#writing wayne going through this is just awful to me

[zepskies]

Aw welcome back, Wayne!! 😘 I'm so happy to hear that you've been thinking of this series. 🥰 And I'm so excited to see what you thought of Part 2...

I'm so in love with their little bonding sessions. Being stuck inside a cabin and playing games? I want that 😍

Aww it's the little moments with Dean that I would so love -- along with just being snowed in, in a cabin with him. 😏

And lol it's gotta be so awkward for true mates when they're still strangers. I absolutely adored her thought process throughout 😆

Lolll YEP exactly. 😆 Like, realistically how do you broach that conversation with someone? I'm glad you liked that attempt to inject some realism there. 🤣

Love how Dean doesn't realize he's oversharing and that his whole childhood might not have been normal 😂

ahaha Dean got so into his story he didn't realize he was giving himself away there! Bit of a rookie move, but she's his literal soulmate, so he's probably a little distracted. 🤪

And oh God, all those journal entries 😭😭😭 I know they're from the OG journal, but it just rips my heart right out again rereading it 😢 Those portray John's despair and heartbreak way better than the show did...

Girl I had never read the official journal, and it hit me in the feels in just the same way. 😭 I had that exact same thought -- that they served to humanize John and explain why he became the way he was with the boys way better than the show did.

Ooooh, let's think about it, shall we? 😏 Her dad might have totally been snatched by something supernatural. Considering their location and how it happened in her memories, it might have been a Wendigo?? 🤔

Ooh you're red-hot! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Dude! Goosebumps! Wendigos scare the shit outta me 🙈 It's still why The Descent is the scariest movie for me. I die from a heart attack every time 😂 🫣

ooooh my God, I haven't seen The Descent, but if it's anything like the Wendigo episode, than I don't wanna know. 😭 Legit when I was first starting to watch SPN I had to take a break after that episode -- and it was only episode 2!! 😩

No! Alex!!!! YOU KNOW THIS IS WHY I HATE SNOOPING Girl, you're killing me here... 😆😆

LOLL I love that you referenced Smoke Eater -- it's those same vibes from Part 8, isn't it? I have a little less sympathy for the reader in this situation, but she is ultimately sorry for going through his private journal/invading his privacy to the nth degree. 😅

OMGG I LOVED that gif of the little polar bear. 🥹🥹 Took me right out with the cuteness lmao. I laughed so hard at all your commentary with the reader and her lack of bear knowledge. 😝

N'aw, I know it was necessary but poor bear – wrong place, wrong time for the fella 🥺💔

Aww I know, I felt bad for writing that part. Poor Ted. 😭😭

My heart is full 😭❤️❤️❤️ (Also, I doubt he can ever stand to let her go her own way after this lmao)

Ha! You're right about that one. I just love me some protective Alpha Dean. 😏

Huh. Never eaten bear before... Never even thought about it before lol Also seems like something the Shaws would've done 😂

Me either lmao, but I've read about people who actually hunt for a living who survive off bear, caribou, bison, etc. I imagine it's a hard way to live, but omg yeah I could see Ashton making his kids learn how to shoot, but them not wanting to shoot a bear or a deer. 😭

Omg I love that ending! Dean's finally coming around, and she's putting the puzzle pieces about her dad together. I wonder what Dean will do when he hears the full story? Would he go hunt the thing? Is it even still out there??? Questions upon questions... 🤔

Aw I'm glad! Yesss it's about time with him lol. Good thing all your questions there will be answered in Part 3...

So excited for the next part!! I'm loving this story and everything you've put in it, and the dynamic between them is amazing. So well done, friend 😍🩵🩵

Aw thank you so much, my friend!! I tried to balance the slower "getting to know you" parts with some of this actiony/dramatic stuff as they slowly grow closer. 🥰💜💜

Also, don't think I forgot about the last two chapters of Polaris. I'm so looking forward to diving into those chapters soon!! 😘

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 next: Part 6

a bit of a weirdly chill chapter this time. might take a break after this part but my brain is always on you know like a liar creative mode so who the hell knows xD

“Have you seen my nephew?”

“Has my nephew stopped by here recently?”

“Did he mention anything worrying?”

“If you see him, call me by this number, would ya?”

Wayne’s never been much of a theatre boy unlike Eddie, but he supposes he knows how the extra actors feel when they have to repeat their few lines over and over for their plays.

Eddie’s not anywhere in town. Nobody has seen him last night or this morning. Some of the people he’s asked look at him strangely and say why should he even be worried.

A part of Wayne wants to grab them by the collar and shake them and furiously spit on their faces while he cries out, “Shouldn’t you be worried if your own child disappears and might be hurt!”

He doesn’t do that.

He keeps his head down as he says his lines and leaves.

He checks at Hawkins General Hospital, something he’s been putting off since he drove off and left the police chief at the dirt. He reckons that if Eddie’s hurt, he could’ve at least have the sense to run in here.

But the nurse at the front desk shakes her head with a frown and says nobody with Eddie’s description came in.

He says his lines and leaves.

He starts checking the spots Jeff had listed for him.

The first is some old picnic table close behind the high school. When Wayne gets there, there’s a few students loitering. They see him and quickly scramble off. He calls out for them but they don’t look back. He eyes at the table, absent of any sign of Eddie, and leaves.

He goes to the rest on the list.

Some spot in the forest called Skull Rock. The abandoned Creel house. A gas station out of town.

Eddie’s not at either of them.

The Hideout is the last one he visits.

Wayne prays to heaven above this is where his boy’s at. But he doesn’t see him. The bartenders only confirm that while Eddie has make visits before (“not a bad band, by the way. Vocals need a little work though.”), he’d only came for an hour on Halloween night last week.

He gives the bartenders his lines and leaves.

At this point, Wayne’s considering looking far out of town. Bloomington’s close.

But it’s already nearing four in the afternoon, his gas needs a refill, and he feels so tired. It is God’s miracle that his body hasn’t collapsed yet, even in the drive back to Hawkins. He feels a bit grateful that today is his day off, but he has to call the plant later for a few more days off.

The sun starts to set as Wayne pulls over to the house. His mind is starting to get fuzzy from exhaustion and hunger so he walks inside automatically.

He even hollers out, “I’m home!” A vain attempt to hear Eddie’s response.

Only silence greets him.

Wayne sighs, worrying a thumb over his front temple as he readies the pullout couch. Then he stops himself. Looks down the hall to where Eddie’s bedroom door remains close.

He walks down and carefully opens the door. When he peeks through, he sees the hundreds of memories of catching Eddie doing whatever boys like to do on their own: Eddie writing in his notebook, Eddie playing the guitars, Eddie reading a stolen dirty magazine, Eddie dancing to that loud headthrashing music, Eddie staring up at the ceiling depressed, Eddie smoking, Eddie crying from a bad day.

This time Eddie’s not here.

Wayne shuffles to the bed - mindful of the messy clothes thrown about, Eddie we talked about this - and gently lays himself on top of the unkept blankets. His feet barely hang over the edge as he stretches. There’s a faint smell of sweet cigarette smoke as he breathes in.

When Wayne finally falls asleep, the memories surround him comfortably and he feels the phantom weight of Eddie hugging him tightly.

He prays that his nephew will still be hugging him, living and breathing and safe.

—

As they walk to Mirkwood, Eddie thinks it’s safe to say he and Will are little more prepared.

They’ve stopped at one of the houses on the way to stock on bottled water (thankfully drinkable, man they were parched) and weapons. Well, their ‘weapons’ were really just some knives. But Will had skillfully crafted a couple into spears by tying the handles with twine on the ends of broomsticks.

At least Eddie could sweep the demogorgon off its feet should it come back.

(Will groans first at the joke before laughing. Then he laughs even louder when Eddie cries in mock betrayal over the loss of his jester skills.)

He also snags a backpack from some guy’s bedroom so Will won’t break his back carrying the cans. They’d both nearly gagged when some rotten-smelling goop and wrinkled algebra textbooks were shaken out.

Will also brings up a couple startling facts about this hellish environment.

“I think the vines are a hive mind.”

Eddie had nearly dropped the water he’s holding to clean his cut. It’s not bleeding badly anymore, but he doesn’t want it get infected. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A hive mind. Like the vines are alive and they’re some messengers to the monster.” Will waves his hands around a bit as he speaks, though he keeps lowering them to his lap. “Remember when the demogorgon was outside your place and it only came in right after you stepped on a vine? It’s probably how it knows where we are.”

Eddie slowly moves his feet away from one particular thick vine. He breathes out a whoosh. “No stepping on vines. Easy enough.”

“I think these are spores too.”

“What?”

Will blows away a few speckles of ash from his face. “I thought this was snow, but… I’m more convinced it’s spores.” He stops to cough and fuck, that throws Eddie’s anxiety up into goddamn Mars because none of this was even fucking ash.

There’s no kind of gear around in this house or the one next door to keep them from inhaling more of this stuff. So Eddie grabs the cleanest shirts he could find, rips them into bandana-style masks, and fits them over his and Will’s face.

Eddie hopes to god that they don’t already have lung cancer and can at least live for another few decades.

It’s also on the way to Mirkwood that they really get to know each other.

Eddie learns that Will loves his mother and older brother from the moon to back. That he’s been drawing since he was practically born and wants to be an artist. That he has a secret hideout called Castle Byers. That he has a trio of best friends that he bikes to school and play DnD with and who are definitely also looking for him.

Eddie doesn’t give his whole life story (like he really wants to trauma dump on the kid, no thank you), but he does share a few things about himself. Will’s eyes are bright when he talks about playing guitar and a new hobby of sewing band patches on his denim jacket. He also speaks fondly of Uncle Wayne. (“I wish I had a cool uncle with Garfield mugs.” Will says with a wistful sigh) Though the ache in his ribs nearly shutter his voice away when he recalls the truck engine driving away.

“Ya know that if you ever go missing, I’ll search even the lands of Hell for you.”

He said that yesterday, didn’t he? Then why hasn’t Eddie heard from him? Why isn’t Wayne been trying like Will’s mother apparently been doing?

He stamps down the nasty feelings down he hasn’t felt since he was eleven and instead talks about summer visits to his extended family in Alabama.

“Wait, so you’re from the countryside? Like a farm boy and stuff?” Will asks with a tilt of his head.

Eddie cackles and ruffles Will’s hair. “A farm boy? Well, maybe for the help, but it’s a job I will never do even when I’m retired. Haystacks and cow smell are too much for me.” He points a mock accusing finger at Will. “Also wipe out any classist stereotypes from your precious brain. I don’t want to hear any questions about lack of running water or food or schools because we do have them. That’s right-wing businessmen propaganda for ya.”

Will nods seriously. Though he keeps whispering “Alabama” under his breath like it’s a magic word. Eddie lets that one slide. Alabama is a nice name to say a lot.

They finally reach to what Eddie assumes is the Byers residence. It looks worn down with the darkness and vines. He grabs the handle of Will’s backpack to keep him from running into sudden doom.

“Environment check, Little Byers.” Eddie says in his DM voice.

Will huffs but he stops moving and glances around. After a moment, he announces, “No demogorgon in sight!” Then quietly, “So far.”

Eddie lets go of him and moves in front, broomstick spear brandished. He walks carefully over the vines, not willing to make the same mistake in his house.

