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emacrow · 4 months

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Orphan's baby

Cass was in the middle of helping the Batfam along with Batman raids through the the hidden base they had found underground lab in an abandoned hospital messing with a neon verison of lararus pits liquid.

Red Robin had already adjacked the security and was going through the files with Spoiler. Nightwing and Red hood beating up the guards while batman was battling with the main boss behind it all.

She was with Robin as they were taking some samples and destroying the remaining ones.

She had already crack through most of seemingly important hidden rooms that seem to be hiding completely full with containers full of lararus pits with tags of PH4N70M, and a winter blue colored marble in a container sealed to the safe that was spelling out electricity every minute in the container.

It looked important, but why a marble..?

She broke the container holding the marble, taking most of the lararus pits containers as well while destroying the remaining unaware of the glow that pulsed in the marble.

By the time is was to retreat, everything was in the clear as Spoiler needed to unscramble hidden files that were behind multiples firewalls.

They were at the batcave when they were securing the containers of lararus pits for later sampling, only for the marble to be missing..?

She was sure that she place it in her bat waist pouch, but it wasn't there anymore..

Did she dropped it accidentally while collecting the containers of larausu pits?

It was already too late to check back now, so she decided not to tell anyone yet.

Until 2 months later, she started feeling downright sick nauseated. Right after Dinner of Alfred's infamous lasagna Tuesday, but.. it tasted a bland which was throwing her off completely.

She was only dropping down by the batcave to just self analysis herself.. only to stop walking half way the secure containement holding all the lararus pits that they brought back..

She couldn't stop herself from staring at it with vast hunger before the swirl of neon green filling her vision and blank her conscience out the window..

Only to wake up in her room on her bed, 3 empty containers with not a inch of lararus pits left inside as if it was wiped-or licked clean. She hide the containers under her bed and stood quiet later on as nobody had noticed yet what she had done.

She doesn't know what had happen, but the nausea and sick feeling went away as if nothing happen.

Hopefully it would be a one time thing...

Bruce and his long lines of lawyers had disbanded the GIW completely over the illegal experimentally on sentient aliens of another world which they tried to label them as ghosts until they tried to accused Superman of being one of them which quickly label their entire Government supported work as hate crime and was steady being searched, along finding a couple of missing traumatized teens, adults and children that had vanished the months before in the other hidden labs.

...

....

.....

She had her head in her hands as she silently groaned when she peak her eyes between her fingers to see several dozen empty containers and immediately close her eyes to try and pretend she didn't see them.

It only been 5 months since that incident and she had seemingly got away with it, but then nausea came back with vengeance like no other, and the increased appetite was new, but yet it didn't filled her belly with the bland taste or satisfaction even though she did felt a bit feint during the couple of night patrols despise feeling energized earlier.

Something was wrong and she know it as she went to the only person who could help her right now.

She went to Alfred straight away silently explaining the situation going on because she honestly have no idea was going on with her and she know she loves his food, and the feint spells, and the monsterous appetite and the insatiable need to swallow a crapton of lararus pits with twelve milkshakes and fourteen bags full bat burgers.

Alfred could only stared with his eyebrows raising slowly with every word spilling out of her mouth.

Alfred helped her get examined in the batcave medbay, and 2 hours later the blood result came in.

Case was pregnant, but It was a almost cryptic pregnancy.

Alfred didn't had the equipment out for a ultrasound at all yet, but from he know from Cass it was during the Raiding of that hidden lab and her being in contacted with this 'marble' that seemingly disappeared after she grabbed it.

That was 7 months ago, but luckily Alfred caught it in time before it literally became a cryptic pregnancy.

Oh the ultrasounds pics of the little baby fetus with his fast beating lil heart beating were precious as he got tiny misty eyes a bit compare to Cass's awestruck look staring at the screen then back at her belly.

He does help get extra vitamins pills, and call her off of Crime duty until further noticed . Bruce on the otherhand was concerned but all he got from Alfred was the You Better not investigate this because I have major blackmail of embarrassing toddler photos against you.

This is Alfred moment that he been waiting for since Bruce became a new adult but not yet sired a baby at the Wayne Manor at all. He is savoring this for the memories and scapebooking time. He is cranking opened that forgotten but clean baby nursery of forlorning hopes.

2 months later, By the time Cass was ready to deliver the baby on February 11, and at February 12th, 12:01am.

Wren Alf Cain was born premature yet crying softly into the word.

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upsidedownwithsteve · 6 months

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #1

“Oh, come on,” the guy coaxed, voice wheedling and a little slurred.

