Word Count:- 4348

🎃 HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

Sometimes, you didn’t see Richard on your break. Working in a prison in different departments and remaining professional despite being married wasn’t difficult to miss each other. But today in the staff canteen, Richard sat hunched over his lunch in deep concentration as the cheese in his sandwich fell onto the table.

Walking over to him and gently laying a hand on his shoulder, to which you felt the tension.

“I’m sure the table is enjoying your sandwich that your loving wife prepared for you” amusement filling your voice.

Richard looked up at you, his big brown eyes looking like a deer caught in the headlights. His sweet voice filled your ears as he took a few minutes to comprehend what was happening. But his face illuminated when he saw that it was you. You take a seat opposite him, smiling at him.

“Sorry my love” his cheeks flushing as he looked at his sandwich.

You smile lovingly at him he’s too nice for his own good. Sometimes, you think to yourself.

“It’s only a sandwich sweetheart, is everything OK?”

“yes of course, my love. It's just that....” Richard trailed off looking agitated.

Richard stands up all 5ft 9 of him stretching as he pulls a card out of his back pocket and hands it to you.

“We’ve been invited to a Halloween party” he grumbled

You read the invitation addressed to both you and Richard from Irene. Richard wasn’t keen on the idea of going. You can see it on his face, but I’d conflict as it’s from the warden.

“It’ll be fun sweetheart” as you take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We can do a couples costume sweetheart” giggling as you think of ideas for the both of you.

Richard mumbles something to himself about preferring to stay home with you and your dog. As much as you were introverted, you enjoyed Halloween and were looking forward to the party.

“trust me to marry an introverted extrovert” Richard laughs as he tidy’s his luch away

“I’m weird, but you love me anyway” you smiled up at him.

“for my sins I do” he looks around and sees no one’s watching and bends down, kissing the top of your head. “I love you”

You blush at his affectionate nature with you

“Elephant stew you too” You both laugh as Richard heads back on shift, and you finish your lunch heading back to the prison library to set up the patrons book club.

You’re sitting in the lounge with a cup of tea and working through a folder for work and a box of donated books a neighbour had handed you for the prison library patrons, when you hear Richards key in the door. Rosie looks up from next to you on the sofa, giving an annoyed bark as Richard walks in, mumbling in Spanish as his rucksack catches on the outside screen door.

“Hi love, you alright” he looks tired but has a soft smile on his lips “your dinners in the oven love” you stand stretching walking over and planting a tender kiss on his lips stroke his cheek as he nuzzles into your hand.

“I’m happier now I’m home with you, my love” he kisses you back a little more needy. Unbuttoning his shirt and gently rubbing his shoulders as he hums contentedly.

“Go get changed, and I’ll bring your dinner through love”

Nodding his head as he walks away to get changed, you bring his dinner out getting him cutlery and a drink setting it down for him and switch the tv channel as you make more tea familiar tune starts playing and you squeal in delight as an almost naked Richard runs back into the lounge panting panic evident on his face.

“My love is everything alright. Are you alright?” As he leans on the door frame, watching you carefully.

“I know our costume idea, my love” smiling excitedly at him, your eyes sparkling in delight.

“You nearly killed me for a costume idea” he frowns, then starts laughing. “What idea?”

“Bob and Linda Beltcher. You’ve already got Bob’s push broom” laughing as you walk over to him, taping his moustache.

Mumbling “it’s not a push broom” as he tries to look annoyed but fails miserably as you cuddle him tightly.

“You’re more handsome than Bob, my love” you purr, stroking his cheek.

Richard shakes his head, going back to the bedroom to finally get changed. Minutes later he returns in his pj’s sitting down next to you wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to him as he proceeds to eat his dinner and you both watch Bob’s Burgers and then both laughing uncontrollably when Rosie starts snoring and kicking her back legs as she Dreams.

@melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @my-secret-shame @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @jake-g-lockley @steven-grants-world @romanarose @campingwiththecharmings @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @welcometostayingawake @novanitee @micheleamidalajedi @annautumnsoul @guruan-is-not-here @ivystoryweaver @whirlybirbs @whatthefishh @lonely-dark-moon @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @lonelyisamyw-0love @madlittlecriminal @midgardian-witch @saturn-rings-writes @madlittlecriminal @gigachadcowboy @yeetus-thyboomer @draggolblackthorn @he-burnt-my-shake @musicsavedme98 @mess-of-fandom @missdictatorme @hon3yboy @ominoose

[batstorm93672]

Do I Know You?

~First (Here)~ Next>>>

Damian sat and sighed as he was tied to a chair. Heaven forbid he decides to go to the Cave and only be able to take off his mask before being bombarded by his family.

"Father, what is the meaning of this?"

Batman looked at Damian and furrowed his brow "Why do you keep calling me that, how did you get in here and why are you dressed like Robin?" "I'm your son, I am Robin" "Don't lie!"

"Alright B how about we lay off the kid? Not gonna get anywhere shouting"

Nightwing walked in and handed Damian a cup of water. "Here, don't mind him. We just want to know what's going on"

"Richard you're a part of this trivial thing too? Also did you put anything in the cup?" Nightwing paused and kneeled down "Okay. We just want some answers, number one. How do you know who I am?"

"Tt. Fine I'll play. I'm Damian Wayne-" Damian jerked his head to Batman "-your son and I'm-" He looked back at Nightwing "-your brother. Alongside with Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas and not to mention the million of others father brought in as he is a magnet for taking in children"

Nightwing nodded and took off his mask "Are you a speedster from the future?" "What? Ew, no. I'm Robin" "Listen, you might be getting something confused. There are no more Robins, the last one was Tim. So where did you get the costume?" "Okay hasn't this gone on long enough? Where is Titus or Alfred the cat? Do you need them to help recognize me or something"

Dick raised a brow "I have no idea who those are"

"Tt. This is tiring"

Damian stood up, untied hands and ankles, he rubbed his wrists. "I untied myself about a minute after you tied me, I know your tricks father, you've taught everyone how to escape knots like yours. Try to get a better tactic. As for you Richard, hasn't this gone on long enough?"

Bruce took off his cowl and studied Damian carefully "He may be telling some truth. It's hard to tell, who is your parent?" "Other than you? Talia Al Ghul is my mother"

The two adults looked at each other with wide eyes. "She doesn't have a child. She told me she had a miscarriage" "Do I look like a miscarriage?"

"Dick. Call for Tim and Cass, they may be able to figure out if he's lying. In the meantime I'll look into this kid"

Damian groaned and sat back down. "Can Pennyworth at least come down? I'd enjoy his company"

"N-" "Yeah I'll get him"

Bruce narrowed his eyes making eye contact with Dick, the two had their private conversation internally and while Damian could decipher the gist of it. He didn't want to right now. This is dragging on long enough.

Bruce sighed for like the fifth time "Fine, let him come. He stays here and under surveillance. Understood?" "Hear you clear"

Bruce left and Damian eyed Dick, wouldn't they have stopped by now?

"Richard... are you still joking with me? Hasn't this gone on long enough?"

Dick looked guilty and sad "I'm sorry, but we really don't know you"

Damian looked down, recounting what he just went through moments before showing.

Someone approached him, a lady with a crystal ball typical isn't it.

"Young boy, won't you indulge this old lady?"

"I'm sorry, I can't-"

"Oh please? This is all I ask of you"

Robin nodded and came over, she was an elder and he respects them. Not to mention she would probably insist and Damian would rather not have to do that.

"Come child" Her wrinkled yet soft hands went over his gloves and she closed her eyes, she was wearing a shawl and attire of stars and eyes decorated on the cloth. "I see... you are of a great destiny. Yet though this is apparent, you are deeply troubled with choices. Leading to terrible consequences. Not to mention the loneliness you are faced with, a great destiny yet an even greater shadow. Tell me, the family you surround yourself with, do they truly see you? You have so many doubts and fears, that you will be alone and forgotten by them"

"...That sounds correct, my fears tend to obscure my view of the path ahead. I feel like one day, they will forget me. And that I'll be alone. Sometimes I wish I was forgotten so I could avoid the pain and move on with my choice without feelings" He... didn't mean to say that much, what is happening?

"Then it will be"

"Wha-"

A flash of light, recovering his vision to see no one. The lady was gone.

...Curious, it may be time I go back before they worry.

Damian kept his gaze away from Dick who was talking on the phone.

They... forgot me. They don't know me. It's like I never existed...

[demcntwins]

I did a lil thing the day after Danny & Damian reunite in my thread with @wastelandsrecede bc I need sibling bonding things and also Danny being a little shit.

Danny opened the door to the house, before Damian could even knock. He had been expecting him to come back, but he'd also been half expecting an entourage of siblings or hero friends to show up with him. At the sight of no one else he narrowed his eyes in suspicion before stepping out of the way so that he could come in. "Dami, if you could not try to kill me I'm sure Jazz would appreciate it. She's trying to take a test up in her room, she gets kinda antsy when she gets interrupted."

Damian crossed his arms with a roll of his eyes and spoke. “If I was going to attack you I would not have bothered with the front door, or arriving in broad daylight.” In reality he hadn't original planned to come here, he had been headed to the grave he had set up for his brother in the family plot on the grounds of Wayne Manor. Then he remembered that Danny had mentioned being able to hear when he spoke to his grave when he had explained thing a to him and Jon. “I...came to talk, I was heading towards the grave I made for you and then remembered what you said and decided to come here instead. I called Richards friend Wally and asked him to bring me.”

Danny eyed him for a moment as his twin walked in well he spoke, locking onto the fact that he hadn't asked Jon to bring him. “Why not ask Jon, guy would probably fly you literally anywhere you asked.” Damian turned and glared at him and Danny had a sudden spark of realization. “Oooh, it's about Jon.” He felt a pang of...he wasn't sure what it was, hope? Optimism? He wasn't quite sure, what he was feeling at the knowledge that his first thought has been to go and talk to his grave about whatever this was.

“Yes.” Damian told him, moving forward as Danny walked into what appeared to be a small kitchen with a 4 person table. He took a seat as Danny moved and turned on the kettle on the stove before sitting across from him. "He was coming off of the effects of Red Kryptonite and he.. said that he's been in love with me since I we were 13."