Oddly, the front door to the Byers’ is already open. It makes Eddie’s guts turn with unease. He slowly steps inside, nearly dying of a heart attack when he hears something from the kitchen. Then relaxes when he realizes that it’s actually some normal people chattering.

“Mike’s been taking this hard. I know it’s ridiculous to say that, Joyce, but he really cares about his friends. And Will going missing is making him act out a bit. But he’s been looking too.”

“Oh, that’s.. uh, sweet of him..”

Will brushes past Eddie as he goes inside. The kid stands in the living room, staring at the kitchen where the voices are coming from. Then he runs down the hall, looks up, and starts jumping up with a hand outstretched.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Eddie calls out. His eyes automatically lower to the ground where Will’s jumping on. The floor is surprisingly spacious from vines, but he doesn’t want any risks or a heart attack.

“Trying.” Will pants out with every jump. “To get. Lights.”

Eddie looks around, both inside and outside before carefully walking over to Will. He watches for a minute, glancing dubiously at the very dead lightbulb in the ceiling. Then he scoops up Will in his arms. Damn, twelve year olds are heavy.

“Okay, that’s enough hopping, Little Byers.” He’s about to move away - to where in the house he doesn’t really know - when a small orange flash makes him pause. It’s a literal ‘blink and you miss it’ but he swears he sees it.

He looks at Will, who’s staring intently at the ceiling light. His fingers brush against it. Then it happens again. The orange glow, this time blinking long enough to be noticed.

A small gasp falls out of Eddie’s lips. Will excitedly taps at his shoulder and points to a door at the end of the hall. He obliges.

It’s a bedroom, clearly for Will’s mom. Eddie’s not sure what to look for, but Will points again. This time, at a spot at the foot of the bed. “Right there. See?”

Eddie doesn’t see but slowly makes his way anyway.

Will scrambles out of his arms and holds out his hands, eyes furrowed in concentration. Then, faintly like a spell, small dots of glowing orange appear. One by one like a fairy doing tiptoes.

Eddie’s certain that his jaw falls to the floor. He’s so entranced that he doesn’t even startle when the voices suddenly move behind him.

“Holly! I’m sorry, she always wanders off-”

“No, no, it’s okay. But.. did she- did you see something?”

The glowing disappears. One is still present, beaming from Will as he smiles under his mask, “Told you the lights work.”

It doesn’t take too long for Eddie to find his voice again, “Ho-ly. Fuck.”

— —

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @demolitionjetstar @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @wuttttttttttt @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @tentativeghost @soaringornithopter @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium

[dollishmehrayan]

# BATBOYS WITH A CLASSIC LITERATURE LOVER ── .✦ ( batboys with a s/o who loves/majors in literature )

a/n: this is requested by my amazing @kvfkas 🫶💕, I Lowkey for some reason also love literature too but like it’s hard for me to open a new book because I’m like so busy almost everyday but anywayss && I still can’t get over that one of my record players BROKE. So I can’t play my vinyls until I buy a new one which I ordered yesterday. Tags: (batboys x classic literature lover)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick thinks it’s adorable how much you love classic literature. He often finds you curled up with a book that looks like it’s been through several lifetimes, the pages dog-eared and filled with your meticulous annotations.

He loves watching you get animated when you talk about your favorite books, even if he sometimes gets lost when you start referencing ancient Greek tragedies or 19th-century poetry.

“Wait, so you’re saying Achilles was in love with Patroclus? Why didn’t they just say that in school?”

If you major in classics, Dick would try to support you by attending your lectures or even helping you prep for exams. He’d quiz you on authors and historical contexts, even if he can barely pronounce some of the names.

Romantic Moments: On your birthday, he surprises you with a first edition copy of your favorite book, complete with a handwritten note tucked inside the front cover. “I don’t understand half of what’s in this book, but I know it makes you happy, so that’s all that matters.”

He’d ask you to read to him sometimes, enjoying the sound of your voice as much as the words themselves. "You make these stories sound even better, you know that?"

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason is completely enamored with how passionate you are about classic literature. He gets it; books saved his life, too.

He finds your annotations fascinating and sometimes steals your books to read through them, not just for the story, but to get a glimpse into how your mind works.

“You think Heathcliff is a terrible person, but you still love him? Explain that one to me.” He’d genuinely love hearing your reasoning, even if it ends in a spirited debate.

If you’re majoring in classics, Jason would definitely tease you about it: “So, what, you’re gonna be the next Indiana Jones but with books?” But deep down, he’s incredibly proud of you. (He has dreams of being a literature professor)

Romantic Moments: One day, he surprises you with a day trip to a small, dusty bookstore he found, knowing it’s exactly your kind of place. “Take your time. I’ve got all day,” he says, leaning against a shelf as you lose yourself in the aisles.

He’d also write little notes on scraps of paper and leave them in your books when you’re not looking: “You’re way cooler than Jane Eyre.” “That’s a lie jason.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim would be absolutely in awe of your love for classic literature. He’s a voracious reader himself, so he’d immediately start asking for recommendations.

He’s amazed by how thoughtful and detailed your annotations are. He’ll flip through one of your books and go, “You should publish these. People would pay good money for your insights.”

If you’re majoring in classics, Tim would make it his mission to help you however he can. Need to translate something from Latin or Greek? He’s on it. Got a big paper due? He’ll proofread it for you.

Romantic Moments: On a particularly stressful day, he sets up a cozy reading nook for you, complete with your favorite snacks and a stack of books he thought you’d like. “Figured you could use some time to unwind.”

He’d get into the habit of reading the same books as you so he can discuss them with you. “Okay, but why does everyone hate Tess of the d’Urbervilles? I think she deserved better.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian would find your love of classic literature incredibly admirable. He appreciates intellectual pursuits and sees your passion as a sign of your depth and intelligence.

He’d be the one to challenge your opinions on certain characters or themes, sparking debates that sometimes last for hours.

“I fail to see why Mr. Darcy is considered romantic. He was insufferable for most of the novel.” But he secretly loves how animated you get defending your point.

(I’m gonna age him up for this one NO NSFW THOUGH HE’S STILL A MINOR BUT JUST FOR THE SAKE OF MAJORS) If you’re majoring in classics, Damian would take great pride in your academic achievements. He’d even start reading some of the books you mention, just so he can keep up with you.

Romantic Moments: He’d commission a custom leather-bound edition of your favorite book, embossed with your initials on the cover. “For someone as remarkable as you, only the finest will suffice.”

He’d also secretly annotate one of the books you’ve been wanting him to read and leave it for you to find. His notes are sharp, insightful, and, of course, slightly snarky.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce has always been a lover of knowledge, so he’d find your love for classic literature incredibly endearing.

He’d be genuinely impressed by your annotations and sometimes ask to borrow your books just to see your thoughts on them.

“You’ve given me a new perspective on The Great Gatsby,” he’d say after flipping through your copy.

If you’re majoring in classics, Bruce would offer to fund any research or study trips you need. “A visit to Greece would certainly enhance your studies. Consider it an investment.”

Romantic Moments: He’d host a quiet evening in the Wayne library, just for the two of you. The fireplace crackles softly as you sit side by side, reading and sharing passages that resonate with you.

He’d also make a habit of surprising you with rare editions of your favorite books, each one more breathtaking than the last.

[acid-ixx]

update and story excepts

guys i swear if i post chapter 4 sooner for my series: again &. again, soon, will that revive the yandere batfam/dc tag because i swear i've been consuming less content of it both lately and sadly 💔 like it's a bit dead ngl. ill reply to asks once i'm done with ch.4 istg

and yes, i'm back from my short hiatus again to announce this. and it's 3:30am but i dont care teehee. anyways, if i do post a new chapter expect it to be this week and that's final for once, since i've kept all of you guys waiting so long, i'm so sorry :(( i swear it's me trying to gain confidence through my writing and i don't know if i like chapter 4 or not. all i do know is that it's one of the most emotionally draining chapters so expect triple the angst, yippee!

anyways, excepts from the chapter below the line break:

DICK'S THOUGHTS:

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

CONNER'S SCENES:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you."

BATHROOM BREAKDOWN P.T.2 PRIOR TO CLUBBING

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted.the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

(spoilers: expect shit to go down with jason todd with you, and him with the family, and a good 4k words of you flirting with conner before actual shit goes down)

leave comments down below if you do like the direction this story is coming to! otherwise, thank you all for reading my series and supporting it from the start !! <33

[mistakenlys]

I had also been thinking about this crossover! I have not really been into DSMP lately, went to dpxdc, but this has just stuck in my head. I was so happy to see that someone else thought it would be cool to combine the two! I would totally write something but I prefer reading. My crossover idea was something along the lines of this:

Tommyinnit is killed by Dream.

Stuck in the void with Wilber, Schlatt, and maybe Mexican!Dream

Totally freaking out he feels something start to tug at him, Dream resurrecting him

He realizes what's happening and he starts to fight it because no way he is going to let himself get hurt by Dream again, possibly toyed with being killed and resurrected over and over again

he ends up being able to tear a hole in the void and is able to escape (maybe Goddess of Death AU?)

finds himself as a ghost at Wayne manor

The thing about my version of Tommyinnit is he really desires a family. I headcannon SBI family but in this idea I have crappy adoptive dad Philza who left to spread anarchy with Technoblade (ex. Wilbur or Philza find Tommy at age 4 and Phil adopts him making Tommy think he is getting a dad only to be left behind). Wilbur attempted to raise Tommy but he was young too meaning Tommy never really felt like a kid who was taken care of.

This is a maybe in my head- People in DSMP can choose if they grow up. Like Phil aged to 35 and stopped his aging. Tommy was 4 looking for a family for a long time. He did not want to grow up alone. He felt like he needed to grow up so Wilbur didn't have to take care of him so young. He ends up lying to everyone saying he is 15 at the start of DSMP but he is actually 12 as he is waiting for Phil to come back to hopefully parent him before he becomes a teenager. When Phil comes in he realizes he never considered him as his kid but ends up staying 12 because he really wants a family. People don't really die of old age in DSMP. DSMP also has game mechanic for death. Like the body disappears. No blood. Lots for Tommy to learn.

I see 2 options for when Tommy ends up in DSMP:

This could be when Dick is Robin which means he is stuck as a ghost longer, but he follows them around getting really attached (maybe dick sees him in dreams or thinks of him as an old imaginary friend)

If not then it could be after the lost in time arc where everyone is getting along again. I can definitely see Tommy seeing this though and sticking around to pretend to be a part of the family

Like when they are all in the lounge together quietly doing their own thing and him just talking pretending he is one of them

This goes on for a couple months until someone starts noticing strange ghostly things

They are able to get a camera to see him and start to get attached

every so often Tommy can feel Dream attempting to resurrect him and he fights it off

On camera, they can see this happen and it looks awful

They bring in Constantine he sets up contact

They find out he is technically alive and just between worlds (cuz game mechanics where the body disappears at death). Bringing him in this world would sever his ties from his old one as well as Dream. This leads him to the existential dread of being forced to grow up from the age of 12 and not having anyone and that he will grow old and die eventually.