You didn’t really know him, a friend of a friend's cousin who was visiting from out of town but he’d been cute enough to entertain five beers ago. He’d grown sloppier now, a little leery, his hand around your wrist as he udder you towards the dock that overlooked Lover’s Lake.

You’d dug your heels in, smiling through your teeth as you shook your head and tried not to spill the cheap wine Robin had brought down the front of your shirt. The small beach that was hidden in a cove was surrounded by trees, green in the summer, full and making the crescent moon strip of land perfect for a bonfire and for some drinking.

There were small crowds of people all over the sandy patch, sitting on blankets and cheap camping chairs, familiar faces lit by the small fire, people you didn’t know as well lingering between, bare feet on the edge of the shoreline.

You’d came with Eddie, riding in the front seat of his van with a rucksack full of corner store liquor on your lap, the smell of weed coming off strong from the pocket inside his leather jacket.

“A night full of potential clients, sweetheart, please,” he’d pleaded with you, brown button eyes wide. “The Jacksons have their cousins over from the backass of Georgia, they’ll pay for the rest of our summer if I show them the good shit.”

So you’d agreed, albeit grudgingly, letting your best friend haul you off your sofa and to the get together that you didn’t really want to go to. But Robin was there, and Nancy too, a few people you hadn’t seen since senior year, back for the summer to visit their folks and well - it wasn't all bad.

Then the evening faded into night and the lavender skies turned inky, the same shade as the lake water. And when people got a little looser, whisky and bud light warming their veins, they laughed as they stripped down to mismatched underwear and dove off the dock, splashing and shrieking in water you couldn’t see the bottom of and god—

You’d, grimaced, turning away from the shoreline and sticking close to Eddie, the boy’s arm always brushing your own even when he was busy dealing, twenties fisted in his hand as he passed over baggies to a twenty something girl you’d never seen before.

But then that guy found you, relatively sober and sweet until he wasn’t, sloppy with his arm around your neck, breath smelling like smoke and beer and he was pulling you towards the people in the water, telling you it was all part of the fun. You’d protested immediately, intensely, eyes wide as the water came closer and your feet hit the wooden planks of the dock.

Between the gaps, you could see black, dark water rippling, the moon overhead glinting white off the tips of the current. Eddie hadn’t noticed you were gone until the stranger had dragged you half way down the decking. Your wrist burned from how tight he held it, how hard you tried to twist it from his grasp.

“Hey— hey!” Eddie had barked out, loud and brash and aggressive enough to make a lot of people around him startle. He broke free from the circle that had gathered around him, lips set in a snarl and determination in his eyes. You knew fine well that when Eddie got his hands on this guy, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her fucking go—”

But Eddie couldn’t reach you in time, not when his boots dug too deep into the sand and there were too many people to push out of the way. The guy laughed at a joke you weren’t a part of and then he pushed.

Your arms swung wildly, windmilling as gravity took over, your balance gone and you were too near the edge of the dock to do anything about it. Your hands grabbed at the air, fingertips just brushing your new acquaintances shirt and his grinning face and beer blurred eyes were the last thing you saw before you back hit the water.

It was as dark underneath the surface of the lake as it was above it, an icy shock despite how warm the day had been, how the heat still lingered in the night. You gasped, immediately inhaling, murky water filling your mouth and throat and you kicked, hoping that the direction your hands were clawing in was up.

But nothing happened and your body didn’t move.

On the beach, people were murmuring, too drunk to consider the consequences, too stoned to fly into action. Besides, only seconds had passed. Bubbles were floating in the spot you’d gone under, ripples evidence of the fact that you’d once been there. Eddie was sweating, shoving at people as he ripped off his leather jacket and prepared to vault himself onto the water after you but someone at the bottom of the deck beat him to it.

Steve Harrington had dropped his beer at the first sign of the commotion, his part in the conversation with Jonathan Byers and his friend from California dying off as he turned to watch a guy he didn’t know drag you down the dock. The stranger had been laughing but you hadn’t, and before he could say something, Steve only had a second to look at the absolute horror on your face before you were forced backwards and into the lake.

He was on his feet immediately, facing back up the dock to where you’d disappeared from, watching wildly for signs of you returning to the surface. And then Eddie was yelling at him, pushing past some underage kids from out of town, half of his jacket hanging from his shoulders and he was yelling.

“Steve! Steve, she can’t fuckin’ swim, man—”

If Eddie finished the sentence or said anything else, Steve didn’t hear it. He launched himself off of the side, hitting the cold water with a splash he didn’t hear. Water filled his ears and fuck, he could barely see. But somewhere a little below him there was a flash of white from your shirt that had tangled itself up around your neck, your arms flailing wildly as you tried your damn hardest to kick up the way.