"He what-" Danny said before bursting out in laughter, holding up his hand after a second and telling him. "Sorry- I'm sorry-" He pulled in his laughter and told him. "I'm sorry I just- He told me before he realized who I was that he'd told you how he feels but he didn't say that he just straight up blurted out he loves you."

Damian bristled at the words and said with a bit of an indignant huff. "What? Is it that unbelievable that someone would love me?"

Danny rolled his eyes and stood up from his chair and moved to the now whistling tea kettle as he spoke. "No... maybe a little, your kinda prickly Dami." He told him as she reached into the fridge and pulled out a tub of salted butter and milk.

"I am not prickly." Damian stated, only for Danny to turn around and give him a raised eye brown that made the scar near his hair line that much more obvious. "Tsk, maybe you are just jealous that somebody likes me."

Danny laughed at that, moving to pour the boiling water into cups and grabbing a couple bags of black tea. "I have a wonderful girlfriend who is amazing and could probably give you a run for your money thank you very much."

"Were we not talking about my potential relationship issues?" Damian asked as Danny reached into a drawer and pulled out what appeared to be a little electric whisk.

"Yes oh great chosen one, please tell me about the woes of being confessed to by someone you very clearly care about." Danny rolled his eyes as he floated over to the table instead of walking, setting down the tea before going back for the milk, butter, and cinnamon sugar.

Damian stared at the table for a moment, realizing that Danny had been making butter tea and taking a moment to think back to when the last time he'd had that was. He had tea made for him by Alfred often, but he never really requested anything special. He was pretty sure the last time he'd had it was the night before their Mother sent him off to Gotham.

"I had never considered liking him more than a friend.. I honestly never considered having a relationship at all. Not that I am against having one, it could be a nice experience. But I don't know how to figure out if it's something that I want with Jon." Damian watched Danny as he mixed together the tea ingredients as he spoke, realizing that this was clearly something that he made often.

"Look Dami-" Danny said as he pushed the finished tea towards him, leaving the cinnamon sugar in between them after he poured some into his own cup. "I don't know what to tell you, I mean I've got Sam and she's great but we kind of... it wasn't exactly smooth sailing for us getting together."

He stared at the liquid in his cup as he stirred in the cinnamon sugar. "Apparently she liked me for years before it finally happened. But I was with Val, and then when she found out I was Phantom that fell apart spectacularly horribly. And just a few months after Me and Sam finally got together I almost - let's just say there was an incident with Phantom and Jazz dragged me out of Amity as fast as she could get me emancipated. I'm not exactly a relationship expert."

"Perhaps not, but you have more experience than me and you know me, even if we have not truly been there for each other for a long while." At Damian's words Danny let out a sigh that was more a puff of air than anything, bringing up his cup to take a drink of his tea to avoid saying anything yet more than anything.

Finally after about 30 seconds of silence he spoke. "You talked about him almost as much as you did the Wayne's." He said when he finally looked up at him. "When you'd talk to the grave or memorial or whatever it if you set up. Sure you talked about other friends once in awhile but I can count that on one hand, I think you care about him more than you realize. I don't know if your in love with him, no one's gonna know that but you Dami. But I think you might, and I think if you want to find out you should try so you don't regret not trying."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Danny sipping his tea and Damian mostly staring at his. When he finally took a sip he spoke once the cup was back on the table. "You always were better at figuring out feelings than me."

"It's the autism Dami, tell the furry to get you tested." Danny couldn't help bursting out into laughter at the way Damian's head snapped up to glare at him.

[taiblogcomics]

Cry Havoc! And Let Slapstick the Dogs of War

Hey there, jetpack technology. We're half done this Slapstick miniseries by now! We'll be two-thirds done by the end of this one! Isn't the number six grand? Well, let's get into it~

Here's the cover:

Oh boy, this cover. One, Slapstick himself is barely integrated into it. He feels like an afterthought. If this were a larger multimedia franchise, I'd think that was his stock art down there. No, instead, we're selling this cover based on the other thing on it. That's right, furries, we're targeting you! Let's talk about that for a minute! So, obviously, the first thing the War DOGS here are parodying is GI Joe (the ninja design really sells that). That fits with the other '80s references the series has been making: Bro-Man was He-Man, the Taurs were Smurfs with a light coat of MLP. But the second thing~?

Hey, show of hands, who remembers Road Rovers~? Because I remember Road Rovers. I was super into Road Rovers as a kid. Only lasted 13 episodes, believe it or not. It was very much in the vein of the other WB shows of its era: Tiny Toons, Animaniacs, Freakazoid. Except it was an entirely action-focused cartoon with the same level of comedy, which is probably why it didn't last too long. Now, you could also argue it's a SWAT Kats reference, but A) the War DOGS are dogs, not cats, and 2) both are from the '90s, so it's odd either way~

Anyways, I could ramble about Road Rovers for the rest of this review, but Steve Harmon, AKA Slapstick, in an effort to cure his clowny cartoon condition, is conscripted by ARMOR to fight off other cartoons that invade our dimension. To that end, last issue he fought off the aforementioned Taurs, rescuing their lone female member, Taurette, in the process. Taking leave, Slapstick spends his time rebuilding the very portal that got him in trouble with ARMOR to begin with. And it's still getting him in trouble, as it starts shooting out beams that turn inanimate objects into very animated cartoons~

Steve's mom is upstairs remarking to her husband how she's glad Mike is visiting, she likes how he's a stabilising, grounding influence on Steve. Mike has a job, Mike has his own place, Mike isn't chasing some silly dream of being a superhero or mercenary or whatever the kids are calling it these days. Nothing strange happens when Mike's around. Of course, it's at this moment that the cartoon cup of coffee charges out from Steve's basement bedroom declaring he's "off the hizzy for shizzy". Perfectly normal events in the Harmon household~

Mrs. Harmon goes down to give her son a talking-to, during which the broom she's holding also catches one of the stray cartoonifying energy bolts and starts making lewd remarks about how she grips it. Slapstick snatches it away while his mom storms off, complaining "Richard, do you know what your son just did? He turned the broom perverted!" I feel like this issue alone, let alone this whole miniseries, could give me a top ten list of amazing out-of-context dialogue lines from comic books. We're only on page two!

Slapstick retreats back into his room, asking for a minute to think of something. Mike retorts that him thinking is what started this mess. While Slapstick's dirty laundry comes to life and begins a revolt, Mike reaches his breaking point and tries to slam the big red button on the portal device. Except… Slapstick didn't build the thing with an off switch. It only has an on switch, because he didn't want anyone turning it off while he was using it. I think that's more of the kind of thinking that got him in this mess, yeah.

He next tries to go for the plug, but the machine defends itself with another piece of equipment coming to life to protect it. Likewise, the fusebox comes to life before Slapstick can blow the power grid. This is getting out of hand--and out of room, as the cartoonification begins spreading to other appliances in the house. Such as the dishwasher turning on Mrs. Harmon. Now Slapstick's mad. It's one thing to go after him, but when you go after his family, it's too far. See, in spite of his attitude and lack of forethought and disregard of the law, he's still a decent guy under that clown costume.

While Slapstick holds back the other appliances, Mike also leaps into action. To fight a cartoon, you gotta think like a cartoon, right? So he manages to fight his way over to that on switch again, but this time he writes "OFF" over the "ON" and hits the button. And this works. That's absolutely fantastic, well done. However, it's only prevented further catastrophe, as it's shut down the portal but not reversed the transformations. ARMOR might have to come by and sort all that out. Which Slapstick is not looking forward to, in spite of his crush on that one agent.

Before they can further react, however, even more nonsense hits the fan. The War DOGS' tank materialises in Slapstick's room, and if he has a basement room big enough to hold a tank, maybe I'd be reluctant to move out too. Also, their appearance is accompanied by theme music, to Mike and Slapstick's bafflement. The War DOGS (which stands for War Defense Operations Guerrilla Squadron) start blasting, and their blue lasers have the effect of de-toonifying all the rambunctious furniture. Slapstick is unaffected, since he's been a toon too long.

With the active threat now neutralised, the War DOGS sound off. There's too many of them to go into detail (a full 12 characters with distinct designs, army roles, and dog breeds), but Rex is the leader of the bunch. And the only girl is named Crimson, because the GI Joe equivalent was Scarlett. And the ninja is named Silent-But-Deadly, in case you forgot what kind of comic this is. Rex reports that they were told by an informant that the Princess' champion may be here--and the devious enemy team Skratch may be after him. They can't let that happen.

So the War DOGS, Mike, and Slapstick all file out of the house, headed for the streets to do recon. Before Silent-But-Deadly can get in position, though, the dastardly felines of Skratch attack! They demand the surrender of the champion. And yes, they are indeed just a cat-themed version of Kobra. (That's the other reason why the War DOGS can't be SWAT Kats.) A brawl ensues, and in the midst of the fight, Mike gets hit by laserfire. Slapstick is pissed. He's tired of this "champion" nonsense, since every time it comes up, his friends and family around him just get hurt.

Slapstick takes off running, hoping to lead the fight to an empty field or something, so no random innocents will get hurt. But after a bit, he notices that, just like his Twitter account, nobody is following him. Looking back, he sees Skratch loading a captive Mike into a portal and disappearing. He begins shouting that they've got the wrong guy. Rex replies that of course that human is the champion. That's why they have to come to this dimension to find the champion in the first place. How could Slapstick be the champion? He's a toon like them!