Maybe him not deciding for a bit due to this fear until the resurrection attempts get really bad

When Bat family finds this out they promise him a family

I would love it if when adopted Tommy decides he wants to be a doctor like the previous Thomas Wayne. He does not feel very doctory to me so it'd be OOC but it'd be so sweet.

maybe in head - when adopted he'd get rid of the innit suffix cuz it was never a family name for him, just something he'd say like my name is Tommy, isn't it?

He would totally get tutored by Jason on reading, which I bet is not at a high level, and Dick on math, Tim and Damian would help too but have not thought which subjects they would be

He is so happy they actually follow through on teaching him things like if Dick promised to teach him to flip when he comes back from Bludhaven and when he does Tommy cries cuz Technoblade promised to teach swordsmanship when getting back and never did.

My favorite thing is when people who have wronged a character sees them doing so much better without them so I also think of scenarios where part of DSMP cast, usually Tubbo, Ranboo, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza come to bring Tommy back because of Dream or something

( they suddenly find themselves in Gotham and are not dressed to fit in

they have never seen a city like this and are overwhelmed

suddenly Tommy shows up and is like what the hell are you doing here and wtf are you wearing, are you trying to get mugged or attached for being maybe rogues?

Tommy is now 17 and has assimilated really well into the new world

nobody has aged in DSMP either cuz change does not happen fast due to stationary age thing or cuz time differences

they see people, possibly Signal or Black Bat, doing crazy parkour that does not happen in DSMP without fall damage and are confused

Tommy gets them changed from second hand store and they are grossed out cuz I am sure that does not get cleaned in Gothom, especially if they were in Crime Ally or something

This would be funny but so out of character. Tommy is like our ride wont be here for a bit and I need a semi safe place that I can distract people in and so brings them to the Penguin Lounge and does a whole Brucie Wayne moment

Tommy is extremely popular due to his personality. Like sort of social media movie star like personality. people stopping him at the side of the road asking for signatures, pictures and him doing ticktock videos maybe

Everyone was confused but Tommy being like shut up and keep your head down

if they came from Crime Ally they see like complete flip flop in body language, maybe him fighting off a mugger when they first see him and being dark and feral in the beginning to his social media personality to Brucie Wayne

eventually van gets there, and I see Steph picking them up which can be fun

they go to the manor and when they come in they are shocked by Tommy running up to Bruce and calling him dad

Bruce being like you are old friends of Tommy and being ditzy like and Tommy just hanging off him being happier than they have ever seen

Tommy has to explain different physics in this world and they are all horrified saying Tommy we've got to save you cuz who wants to get old and die and Tommy being like uh nooo I'm happy here

Dinner happens and they meet everyone, Tommy is baby of the family (I can see him being a little older than Damien but making a timeline is hard and I think Damien would have an easier time being like a mentor to a younger kid than having another older sibling, also love the idea of older Damien teaching Tommy Swordsmanship)

After dinner, dick can be like I promised to teach you this specific gymnastic thing and Tommy being like I know its been a mess so no need to but Dick not letting it go

Seeing dick being so good with Tommy when teaching him makes SBI feel uncomfortable

Seeing Bat family all spending time with Tommy and actually seeking him out over the next few days also hits them somewhere

I love a good rant so DSMP cast push the subject and him letting loose at them, and having Bruce scare the hell out of them.

Constantine sends them back

So glad I have finally written this down, usually just let these hyperfixations pass but when I saw someone else mention a dsmpxdc desire I had to write it down.

c!Tommyinnit calling his mom, to get him out of the DSMP and suddenly ends up in Gotham

Very curious question. why hasn't a lot of people done a Dsmp and dc crossover yet? (yes, I know about the current issues, and dream's is a sh!t person, but even before the problems started rising, they weren't a lot of it.) because I've been scouring the net and a found some but most just didn't end well with me or just made me feel very unsatisfied, like c'mon Danny Phantom, Percy Jackson, spiderman, and hell even miraculous ladybug! c!Tommy THE Thomas Careful Danger Kraken Innit is right there!! the perfect traumatized, child soldier, that has trust issues, and I'm not just talking because I cannot comprehend the pain and suffering Tommy had to go through in the DSMP and how much I want to see him get out of there and take a break, (okay maybe he'll have more trouble in dc, because of how different everything is compared to his home dimension, let's just ignore that and just say plot armor.)

There's also a lot of parallels, left and right, for example: with Red Hood being killed by a certain green clown, and getting revived. To Tommy also getting killed by a green clown and getting revived. There's just so many possibilities! but in the end this is just to heal my 2019 dsmp inner self.

[P.S: I see the c!people and the cc!people as different people, but it doesn't mean I hate W!lbur or Dr3am any less, I do not condone what they have done or any of the horrible things other cc!DSMP players have done that I do not know,

The cc! and c! are not in any way related. and this is just pure fun. ]

[munson-blurbs]

The Boy is Mine (Bug's Version)

Part of @carolmunson's writing challenge! Thank you for spreading some love and joy in this community, and I hope this fic makes you smile.

Summary: A cozy night in with your sweet boyfriend who is a nuisance in the best way.

Warnings: allusions to smut, allusion to spitting, lewd jokes, basically just fluffy fluffness

WC: 1k

--

Poke.

Poke poke.

Poke poke poke.

Poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke–

“If you don’t stop,” you hiss without looking up from your chemistry notes, “we’re gonna have a problem.” 

Eddie pulls his forefinger back from where it’s pressed against your earlobe, his shit-eating grin morphing into a pitiful pout.

“But it’s date night,” he whines, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You promised me we could curl up and watch Monty Python after an hour, and it’s been…” he glances at the digital watch wrapped around his wrist, “...one hour and three minutes.”

“I’m still trying memorize–”

He snaps the small notebook shut and pulls you closer to him, effectively cutting you off. “And you will–after the movie.” Leaning back against the couch, he lines up his finger to once again prod at you. “C’mon, Sweetheart; we never get the place to ourselves on Friday nights.”

He’s right; his uncle has off on Friday nights and usually prefers to spend his free time relaxing at home, but he’s on a fishing trip this weekend with some of his old army buddies. 

“Okay, okay.” Truthfully, you are in dire need of a break; the formulas and lists of molecular compounds have all become meaningless squiggles right before your eyes. Your back hurts from being hunched over the snack table you’re using in lieu of a desk. Whatever ‘studying’ you do now will likely be unproductive, so you might as well snuggle up next to your boyfriend and enjoy a movie. “But only if I can study after. Some of us would prefer not to spend an entire decade in high school.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs. You’re the only person who’s allowed to crack jokes about him being held back–twice–and you milk it for all it’s worth. “Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true. It’s only been six years. And I’m gonna graduate this time. So, ha.” He sticks out his tongue, making you giggle in turn. “But, fine. You can go back to your smart person mumbo-jumbo once we finish the movie and have sex.”

The last item on his agenda snags your attention as you swing your legs onto the cushion, its stuffing poking out from beneath its worn fabric. “Excuse me?” You cock a brow in disbelief.

“As compensation for the three minutes you spent neglecting me,” he explains with a shrug. “‘S only fair.”

“Sure. You usually only need three minutes anyway.” You lift your foot to dig it into his side, but he grabs it before you can tickle him, playfully bringing it towards his open mouth as though threatening to bite it. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t put it past him.

“Best three minutes of your goddamn life.” His smirk makes a triumphant reappearance as he stands up and pads over to the kitchen. The refrigerator light illuminates him in a bright glow, a juxtaposing halo on the man wearing a shirt with a cartoon devil plastered on the front. “Wayne took all of the beer with him, but we have Mountain Dew, some orange juice that I think is still good…oh, here it is!” He rummages through the top shelf and pulls out the last can of Diet Coke, the one he’d shoved towards the back so no one drank it before you could.

You shoot him a grateful smile that he returns easily. He plucks two mugs off of the wall, both of them gag gifts he’d given to his uncle, pouring Mountain Dew in one with Ask Me About My Nuts spelled out in bolts and screws and your soda in one with a three-dimensional pair of breasts jutting out from the body.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups,” he says sheepishly, likely referring to any container that didn’t allude to body parts. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.” 

Eddie sets the drinks down on the snack table, careful not to spill on your notebook. “Okay, pretty girl. C’mere.” He places a throw pillow on his lap and pats it, signaling that it’s time for you to assume the prime cuddling position. 

As soon as you rest your head, his hand finds its home on your upper arm. His thumb, calloused but gentle, makes gentle strokes that have both of your hearts beating slowly and in sync.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

You roll over so you can see the stubble that’s starting to prickle along his cheeks, jawline, and under his chin. “You forgot about the movie. And the snacks.”

He groans, using his free palm to rub his nose in frustration. It’s one of the cutest habits he has, and part of you always wonders if he does it just to make you smile. 

“‘M too comfy to move,” he grumbles, peering down at you with a guilty expression. 

“Me, too,” you agree. “But…snacks.”

Eddie chuckles, stretching to grab something from his side of the sofa. “We’ve got this,” he says as he procures a half-eaten can of vanilla frosting. “I swear I just opened it last night. And we can just talk until we fall asleep, like we did when we first started dating.”

The memory floods your body with warmth. Even before the two of you became a couple, when you and Eddie were only friends, you would often stay up on the phone until your consciousness gave way. No conversation topic was off-limits; on one night when he’d been more than a bit tipsy, he’d divulged some of his more…private preferences. 

“So she spit in your mouth?”

“Mhm.”

“And you like that?” 

“Abso-fuckin-lutely, Sweetheart.”

Neither of you know where tonight will take you. Maybe you’ll become a familiar tangle of limbs, trading sloppy kisses and murmured sweet nothings. Maybe the sugar from the frosting will rejuvenate one of you enough to actually put the VHS in the player. Maybe you’ll just soak in each other’s softness, letting comfort envelop you until your eyelids become too heavy to keep up.

Wherever you go, you and Eddie will get there together.

--

[catgrandpa]

I started this post with the intention of asking for fic recs where Bruce gets his kids early, but then I ended up just writing some ficlets

_(:3 」∠)_

I still really just want recs I swear but I wrote these anyway and am incapable of doing more with them so here

☆彡

Dick Grayson is 8 years old when he watches his parents die. Bruce is 24 years old when he sees a young boy’s life fall to pieces. He’s far too young to be a single father. But he sees too much of himself in the child, and he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to walk away from him.

He talks to Alfred about his fears of only furthering Dick’s trauma by failing him as a guardian. It takes some time, but Alfred is able to convince Bruce to find a therapist and take some discreet parenting classes. He’s still Batman, and I don’t think he’s capable of Gentle Parenting™ but he does do better. Plus, Dick is young enough to learn to read Bruce before the teenage hormones kick in so they manage to communicate much more effectively with each other.

☆彡

Bruce meets Catherine Todd by chance because there was a cool park Dick wanted to stop at. She’s trying to deal with her hungry and fussy 3 year old step son, but she’s young and stressed out and hungry herself and she just doesn’t know what to do. Bruce offers to take them out for lunch. He asks Dick to take Jason to the play area in the corner while they talk.

She breaks down and tells him of her struggles with addiction. She does her best to keep Jason fed, but it’s so hard. Feeding him means she goes hungry most of the time because she can’t quit using. Jason wouldn’t survive if she had to go through withdrawals with him.