Steve had grabbed your arm, your panic making you slip before he curled his fingers around your wrist and then you were being hauled against him, your back to his chest as he moved with a confidence you could never imagine for yourself. You’d been under for a minute, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but Steve had your head breaking the surface of the lake in seconds. You were gasping and coughing, your fingernails tattooing half moon lines in Steve’s forearm as you held onto him, fear gripping you as hard as you did him.

You thought you’d heard his voice, a low murmur in your ear that was fuzzy from the water lodged there, from the buzz and clamour that had then awoken on the beach as the music stopped and people were gathered by the shoreline.

Eddie had been knee deep in the water, readily meeting you and Steve as the boy swam closer with you, and once your feet hit the sandy bottom, you lurched forward, hands held out to grab Eddie’s waiting ones.

Steve’s were on your back, keeping you upright and steady until he saw that Eddie had you. You and Steve were both dripping and Eddie was swearing, his cheeks red and his eyes wide, unsure whether to rush you to his van first or hunt down the creep that had put you in danger in the first place.

But Nancy was rushing forward with a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders and taking in your chattering teeth and panicked stare, the vice-like grip you had around Eddie’s fingers. “He’s gone,” she said to the boy. “He ran off when he saw Steve dive in. Just get her home, Eddie.”

Steve Harrington had ended up in the front bench with you in Eddie’s van, your shivering frame sandwiched between both boy’s and no one said anything until you all got back to Eddie’s trailer.

You hadn’t said anything as you’d headed for a hot shower, your wet clothes slapping on the bathroom tiles as you had stripped, slimy weeds and grains of sand stuck to your cold skin and your hands were still shaking as you twisted the squeaky handle to turn the water up hotter still.

And when Eddie was ripping his room apart for dry clothes for you and Steve to change into, his eyes watery with anger, his throat tight with rage, Steve had been leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed over his damp chest.

“We’ll get him,” he’d said quietly, just in case you could hear above the spluttering of the old pipes. “We’ll find out who he was and— and we’ll deal with him and then I’m gonna teach her how to swim, alright?”

Eddie nodded, movements sharp and jerky and he handed Steve a pair of black sweatpants and an old Metallica shirt.

“Alright?” Steve had repeated, chin ducked to make Eddie meet his gaze. He had been so serious. “I’m gonna give her lessons. This won’t happen again.”

The sky was still half pink as you biked down the empty sidewalk.

A blue-lilac colour, softer than you’d usually witness due to the early morning hour. The sun was still low, the town still asleep, the watch on your wrist telling you the seven am was still to come. Your bike chain whirred softly, brakes squeaking as you slowed by the chain link fence.

Hawkins community pool was sun bleached and well loved, the old bunting that draped over the water barely red and blue, the shutters for the food stand still rolled down and locked. The aquamarine slide was now more white and it looked like it would give you an infection if your skin was to snag on one of the exposed bolts. But the gate was open, only just, and you sucked in a deep breath as you let your bike lean against the wall.

Chlorine filled your nose as you walked in, the generator humming and the pool filter trickling, the sun loungers empty and still stacked against the changing rooms. Despite your early wake up call, the air was already warm, a humid kind of heat that Indiana summers brought, sticky and sweet smelling, like someone had left a jug of peach tea on their porch all day.

The tiles that surrounded the pool were wet, recently hosed down and cleaned, and your sneakers slapped noisily as you walked towards the waters edge. You didn’t go too close, not at all, grimacing at the bright blue rectangle like it would force you in itself. It seemed somehow more menacing when it was still, a glasslike surface reflecting the cotton candy sky above it, no splashing and screaming kids to fill its depths.

Then a boy appeared - no, more man than boy - from the staff building.

He had red shorts on, the fabric sitting above his knees and an old white shirt that you assumed must’ve once said “lifeguard.” He was barefoot and tanned, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and he didn’t even notice you at first, too busy hanging a net back onto the wall.

Steve Harrington was pretty and tall and he had really good hair. He was quieter than when you’d know him in high school, softer looking than he’d once been. But you didn’t really know him and he didn’t really know you. But he was friends with Eddie and you were friends with Eddie, so somehow, someway, that meant you were kind of, almost friends with him too.

Except you weren’t and you had no idea why you’d agreed to this.

“You can change in there.”

You hadn’t expected his voice, so you startled, arms wrapping tighter around your body and crushing the small rucksack that housed your suit and towel. You frowned at the idea, because changing meant one step closer to going into the water and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to do that yet.