ARMOR (including Agents Teresa, Isabel, and Taurette) shows up to corraborate Rex's story. Think about it: Mike and Slapstick were both at the football game when Bro-Man attacked. And the Taurs attacked the mall where Mike works, not the ARMOR facility where Slapstick was being held. Anyway, ARMOR is here to arrest the War DOGS for the dimension breech, but they explain they just used Slapstick's portal, getting him in trouble. But that's not important now. He'll deal with consequences later. All that's important is getting his friend back. So he ends the issue by leading a team-up of himself, ARMOR, and the War DOGS through the portal to Dimension Ecch…

I think, like last time, this issue a lot of fun. It's zany, it's silly, it's tiny, it's toony, it's all a little loony~ The solution to the over-powered portal is beautiful in its cartoon logic. And the parodies continue to remain on point, if a little one-sided leaning. Like, the Taurs were very Smurfs-coded (the names being "X Taur", the Smurfette type, the wizard antagonist, the hats) with just a bit of a My Little Pony coat of paint in their design. The War DOGS are the same way: very GI Joe parody with just a dash of Road Rovers slapped on top. Even Bro-Man is basically just He-Man with only a little Conan the Barbarian in appearance. So it's not really a parody fusion, it's a parody of one property with another property painted over it. I know they don't have time to run into the whole backstory of all these shows they're riffing on, just saying it's an odd amalgamation of things. I guess adding the second parody just makes it wackier or something. It's not bad in any way, just a thing I noticed about the choices.

Anyway, next issue, we're finally going to see the much-discussed Dimension Ecch and meet its oft-rumoured princess~

[calciseptinefic]

then out of nowhere, somebody comes and hits you with an ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 7 notes: Title from 'Mad Sounds' by Arctic Monkeys. Many thanks to babygato for her beta on this chapter. this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: none

.

← previous: Part 6

.

It's easy to find a nearby taqueria. Wade gets tacos al pastor and a couple bottles of cerveza, while Peter gets chicken and a mango Jarritos. Wade tacks on a bag of chips with guac and queso, plántanos fritos, and two orders of churros, as it has been several hours since they last ate and Wade remembers Peter telling him he needs approximately six thousand calories a day.

After paying, they make the five minute walk to Central Park, find a patch of shaded grass beneath a tree, and dig in. Wade's tacos are delicious, studded with bright flashes of cilantro, pineapple, and onion against the rich fattiness of the marinated pork, and he makes Peter take one. The chips and fried plantains are also very good, if not a little greasy and quickly going cold. Wade doesn't mind. He went hungry a lot as a kid and, when he was special forces, he sometimes spent weeks eating the same three meals out of a pouch; a little extra oil isn't going to bother him.

"You know it's illegal to drink in a public park, right?" Peter says when Wade cracks open his first beer with his keys.

"Technically glass bottles aren't allowed in Central Park either," Wade answers, nodding at Peter's choice of soda. "So if the cops come to heckle us, I'm going to put on my strongest Canadian accent—" which Wade says with his strongest Canadian accent, "—and say sorry until they let us go just to escape the politeness. They wouldn't want any of my impeccable manners to rub off on them, ya know?"

Peter grins at the exaggerated vowels around a mouthful of shredded chicken, one of his cheeks rounded with food like a half-full chipmunk. It draws Wade's attention to the freckles that live there. If he could, Wade would give them a quick, greasy kiss—but he can't, because Peter's a married man, and Wade isn't that kind of asshole.

Once they've finished their tacos and chips and fried plantains—an early dinner or midday snack, depending on one's point of view—Wade hands Peter one of the small pastry bags with several churros stuffed in it and a plastic take-away cup filled with chocolate dipping sauce. The cinnamon sugar coating gets all over Wade's hands and the front of his hoodie, but the sweetness of it goes a long way in soothing Wade's lingering stress from the hospital.

"Well," Wade says as he chews. "That was a bust."

"Yeah," Peter mutters in agreement as he dunks one of his churros into the sauce cup resting on his knee. Brings it to his mouth, eats it, then says frustratedly, "Two leads down. One to go."

Stark and Strange led nowhere, and now the only person who Peter believes can possibly help him is Reed Richards, the quantum information scientist at MIT. The way Peter talked about him made him sound like an unwanted last option, a potential candidate slash headache.

"So what do you want to do?" Wade asks, finishing his churros. He crumples all his trash and puts it into the plastic bag that carried their takeout, then opens his second beer. "Amtrak has a train that goes right up to Boston."

Peter doesn't respond. Wade thinks about what they talked about on the subway: strings through decks of cards, long-shots, mathematical parameters and super calculators. Even if Richards himself can't help Peter, then at least he has the tools. Peter's silence might be from lingering disappointment—he had said that Strange was the best chance he had at getting back to his home universe—or it might be for another reason.

"You don't like him." Wade fills in the blank, remembering the way Peter grinned wryly when Wade called Richards 'Dr. Douchebag'. "Do you think he's going to be a problem?"

"It's not that Richards is a bad guy," Peter says, his tone worn thin by the number of times the same sentiment has been expressed. "But in my experience, he's blinded by the discoveries of science. He'll push and push and push until he has his answer, and not consider the consequences. He thinks science is... pure, I guess, and doesn't realize how easily it can be corrupted by powers that be. Not that Tony was any better, not with the whole Ultron thing, but at least Tony learned from that."

"Ultron?" Wade repeats, holding the syllables of it for a split second longer than Peter. "Do I wanna know?"

"Probably not. It was a big fucking mess." Peter rubs at his eyes, scrubbing an old exhaustion from them, and sighs. "You have the Terminator movies here?"

"All six movies and one flopped television series."

"Ultron was like Skynet. An artificial intelligence meant to protect humanity. Tony and Bruce—another scientist on the Avengers—created it as a peacekeeping protocol, but of course, it backfired when Ultron decided that the only way to protect humanity was to destroy it."

"Isn't that like the plot of every AI movie ever?" Wade says incredulously. "Let me guess: they put in failsafes if it did go south, but the AI overrode them and it went south."

"Ding ding ding," Peter says flatly. "You've won the jackpot."

"Superpowers, magic, and robots with malevolent god complexes," Wade lists off the things Peter has told him about his universe that Wade has only seen in fiction. "Seriously, how do civilians cope in your reality? Next thing you're going to tell me is that aliens exist."

Peter does not respond. Instead, he turns the empty bottle of Jarritos in his hands and begins to pick at the label. Wade immediately understands that Peter is trying to hide the real answer by not answering at all, which is an answer in of itself.

"I am going to pretend that your silence on the matter is not an affirmation because, honestly, I don't think I can handle that much sci-fi within a twenty-four hour period." Earlier, Peter told Wade that he had been Spiderman for roughly ten years and, in that time, he had gotten involved in weird stuff and big stuff. A robot wanting to kill all humans definitely sounds like both, but aliens? That's even weirder and bigger. "So let's go back to Richards before my brain explodes."

Peter hums and peels the label off the bottle, leaving behind a tacky residue. Wade watches as he rolls it between his palms, the leftover glue sticking to his palms and his ring occasionally hitting the glass with a soft clink.

"My problem with Richards is the circumstance," Peter explains. "The quantum computer is going to need parameters that would be almost impossible for me to obtain without the right equipment, and the right equipment will be hard to access. Quantum mechanics isn't my forte either, so I would absolutely need someone with the specialization to help me—and that someone would be Richards, assuming he believed me and assuming that he would dedicate the time and resources needed to help me."

"You could just crawl on the ceiling for him," Wade suggests. "Worked for me."

Peter smiles thinly at Wade and points out, "That just proves I can crawl on the ceiling, Wade, not that I'm from an alternate reality."

Even if it's the same thought Wade had this morning, he says nothing as he lays down on the grass and shifts his face away from Peter. Outwardly, Wade's been playing along with Peter's 'I am a superhero from another universe'; inwardly, he's been giving more weight to the possibility that Peter's proclamation might be a delusion brought on by trauma, yet not discounting the first possibility completely. Wade doesn't want to be caught by surprise if either circumstance is proven true, especially not when Peter's safety and well-being might be at risk.

"You think he'll rat you out?" Wade asks.

"Not intentionally, or with bad intention, but... yes. He would."

"I could threaten him and his loved ones," Wade offers.

"Thank you, Wade, but I have to humbly decline. I would prefer to get back home with minimal extortion," Peter says flatly.

Wade knew Peter would refuse. Though he had surprised Wade earlier when he talked about trespassing, it is not shocking to know he draws his moral line in the sand when people are involved. He seems like the type of person to believe in the inherent goodness of strangers and the redemption of second chances, and neither of these philosophies are ones that Wade subscribes to. Wade has hard limits—everyone does—but he learned that most people are shitty, especially the people who end up in his literal and metaphorical crosshairs. The fact that Reed Richards is now on Wade's radar means he probably deserves at least one sucker punch to the face.

"You're still thinking about it, aren't you," Peter says.

"He had an extremely punchable face!" Wade whines, propping himself up on his elbows. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Thought about it, yes. Done it? No."

"Well then you can live vicariously through me."

Whatever Peter was about to say—probably some lie about how he doesn't actually want to feed Richards a knuckle sandwich—is halted by the blare of Wade's ringtone. The only person who calls Wade on his personal phone nowadays is Weasel which means that either a) Weasel has finished compiling a dossier on Peter or b) Weasel has a new job for him.Wade can't ignore it either way, so he sighs and gets to his feet.

"I have to take this," Wade says to Peter as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. When Peter nods, Wade begins to walk briskly away. He doesn't know if Peter's superpowers extend to super-hearing, but he's not taking any chances.

"Sup, Jack," Wade answers as he moves out of earshot.

"I told you to stop fucking calling me that," Weasel snaps.

"Old habits die hard," Wade singsongs even though in the seven or so years since they've known each other, Weasel has never once gone by his birth name. More seriously, Wade then says, "Whatcha got for me?"

"Everything and anything there is to know about one Peter Benjamin Parker," Weasel answers. "Did a quick background check and pulled all the relevant shit. Some irrelevant shit too. I sent the files to your email."

Wade takes a deep breath in through the nose and lets it out through his mouth. So. Peter Parker exists in this world. Which can mean one of two things:

In scenario number one, it means that the man who just inhaled five street tacos and an ungodly amount of Mexican side dishes is a super-powered individual with a messed up head. How he got those super powers, how he found himself in Wade's care, and how much of his backstory is real are all mysteries that Wade needs to unravel as quickly as possible so he can keep Peter safe from whatever might be after him. It isn't an ideal situation, of course, but mental illness and the military is much more Wade's wheelhouse than the multiverse.