He’s not even her kid! Not really. Her husband is just an abusive deadbeat so she doesn’t have a choice. She does love him, but she never wanted kids, and she can’t just let a child die when she can do something.

Bruce fills their fridge and cabinets to the brim (he offers to do much more for them but that’s all she will budge on. She has too much pride to accept outright charity, but she will do what she can to keep her kid safe) and he makes it clear to her that he is willing to take care of Jason for however long is necessary when she decides to take the first step to get clean.

Two months later, Willis gets arrested and Catherine shows up at Wayne Manor and tells Bruce she signed up for inpatient, but she thinks it would be best for Jason and for herself if Bruce would be willing to take permanent custody. She stays in Jason’s life, just not as a mother figure.

☆彡

A year or so later, Bruce gifts Alfred with a vacation as an early birthday present. Things have been hectic with the sudden acquisition of two sons, and Alfred has done so much, he deserves a break. Bruce promises he’ll be able to handle two kids on his own.

Turns out, he was mostly right, but only just barely. The kids are fine, the manor not so much. He ends up hiring a few services to help out with general housekeeping. A couple of those workers also happen to be regular hires for the Drakes.

Bruce overhears them talking about how sad it is that those awful people treat their toddler more like a doll than a child. He learns that not only do they leave for long periods at a time while not hiring a proper nanny to watch over their son, just expecting the help to take care of him, but they also lock him away on his own whenever it’s ’not fashionable’ to have a 2 year old around.

Alfred comes back to the manor on August 15th, just in time to celebrate his and Master Jason’s birthdays together. He opens the door and dodged around a very excited 4 year old jumping up and down in the entry hall.

“ALFIE! ALFIE! BOOSE GOT ME A BABY BWOTHER FOR MY BIRFDAY! LOOK! LOOK! HIMS NAME IS TIMMY AND HE’S THE BESTEST!”

Alfred leans over to peak behind the boy, and sees a very quiet, very small child standing behind him.

“Oh, dear.”

☆彡

The day Bruce got the call from Talia telling him she was pregnant with his child was one of the best days of Bruce’s life. The day she called to tell him she miscarried was one of the worst.

The only blessing was that he didn’t need to explain it to his kids. Talia was going to move in once she was in her second trimester, and they planned to reveal her pregnancy together.

He got the call two weeks before her flight out. He begged her to come anyway, he loved her, they could still be a family. She refused.

Six and a half months later, he walks into his bedroom to find Talia standing by the window with a squirming bundle in her arms. With equal measures steel and sorrow in her eyes she tells Bruce she is sorry for what she put him through, but it was the only way to keep their son safe. He gathers them both in his arms and holds them tight as she explains.

Her father had planned to raise an heir to be the Demon Head. He would be kept a secret from Batman until the very end. But when Talia gave the final push to birth their son, he came out quiet. She panicked for a moment until her midwife quietly leaned down to listen to the baby’s breathing and then looked up with a soft smile, she bundled up the small thing and handed Talia her baby. Big beautiful green eyes blinked up at her. The midwife leaned closer to Talia and whispered, “Sadly, your son was stillborn. I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but surely The Great Head of the Demon would be willing to allow you some time away from your duties while you recover.” Talia allowed the woman to cover her beautiful cooing baby gently with soft linen and silk and carry him from the room. Later that night she left her home with her son and boarded the first flight to Gotham.

Tears gather on Bruce’s lashes and he tells her everything will be alright because now they can finally be together as a family. Once more, she refuses. She tells him Damian and his boys are far too precious for her to bring the danger of the league of assassins to their door. Bruce closes his eyes in sorrow, but nods his acceptance. He asks her to at least stay the night together. They fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms with their baby boy safely bundled between them. Talia is gone when he wakes.

☆彡

It’s been one week since Talia left and, while still beyond upset, Bruce feels like he’s starting to have a decent handle on things. He is sitting with his boys at the breakfast table, Dick and Jason to his left, Tim to his right, Damian in his arms, and Alfred across from him. They’re finally able to have a relaxing breakfast. No babies crying, no food fights, no arguing, just the sounds of eating and gentle chatter.

He feels a small hand grab his right sleeve and give a gentle tug.

“Boo?” Tim asks, quietly. Bruce feels his heart warm at his son finally feeling like he can speak up without permission.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why isn’t Big Sister sitting with us?”

Alfred is the only person in the room other than Tim to not startle at the sudden appearance of a 5 year old girl standing next to Bruce at the dining table. He simply sighs, stands up, and grabs another place setting for her at the table.

[sanguineterrain]

Hey I saw you're still taking requests... what about a batman x reader where the justice league meets his wife (the reader) by accident? And maybe they're shocked because he's so secretive and she's really sweet and just the total opposite of him. Feel free to ignore if this doesn't sound interesting to you. I love your writing 💗

Hey! I love this prompt, thanks for sending it in :) I made the reader gender neutral, I hope that's okay!

Bruce Wayne x spouse!gn!reader. No warnings, just Bruce being a little shit (and a sweet hubby).

****

You press your palm to the reader at the entrance of the Cave and jog down the stairs, talking all the way.

"Honey, Alfred and I are going to..."

Six superhero faces stare back at you. Bruce is in the cowl, expression hard to parse. Your brows rise.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know B had company. I'll leave you to it," you say, beginning to back up the stairs.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," says Green Lantern. You can't tell through the mask lenses, but you think he might be zeroed in on the ring on your left hand. "Uh, Spooky? Something you wanna tell us?"

You freeze on the steps. Bruce looks at you, then crosses the Cave in a few long strides. He stops next to you.

Sorry, you mouth at him. He shakes his head and reaches out to squeeze your hand.

"Hold the fucking phone," Green Arrow begins. "You're his—"

"Partner," Wonder Woman says instantly. She sounds pensive. "I have never seen you look at anyone like that, Bruce."

Bruce doesn't say anything, not that you expect him to. You feel him tense.

He'd been content to keep his family as private as possible, and you hadn't minded being kept separate. You know it's out of extreme protectiveness and the fact that you're the only one of the Wayne family who doesn't put a suit on and fight crime.

There's a moment of silence as the League studies you, then Bruce. You smile slowly and wave.

"Hi, Justice League. Nice to meet you all."

"Hello," says the Martian Manhunter, who's probably known about you since you entered Wayne Manor.

"You got married without telling us?" Superman sounds hurt.

Bruce heaves a sigh.

"We got married during the League's infancy. Please spare me the theatrics. Of course I didn't tell you."

"We revealed our identities two years ago!" Superman argues. "You didn't want to mention you have a spouse?"

Superman nods at you then. "Uh, of course, it's still very nice to meet you."

You smile. "It's nice to meet you too, Superman."

"Clark," he corrects hastily. Then he turns to Bruce again, upset flaring. "Bruce—"

"You're upset over nothing," Bruce says. "We weren't close when I got married, and I never found it a pertinent detail."

You roll your eyes.

"B," you say, nudging his shoulder. "C'mon. Try to be a little gentler about this, hm?"

Bruce looks at you. You smile at him and squeeze his wrist encouragingly. He eventually turns back to the League.

"Very well, you're right. Clark, that was harsh of me. My apologies."

The League startles.

"Whoa. Rewind. Hold up. Did Spooky just apologize?" Green Lantern asks. "Did I just get zeta'd?"

Bruce sighs. You stifle a laugh and kiss his bicep. His hand slips to your back.

"Aw, you guys are cute," Flash says jovially. "Congrats, B! Even if it's been almost six years."

Bruce nods. "Thank you, Allen."

"It is incredible how the better half can transform the other," says Wonder Woman, and you preen a little at the compliment.

Clark looks flabbergasted. It takes him a second to speak again.

"Um. That's... okay, Bruce. I forgive you. I suppose you did it out of protection, right?"

"I'm just a boring ol' civilian," you say, nodding. "No powers or years of Krav Maga training here. B worries."

"You're not boring," Bruce says fiercely, quiet enough for only you to hear... and Clark, who has superhearing, and who softens at the statement.

"This is so weird," Green Lantern says, and Bruce glares at him.

"I mean, it's sweet!" he hastily adds. "Uh, you guys are very sweet together, like Bar said. I just feel like I've been mind controlled or something."

"If it was mind control, you wouldn't still be talking," Bruce says flatly.

"Okay, alright, point taken. Shutting up. It's very nice to meet you, though," Green Lantern says to you.

"You as well," you say warmly. "All of you. I want to thank you for looking out for him all these years and bringing him home safe."

Wonder Woman smiles at you. "It is a great honor to fight alongside him. And we are happy he has someone to come home to."

"Seconded," Clark says. "You deserve someone special, B. And I can tell they're just that."

Your face feels warm under all the praise. Bruce is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, there's a slight tremor in his voice.

"Thank you. I—they are the best thing to ever happen to me."

You have to kiss Bruce for that, cowl be damned. He meets you gently, and you keep it short but full of love. Flash aww's.

"Well," you say, laughing bashfully. "I suppose I'll let you all get back to work. Nice to meet you. Goodbye. Bruce, I'm going out with Alfred."

Bruce nods. "Call me when you get home."

"'Course, sweetheart. I always do."

You head up the stairs. Flash starts to speak.

"Y'know, I told you all when I got married," he says. "You guys were the first people I told! We didn't even know Clark's identity then. I think you could've loosened the reins, Bruce."

"Yeah, no. You telling a bunch of superhero co-workers is infinitely stranger than Bruce never telling us, Bar."

[luveline]

For Eddie and Roan, can you write a ficlet where Roan wakes up sick and goes to Eddie's bed to wake him up and tell him she doesn't feel good and he's worried and takes her temperature and sees that she's fever, so he stays at home taking care of her?

eddie and roan ♡

Roan's head feels heavy as a bowling ball. She focuses very hard on not falling over, and so she doesn't realise you're awake and sitting up until she's climbing onto the bottom of your bed. 

“Hey, princess,” you whisper, holding your finger to your lips, “daddy's still sleeping.” 

She loves you, but she ignores you. She loves you, capital L, but she needs her dad. You don't try to stop her, the book on your thighs closing as you let your hiked knees fall. “Ro?” you ask. 

“Dad,” she whines, “I need you to be awake.” 

Eddie puts his hand up to her face. Roan groans and tips her head back as he feels along her head to the soft crop of hair at the base of her neck. “Why?” he asks hoarsely, pulling her in blindly.  

Parcelled against his chest, Roan can hardly breathe. “Daddy,” she says urgently. 

He lifts his head on the pillow, eyes peeled back painstakingly slowly. “What's the matter, Ro?” 

She knew he'd know there was something wrong. Her dad knows everything even when he says he doesn't, and her eyes fizzle with tears in the gentle embrace of his arm. He rubs her back accordingly. “What's wrong, baby?” he asks, adopting his softest of tones. 

Roan hides her face in his chest shyly. “I feel bad…” 

Eddie feels suddenly and extremely worried at the sight of her. He panics hard, heart in his mouth sort of panic, but then you touch his elbow and he remembers he's not doing it alone anymore. 

“What kind of sick?” he asks. 

Roan curls into her pill bug shape on top of him and cries about her head feeling weird and her tummy aching. He puts his hand on her stomach and finds it bloated despite it being rather small otherwise. He has no idea what it means, but he assures her it'll be okay the way he always does, murmurs said between teeny kisses pressed to her temple and his fingers raking down through her hair one rumpled curl at a time. 