So you said nothing.

Steve just watched you from across the pool, brows raised. And then he shrugged and muttered something that sounded like “suit yourself,” before he threw his sunglasses onto a plastic chair and tugged his shirt over his head.

You’d barely gotten a chance to really look at the quick flash of tanned, bare skin he exposed before he dove into the water, barely causing a ripple. You were slack jawed as you watched him move seamlessly below the surface, his body a pretty shade of blue as his muscles flexed, strong back and broad shoulders stretching as he swam.

When he reappeared, much closer to you, Steve braced his forearms on the edge of the pool and dragged a hand through his wet hair, strands of it plastered to his forehead, water clinging to his lashes.

You didn’t know where to look.

“You’re not going to learn much if you don’t take your clothes off.”

Despite the way his words warmed you, skin heating up the same way the morning was, you scowled. You didn’t want to be here. Not at the pool, not around water, not with Steve Harrington and certainly not at seven in the morning on a Saturday.

And now you were standing under the morning sun and the same boy that saved you from the lake was squinting up at you from the pool below and you were only really here because Eddie had begged you.

It had been a whole week and you could still taste lake water on the back of your tongue.

“Changing rooms are over there,” Steve motioned to the building behind you with a tilt of his head.

You tried not to look at him, or the water, when you nodded tightly, dragging yourself off to the ladies section. And when you came back out, the sun had risen just a little more and Steve was still in the pool, floating easily on his back as he used his arms to move slowly around the water. The rays were glinting off of the water and him, toned shoulders and soft stomach glittering with water droplets and suddenly the pool seemed an even scarier place to be.

The old swimsuit you’d managed to pull on was a little on the tight side, all black and supposed to be modest if the too small size hasn’t been cutting into the swells of your ass and chest. It had been a good few years since you’d had reason to put it on, and even then, you hadn’t gone near water. A beach day on the Fourth of July with enough space between you and the ocean that you hadn’t even minded the sand too much.

So you stood with your arms crossed over your chest, trying to hide the expanse of skin there, your knees pressed together and you looked downright mournful about your current predicament. If Steve hadn’t remembered the fear in your eyes that night in the lake as you scrambled for him under the water, he would’ve cracked a joke or two.

Instead, he swam over to you cautiously, fingers curling around the edge of the pool as he swiped his wet hair from his forehead. “Hey,” he began gently. The town still hadn’t woken up yet, not really. It was just Steve’s voice and the hum of the pool filter, some cicadas buzzing in a bush behind the far side of the fence. “Nothing bad is going to happen, alright? Not here.”

You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, eyes wide and lips drawn into a tight line. You didn’t move an inch. And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, not really. You were exactly friends but Steve was close with Eddie and if Eddie trusted him— well. He got an automatic pass from you too.

Eddie didn’t trust a whole lot of people.

But the problem wasn’t Steve. It was most definitely the rectangle full of blue water, shimmering and pretty as it was, it looked deep, the slope of it going downdowndown and Steve’s body was distorted under the ripples, his legs looking broken and mangled, the surface lapping way too high across his shoulders and neck.

Your body felt like lead, a dead weight ready to sink to the pool floor, legs unable to push yourself back up.

You took a step back.

“Okay,” Steve sighed and he tried really hard to not sound impatient. The day had barely begun and he’d make a promise to Eddie, one he really didn’t want to break. “We’ll take it back a little, yeah? Come over here.”

You watched as he pulled himself out of the pool with an impressively low amount of effort. The muscles in his shoulders and back bunched up and he swung a leg onto the tiles before standing, water dripping off of him, cool and splashing your toes. He made a point of not looking at your and all your bare skin as he walked around the edge of the pool, right towards the back of the lot where there was a set of stairs that led into the shallow end.

He didn’t look over his shoulder to check if you were following and you only hesitated for a second or two before you did. And when he reached the top of the steps, he waited for you and held out his hand, brows raised expectantly.

You stared back.

The water didn’t look as scary here, but not by a whole bunch. It was lighter blue, the white tiles on the bottom of the pool about more visible and the numbers that were flaking and painted on the side of the wall said the depth was only two and a half feet.

You could drown in less, the voice in your head told you. It sounded a lot like your mom.

So you kept your arms crossed for a little while longer, teeth gnawing unkindly at your bottom lip. Steve just waited, hand extended palm up and after a minute had passed, he took one step into the pool, standing ankle deep in the water on the top stair. He caught your eye then, smiling in what he hope was a reassuring way.