And then there's scenario number two, in which Peter actually is a spider-themed superhero from another universe who accidentally broke into Wade's apartment, and the Peter Benjamin Parker that Weasel was able to find is his analog from Wade's universe.

Another Peter.

A Peter that belongs here.

A Peter that won't have to go back.

A Peter that might be single and ready to mingle—

Keep dreaming, the Debbie Downer part of Wade's mind scoffs. This isn't some elaborate, inter-dimensional matchmaking scheme. There is no other Peter. Just this one.

Wade knows that Peter is most likely not from another reality. The shock of seeing Peter on his ceiling had made the 'I'm from an alternate universe' routine temporarily believable but—since the moment he woke up—Wade began to slowly doubt the possibility, a tickle in the back of his brain that he could not ignore. Occam's razor or some shit, not that either situation is devoid of convolution.

"And?" Wade asks, dragging his mind back on track and looking back at Peter. Peter has flopped down on the grass and spread his rangy limbs akimbo, more skinny starfish than spider. Wade's boots look comically large on him.

"And what?" Weasel says.

"Anything unusual?"

"Fucking nada." Weasel snorts. On the edge of his hearing, Wade can hear the tiny clacks of keys on a keyboard being hit. "Records show he was orphaned around six. Went to live with his aunt and uncle, who legally adopted him, and the uncle was fatally shot when he was fifteen. Went to Midtown for high school, then to MIT as both an undergrad and for his doctorate in biochemistry. He's currently employed at some swanky place as a biochemical engineer and—according to his tax records—makes a decent chunk of change."

Aunt and uncle, Weasel said. Aunt May, Peter said. She was the only other person besides other Wade and MJ that Peter recounted when they were talking about loved ones. Given his vaguely tragic backstory, it makes sense that Peter didn't mention anyone else, as 'anyone else' appears to be dead. That information falls in line with what tidbits Peter has given him; it's the second half of Weasel's report that doesn't make sense. Peter had told Wade that he was currently a grad student at NYU, not a biochemical engineer who graduated MIT.

MIT, where Reed Richards works. MIT, where Peter needs to go next. It feels like a very suspicious coincidence. When they eventually go, Wade will have to handle that excursion with extreme caution.

"Anything on the company?" Wade asks, pursuing another line of thought.

"Nothing particularly shady, though I didn't dig deep," Weasel tells him. "It's small and private and doesn't receive any contracts from the military—at least according to public record."

"Look into it," Wade tells Weasel.

"Okay, sure, just a little light hacking into DARPA's servers to spice up my week." Weasel scoffs, a rough sound that Wade knows is paired with a particularly exaggerated eye roll. "Though if you want my honest opinion—"

"Your honest opinion is like a bag of dog shit that's been set on fire, but go on."

"I don't think this poindexter ever got detention, much less somehow became involved in a top secret government experiment. Or came from an alternate universe. Are you sure you saw him crawling on the ceiling? It might have been... I don't know, one of your post-traumatic stresses."

"My hallucinations are auditory only, thank you for bringing that up." Wade sometimes gets a loud, persistent ringing in his ears but he's never seen things that weren't real. He's crazy, but he's not that brand of crazy. "What else?"

"What, suddenly you can't fucking read?"

"I'll be Jared, nineteen, and you can be Spark Notes." Wade shifts his phone to his other ear and demands, "What. Else."

"Well, other than a squeaky clean criminal record, a quality education, and a good job, your man shares an apartment in Queens with one Mary Jane Watson."

Mary Jane. MJ must be a nickname.

"His wife," Weasel stresses.

Wade says nothing. Hearing about her existence from Peter had been an abstraction, an amorphous idea of a person; hearing it from Weasel makes her more real, as though she will suddenly appear on the path and leap into Peter's arms. It makes that sick, gnawing feeling of jealousy return to the pit of Wade's stomach. It's just his luck that, of all the details to match up, this is the one without any holes.

"Seriously?" Weasel groans loudly. "You mean to tell me you already knew he was married?"

"He has a ring." Wade's tongue feels formless in his mouth, making the words stiff and difficult to spit out. "He mentioned her. Called her MJ."

"Jesus Christ," Weasel swears. A moment of silence stretches between them as Weasel processes Wade's admission. "Look, it's not like I give a fuck or am going to moral grandstand you or whatever. I know you wanna bang this twink despite the red flags—hell, you're charging in like a bull, who are we kidding—but I thought you weren't into that home-wrecking shit?"

"I'm not," Wade answers because he isn't. Flirting and wanting are completely different from doing, and being a piece of stale bread in the shit sandwich of adultery has always left Wade with a bad taste in his mouth. He has never—and would never—knowingly help another person cheat, especially when threesomes are so much more fun for everyone involved. "He's just... Peter."

Just Peter. As though saying his name could convey the hundreds of details Wade's been hoarding since Peter crashed into his life, from the way his nose wrinkles to the thickness of his New York accent on certain words. Wade once again looks over at him lying in the grass, sunshine dappled on his borrowed clothes through the canopy.

"In any case, the wife hasn't reported him missing," Weasel says. "You think she's... involved?"

"It's only been about twelve hours," Wade murmurs, thinking. The whole 'you have to wait twenty-four hours to report someone missing' idea is a false assumption: missing people can be reported as soon as their absence becomes worrisome. Since MJ hasn't filed a report, Peter's absence is therefore expected or a regular occurrence. Any guesses at culpability are just that: guesses.

"And you're sure this whole thing isn't an incredibly detailed hallucination?"

"Trust me, Jack, if I went full throttle into Crazy Town, you would not be making commentary in the back seat, nor would the literal man of my dreams be married to someone else. So no. I am reasonably sure that I am sound of mind at this moment."

"Well, if you're sure you haven't finally cracked, then either there's nothing going on, or this is so well covered up that everything is airtight." Weasel pauses before saying, "I can't believe I'm about to say this—because I really, really, really don't want to be caught up in whatever bullshit you might be neck deep in—but Parker is a dead end."

Wade can't help but grin at the unspoken question. He's known Weasel long enough to know that the mystery of the situation has wormed its way into the oily man's over-analyzing brain and now he's curious. He wants to know why Peter Parker ended up in Wade's apartment, why he has superpowers, and perhaps most importantly, who is responsible.

"Peter's given me a few names, though I don't know if there's a connection between them or if they're viable leads," Wade tells Weasel. "We spent all morning looking for a wizard named Stephen Strange and came up with nothing. His ex didn't know anything either."

Incredulously, Weasel repeats, "Wizard?"

"Likely just a Buddhist monk living in Kathmandu."

"Right." Weasel clears his throat. "Who else? Wizard, monk, or Muggle."

Christine Palmer. Reed Richards. Tony Stark and his husband, Steve. Peter has mentioned all of them at one point or another, and Wade doesn't know if they're random people Peter's built into his delusion or if they're all somehow connected. Wade doesn't want to take any chances.

"Do you want me to look into the wife?" Weasel asks once he has the names down. "The aunt?"

"No stone unturned, or whatever the fuck the saying is," Wade says. He knows that Peter would probably be furious with him if he found out that Wade was asking Weasel to dig into the lives of his loved ones, but Wade is willing to risk such ire. He would rather Peter be angry with him and safe, than in danger."And Weasel?"

"Yeah?" Weasel asks distractedly. Wade can once again hear the clack of his keyboard as he types.

"Thank you."

It isn't often that they exchange genuine pleasantries—usually, it's insults and gruff IOUs—but this thanks is sincere enough that Weasel hears it through the beginning of a research induced fugue state.

"I'm still putting this on your tab, Deadpool," Weasel drawls after a moment, using the nickname he came up with when Wade was diagnosed with cancer. Back then, when the chemo looked like it might kill Wade instead of cure him, Weasel told Wade that if he died, he'd feel guilty collecting his winnings from Sister Margaret's betting pool about which patron would kick it first. It's one of the few running jokes between them that has more fondness behind it than sarcasm. "So try not to get killed until you pay me back."

"Aye aye, captain." Wade gives a jaunty salute that Weasel cannot see and, without goodbye, Weasel hangs up.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, Wade allows himself a moment to be unsteady. He closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and lets the sunshine warm his face. It's frustrating that the information Weasel gave him wasn't more revealing, that it left Wade with more questions than answers. He knows that he should go home and immediately look at the files Weasel's sent him. Maybe he will find a clue buried in the quotidian, be able to recognize some obscure piece of the puzzle that Weasel couldn't because of his lack of context.

It would be the smart thing to do.

It would be the right thing to do.

But truthfully, Wade doesn't want to open that email. He doesn't want to read those files. Now that he's mostly certain that Peter isn't from another universe, he knows how to better handle the situation. He also knows that he needs to tread carefully. There's a lot that needs to be uncovered and Wade must operate within the parameters of Peter's delusion. Nothing good will come from it being forcefully broken.

Tomorrow, Wade decides, opening his eyes and rolling the soreness out of his neck. I'll look at everything tomorrow.

Wade walks back over to Peter, hands in his pockets. Peter squints at Wade when Wade stands above him.

"Weasel?" Peter asks.

"Weasel," Wade confirms. Wade isn't at all surprised that Peter made such a guess; Wade had mentioned him previously, so it makes sense. Wade still doesn't know how Peter knows so much about him; maybe Peter's exceptionally empathetic, able to play off other people's responses, or maybe Wade's unknowingly involved, considering his own military history. The idea that he might be partially responsible makes Wade shiver.

"New job?"

"Yep." Wade holds a hand out for Peter to grab. Peter takes it and Wade hauls him up to his feet. "Sent me some boring stuff to go over. Big snooze fest. I don't wanna do it at all." Wade tilts his head to the side and grins. "Do you maybe wanna help me procrastinate?

"Sure." Peter smiles and grabs the plastic bag with all their trash off the ground. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, I know we just ate, but I was thinking I'd cook a late dinner and we could binge watch all of the Christopher Nolan Batman movies, since your universe is savage and uncultured." Wade reaches up and adjusts Peter's baseball cap, which sat crooked on his head. He shoves his hands back into his pockets immediately afterwards.

"Tempting," Peter says, pretending to think about it. "Will our movie marathon include candy and popcorn?"