Your second alarm rings. 

You get dressed quickly and Eddie doesn't move. He knows he can't go to work, not when she's like this. He can't imagine sending her to school, and can't imagine leaving her home this sort of sick without him. He remembers all those years ago feeling sick as a dog wishing Wayne could stay home just to keep him company, and he remembers being smaller, his mom on the couch, his sweaty head in her lap.  

You hop into one of your socks, smiling at him over her head. He smiles back. What can you do? it says. 

Perfume sprayed, hair done, you stand in the doorway brushing your teeth. “I can go get you some stuff before I go to work if I rush. Sorry, I wasn't thinking. She likes the cream of mushroom soup, right? Or is it cream of chicken?” 

“Both. Mushroom’s her favourite. And white rice. And cranberry juice.” 

“I know she wants cranberry juice,” you say around a mouthful of froth, waving your hand, “don't insult me, Eds.” 

He feels her forehead. She'd felt warm enough to guess she was sick, but her forehead is ember hot. “Aw, god,” he says, sitting up despite his twinging back, Roan held tight to his chest. “Can you get me a hand towel? Soak it in some cold water?” 

“Sure thing,” you say, rushing off. 

“This isn't cool, Ro, you weren't gonna tell me you're a human furnace? Thought we told each other everything?” he asks, brushing her hair back from her face. 

“I'm hot,” she says. 

He taps the tip of her nose. Her eyes focus on his finger, so he figures she'll be okay for now. “I know. I can feel it.” He'll hold a cold hand towel to her head for a bit to give her the chance to calm down, and if she doesn't cool he'll give her a lukewarm bath. There will be things to do, taking her temperature, calling the school, calling the doctor, rubbing her small back, but he's done it before. He can handle it without you. 

“I'm just a phone call away, okay?” you say, passing him the wrung towel carefully. “If you need anything, just call me.” You kiss his cheek, then Roan's. “Promise?” 

“I'll call you,” he says honestly. “But we'll be okay, won't we, babe?” 

Roan mumbles something unintelligible. Eddie's pretty sure she's saying we'll be fine. 

[honey-milk-depresso]

okey so it my first time writing a request T^T but i absolutely love your batboys fics so i wanted to ask about batboy x scarlet witch reader ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Scarlet Witch = Baddiest of the Baddies ❤️ I love her

Main 3 Batboys with a Scarlet Witch s/o (GN)

Dick Grayson

Talk about being such a total hottie! That’s what he said out loud when he saw you for the first time. But who can blame him when you’re so cool using your insane witchcraft powers? Absolutely no one.

Dick finds you so cool: when you conjure up spells and hover about in the air like a ethereal being from above (and you are to him), he can’t help but be absolutely in awe of you. In other words, he’s your biggest simp, he’s absolutely smitten for you.

You know how cartoon witches have their own evil minion beside them? Dick’s acting like that with you whenever you two are on a mission or on a patrol.

“Nightwing, hand me my spell book so I can put this demon in place.”

“ANYTHING FOR YOU, S/O—”

But… he also feels sorry for you. There were times you just couldn’t take the stress of things and when he came into your room to talk, he found himself in a completely different world you created out of your power as a form of escapism and engulf yourself in your own imaginary world to shield yourself away from the harsh realities of your life. While impressive… he sympathises.

He doesn’t have powers like you, but when he was younger he used to dream in his sleep he was still with his parents at the circus, living the life. But he’s grown from that to know when to move on. If something unfortunate or even small has happened to you, he’ll always be there in your little sphere of your imaginary world, whispering sweet things about how things will be okay to hopefully get you to open up to him and that you don’t have to always rely on your powers to feel better.

He’ll always be here for you…

…and he’s completely downbad for you. But he loves you is all that matters- <3

Jason Todd

And he probably liked you immediately because you wear red and you have a shade of red in your name. Jason won’t be a simp immediately, but as time goes on I bet you the sum of Bruce Wayne’s net worth that he’ll be on his knees for you everyday.

Your witch powers are just so cool? Hello??? He loves going on patrols or missions with you just to see you in action. I’m also very convinced that Jason has thought of asking you to join the Outlaws (either version). You’d make a perfect addition.

Like Dick, he probably sympathises on your escapism habits through using your powers to create an illusion of an imaginary world suited just only for you, and probably a lot more. He didn’t have a very good upbringing, and a lot of time while his parents were arguing and the environment of his home got too scary, he’ll shut himself out and dream of himself in his own little world to escape the situation around him. It’s just that for you, you take that to a whole new level.

Jason, while he understands your reasons for this, he knows by experience it’s not healthy. You’ve got people around you who you can confide and if you feel insecure to share your feelings, he’s there for you. You shouldn’t feel ashamed to tell him.

He’s not so good with words, but he’ll sit there and listen if you want him to. He’ll hold your hand in his and hopefully get you to open yourself up more to him and confide in him instead of relying solely on your powers.

Overall, he’s in love with you. <3

Tim Drake

Tim finds your powers really interesting (and cool). He’s always asking questions about them: “How does it feel when you use astral projection?” “Have you ever travelled across multiworlds?” “Probability manipulation? How does that work? Mathematically or…”

Yeah, he’ll be yapping a lot when he’s around you. But he does find you quite dangerous if you’re not on his side, luckily you are though so he thinks your powers are super cool but also super life threatening if you aren’t careful but he trusts that you can handle your own powers.

Tim also likes to ask about your witchcraft and magic (and maybe his D&D brain is sparking when he asks about it), he always wants to be beside you to see the kind of spell books you’re reading. You’d also be surprise of how many languages he knows if the book is in Latin or some otherworldly language, like how does he knows?? Let’s be real, he knows just to impress you-

Oof… escapism? When has he not ever try to escape reality in his life? Out of the three, this habit of yours hits him too hard to home. When he was a child and up until now, him sleeping for the very little moments he has before he needs to get to work is his own form of escapism and imagining things are okay.

He feels a bit hypocritical for saying this to you, but he knows it’s not always healthy doing that. Tim, like the rest, will sit beside you in your little bubble of illusion, hugging you close and kissing you softly, asking whether or not you want him to share your feelings to him and that you can confide in him.

He just wants you to know you’re not alone, and that he’ll always be there for you if you need him. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[ellestrade]

What do you think makes a good Damian Wayne fanfic ? Like what are your standards and red flags when you're reading one

Usually, I would first look at the 'Damian Wayne-centric' tags on ao3 and go from there. I don't think I hold any fics up to a certain standard, though being able to read any is important to me— that means proper paragraphing, grammar, etc.

I know that most, if not all writers on ao3 are amateur writers, novice at best and, if I'm lucky, have been writing since the dawn of Wattpad, so it's not fair for me to expect top-tier writing/characterisation. Everyone always has some kind of trope to fall back into, myself included. It's just a matter if said trope is annoying or not to consume.

"Good Damian Wayne fanfics" are, itself, subjective— because good fanfics, for me, means that there are no attempts at butchering his character, along with his loved ones, and that includes Talia, Ra's, Maya and Mara, etc. If I open a fic and it's all just a grandiose of people putting down Talia (making her a bad/abusive mother) just to have Bruce hugs his son, then I'm closing the tab.

That being said, here are my red flags/pet peeves when it comes to reading a fanfic:

Any, and I mean any variant consisting of bashing the al-Ghuls.

"Talia al-Ghul is a bad mother"

"Talia al-Ghul is a rapist"

"Ra's al-Ghul is a creep"

"Damian is a bad sibling"

Usually, any fics that consist of these types of fics often came out as xenophobic or straight up racist— taking Grant Morrison's run (primarily Talia's character assassination) as gospel, or never reading canon material as a whole.

Of course, credits where it's due, there are some, and I mean a very small some, fics that don't transpire that image— using the tag that to simply convey Damian's time in the League, or phrasing it in a way that Talia/Ra's were an abuser once victim. However, making them bad in comparison is just a no-go for me.

Also, making Talia a rapist is a one way ticket for me to block you— because not only that it is wrong, but it also shows that you don't care enough to do thorough research and just take it as it is; Talia, pre-Morrison, was depicted as this kind and loving woman. She was studying medicine when she met Bruce. They genuinely have Chemistry together. She was also a victim of abuse herself, and she would rather die than inflict harm upon others on purpose. She loves her son, she loves her husband, she loves her family and she also loves herself.

Also, the al-Ghuls are also some of the most affectionate family there are— at least, of course, prior to the whole character assassination for the sake of making Bruce seem like the better parent in comparison. They aren't afraid to show genuine affection to one another, becoming physical and shows their devotion beyond what words could measure— which, is , unfortunate, since they're presented in Western media, and God knows how bad someone would interpret a relationship if 'I love you's aren't being exchanged regularly like therapy talks.

Dare I say, they might actually be better than the BatFam 🤷🤷 but then I might get hunted down for sports so I'll keep that opinion to myself, for now.

I'm also going to redirect you to this one lovely account, @rasalghul777 and read their take(s) on Brutalia. Here's a starting post and this one if you'd like to start. This person makes wonderful posts regarding Brutalia and the al-Ghuls as a whole than what I could ever conspire and I applaud them for it.

White savior complex

"Damian got his love for animals from [insert any BatFamily members here]"

"Damian learned to love through being with BatFam"

Again, this could also be read along with my first point, but can also be seen separately— I genuinely cannot stand when Damian was written in a way that he was a 'feral, stabby boi' prior his transgression into the BatFamily since it conveys distasteful perception of the Arabic people as a whole; them being uncultured or even uncivilized.

It's gross, I hate it, get it away from me.

Also, Damian inheriting his love for animals from anyone else other than the al-Ghuls is just pure fanon bullshit— because that means you have no perception of what the League of Assassins really are and just takes everything the fandom writes at face value; the League (including Talia and Ra's) aren't some 2-dimensional villains who kills. Reducing a villain to a mere trope just to prop up your white boy isn't going to make me like them. It just takes away the fun of it.

People just love to forget the 'eco' in 'eco-terrorist', which Ra's is.

If anything, Damian would inherit his genuine and deep love for animals and nature from him.

It's worth mentioning that the League of Assassins doesn't kill people just for the sake of violence— there's a reason why they're being categorized as eco-terrorists, and not the other category people love to associate Arabs with; they kill with reason. Similar to Poison Ivy, they specifically target any organisation that brings ruins to Earth and nature as a whole.

On another note, writing Damian as 'uncivilized' or 'feral' is just plain wrong. While it certainly can be cute, in a sort of gremlin-esque, little brother way (Lord knows how much I love my little brother, but simultaneously wanted to (subliminally) throw a chair at him) but depicting him as this one child that goes around stabbing everyone unprompted rubs me the wrong way.

This goes along with my first note, but Damian was raised as a prince when he was in the League; there were some instances where soldiers who came to pick him up refer to him as "Young prince". He has manners. He knows what to say and what to do when being confronted by the media. If anything, Damian would adapt 'Gotham's Darling Boy' facade faster than BatFam girlies mischaracterise the next POC character.

Damian does love his mother and grandfather and his family back in the League very, very much. Just because he doesn't convey it in a conventional, traditional way, doesn't mean he doesn't know how. He has his own ways of saying 'I love you's of his own.