“D’you trust me?” He asked, eyes squinting in the bright sun. There was a mole on his cheek that disappeared into the lines of his skin when he smiled. “S’okay if you don’t yet, but, I’m a lifeguard here, so like, legally? I can’t let you die.”

You surprised both yourself and the boy when you snorted unexpectedly, a sharp sound of amusement that you used a hand to cover up. But it seemed to encourage Steve, ‘cause he positively beamed at you, his hand wiggling, vying for your own.

“C’mon, I promise I won’t let you go,” he swore. He leaned further forward, his fingers close enough to brush the softness of your stomach, if he so pleased. He didn’t. “We’ll start nice and easy today, alright?”

It felt momentous, when you slid your hand into his. He was still warm despite his pool damp skin, like the sun lived inside his bones. He grinned, victorious, nodding encouragingly when you moved to the edge of the steps.

“We’ll do them one at a time, alright?” Steve moved to stand in front of you, his other hand catching your free one until he was guiding you closer and closer to the water, walking himself backwards with every step you took forward. You flinched when your foot hit the first step, the water warmer than you’d anticipated, brushing up just past your ankle.

You had two feet in the pool and two hands in Steve Harrington’s and it felt like the entire world was about to implode on you.

“There you go,” Steve murmured, warmth and a little hum of pride in his voice. “See? S’not bad, right? I’ve still got you.” So you took another step and another and suddenly the water was lapping at your knees. You froze, grip tightening around Steve’s fingers and your wide eyes found his, all too aware of the way you were very much in the pool now.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s thumbs rubbed over the back of your knuckles, the skin there burning from holding him so tightly. “Listen. Do you trust me?”

There was no joke that followed the question this time. His eyes were earnest and warm, serious as they looked at you, searching your face for any signs that you were going to flee. It took you a few seconds, swallowing dryly and taking a deep, staggering breath before you nodded. You did, you did trust him, and that was as surprising as you being in the pool.

“Yeah,” you told Steve, voice a little weak and hoarse. “Yeah, I trust you.”

He squeezed your fingers and his smile was gentle, an achingly kind thing that made your eyes water in the corners and Steve let you stand on that middle step for a little while longer. “Good,” he finally said and his voice was as soft as yours had been. You tried not to look at the way the chain around his throat caught the sunlight, the silver turning golden, just like his skin. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

You nodded, feverish and your movements jagged and you tore your eyes from Steve to look at your bare feet on the steps, your toes waving under the ripples, longer and skinnier and then fatter and wider. The sight made you dizzy, stomach tumbling a little but even still, you wished you’d had the forethought to paint your toenails something pretty.

“Two more steps, alright?”

Steve’s encouragement broke your senseless wanderings and you nodded again, words caught in your throat and he was leading you forward, hands wrapped around your own and he grinned when you took another step down, the water hitting your upper thighs. It was cooler as you went deeper, a stark contrast to the warm, sticky air above it and your skin prickled, mouth falling in a quiet gasp. Another step, happening almost too fast for you to overthink it, the water at your hips and making you swear as you rose onto your toes almost instinctively.

Steve laughed, not unkindly, as you moved closer to him, unthinking as your hands left his in favour of clinging to his upper arms. It felt safer like that, anchoring yourself to his solid frame, but there was so much bare skin involved and not a lot of space left between you both as you held on for dear life. His fingertips brushed the sides of your waist before he must’ve thought better of it, cheeks burning before his hands cupped your elbows and he took a little step back so your chest didn’t touch his.

“You’re alright,” he murmured. “You did it, yeah? That’s it. You’re in.”

Steve was grinning and you tried to smile too, trying to feel proud of your little accomplishment but the rest of the pool was stretched out behind Steve’s shoulder and the water there was so much more blue, cerulean leading into indigo until you couldn’t see the bottom anymore.

Steve must’ve noticed cause he shook his head, the hand cupping your elbow smoothing up your arm until he squeezed, water dripping from his palms and coasting down your skin. “Hey, hey, none of that. That’s for another day. We’re staying here, alright?”

You grimaced at the idea of ‘another day,’ but his words still didn’t ease you. You licked at your lips, dots of chlorine on them and despite how stupid you felt, you asked anyway. “What if— what if l, like, float over that way? Accidentally.”

Steve smiled like he couldn’t help himself, laughter in his eyes and a grin that he quickly tamed. “We’re not gonna catch any waves in here, this isn’t Maui,” he was still smiling, teasing, just a little. But sensing your growing worry, he continued. “And if that had to happen - which it won’t - I’ll come and get you.”