"Will there be candy and popcorn," Wade repeats with a snort. "Uh, duh?"

Peter nods sagely and replies, "Then I am convinced, Mr. Wilson. Let's go home, and rot our teeth and brains."

And if Wade feels a twinge of guilt when Peter says 'home', he tells himself that he'll deal with it—along with everything else—tomorrow.

.

next → : Part 8

.

[flusteredloser]

sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter. 

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets. 

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.” 

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?” 

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal. 

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.”  “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?”  she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair. 

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry. 

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling. 

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed. 

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.” 

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence. 

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.” 

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...” 

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends. 

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan). 

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...” 

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.” 

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening. 

“i- no. that was it.”  

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right? 

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous. 

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his. 

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red. 

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud. 

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face. 

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say. 

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face.  fuck.  “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent. 

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze. 

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?” 

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

[celiamae99]

Addicted

I walked down the hallway fast, completely ignoring Andrew. I didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Hey, wait!” He ran after me, catching my arm as we made a stop in the ER.

“Leave me alone!” I begged him, tugging my arm away. “I don’t want to talk to you about this. I just want Amelia!”

“Just talk to me,” He grabbed my hand again and squeezed. “I can understand. I can help you. I can take care of you! You just have to let me.”

“No!” I stopped, turning around angrily. “No, you don’t get it.” I yelled. “You won’t ever get it Andrew! You aren’t addicted the way I am,” I whispered yelled at him.

“I can if you just talk to me about your drinking!” He yelled at me and all the eyes in the room turned to me. Amelia. Meredith. Owen. Richard. Miranda. Maggie. Jackson. April. Arizona. Callie. Penny. Ben. Stephanie. Alex. Jo. All their eyes, they were on me.

“How could you,” I whispered, betrayal heavy in my voice. “How could you?” I repeated my question.

“Sarah...” He whispered, knowing he messed up.

I shook him off and walked away quickly.

“I didn’t mean to --” I heard him tell Carina.

“You don’t get to go after her.” Amelia said.

————

I walked into the on-call room and sat on a bed where I started sobbing quietly. All I wanted was a drink. Just a drink of vodka. Or tequila.

“You’re okay,” Amelia told me sitting next to me.

“I just want to drink.” I cried. “I want to forget.”

“You can’t sweetie, you can’t.”

“Amy, I want to though,” I cried up at my sister’s sister. She put my head on her shoulder and held me tightly. “I just want a drink!” Amelia and I stayed there for what felt like hours, but it was only 20 minutes. Amelia’s pager went off and she went to the ER for her neuro consult.

————

I stayed silently in the room. I stared blankly at the wall in front of me. Trying my best not to get up and go across the street to the bar and order a shot of tequila.

Richard came and sat down next to me. “Amelia said you might not want to be alone.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I was doing so well,” I whispered. I knew if I talked louder my voice would betray me.

“Did you drink?” I cried lightly. “When was your last drink?”

“Two days ago,” I cried. “I tried so hard, but Arizona had the alcohol down and was drinking with April. I couldn’t handle it. So, when they went to bed, Andrew was still on shift, and it was close to 2AM, and I just… I couldn’t.”

“It’s okay. You can still come back from this.”

“I can’t! I won’t be able to! I’m not strong enough. Last time I had Derek, and a sponsor, now my sponsor is dead, and Derek is dead and the whole hospital knows that I have a drinking problem!” I started hyperventilating. “I am all alone. I have nobody in my corner.”

“Hey, you do have people in your corner. You have me, and Amelia, and Andrew and Meredith. You are not alone.” I let out a sob before leaning into Richard. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up, a cup of coffee, one of those iced nasty ones, and then we can go to a meeting, okay?” I nodded before hugging him tightly.

“Thanks for not leaving me alone.”

———— "You didn’t tell me your sponsor died,” Amy told me after our AA meeting. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey Amy, my sponsor died exactly one year after our brother died, let’s talk?’ Yeah, that would have gone so well.”

“You can talk to me.” Amy told me. “You can always talk to me, okay? There isn’t anything you can’t tell me. We are sisters. We are in this together. You are not alone.”

“I know I’m not alone. But I also know you have been through just as much as me, if not more, and I didn’t want to put that on you.”

“But that’s what we do! We give each other our crap. There has never been another person who understands me the way that you do. You tell me when crap hits the fan, okay?”

I nodded slowly before she went over to her sponsor. I sighed before Richard walked over to me. He put his arm around me and held me tightly to his side. “You’ll get through this.” I turned my face into his chest and sighed deeply.

“Can we get pancakes?” I looked up and smiled slightly.

“You know we can.”

————

“Scoot,” Meredith hit my leg from where I was sitting in the living room watching the news. I glared at her before shaking my head and going back to the news. “Scoot!” She hit me with her case file. “Don’t make me ask you again, Mini Shepherd.”

I huffed before grabbing my blanket tightly and scooting over. “What do you want?” I rolled my eyes at Meredith.

“I want to know why you’re being stupid and pushing Andrew away when we both know how much you love him.” I huffed at Meredith before ignoring her and going back to my TV show. “Listen you can ignore me all you want but know that I’m here because I want to be here no because you’re Derek’s sister, you’re also my family and I love you just as much as he did, if not more. You’re just as much my family as you are Derek’s.” I sighed deeply and leaned my head on Meredith’s shoulder. “And you’re watching crappy TV and somebody needs to save you before you die from all the stupidity.”

I giggled before handing her the remote. “There’s nothing on TV though,” I pouted, shoving some of Derek’s old blanket on her.

“Well, we have this thing called Netflix. And they have the newest season of Madam Secretary on it.”

————

The next day at work, I was on pediatrics with Alex.

“Deluca, he’s into you. Like really into you.”

“Alex don’t.”

“I’m just saying, he’s into you the way I’m into Jo and the way that Derek was into Meredith. Don’t let that go.”

“He doesn’t understand my addiction and he doesn’t understand why I don’t like to talk about it.”

“You talk about it to me.”

“Because you’re – you. You’re my Alex.”

“Well as you’re Alex, I’m telling you to not let Deluca go. He loves you as much as Henry loves Bes.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just telling you.” We rounded on our next patient and that ended our conversation.

————

“Can you look at this chart, please,” Andrew asked me. I glanced up at him from where I was sitting at the nurse’s station. “Arizona has me prepping for this fetal surgery and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

I grabbed the chart from him and glanced at him before flipping it over. “You’re handwriting needs work. A lot of work.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been telling me that since my first day.”

“And you haven’t made any improvements. In the handwriting department.”

“I think everything looks to be in order for this surgery. Arizona is doing a riskier surgery than I would but I understand why she’s doing it. You’re lucky to be scrubbing in.”

“I was going to ask you to go to Joe’s after this but can we get burgers and go back to my place? Or your place?”

“Andrew –”

“We can watch Madam Secretary. You can tell me about your day, I’ll get lectured by Alex and Meredith, Amelia will end up crashing for about 20 minutes, just like normal?”

“We can talk in the car,” I said off handedly. “It might be good for us to do that.”

“And you can eat my fries.”

“And maybe we can go to that ice cream place and get the –”

“Peanut butter banana with hot fudge,” He finished my sentence and I beamed at him.

“I have a meeting to go to tomorrow.” I said, “Maybe you could drive me?”

“I could do that.” He told me, stroking my hair.

“Great, I would really love that.” I told him with a smile, leaning into his hand.

“Well, I have to scrub in two hours so I should go prep.” He said, sighing. He stood up to get ready to go to the lab.

I stood up quickly, grabbing his wrist and pulled him tightly against my body. My hands wove their way into his hair, and I tugged his face to mine. His hands found their way to my back and he gripped me. “Maybe instead of going to the lab, you could join me in the on-call room?” I briefly pulled away before pulling him back to me.

“How could I ever say no to you?”

[hangovercurse]

The GQ Couples Quiz

You, a famous actress, and your boyfriend, MGK, do an interview about your relationship for GQ.

Request: “Can I get a Colson Baker imagine where you do the couple interview for buzzfeed please”

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I changed it to the GQ interview because I couldn’t find the one for Buzzfeed, sorry!

Word Count: 2480

“Hey guys I’m MGK”

“And I’m Y/S/N”

“And this is the GQ couples quiz.” You both said at the same time before busting out in laughter at the corniness.

“I think you know way more about me than I know about you.” Colson said, a nervous look on his face.

You giggled, “I think I know some stuff that could get you into trouble.”

The producers behind the cameras laughed at that. “Okay, I’ll go first.” Colson picked up the cards in his hand. “What is my full name?”

You smiled, “Starting off with the heavy stuff here, guys.” You said, looking behind the cameras with a laugh. “Your full name is Richard Colson Baker.” Colson made a face at the use of his first name which made you giggle.

“Yeah, but if anyone calls me Richard or Richie,” he pointed straight into the camera, “I will come for you.” You giggled at his silliness, looking at your own card which held the same question.

“Okay, what is my full name?” You looked up at him, “If you get this wrong, I will walk out of here.”

His eyes went wide, “I think I know my own girlfriend’s name Ms. Y/F/N.” You giggled, nodding in approval, and letting him continue. “Where was I born?”

You rolled your eyes, “Houston, Texas. Easy. Where was I born?”

“Y/B/T” He said with a grin, flipping to the next card.

“What is my secret talent?”

“You say this is your secret talent, but you talk about it all the time so I don’t know if it counts.” You said, “but you can juggle.”

He nods, “That’s the only talent I have so it counts.” You giggled, shaking your head. “Yours is that you can balance shit on your head, right? Like cups and plates and shit.”

You nodded, “together we make a whole circus act.”

You both laughed, his entire body moving as he did. Eventually, he calmed down and looked at the next card. “I’m gonna look like such a shitty boyfriend.” You laughed, waiting for him to read the question, “What’s my favorite meal?”

You laughed harder, “you don’t know my favorite meal?”

He threw his head back, “I know what you eat a lot but like, I couldn’t tell you what is specifically your favorite meal.”