People that clearly consume more fanon media in comparison to canon.

Tim Drake stans. Like, as a whole.

Let me begin by saying I actually do not care on how you plan to enjoy your nice little character trope, but believe me when I say that there are some weights to what's famously transpired in the fandom spaces.

It's the "fandom affects canon space" phenomenon all over again.

It should go without saying that what goes in the fandom stays in the fandom, and vice versa. Like I said before, people tend to fall back to their favourite trope— writing characters in a certain way, conveying certain messages, etc. However, in the midst of your 'creative freedom', it's easy to forget that these characters are not yours.

Fandom is derived from the canon substance, that's why it's so flexible and allows creative freedom in the first place. The consumer can decide what's canon in the fandom space (rejecting what's real), though it's important to remember that canon is still the blueprint and shouldn't be thoroughly ignored in favour of your dumb little incorrect quotes. Rejecting everything just means that you're creating an Oc, which, atp is what you should be doing instead of DTI a canon character.

It's why we got gems like these:

(I have reached tumblr maximum capacity for images, but know that there's more)

Again, do what you want, I don't care! But remember that when you're depicting certain character dynamics like these, it also affects other potential fans' views and first impressions of said character.

I don't want to go off tangent longer than necessary— but I actively avoid any variants of, "Hurt Tim Drake" tags on ao3. Mostly because mischaracterisation awaits me. The rest are because his fans are genuinely obnoxious and (more often than not) have little to no comprehension to actual canon substance.

I think that's all that I could muster up. Sorry this post is long, lol, but I got carried away.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

💖 Crazy for you 💖

After an embarrassing almost kiss under the mistletoe with your boss Eddie you're determined to move on.

You're the nanny to his adorable son and have been crazy about Eddie for months but now you know you needed to move on after the events at his Christmas party.

Except it isn't so easy and Eddies feelings aren't so platonic.

Authors note: This idea has been in my head for days and I just had to write it 💖

Older Eddie Munson x Reader. Reader is in her late 20's. Eddie is 41.

Warnings: Angst, Dad Eddie Munson, fluff. Jealous Eddie.

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work.

💖

Being in love with your boss wasn't exactly the best idea you had ever had.

It's just Eddie Munson was the most amazing man you had ever met and you had fallen for him over the last year you had been working with him.

Cole's mother wasn't in the picture. She and Eddie were a fling that resulted in a pregnancy.

She had left Cole with Eddie and Uncle Wayne when he was born, she wanted nothing to do with Eddie or the baby and so she left.

How anyone could leave these sweet boys you would never know.

When you were first landed the job as Cole's nanny Eddie was a little stand offish, it took him a little while to open up but once he did it was amazing. You got to know him really well and began to fall for him.

He was without a doubt the sexiest man you had ever met and you struggled to hide your feelings a lot of the time.

Coupled by the fact that Cole was the sweetest little boy and Uncle Wayne was an abosloute angel, you settled into the job quickly and being with Eddie and Cole felt like it was always meant to happen.

Tonight there was a party at Eddie's for Christmas and you were enjoying a few drinks, it wasn't often that you drank alcohol but you wanted to enjoy the night.

The only trouble was that the alcohol made you braver than normal. That wouldn't normally be a problem but tonight it was.

When you were left alone with Eddie, belly filling with butterflies as he stood close to you the feelings had for him began to get harder and harder to ignore.

Mistletoe hung from the ceiling and Eddie's eyes twinkled as he looked up at it.

"Ahh shit, it got us princess" he teases and you smile as he kisses your cheek.

It was stupid but you leaned up to kiss him and you knew it was a mistake as soon as his eyes widened and he moved away.

Mortified you stammer out and apology and his eyes pain.

"Shit, we can't. We can't do this" you nod and move away from him kicking yourself internally for thinking that he wanted to kiss you.

"I'm sorry Eddie. I should go" you suddenly feel very very sober and grab your jacket. Eddie gently tugs your arm.

"You don't have to leave. It's fine sweetheart, we can just forget it. It's okay" you shake your head.

"I really should go" you don't want to see the pity in his eyes. Know he doesn't feel that way about you.

Fuck you should have known.

❤️

Sleep comes slowly that night once you're home, everytime you wake up you remember trying to kiss Eddie and anxiety fills you.

You couldn't believe how badly you had messed up. Embarrassment floods through you, practically burning the memories from last night into your brain.

Fuck, why did you try to kiss him? he was so sweet how he let you down so gently and you're kicking yourself that you thought he felt the same, that you almost jeapordized the job you loved.

Nancy brings you aspirin and you down it quickly. She rubs your shoulder and you feel sick to your stomach as you tell her what happened.

"I haven't got drunk like that in ages but I thought I'd let loose for one night and have a few drinks and then Eddie was being all sweet and I fucked up, I tried to kiss him and I'm so stupid"

Nancy hugs you as tears run down your cheeks. The rejection feels awful too and every part of you aches.

"He let me down really gently but I'm just so mortified" Nancy soothes you.

"Well maybe it's a good thing you know how he feels. Now you can move on. Jonathan says Nick keeps asking about you, why don't you give him a chance you might really like him?"

Maybe that was exactly what you needed, you find yourself nodding and cuddle back into bed.

At least you could use your day off to get rid of this hangover and give some distance between you and Eddie. Hopefully when you went back to work you could forget this ever happened.

❤️

True to Nancy's word she did tell Jonathan to talk to Nick and that's how three days after the party you had a date.

It couldn't have come at a better time because while Eddie hadn't mentioned the kiss but there was a tension in the air between you. It made you feel even worse, you had totally screwed up.

Nick was cute and it was part of your plan to get over Eddie. It was time you stopped daydreaming about him liking you, he didn't and you had to accept that.

He went on dates with beautiful women and he had never once looked at you in any way other than a friend and his employee, you needed to stop deluding yourself.

Since you were finishing your shift before your date it was a little tight for time, however you squeezed in time to change into one of your best dresses and apply a little bit of make up.

Eddie was singing with Cole and it warmed your heart, the urge to just go and spend time with them and forget your date was overwhelming but you know you needed to do this.

With a spritz of perfume you walk out to where Eddie is and he blinks looking stunned, his response makes your heart quicken.

"You going out with friends tonight?" he asks as you grab your jacket.

"Oh um no, I have a date" you don't expect a reaction or anything so it's a suprise when he stiffens as Cole toddles up to you and beams.

"A date?" you nod.

"Yeah. It's been a while. I'm so nervous" you admit and he softens.

"Don't be... You look beautiful sweetheart" he murmurs.

The doorbell rings and you hurry to answer it feeling flustered at Eddie's eyes burning into you as you answered it.

Nick was standing outside and whistles when he sees you.

"Wow, you look good babe" his smile disappears as you feel Eddie right behind you. Chancing a glance at him you notice the way his big brown eyes are flashing and his jaw is tense as he looks Nick up and down.

"You're the date?" Eddie demands and Nick chuckles.

"Quick as a cat huh dude?" he smirks and Eddie's eyes narrow. It was a stupid comment and you're disappointed. It would be nice if Nick could make a good impression with Eddie.

"How did you meet?" Eddie's tone is low and there's a hint of something in it, venom like and you're confused at why he's pissed.

He could just feel protective you reason as Nick launches into the story of how you met through Jonathan and Nick had wanted to date you for ages.

Eddie is still tense as you grab your coat and he takes you to the side as Nick waits for you.

"The bedroom is set up for you for later. I do appreciate you coming back tonight. You know how Cole loves when you stay over. I'm really grateful sweetheart"

Nick sighs loudly and looks at his watch and you cringe as Eddie's eyes narrow.

"Call me if you need to leave early, if he's an asshole, anything happens you call me okay?" you nod and your heart melts when Cole toddles over to you and hugs your legs.

"Bye bye" he murmurs sadly and his puppy brown eyes and little pout nearly make you cancel the date all together.

"Hey sweetie. I'll see you first thing in the morning. We can watch your favourite cartons yeah?" Cole brightens and smiles happily until Nick walks over to you and him.

"Hey little guy" Cole narrows his eyes and turns away from Nick.

"Poo poo head" he points at Nick and you gape and nearly burst out laughing but control your face expression.

"Cole that's not nice" Eddie tells Cole who still doesn't look impressed. Sensing it's time to go you hug Cole one more time and head out with Nick.

Hopefully the actual date went better...

❤️

Yeah, the date was a disaster.

Nick had left you at the resteraunt and had stormed out in a huff when he kissed you. You had tried to like it, you really did but you felt nothing and when Nick tried to go further than a kiss.

His words of anger ring in your ears and the last few days catch up with you and you feel tears roll down your cheeks.

Why did you have to fall for someone so unattainable? Dejected you call a cab to take you back to Eddies.

It suprises you when you head inside that Eddie is waiting up for you. He's sitting on the couch, dressed in slacks and a tight white t shirt, his hair in a bun. He looks so effortlessly gorgeous and your heart aches with want.

"Hi, you didn't need to stay up" he shrugs and stands up as he accesses you.

"You've been crying?" Shit, you forgot how perceptive he was.

"Date didn't go like I hoped" Eddie's eyes flash with anger.

"Did that fucker upset you?" you shake your head and settle on the couch.

"No, I mean we kissed and I felt nothing and Nick wasn't happy about that. I really did try to like him but the spark wasn't there. He ranted at me and stormed off" he takes your hand and squeezes it.

"You should have called me. He sounds like a douchebag to me princess" it makes you smile a little bit.

"I guess I just wanted to meet a nice guy instead of being so into... You freeze and shake your head, cursing yourself for nearly saying how you felt about him.

"Into who?" you swallow and look away from his big brown eyes because you'll give in and tell him everything.

"It doesn't matter. It's stupid" he gently tilts your cheek so you look at him.

"Tell me"

"I want you but I know you don't feel the same and I messed up on Saturday but" You panic as the words spill out and he caresses your cheek which stops you mid sentence.

"You didn't mess up sweetheart. It took me be suprise when you tried to kiss me, I never thought you could feel that way about me, I panicked and I've been kicking myself ever since"

Oh...

Eddie kisses you passionately and you respond to the kiss pulling him closer to you.

"I'm sorry I pushed you away princess. I do want you, I've never felt this way about anyone ever. I don't want you to date that fucking douchebag, that boy has no idea how to treat an angel like you"

He presses a kiss to your forehead and you rest your head and you wrap your arms around him.

"I'm going to take you out tomorrow. Uncle Wayne won't mind babysitting, he's been wanting me to admit how I feel about you for a long time" his confession makes you giddy and you agree beaming.

"I'd love to"

"I'm going to spoil you rotten princess, you're my girl and I want you to be mine, always"

Always, you liked the sound of that.

💖

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

come back to bed with bruce wayne!!

Kiss Prompts!

"Where do you think you're going?"

You smile at the gravelly murmur, as his arms hook around your middle and tug you back. You wobble a little, planting your hands on bed to steady yourself. You glance down at your fallen shoes before you turn to look at Bruce, brows raising as a small smile curls your lips.

"Some of us have to work for a living, Mr. Wayne."

"Sounds awful."

"Mm, it is."

"Call out sick."