You stared at him, heartbeat in your throat and so many other questions on your tongue. They died there, fizzing into nothing as Steve held your gaze, a silent promise in his brown eyes. You’d never noticed how long and thick his lashes were, still wet and spiky from when he’d been swimming as you changed.

Maybe there was doubt in your eyes, or maybe Steve just felt the need to reiterate his statement, but when he said once more, “I’ll come get you, just like last time,” you really did believe him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington smut

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noisilyscreechingsong · 1 year

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Eyes

Dp x Dc Crossover Writing Idea

“Red Robin!”

When he backtracked to find the owner of the voice he was a bit surprised to find a young boy, maybe eight years old if he had to guess, dressed in a red sweatshirt that dwarfed him and a pair of gym shorts that had seen better days.

Not many Gothamites called out to the vigilantes, a silent agreement to stay out of their way and not to look too closely. This kid however stared up at him with bright blue eyes unafraid of getting the Red Robin’s attention.

A fan?

Before he even opens his mouth, the kid gives him a small, hopeful smile, eyes shining with something that reminds him of himself when he was that age and following Batman and Robin with his camera around his tiny neck.

“I brought you a gift,” the boy say with nervous excitement. He enthusiastically swings off the backpack he had on to dig through the contents, taking his eyes off the vigilante and showing his unwavering trust that nothing bad would happen to him while Red Robin was here.

The boy pulls out what appears to be a jar wrapped in newspaper, the worn page ripping in some spots to show the clear glass underneath. Small hands present it like it’s Red Robin’s birthday (which it wasn’t).

He takes it cautiously, the kid hasn’t been hostile but this was still weird, and pulls it closer with enough space so if it’s a bomb it doesn’t blow up in his face.

It’s got weight to it and the slight sloshing tells him it’s filled with liquid. He carefully unwraps the ‘gift’, keeping his eye on the boy who stands waiting anxiously.

Tim almost drops the jar as soon as he sees what’s inside. Only his reflexes from over the years held on and his expression turned neutral.

A pair of eyes sit at the bottom of the jar. The orbs were crudely extracted, tissue floating around them like a mane of hair around a head.

He turns the jar to see the irises and… he knew these eyes. The slimy green is filmed with death, but he recognized these eyes from the number of times the owner locked them onto him, the cruel possessiveness they possessed when they gazed at him. Never again apparently.

Tim doesn’t speak for a while, not knowing what to say, but also thoughts racing too fast to form any proper sentences.

“Do you like it?” The small, nervous voice interrupts those thoughts.

What an innocent question on an equally innocent looking face.

“How did you get Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes?”

The teasing chatter over the comms immediately hushes into shocked silence.

“I took them from his body, so you knew he was dead. I burned the rest so you don’t have to worry about him coming back again. The Pit there is gone anyway,” the child explains easily, not fazed in the slightest from the words he speaks.

“Grandfather is dead?” He hears Damian whisper over the comm.

So many other questions were flying through Tim’s head. He looks the kid over again.

Black hair and blue eyes. In any other situation the kid might have been a possible Wayne adoptee. He’s not a clone from what he can see though. Despite the coloring he doesn’t really look like any of them. Pale skin like Tim, but has freckles. The same kind of nose as Damian, but wide, round eyes. Jaw kind of like Jason, but his body shape is too narrow. Bright, almost icy blue eyes like Dick, but eyebrow shape is flatter. Lip shape like Bruce, but from the kid’s anxious lip biting he could see the faintest trace of dimples.

“Who are you?” He asks instead of the other million and one questions.

The boy blinks almost like he wasn’t expecting the question. He’s cheeks color pink with blush as he grins widely.

“I’m Danny!” He introduces cheerfully like he didn’t just hand a vigilante a jar of eyes.

“Hi, Danny,” Tim greets almost dumbly. “Want to tell me why you gave me this?”

Danny scoffs his shoe against the pavement in what appears to be embarrassment.

“Well, I know when you ask someone for something, it’s nice to give a gift or something. Like I did something nice for you so maybe you’ll do something nice for me?”

He takes a moment to absorb that child-like reasoning.

“So you want me to do something for you and you thought I would like Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes in exchange?”

Danny studies him and fidgets with the large sweatshirt sleeve.

“I just thought you would like proof. Like the whole ‘bring me the heart of my enemy’ kind of thing. Do you not like it? I couldn’t just take a picture ‘cuz I didn’t have a camera with me, I know you like photography. I can do something else for you if it’s not enough,” he offers worriedly.

Tim freezes.

“How do you know I like photography?” He demands.

Danny tilts his head curiously.

“Because Tim Drake likes photography,” he says like it’s obvious, “and you’re Tim Drake.”