You giggled, “yours is Soul food. Like chicken and mac n cheese and all that.”

He nodded, “I was gonna say chicken wings, but you’re right.”

“Every time we go to Cleveland you drag me to that one place and you get so excited about it.” You told him and he smiled. “Do I wanna ask you what mine is?”

“Dude, you are gonna make me look so bad.” He shook his head, but tried anyways, “I mean, I know you like making breakfast with me and Case, but I don’t know if that’s your favorite meal or not.”

You grinned widely, excited that he got it right. “No, you’re so right. Like, it’s not the best food,” he pouted, “but the fact that we all make it together is really cute.”

He blushed, reading the next card. “What is my favorite song to sing around the house?” He started laughing in the middle of the question, making you laugh with him.

“Oh my god, what doesn’t he sing around the house?” You said to the crew behind the screen. Slim and Baze were standing to the side, laughing with you. “I guess normally its whatever he’s working on. Like I swear, no one is more obsessed with his music than he is.”

His cheeks were red and he buried his face behind his cards. “I’d like to disagree but I really don’t have a favorite song to sing around the house. It’s just kind of whatever’s in my head.’

“So, then I still get the point, right?”

“I guess you still get the point.” He sighed.

“Okay this one is different for me, what is my favorite song to dance to?” You asked, grinning slyly at him.

He rolled his eyes, “if you play anything by 24kGoldn, she will be dancing to it. If you play anything I’ve come out with, she skips it.”

You gaped, “I do not skip it you ass! You just don’t make good dancing music. There’s nothing wrong with that, I just can’t dance and cry at the same time.” By the end of your statement, you were both laughing like little kids. “But Goldn, he makes some dance-worthy music.”

Colson shook his head but continued. “What was the name of the first song I ever released and my first album?”

“Lace up.” You announced, making the x symbol with your hands. Colson nodded, smiling at you fondly. “Uh, your first song was…” you trailed off, thinking. “It wasn’t Wild Boy, was it?”

He shook his head, “nope, earlier than that. It was never on an official album.”

Your eyes shot open in realization, “Oh! Alice in Wonderland!” You shouted and he nodded, smiling proudly.

“I swear to God I look so bad right now.” He complained.

You chuckled, shaking your head, “We’ve gotten the same number of questions right! I wouldn’t have gotten that if you hadn’t told me it wasn’t on an album.” He let out a sigh but you continued, “what was the first piece of film I ever appeared in?”

You could tell he was thinking, “like commercials and stuff count?” You nodded, “you were in that Febreze commercial when you were like, 12, weren’t you?”

You laughed really loud, your head going back and your eyes shutting. “I hate that you know that.” Colson pumped his fists in the air, celebrating his correct answer.

“If you were to ask like your first actual like movie, it was Nerve, cause that’s how we met.” He said, a wide grin on his face. You nodded, matching his energy. He looked at the card, his eyes going soft. “Okay this one’s cute, when was our first date and what did we do?”

You giggled, remembering the long path to your relationship. “Our first actual date was on April 23rd, 2019. We went to a little drive-in movie and you borrowed Baze’s truck and we sat in the bed and uh… let me just say we didn’t do much watching.” The crew members started laughing with you, so much that you had to take a few seconds of a break.

“We’ll cut the break out, don’t worry.” The assistant director said. Colson’s face was red, trying to hide his laugh as you went back to the video.

You cleared your throat, “when was our first kiss?”

He chuckled, “It was not that night, funnily enough.” You both giggled, hiding your face in embarrassment. “Our first kiss was the night before. It was my birthday and we were in this huge house and there were a ton of people around and I realized that you were the only person I actually wanted to be with at that moment in time. So, we snuck out to the backyard with a bottle of something and spent the rest of the night getting drunk with each other. And at some point, I kissed you.” You smiled, the memory of that night coming back to you. “And then I asked you on said first date.”

There were a few scattered “awes” from the production team, which you laughed off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, it was cute, next question.”

He shook his head at you but read the next question, “Ugh, these are all so cheesy. When did I first say I loved you?”

You chuckled, “You were on tour and I hadn’t seen you in like two months except on the phone. So, when you got back, you took me and Casie out for lunch and then we went to this skate park. I remember I was teaching Casie how to skate and you just kind of blurted it out. And Casie and I both looked at you like “what the fuck did you just say?” and you got really embarrassed about it and then Casie said “finally!” like she had been waiting for it.”

You were a giggling mess, happiness flooding your body as you remembered the moment. “No,” he started, “you don’t understand. Casie figured it out like weeks before me. We were talking on the phone, and this kid, my nine-year-old daughter, started teasing me about how nervous I was to tell you.”

Your grin widened. “I swear Casie would’ve killed me if I hadn’t told you that day.”

“I will have to thank Casie at some point.” You said as you flipped to the next question. “What is my favorite movie and TV show? You gotta get them both right.”

He put his head in his hands, letting out a sigh. “I know your favorite movie is Nerve for obvious reasons,” he motioned up and down his body, “however, I know you’ve seen The Dirt about a hundred times, so.” He pointed his head at you and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s so egotistical.” You said to the camera. “But you’re right, Nerve is my favorite movie not only because its how we met but also because it was the first movie I was ever in. But if you were to ask my favorite movie that I’m not in, it would be The Dirt. You get 2 points for that one.”

Colson nodded, “hell yeah. Okay, what do I consider my biggest career accomplishment?”

Your eyes went wide as you realized you didn’t know the answer. “I could say like three or four different things right now.” You whined, looking to him for help. “When Miocic started coming out to your song, when you recorded with Crue, when Cena started using your song. You’ve done so much shit.”

He chuckled, “yeah but what’s the most important one, like to me?”

You tilted your head, “Was it when you performed on New Year’s?” You asked, feeling slightly embarrassed.

He laughed, “you’re a goddamn mind reader, I swear.” You smiled, sighing in relief, “yeah, it wasn’t like the biggest thing but it was the most important to me.”

You smiled, “we’re just on the same wavelength.” He rolled his eyes at your goofiness. “Okay, okay. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

He chuckled, looking down at his hands, “if its something I did and we’re like, in public, you just won’t talk to me and like you won’t let me touch you.” He turned to the camera and the rest of the room, “like we are both very touchy people, so if she stops holding my hand or something, I know I fucked up.”

You giggled, nodding in agreement, “but if I really mess up, she’ll let me know.”

“We’re very big on communication.” You smiled, both of you stifling laughter at the many memories of you arguing over stupid things. “But it’s why this works, y’know?” You said to the camera.

“You should get this one, what’s my biggest fear?” He asked, the room falling silent.

You turned to look at him, a soft smile on your face. “Losing Casie.” You said, “or me, but mostly Casie.” You both knew how much he loved Casie. It was what attracted you to him so much in the first place. And since you’d known him, Casie had become equally important in your life.

He nodded, “yeah. I’ve had, like, actual nightmares about it. Scariest shit.”

You let the answer linger in the air for a second before pulling out the last card. “Okay, last question. When did we first meet and when did you first realize you liked me?” You grinned up at him and he blushed.

“First day we met was the day of the Nerve read through and we hit it off immediately. But I realized I “liked” you,” he used air quotes when he said the word liked, “when you did that ladder scene. I remember thinking like, “damn, that girl is fucking metal.””

You laughed, “I was so terrified but I was trying to keep calm because I wanted you to think I was cool.” You squeezed your eyes shut, “I was freaking out.”

Colson laughed with you, pausing to catch his breath, “but the first time I realized I loved you was when I was on tour. Normally I called you before I went out after the show, but this one night I was really burnt out and the only thing I wanted to do was to sit on the bus and facetime you. And even though I was like four hours behind you and it was like 5 am where you were, you stayed up with me and we just talked for a while. And then you fell asleep without hanging up and I couldn’t bring myself to hang up. So, I just, as creepy as this shit sounds, I just watched you sleep. And I had that thought of like, I could do this every night and not get bored of it. And that’s when I realized that I loved you.”

The look on your face explained your emotions perfectly, and it was something the internet talked about for a while after the video was released. Colson blushed, “now you gotta say when you first realized you liked me so I don’t look like a little bitch.”

You laughed loudly, body shaking. “Ok, first time I realized I liked you was when you brought Casie to set. Like, the way you acted with her and everything was so sweet. Like I was already attracted to you but that was the point where I was like, woah.” You made wide eyes to prove your point. “I realized I loved you the same facetime call. I hate being woken up and I was really mad when my phone rang. But then I saw it was you and my heart literally did a little backflip. The next morning, I woke up to the call still going and you were asleep on the other end and I realized that I would never answer a facetime call at 5 am for anyone else.”

He smiled fondly at you, “we’re so in sync.” You giggled, agreeing.

“Okay, that was our really cheesy GQ couple’s quiz. Thank you guys so much for watching. Stream Daywalker by MGK and Corpse.” You said to the camera.

“And go see Y/N’s new movie out on Netflix!” Your boyfriend said giving a thumbs up to the camera.

The director gave you the signal to cut and you let out a sigh of relief, looking over to Colson, who was already looking at you. “I love you.” He said.

“I love you too, dork.” You mumbled, moving from your chair to his, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - II

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 4,300+

Previously on...

When Y/N arrived at the master bedroom, she was surprised to find the door slightly ajar. She knocked always and found Bruce turning to face her, shirtless and only in his boxer briefs.

Bruce seemed subtly surprised to find Y/N standing in his doorway and not Alfred. But he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by the state Y/N found him in. 

Along with the first aid kit, Y/N had grabbed two ice packs from the freezer.

“I’m fine,” Bruce told her before she could even offer to help him.

“You can either deal with me or you can deal with Alfred,” she threatened. 

“Your choice,” she added when she saw how serious he took her warning.

Bruce’s heavy sigh was the only answer she’d get.

“Come on,” Y/N nudged her head toward his en-suite bathroom that was probably twice the size of most people’s studio apartments.

She pointed to one of the steps that led up to the giant bathtub, silently instructing him to sit.

“Put these on your ribs,” Y/N instructed as she handed him the ice packs.

To her surprise, Bruce did as she asked.

“I don’t need stitches,” he mumbled as he watched her open the first aid kit.