"Oh, please," You scooch back toward the edge of the bed, leaning over to slip your feet into your shoes. You glance down, squirming and scoffing, "Bruce," As he curls close to you, untucking your shirt and pressing a kiss to your side. You smile, glancing down at him and smoothing your fingers through his hair.

"You ought to go back to sleep," You warn, "All of your gallivanting is going to catch up with you if you don't."

"I don't gallivant," He mumbles.

"You sure as shit do something that keeps you out all night. I choose to believe that you're gallivanting. It helps me sleep while you're out and about."

Bruce doesn't answer for a moment. He just watches you tuck your shirt back in before you lean over again, fastening the buckles on the thin ankle straps. Before you can get up, Bruce takes hold of your hand. You watch as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. You shouldn't let it happen, but he draws you down to curl against him.

"Bruce," You mumble almost prudishly, "I'm going to get wrinkled again."

Bruce just grunts, curling his arm around your waist and drawing you closer. You cuddle into his side as he peppers your jaw with kisses.

"You can be a little late," He murmurs, "Come back to bed."

You smile. "They're gonna fire me if I let you make me late again."

"Let 'em. I'll take care of you."

"I'm gonna need that in writing, Mr. Wayne."

"I'll get legal on it. Alfred can notarize it."

"Alfred's a notary?"

"Comes in handy more often than you think."

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 1

Hello! Sorry it's been nothing but one-shots lately, but as I said in this post here I haven't abandoned anything, my life has just got a little crazy lately.

This was conceived because my sister's former mother-in-law passed away due to massive heart failure a week ago and I chose to write this story as a way with dealing it. I didn't know her well, but I did know her and that's enough I think to feel some grief at her passing. She was a year younger than my dad.

Summary: Eddie and Wayne have to go back to Kentucky when Eddie's grandmother (and Wayne and Al's mother) passes. Steve comes along when Eddie suggests that he would feel better if he came. Along the way they learn about each other's pasts and find out that they are each other's future.

***

Eddie walked into the Family Video and had to stop and gaze fondly at the sight before him. Steve was draped over the counter reading a magazine and steadfastly ignoring the bell above the door that announced his arrival.

He got up to the desk and greeted affectionately, “Hey, Stevie.”

Steve bolted straight up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh hi, Eds. I didn’t realize that it was you.”

Eddie smiled for the first time in days.

Steve grinned back. “You know, a boy could start to think you were avoiding him. You know, since I haven’t seen you around in days.”

Eddie winced, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “Sorry, man. I had family stuff.”

Steve’s teasing grin slid off his face. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was a dick move.”

Eddie waved his hands. “No, no. There was no way for you to know. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t think that I’m avoiding you. Because I wouldn’t. You see Wayne and I have to go back to Ashland for a funeral.”

Steve’s already contrite expression softened further. “Oh, Eds. That’s awful. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Eddie’s eyes welled up and before the first tear could fall, Steve was over that counter and wrapping him up in his arms.

“I’ve got you, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I’m here now.”

Eddie sobbed and sobbed as Steve just gently rubbed his back until he calmed down enough to talk.

“It’s Uncle Wayne’s mom, my grandma,” he explained, clutching Steve’s shirt like a life line. “She was just the sweetest old lady and now she’s gone. I’m going to miss her.”

“Oh, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I’m sorry. That must just be awful for you. If there is anything I can do, just let me know.”

Eddie chuckled into Steve’s work vest. “Too bad you can’t come with. I think I’d feel braver about seeing all Dad’s family again if you were there.”

Steve grabbed his biceps and pushed him back gently. “Done.”

Eddie stuttered and sputtered. “Stevie, no...”

Steve picked up the phone on the counter and dialed a number. “Stevie yes.”

And Eddie watched in awe horror as Steve’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears and he rubbed his nose.

“Keith?” Steve said, his voice rough as if he had been doing the crying. “Yeah, I just got a call from my mom. My grandmother has died and I have to go to Kentucky for the funeral.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. He didn’t even know that Steve knew where Ashland was.

“Yeah, my mom is from Lexington,” Steve said with a wink at him. “A real southern belle. I’ve seen pictures of her debutante ball and everything.”

Eddie snorted, because of course she was.

“I would need at least a week,” Steve was saying. “With the reading of the will and all.”

Eddie scoffed. If there was a will, he very much doubted there would be anything as formal as a reading of the damn thing.

“Oh thank you so much,” Steve sniffled. “I’ll even call Robin and let her know about her needing to pick up a few shifts.”

And like that Steve had gotten the week off.

“And the award for best crocodile tears to get out of working goes to Steve Harrington!” Eddie said, waving his hands back and forth. “Holy shit, man, how did you do that?”

Steve snorted. “As any good actor will tell you in order to cry on command, you just need to think about something that makes you cry.”

Eddie frowned. “What did you think of?”

Steve just shrugged. “What time are you guys leaving?”

“Tomorrow, early,” he said. “But serious, dude, even after that stellar performance, you don’t really have to come. Take the week off. Enjoy life for a change.”

Steve shook his head. “I would just be at home worried about you. Don’t make me stay. Please. Not when you said you would feel better with me there.”

Eddie’s shoulders slumped as he gave in. “Of course I want you there, but I would be selfish to take you away from your family for so long. Robin, Dustin...the rest of the them all need you too.”

Steve sighed heavily. “You’re part of that family, Eds. And I’m not dumb enough to think that they aren’t going to make a run for it the second they’re able to. As they should. I have to live my own life and not be afraid to go places.”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “I hate when you make sense.”

Steve grinned. “Now the only remaining question is which vehicle we’re taking, Wayne’s truck, your van, or my car?”

Eddie laughed. “God, Stevie. I am so glad you’re coming with me. I needed that. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Steve’s grin turned soft and fond. “Let’s hope you never have to find you.”

“Damn straight.”

*

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Robin groused when Steve called her after Eddie left.

“What was I supposed to do when he asked?” Steve questioned, twirling the phone cord around his fingers. He leaned against the counter, keeping an eye on the door.

The last thing he needed was Keith finding out he fucked around after giving him the week off.

Robin scoffed. “Not go?” she questioned. “He obviously wasn’t serious about you coming with.”

"You know I would do the same for you," he said with a sigh. "For any of you. Plus his life has already been turned upside down enough, don't you think?"

Robin sighed. "I'm not really mad," she said. "It's just that this will be the longest we've been apart since the Russians under the mall."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just think of it as a trial run for when you go to college."

"Yeah okay," she said resigned. "Just call me before you leave and again when you get there, okay?"

"Aye, aye, captain!" Steve said with a grin.

Robin giggled. "Shut up!" She paused for a moment. "I'll miss your stupid face, dingus."

“I’ll miss yours, too,” Steve said with a sigh. “I’ll call as often as I can okay?”

“You better.”

They talked a little bit longer until a customer came in and he had to hang up.

*

When he got home he started calling all the kids and packing for a week long trip. He wasn’t sure what he should bring in terms of clothes and ended up calling Eddie.

Eddie who laughed when he asked. “Just bring what you would normally wear this time of year.”

Steve chewed on his lip. “So I won’t get mercilessly teased about my preppy clothes?”

“Oh no, you will,” Eddie confirmed. “It’s just you don’t have to change yourself to fit in with a bunch of assholes who would make fun of you. Okay?”

Steve let out a slow breath and his anxiety went with it. He could handle that. Those assholes had never met a bitch like Steve Harrington before.

“Yeah, okay,” he said after a moment. “You and Wayne decide which vehicle we’re taking?”

“Yeah, he suggested we take his truck and your car,” Eddie said. “He knows he’s going to be taking a lot back and thinks your car will make it better than my van.”

“Sounds good,” Steve murmured, a little disappointed. “So who will you be riding with for the trip down?”

He could almost feel the grin from here. “With you, of course, darlin’.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah okay. What time do you need me at your house?”

There was a beat and then two before Eddie said, “I was thinking that you should spend the night so we could leave first thing in the morning.”

Steve’s heart sped up as his breath caught in his chest. “Yeah. Sure. That’s a good idea. I’ll show up at eight tonight, give myself a little bit more time to pack.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie replied. “Wayne suggested it because it’s a six hour drive and we want to leave as early as we can so it’s not too late when we get there.”

Steve felt a jumble of emotions at that statement. It was a relief that it was a practical reason, but at the same time it was a disappointment that it wasn’t Eddie’s idea.

He took a deep breath. “I hear that. I remember the trips to Lexington when I was kid before we started flying. They were a bitch.”

“It really surprises me that you have family in Kentucky. I don’t know why, a lot of people in Indiana do, it’s just...”

“Harringtons are so entrenched in Hawkins it’s weird to think we have connections outside of it?” Steve supplied.

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, that.”

“My parents met in college and I didn’t move to Hawkins until I was eight,” Steve said.

“Wait,” Eddie said. “No way. You aren’t a Hawkins native?”

Steve chuckled. “Nope. I’m more like you and Dustin then the Wheelers and the Byers. And the Sinclairs.”

“Huh,” Eddie said after a moment. “You certainly have hidden depths, my friend.”

“You have no idea,” Steve teased.

“Then I’ll just have to use this trip to dive deeper,” Eddie teased back.

“I have to pack, you dork,” Steve said fondly. “I’ll be over at eight.”

“See you then, Stevie.”

***

Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7|Part 8|Part 9|Part 10|Part 11|Part 12

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[oiveyzmir]

Living with Eddie is… well, it’s an experience.

It’s not a bad thing, not in the slightest. There’s nothing Steve loves more than the fact he gets to fall asleep next to the love of his life, wake up to his soft little snores, and go about their lives together. There’s a soft kind of domesticity to it Steve wouldn’t give for the world.

He loves their routine so much he’s even willing to move past the little things Eddie does that make him lose his mind, like the way he never washes the sink properly after doing the dishes or how he constantly leaves the cabinet doors open. He can even move past how Eddie will come home from a late night shift at the bar when it’s raining and forget to take his shoes off, leaving a muddy trail of footsteps anywhere he goes. Hell, Steve’s even willing to excuse Eddie’s phases.

Wayne had warned him about those when they first moved in together three years ago. “It’s just that he gets easily excited about things,” he reasoned then. “Which doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

Steve didn’t get what it meant then.

He surely gets what it means now.

He found something- a bout of inspiration- and hyperfixated on it until moving on to the next. There was this one time Eddie got really into gardening and bought 11 different herb seedlings, only for them to wilt and die three weeks later when he got into water coloring, then moved on to filmography, then to operas.

He had that month once where he’d developed a sudden interest in learning to play the violin (It’s for a song, Stevie, did you ever listen to Skyclad?), so he stayed up until 5 AM to play something that resembled music (but was closer to being nothing but) with the instrument he burrowed from Robin’s then girlfriend. That month was so close to being a breaking point for Steve, but he loves Eddie too much to do anything about it. He honestly believes that if he managed to live through Eddie’s Violin Month he can live through anything.

He lived through Eddie’s sewing phase, his novel-writing phase and his (honest-to-god awful) baking phase, and survived to tell the tale.

Nothing had prepared him for Eddie’s current phase, though.

It seemed harmless at first. It was even kind of adorable, really; the way Eddie’s eyes glinted with excitement when he sat Steve down to watch him do a cute little card trick, the way he laughed triumphantly when it was, in fact, Steve’s card.