Well. This is less than ideal.

“Red Robin, take him back to the Cave,” Batman instructs over the comms.

Yeah, he was getting there.

“Do you know the other’s’ identities?”

Danny nods and hums affirmatively. Tim waits.

“Oh! Yea. Batman is Bruce Wayne. Robin is Damian Wayne. Red Hood is Jason Todd. Nightwing is Richard Grey-“

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Tim glances around the empty alley they were standing in, checking to make sure no stray people heard. Luckily they were truly alone.

“Danny, do you want to come back with me?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. The kid was coming back regardless, it would just be better if he went willingly.

Unsurprisingly, the kid lights up like a little sun at the offer.

“Really?” He nearly shouts in excitement.

“Yeah, kid. I parked my bike a few blocks from here. You ever rode a motorcycle before?”

Danny shakes his head, nearly bounding on his toes.

“Not in this lifetime.” And wasn’t that odd wording? “Are we gonna grapple there?”

“Think you can hold on?”

“Yeah!”

He kneels down so the boy can climb onto his back and lock his arms around his neck and hook his feet together around his torso. Danny is worryingly light as he stands.

The kid is the picture of an excited and overeager child as they carefully fly over rooftops and then drive back to the Cave. Even when they park inside the safety of the Batcave, Danny’s eyes are filled with child-like awe and wonder, so curious and chattering with questions and wild imagination. It would be cute, endearing even, if the jar of eyes wasn’t sitting heavily in his pocket.

Alfred came down not too long after their arrival with a tray of healthy snacks and some waters. Danny happily munches on the apple slices as he wanders around where Tim can see him.

The rumble of the Batmobile can be heard almost an hour later after Tim has to tell Danny not to touch the weapons for the fourth time. The kid’s attention is drawn to the sleek black vehicle as it parks by Tim��s bike. He trots over with wide eyes as the doors open and Robin exits, then Batman.

Unfortunately, Dick is in Bludhaven and Jason is visiting Roy and Lian this week. Cass and Steph were gone as well and Duke was sleeping. It was just the three of them and this kid with Alfred as the only buffer.

Danny stares openly, curious, as the duo makes their way over to the computer where Tim has claimed his sit.

Tim turns the jar that he set on the table so the eyes are facing them and slowly leans back again, suddenly very tired. Damian flexes his hands into fists tightly while Batman is very still.

“Hi,” Danny chirps like nothing is wrong, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Batman takes a measured breath. Robin glares down at the child, but remains silent for now.

“Who killed Ra’s Al Ghul?”

Danny blinks blankly.

“Nobody.”

“You’re saying he just dropped dead?” Damian sneered in sarcasm.

“Death took him,” the child says simply as if that explained everything.

“How?” The word is demanded and emphasized.

“Like Death takes everyone. His expiration was overdue.”

Bruce frowns and Damian almost snarls.

“I demand you start making sense!”

Danny glares back in offense.

“I’m being very clear! Maybe you should ask better questions!”

The twelve year old growls at the smaller child and Batman has to place a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from attacking.

“Danny?” Batman questions after a tense moment.

The boy’s arms are crossed in irritation, but he blinks out of his glare to stare up at the man.

“Yea?”

“How do you know our identities?”

“Oh, memories.”

Danny looked like everything he said made sense and it was driving Tim up a wall.

“Memories,” Bruce repeats.

“Uh-huh,” Danny nods confidently. “From the Lazarus Pit.”

A jolt goes through Tim as he recalls what the boy said earlier about the Pit.

“Didn’t you say the Pit was gone?” He asks before Bruce could continue his line of questioning.

Danny turns with a bright smile as if he was proud Tim remembered.

“Yea! Well, gone from this world anyway.” Tim was concerned. “I took the memories from it before sending it back where it belongs.”

“Okay. How did you know how to ‘take the memories’ and send it back? Back where?”

“I was born from it. Duh. It went back to the Realms or I guess you’d call it the Afterlife,” Danny actually rolls his eyes as if they should already know this.

“Born from it?” Damian asks with a wavering voice, hidden well from the child but not from them. “Nothing has ever been born from the Pits.”

“That you know of.”

And wasn’t that the kicker.

“So, to clarify, you come from the Pits. You know who we are because you took the memories from said Pits. Death took Ra’s because his time was up. And you took the eyes from his corpse to give to me because you thought I would like it as a gift so I would do something for you.”

Danny positively beams.

“This is why you’re my favorite!”

Damian grinds his teeth harshly.

“What is it you want Red Robin to do for you?” Batman asks in strangled hesitation.