“I know,” she answered. “Which is lucky for you, because I have no idea how to stitch people up.” 

She dabbed some cotton in hydrogen peroxide. “But…you still need to clean those cuts or they’ll take longer to heal and probably scar.”

Once again, Y/N was surprised to see that Bruce did as she said. He didn’t complain or refuse her assistance – just sat there silently. The man didn’t even flinch and Y/N knew she was causing his injuries to sting.

“What happened tonight that has you so upset?” Y/N finally asked after silently caring for him for a few minutes.

“What makes you think I’m upset?”

She sighed softly. “I’ll be the first to admit that you’re nearly impossible to read. But clearly something happened that caused you to storm out of the cave like you did.”

Bruce didn’t respond.

“Was it them?” Y/N asked carefully. “The Court?"

For a moment, she thought he’d ignore that question too.

“They know I’m protecting you. Well…they know that Batman is protecting you.”

Y/N shrugged. “We knew they were gonna figure it out eventually.”

Bruce remained silent.

“Did they send the Talons after you?”

From his expression, Y/N knew she was right.

The Talons were a group of lethal assassins that did all of the dirty work for The Court of Owls. They were highly trained, almost entirely undetectable, and a force to be reckoned with. Probably only second to the League of Assassins when it came to deadliness.

“That’s why Jason was with you,” Y/N pointed out. “You needed backup.”

“We had it under control,” was all Bruce said.

“I know you were already going after The Court,” Y/N told him gently. “And you need my help.” She hesitated and took in a shaky breath, “But thank you for looking out for me.”

“What was your plan?” Bruce asked.

“What do you mean?”

“When I came to you and told you that you’d been made, you said that you knew. What was your plan?”

“Run. And keep running. You and I both know I’m hopeless when it comes to an actual fight.” She shrugged. “My plan was to keep working on exposing them and stay alive long enough to see it through.”

Y/N waited for some sort of lecture, for Bruce to tell her that it was a stupid plan and she had been sloppy. She waited to feel patronized and belittled.

But Bruce just stared at her.

“What?” She challenged.

“I wish you would prioritize your life a bit more.”

She moved back a little from cleaning his cuts and snorted. “What? Like you?” 

Then she shook her head and went back to cleaning his cuts. “You’re so not the person to be lecturing about self-preservation, Bruce.”

Then Bruce surprised them both.

He grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck and brought her down to him before his lips collided with hers.

She dropped all the medical supplies in her hand from the shock of it all. But then she was cupping his face and kissing him back.

Next thing she knew, Bruce had steered her body so she was straddling his lap.

It had been so long since that night that Y/N had almost forgotten what his lips felt like. Or how his hands touched her so tenderly, but his intent was always clear and effortlessly confident.

But then Y/N’s leg accidentally collided with one of Bruce’s bruised ribs.

It didn’t deter him. He had every intention of ignoring it.

But Y/N felt his body tense in pain and she swore she felt the vibrations of the quietest pained moan from him. 

She could’ve imagined it, but she wasn’t going to continue knowing that she had the ability to accidentally hurt him.  

But it was also her saving grace. Because Y/N shouldn’t be doing this. 

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from the kiss. Bruce allowed the movement, but his grip on her waist and neck didn’t ease in the slightest.

“You should rest,” she whispered to him.

Then she shoved herself away from him and awkwardly stepped backwards as if she was desperately trying to put space between them.

“Umm…make sure you keep that ice on your ribs,” she told him awkwardly, half turned away from him.

Bruce opened his mouth to stop her, but no words came out. 

The next second, she bolted out of the bathroom and then his master suite.

Her mind was racing with so many thoughts that Y/N didn’t notice Dick catching her race into her own bedroom.

Dick looked between Y/N’s closed door and the direction of Bruce’s room, putting it all together. 

—————

After the close call with the Talons, Bruce had all hands on deck. Even Jason – who usually did his own thing and had separated himself from family matters – had been brought into the fold. Which meant he was spending way more time around the manor.

Y/N knew things were getting serious.

Bruce wasn’t exactly keeping her in the dark. But he also wasn’t being forthcoming with information.

Y/N didn’t know if he was trying to shield her in some way…or if he was just doing business as usual and taking control, not allowing anyone in until he thought it was absolutely necessary.

Either way, through the chaos of it all, Y/N realized Dick hadn’t acted as her shadow in almost a week.

It wasn’t until Jason decided to bother Y/N that she realized what had changed.

Jason leaned backwards against the console Y/N was working on so she was forced to face him. He crossed his arms with a smirk and looked down at her.

“So, you and B, huh?”

“Get off my equipment,” she warned him darkly without even glancing at him.

But inside, she was internally freaking out. 

Y/N made a point to keep as many facts about her life a secret. And her sex life? That was top priority when it came to her privacy. This was worst case scenario.

But also, how the hell did he figure that out?

Jason shrugged, but did as she asked and took a step away from the console. “He didn’t say anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Y/N finally looked up him. “Please tell me what I have to do to get you to leave me the fuck alone.”

Jason smiled and whistled. “I think I like you.”

“The feeling’s not mutual,” she mumbled as she began typing again.

“Jason, leave her alone.”

Y/N turned to see Dick walking into the cave.

Jason held up his hands in surrender and gave his brother an innocent face. “I was just trying to be polite to our guest, Richard.”

“I’m sure you were,” Dick side eyed him.

Jason then turned to Y/N and put on his Red Hood helmet. “I look forward to having more of these titillating conversations, Y/N.” Then he turned to Dick. “I’m heading out on patrol.”

He mounted his motorcycle and raced out of the cave, leaving Dick and Y/N alone for the first time in awhile.

“No patrol for you tonight?” Y/N asked him slowly.

“They’ve got it covered.”

She just nodded and didn’t ask any further questions.

All at once, they were submerged into strange silence. The air was racing with thoughts, yet the tension seemed to simultaneously make it thick, as well.

Y/N sighed. She might as well get this over with. 

“I know you want to ask, so just ask,” Y/N mumbled as her fingers raced across the keyboard and her eyes never left the screens.

“Doesn’t the whole…” Dick really didn’t know how to put it delicately.

Y/N sighed, clearly annoyed with his fumbling. She turned around in her chair to face him. “Does his age bother me? Is that what you’re struggling to ask?”

Dick shifted his weight awkwardly, “I guess so. Yeah.”

She raised her brow. “Haven’t you dated a literal alien before?”

“That’s not the same thing,” he defended with a glare.  

“Oh, so as long as the alien is the same age as you, it’s fine?”

Dick really didn’t have an answer for that.

“It’s just that…aren’t you a little young for him?” Somehow he managed to leave out the rudeness in the question. That must be the Wayne charm.

“Isn’t 9 a little young to put on a costume and fight crime?”

Dick sighed, “Touché.”

“I am one of the most successful hackers in the world. He’s a vigilante who dresses up as a bat. What about us screams normal and conventional to you, Dick?”

He knew she had a point.

“Plus, we aren’t in a relationship. It was a one-time thing. Nothing more. It happened a long time ago.”

However, she conveniently left out the heated kiss they shared last night.

“You sure about that?” Dick challenged.

Y/N just eyed him.

“Because the only women he’s had one-time things with are the one’s he’s used or paid to keep the image.” He took a step closer. “And they definitely didn’t know who he really was.”

Y/N tried not to let it show that his words caught her off guard.

This exactly what Y/N didn’t want.

She didn’t want anyone putting ideas in her head that she actually meant something to Bruce Wayne. Because she might make the mistake of believing it.

It happened once. They slept together once. One time. 

Had there been a indescribable intensity between them since then? Yes. But Y/N didn’t like to acknowledge or think about that.

“Can we please stop talking about this?” She asked.

Dick blinked and shook his head. “Sorry,” he blurted out. “I didn’t mean to…make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N put her face in her hands and groaned.

Then she shot to her feet and faced Dick. If he wasn’t a vigilante who could break the average man in one swift move, he would be intimidated by the energy radiating off of her.

“Hmm…I wonder why this conversation could ever make me feel uncomfortable, Dick,” her sarcasm was almost too natural.

Then her face dropped.

 When her body language screamed that she was embarrassed, that’s when Dick felt like a piece of shit.

“Look, we’re not…” She didn’t even know how to explain this. “We’re nothing. OK?”

Dick nodded slowly, “OK.”

And he believed her. Because she believed it. Whether that was the truth though, that was an entirely different story.

“We met years ago because I threatened to expose his identity to the world.”

Dick blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Y/N at least had the shame to look guilty about it.

“You threatened him? You threatened Bruce Wayne? The man who dresses up as a bat and scares the shit out of the criminals of Gotham?”

“I didn’t plan on actually doing it!” Y/N tried to defend. “I needed to get his attention. And guess what, it worked.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose as she thought back in time. “I discovered a sex trafficking ring. I had all the information, everything to take it down. I just needed a little…muscle.”

“And you thought Batman could be that muscle,” Dick finished for her.

She nodded.

Then Dick looked at the all the equipment. Her story reminded him what she was fully capable of and why she was here in the first place. “How did you learn to do all of this?”

It was obvious that he was trying to change the subject and give her an out. But she let him still.

Y/N shrugged.

“Is this the part where you tell me about all your degrees from various Ivy League universities?” Dick teased.

“I didn’t go to college,” she told him evenly.

“You di–How is that even possible?”

“I don’t agree with institutionalized higher education.”

Dick rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” she warned him. “You didn’t go to college either.”

Dick scoffed and crossed his arms. “Of course that’s old information to you. Is there anything that you don’t know about me?”

She smirked at his obvious frustration. “I don’t know your favorite color.”

Though she had been teasing him before, her confession was genuine. And her soft tone didn’t go amiss with Dick.

For a moment, Y/N didn’t think he was going to tell her. 

“It’s red,” he told her softly.

“Hmm,” she was surprised. “I always assumed it was blue…because of the uniform and all.”

“Red was always the color of my family’s costumes.” He knew the answer was rather vague.

Y/N’s face turned sympathetic, “The Flying Graysons?”

Dick nodded.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that she seemed to know everything about him.