It got less cute when Eddie got himself cuffed to their bedpost for hours in the most unsexy way Steve could imagine, refused Steve’s offer to let him out and making him feed him since his hands were, well, preoccupied.

It also wasn’t cute when Eddie stabbed himself with a pencil in attempt to make it disappear.

But it’s plain rude now, when Steve’s trying to get a little nap after a terrible day at the school where he’s started teaching. Eddie knows he’s sleeping, Steve made sure to call him on his way home and let him know he had a bad day and that he’ll be spending as much of it as he can sleeping it off. He trusted Eddie enough to keep it down that he didn’t bother to close their bedroom door properly, and he had also kinda hoped Eddie would see it as the invitation it was for him to cuddle up to Steve and make his awful day just a bit better.

Yet here Eddie is, an hour or so after he got back home, seemingly running into every single piece of furniture they own.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles, and Steve has to give him credit for at least trying to be quiet. “Come back here.”

Steve sleepily opens one eye at that. There shouldn’t be anyone out there but Eddie, right? He listens intently to hear someone else speaking, but he can’t hear anything but the quiet thump of someone hitting their kitchen table and Eddie’s frustrated grunting.

“Please, babydoll. Come back to me.”

And now Steve’s interest is really piqued.

Steve opens his other eye and sits up. He debates heading out there and seeing whatever happens out there himself, but decides to let it all play out just a little bit longer. It’s not like he believes Eddie is capable of cheating on him; he knows Eddie loves him too much to make him go through something like that, and he also isn’t dumb enough to do so when he knows Steve is sleeping in the other room.

He listens as Eddie makes some quiet tsk noises with the tip of his tongue. “C’mon, princess,” he whispers, not loud enough to wake Steve up, but definitely loud enough that Steve hears now that he’s really listening. “No, no, don’t go there, Steve’s sleeping, fuck.”

Steve lies back down quickly when he hears the door creak a bit wider to pretend being asleep, covering himself up to his eyes with their blanket. He can hear something’s small feet tapping on their bedroom tiles before hearing Eddie’s steps, and is he tiptoeing?

Even when he’s almost panicked about whatever it is Eddie had brought home, Steve can’t help but have a fond smile spread across his face. There is love in this, so immense and great, and Steve can be nothing but grateful and madly in love as well.

The tiny feet keep running around and Steve can vaguely imagine what it is- a kitten, or maybe a puppy, but relatively tiny ones at that. The tapping sound comes to a short stop then starts off again.

Eddie sighs, relieved, and it sounds like he crouches down. “Come on, come on,” he whispers. “There you go, good girl.”

The sound of tapping feet stops and Eddie gives the thing a kiss. “Don’t ever make me go through this again, babylove.” He mutters accusingly. “How can I trust you in battle if you pull this kind of shit on me?”

Eddie turns to go. Steve can imagine the kitten cuddling itself in Eddie’s arms. Knowing Eddie, the kitten’s probably black, maybe missing an eye or an ear, whichever makes it harder to adopt for regular people. Eddie’s not a regular person, though. The mental image he created is so endearing to him that he can’t help but loudly yawn. “Baby?” He says, trying to make his voice sound as sleepy as he can, even though he’s been wide awake for a while now. Eddie stops and turns around.

The room is dark, but even in the darkness Steve can see that whatever it is Eddie’s holding is both white and obviously not a cat.

“Hey, Stevie, did I wake you up?” He whispers, his tone apologetic, like a kid found out with his hand in the near-empty cookie jar.

“What’s that?” Steve asks back instead of answering.

Steve turns his bedside light on, and after the initial shock of light momentarily blinding him he can clearly see it; a white bunny being cradled in Eddie’s arms.

“She’s my assistant,” Eddie explains, as if it explains anything, “her name is Jessica. Get it? Jessica Rabbit?”

“Your assistant.”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly.

“For the…”

“Magic tricks?”

“Oh.”

“I’ll take care of her, though,” Eddie sits down on the edge of the bed, Jessica sitting in his lap, “take her out on walks and feed her and everything. You wouldn’t even notice she’s here.”

Steve sits up and motions for Eddie to hand him the bunny, which he dutifully does. Her fur is so soft, probably the softest thing Steve had ever felt. “That’s not how you take care of a bunny,” Steve says as he rubs his hands gently through her fur, “she isn’t a dog.”

“How do you take care of a bunny then? ‘Cause I bought, like, a bunch of carrots.”

Steve laughs. “Oh god, I love you.”

“That means we’re keeping her, right?” Eddie takes his shoes off- Steve pointedly does not think about how their living room might look like- and cuddles up in bed next to Steve. He looks up at him so hopefully Steve is flooded with warmth and love, so flooded he can’t even remember what annoyed him so much at work today.

Steve kisses his forehead, then his nose, then softly his lips. “Sure. One condition, though.”

“What is it?”

“Can you teach me the pulling her out of a hat trick?”

Eddie grins wide. “Of-fucking-course.”

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Bruce survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne

Chapter Four: Fight and Flight

Gabi followed Bruce out onto the trail behind the house. “How are you doing, Bruce? You’ve been awful quiet this whole walk,” Gabi whispered. 

Bruce picked up a big branch and used it as a walking stick. “I’m just thinking,” Bruce whispered, “Be careful. You might have to hold my hand through here. There’s a cave. It’s supposed to be closed off, but—.” Bruce turned around and reached for her hand. Gabi smiled and held Bruce’s hand. “I don’t want you to fall in.”

“Thank you, Bruce. I wasn’t asking you about—. I was asking in general,” Gabi explained. 

“Not so good, I guess. I always feel like something bad is going to happen, but I’m tired of being scared about it,” Bruce confessed, “Everything scares me now…”

“Like everything reminds you of that night?” Gabi questioned as they walked around a log and over a large rock. 

“Yeah… Aunt Gabi, is it ever gonna stop being this way?” Bruce whispered. Gabi frowned as Bruce tapped a board with his walking stick. “We’re gonna go around your way.” 

“Okay… And Bruce, have you ever thought about talking to a doctor—.”

“I don’t want to talk to a doctor. I want to be prepared the next time something bad happens,” Bruce sighed. 

Gabi grew silent as she pondered Bruce’s reply, and she quietly discussed different ways to approach the issue. “Do you mind if I talk to your parents about this when we get back? I think I have an idea, but I want to see how they’d feel about it first before I tell you,” Gabi explained. Bruce nodded. Let’s go back. Okay?” 

“Alright, Aunt Gabi,” Bruce replied, still holding onto her hand as he turned around.

**

Martha listened to Gabi explain her thoughts while Thomas wrote something down in his journal. They occasionally shifted their glance to Jacob and Alfred taking turns playing tennis with Bruce. “I don’t know. Couldn’t that make things worse? Introduce him to new worst-case scenarios?” Martha asked. 

“Well, it might… But he’d be prepared for it. I know that doesn’t remove the fear, and I don’t think that part of him can be easily fixed, but I know a first aid class is a good start to giving him some of his power back,” Gabi replied, “I didn’t say any of this to Bruce. I wanted to see how you two felt about it first.” 

“Thomas?” Martha asked. “Are you paying attention?” 

Thomas looked up and nodded. “Gabi’s right. And I think it’d be a good opportunity to organize something for the community, too. Maybe something good can come out of all of this. I was writing down a list of calls we need to make if I want to make this work,” Thomas replied. Martha reached for Thomas, and he scooped her hand up and leaned forward to kiss her knuckles. “Unless you don’t want him to…”

“I—. I’m scared, too. I don’t—. Can we talk to Bruce about it first? It’ll give me some time to think,” Martha replied, “And Gabi, I appreciate all your help. I never want you to think that I don’t. I’m glad my brother married you. It’s the best gift he’s ever given me… A sister… And pretty soon, a niece or nephew.” 

“Oh, yeah! Congratulations, Gabi!” Thomas exclaimed. “I couldn’t be more excited for you. Really, I couldn’t. You’ll love being a mother. I’m sure of it.” 

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to the final trimester, so I don’t have to worry all the time. It’s so early on, but I figured you both ought to know,” Gabi smiled. Thomas set his journal aside. 

“Oh, the worrying never ends,” Martha laughed, “But it’s so worth it. It really is… And you’re so strong. Boy or girl, they’re going to be a force of nature.” 

Bruce walked over and quietly stood off to the side, waiting for an invitation to come closer. “Bruce, do you want to sit with me for a little while?” Martha asked. Bruce nodded and sat beside her, while she popped the top off of a soda and handed it to him. “Gabi had an idea. She said that you might benefit from taking a first aid class to help you feel more in control in an emergency situation, and I—.”

“Could I?” Bruce interrupted without meaning to. 

Martha looked at Thomas, and he shrugged. “Sure, lovey. Of course, but I think I’d feel better if I went with you,” Martha suggested. Bruce set his soda aside and embraced her. “That’s okay with you?” 

“Uh-huh! We can do it together!” Bruce exclaimed. Martha smiled as tears welled up in her eyes, and she swallowed hard to suppress them. “Thank you, Aunt Gabi!” 

** 

After Gabi and Jacob left, Bruce returned to school. Even before the shooting, Bruce had a difficult time connecting with other children his age. Most of them ridiculed him for being awkward, but he didn’t mind it until the children started using the shooting in the alley as ammunition to torment him. He’d been back for three days before a group of children chased him on the playground with confetti cannons, shouting Crime Alley over and over until they cornered him. They kept laughing and popping off confetti cannons until Bruce snapped and threw a punch. And he kept punching until the yard duties pulled him away from the group. 

He screamed and turned his face into the male security guard’s shoulder as he sobbed hysterically. He didn’t stop until Martha arrived with Alfred. Alfred cleaned and dressed Bruce’s knuckles before affectionately brushing a few tears from Bruce’s cheek with his thumb. “Master Bruce, I think there’s something to be learned from this,” Alfred whispered. Bruce braced up, waiting for Alfred to chastise them. “You weren’t afraid. Were you, Master Bruce?” Alfred winked, provoking a smile from Bruce. Alfred replied with a gentle brush of his knuckles against Bruce’s chin. 

Martha exited the office with a satisfied grin on her face as she reached for Bruce. He ran into her arms, and she held him on her hip. “Let’s go pick your father up,” Martha whispered. 

“Am I in trouble?” Bruce asked. 

“Given the circumstances… No. We’ll talk more after we get home,” Martha replied as she kissed his cheek. “Are we ready to go?” Bruce nodded as she set him down. He held her hand as they left the office, and Alfred drove them to the doctor’s office to pick up Thomas. He was outside talking to a man on forearm crutches. They were smiling and laughing. Thomas looked out toward the street and pointed at Martha and Bruce before waving. Martha smiled, but it was the kind of smile she'd give to someone to take the bite off of bad news. Thomas’ smile faded as he realized the time of day, and he nodded at her. 

Thomas looked at his friend, and they parted ways before Bruce and Martha crossed the street to get to him. Thomas hugged Bruce. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you at school?” Thomas questioned. 

“Can we talk about it at home, honey?” Martha asked. 

“Alright. Well, Bruce, are you okay at least?” Thomas questioned as he looked Bruce over. “Looks like you’re all there. Oh, but you’re a little scraped up in the knuckle department. Alfred’s bandaging work, I see. Did ya win, Champ?”