“Red’s a good choice,” Y/N added with a sad smile.

But he realized what she was actually saying was her condolences. Somehow it was better than the forced and awkward “I’m so sorry” he constantly got.

Dick grabbed a chair and sat down to face her with such purpose.

“What else do you want to know?”

Y/N allowed herself to smile at the question. 

“Everything.”

—————

Y/N got addicted to Dick’s openness.

Once Dick Grayson decided to trust someone…he really trusted them.

He didn’t hide himself from Y/N.

Unlike Bruce, Dick was easy to read. But Y/N knew that wasn’t the case for everyone. She saw the way Dick communicated with old team members or even on comms with his brothers. 

But for Y/N, if she asked him something, Dick gave her the answer.

It was as simple as that.

There were no games, no hiding, nor withholding, not manipulation, no fear.

There was just Dick Grayson.

But Y/N also new he was capable of all of those things still. She’d seen him twist conversations and put the focus on the other person. He doesn’t seem to have any issue with blatantly lying. That’s when Y/N saw Bruce.

So why was she different?

————

“I can’t stay another second in this fucking house,” Y/N snapped one day.

They had just eaten dinner and were now sitting in one of the dens. 

Dick laughed at her. “It’s not exactly a prison, Y/N. You’re in a mansion with everything you could ever need – and more.”

But this was the most time Y/N had spent in one place. She was always moving, always on the run. Yeah, she stayed in Gotham for the most part, but she missed the dangerous streets of the city.

“I’m not taking you out,” Dick gave her a warning look as he pointed at her.

“OK. First off, Bruce said nothing about me not being able to leave.”

Dick gave her a look that said, ‘How dumb do you think I am?’

“And if you were with me, then it’s fine. Right?”

“Y/N,” Dick groaned.

“And finally, I can do what I want,” Y/N added with a serious look.

“Sure you can,” he smirked.

But Y/N was being serious and she stood up. “I’m not his prisoner.”

Then she was headed toward the garage.

“No one said you were,” Dick called out after her.

He jumped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Y/N, you know more than anyone that The Court has eyes everywhere. Your face shows up on one street camera for a second and you’ll be tagged. They’ll follow you back here and then nowhere will be safe.”

“I know,” she answered as if it were obvious. “But we’re just going for a drive. Half of Bruce’s cars have tinted windows. And we’re going to take the backroads on the fringe. No street cameras. I doubt we’ll even see another car.”

Dick was adding up the risks in his head, calculating every possible outcome.

“Is Nightwing scared of what Batman will think?” Y/N teased.

Dick raised his eyebrow in amusement and crossed his arms. “Whatever game you’re trying to play…we both know I can play it better.”

She gave him the most innocent face. 

Dick sighed. Was he really about to do this?

“Come on,” he told her.

“Really?” Y/N was shocked she got him to concede.

“But I’m driving. And we’re taking the bike,” he called over his shoulder as he turned on the lights of the garage.

‘Garage’ was an understatement. It looked more like a fancy warehouse that housed at least 20 cars and a dozen motorcycles.

“The bike?” Y/N questioned.

Dick chuckled. “What? You scared of riding motorcycles?” 

Before she had the chance to answer, he pushed a helmet into her chest. It would fully cover her face and had a tinted visor shield on it. 

“Need I remind you that this was your idea?”

Y/N glared at him and put on the helmet.

She watched a safe distance away as Dick started his motorcycle and revved he engine.

Even though she was wearing a helmet, he could still tell she was apprehensive.

“Come on,” he encouraged her gently before putting on his own helmet.

Slowly, she approached the motorcycle.

“Just swing your leg over – there you go,” he instructed.

Then he put on his helmet and Y/N realized there were comms linked between the two helmets so they could hear each other easily.

“Uhh…where do I–how do I hold on?” Her question stumbled out.

To her surprise, he didn’t verbally answer. Instead, Dick just reached behind him for her hands and placed them under his leather jacket and around his waist.

The contact felt strangely intimate. And Y/N hated that it made her heart race a bit faster. She hoped he couldn’t feel it as her chest bumped against his back. Hopefully he would just think it was her adrenaline and fear from the bike. 

“Good?” He asked as he revved the engine again.

“I think so?”

Suddenly they shot out of the garage and raced down the long drive that led to the gate. 

Y/N didn’t think Dick was going unusually fast, by any means. But the motorcycle made everything feel more extreme. She slowly started to put together why people liked riding them so much. It was a rush. 

Dick did as he suggested and took backroads, avoiding any main streets or heavy-traffic areas. Which meant a lot of twists and turns.

But Y/N was surprised when he started to slow down and pulled onto a street that was just surrounded by forests. The sun had just set and the sky was colored pink and purple.

Dick turned off the bike when they reached a clearing. It was a meadow, with tall grass that moved like the ocean from the night breeze.

Y/N took off her helmet and grinned at the sight. 

She turned to Dick, “Didn’t expect a city boy like you to know places like this…”

“City boy?” Dick looked insulted. “I was a traveling circus kid before Bruce took me in.” He looked out at the land, “This was one of our stops. We set up right over there,” he pointed to an open field where the ground was even and the grass was short.

Y/N’s face changed when she realized Dick had a connection to this place. It wasn’t just a stop off the highway. It meant something to him.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. It was hard to meet his gaze.

“For what?”

“Taking me here. For taking me anywhere, really.”

“Despite how enormous the manor is, it’s suffocating sometimes,” Dick tried to reason with her. “Has it really been so bad, being stuck with us?”

“No,” she quickly answered and took a step toward him. “How much time have you spent working with a team?”

Dick thought about it. “I mean, after leaving Bruce, I just went from one team to another. Even when I think I’m working alone, my family is always around the corner.”

Y/N gave him a sad smile, already knowing that would be his answer. “I never had that. It’s always just been…me.”

“Why?” Dick questioned. 

He knew better than anyone that heroes found other heroes, whether they wanted to or not. And he knew from experience that a team had a stronger chance of changing the world for the better. Even Bruce gave up on being a lone warrior – despite him trying to believe he still is one. 

“I don’t go after criminals that wear face paint and shoot guns, Dick. I go after the people that terrify others into silence and submission. I go after the people that most don’t even know we should be going after.” She shook her head. “It’s dangerous in a different way. And I never wanted to risk anyone else’s life but my own.”

“But when things go south, who’s got your back?” Dick challenged.

Y/N thought about it a moment and just shrugged.

Dick’s eyes saddened. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Y/N.”

She didn’t acknowledge his statement.

When there was a large gust of wind, Y/N closed her eyes as if it would help her body absorb the nature around them.

Dick allowed himself to take her in while her eyes were closed – all of her. 

He still didn’t know so much about her past – what she’s seen, what she’s been through. But he felt like he understood her as a person. He saw how intelligent she was, how she explained things to Tim without sounding condescending or embarrassing him for not knowing. Or how patient she was with Damian when he was his bratty self, and she clearly saw his behavior for what it was: a child who didn’t know how to converse with normal people. And when Jason was a sarcastic smartass, Y/N gave it right back to him. Dick also didn’t miss how Y/N offered to help Alfred cook and clean up as if it wasn’t his job.

The moment Dick was having as he looked at Y/N was interrupted by his phone.

“100 bucks that it’s Bruce,” Y/N griped.

And when Dick pulled it out from his pocket, lo and behold, Bruce’s name was lit on the screen.

“Hello. Yeah, she’s with me. We just went for a drive. We’re heading back now.”

As soon as he hung up, Y/N asked, “Was he pissed?”

“He was extremely calm, which is probably not a good sign.”

But Dick didn’t seem too concerned with Bruce’s wrath. He’d grown out of that long ago. 

“Come on,” he nodded to his parked motorcycle.

Y/N slid on the bike behind him with much more confidence and finesse this time. And there was no hesitation as she wrapped her hands around around Dick’s waist. He swore her grip was tighter too.

“Ready?” Dick still asked her. 

But then his hand seemed to have a mind of his and slid over the grip she had on his waist, brushing across one of her hands almost…affectionately.

He didn’t even realize he did it until a few seconds afterward.

“Mhmm,” Y/N hummed.

The ride back was less peaceful. The sun had gone down and if they weren’t in view of Gotham’s city lights, they couldn’t see their surroundings. It also didn’t help that they knew they were returning to the manor to face Bruce.

When they parked inside the garage and turned off the engine, they both heard Bruce call Dick’s name from inside.

Y/N winced, but quickly recovered.

She squeezed Dick’s upper-arm. “Don’t worry. This is on me.”

Before Dick couldn’t argue and say he wasn’t scared of Bruce, Y/N was walking back into the manor.

“Need I remind you that you’re number one on The Court of Owls’ hit list?” Bruce told Y/N darkly.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and slacks. It was an off-duty look for him, but he still looked like he was in some sort of uniform.

“Dick had nothing to do with it,” Y/N defended calmly. “I threatened to photoshop nudes of him and sell them to TMZ and the Daily Mail.”

Bruce shared a look with Dick over Y/N’s shoulder, proving that he already knew Y/N had made no such threat.

“I’ll be in my lab,” Y/N announced, deciding to end the conversation before it could turn into a lecture or argument. 

When she passed Bruce, Y/N turned around and gave Dick a grateful smile before mouthing, ‘Thank you’ to him.

Now it was just Bruce and Dick.

“If you want to lecture me, just get it over with,” Dick sighed.

“You know better,” Bruce answered.

“She was going to leave whether I went with her or not. I thought it was best to keep an eye on her. I wasn’t stupid about it, Bruce.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Dick glared at him. “We can’t keep her locked up here forever.”

“She’ll stay until we take down The Court. Until then, she’s at risk.”

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Careful, Bruce. It’s starting to sound like you’re making this personal.”

But they both knew there was another meaning behind his words. Dick saw Bruce put together what he was really trying to say. ‘I know you two have a history. I know what happened between you.’

But Dick didn’t know what was happening now. 

Bruce just glared at him and said, “I could say the same to you.”

Then he turned and left.

-----------------------------------------

Part III

Ooooooo. The drama!

Let me know what you think! Please 😔