“Oh!” Danny perks up like he remembered and hops over to Tim with pleading hands. “Can you please make me an identity? You’re really good at all that stuff and I was hoping you could find me a family. Someone to adopt me. A nice family, with a bed and family dinners and a dog. I always wanted a dog.”

Tim has the sudden urge to scream.

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eddiesxangel · 10 months

Text

Redemption| Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: after committing a petty crime, Eddie is forced to work community at a retirement home; what he didn’t expect was the pretty girl at the front desk, you. This is so self-indulgent don't come for me

Word count: 3.8k

Cw: mutual pining, male masturbation, Perv!Eddie, Dom!Eddie/ Sub!reader, unprotected sex, corruption kink? breeding kink, sex at work. (Briefly proofread)

An: after 85 years I finally got around to finishing this! It’s not where I thought it would go originally bc it was just suppose to be a fluff piece but the horny gremlin took over

Boredom wasn't even a way to describe how you were feeling. The phones were dead, the day had been dragging on, and it was not even 12:00pm. The residents of the home were also not doing you any favours. Having to repeat yourself about six times in a row at the top of your lungs was starting to get old; your day had just not been going the way you wanted. Any other day, you'd be happy to help, happy to repeat yourself, but today was not one of those days. You were irritated and annoyed; your work bestie was off today, so you couldn't even complain to her about your shit day.

A sigh of relief fills you when the phone rings, a rare occasion, but today has been so slow you were begging for something to do.

"Sunny Acres Retirement Home! How may I help you?" your customer service voice was overly sweet, too sweet. However you can't seem to turn it off, being the people pleaser that you are.

"Jesus Christ'' You hear mumbled from the other end of the line.

"Hello? How can I help you?" you roll your eyes, having to repeat yourself, but keep up the chipper act.

"Yeah, listen, I was assigned to do community hours at this place, and I need to talk to a manager." Damn, this guy had an attitude.

"Yeah! Sure thing. Can I get your name, please?"

"Seriously?"

What the fuck crawled up this guy's ass?

"It's company policy, Sir." You rolled your eyes again, not wanting to deal with more bullshit.

"Eddie"

"One moment, Eddie, I'll transfer your call." You put him on hold and transferred him to the manager with a good luck warning.

The next day, you were in much better spirits; your work bestie was with you, it was casual Friday, and you were allowed to wear jeans instead of business casual attire.

It was around 1:00pm when you saw Chief Hopper walk in accompanied by someone you had not recognized.

"Hey Hopps," you greet him with a smile.

"Hey, you." He said with a smile.

You and Chief Hopper had a friendly relationship because you're close friends with his girlfriend's oldest, Jonathan.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Brought in another delinquent for you to roughhouse into shape" he steps out of the way.

Your giggle dies as you lock eyes with the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

"This is Edward; he is here to complete two hundred hours of community service, and he will be starting today."

"It's Eddie," you hear him mumble under his breath.

Oh so this is the jackass you spoke to on the phone yesterday... a really cute jackass.

He looked to be around your age, but you didn't recognize him. You'd only been in town since the second half of senior year, hating your parents for making your move to a new school so close to graduating. You have been in Hawkins six years now you're here working 9-5 as a receptionist at Sunny Acres Retirement Home.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie." You introduce yourself and proceed to call the manager to let her know he is here. Once Hopper leaves and your manager shows him around, you immediately call your best friend, Robin's, extension.

"Get over here now! We have a code, hottie," you whisper into the phone. Whenever you see a cute person enter the building, whether it be adult grandchildren, paramedics, or firefighters, you always let one another know when there is one on the premises. No less than two minutes later, she approaches your desk.

"Where are they?"

" There," you point to the dining room directly across from your desk as he is being given a tour of the building.

"Eddie Munson?!" she half yells before covering her mouth.

"You know him?" you ask excitedly.

"Know him? He's the town freak," she scoffs.

"I'm sure he is a freak, alright?" You wiggle your brows at her."

"I'm serious! He's bad news."

"Clearly, he is doing community service hours."

"Seriously? That is what you're into?" she giggles.

"I don't know? There is something about him?" You bite your lip as you check him out from afar. He turns back to walk towards you, and you quickly look away, not wanting to be caught.

You've always been into bad boys, but your golden retriever, good girl image, always scared them away.

Eddie notices you staring at him because you're not very subtle. He isn't mad that he caught you staring because he felt that you were checking him out rather than judging him. Unlike your co-worker standing beside you...

Just his luck, he recognized Robin from high school. She was always neutral towards him and didn't say much, but he knew how the people in this town operated. She would turn you against him in no time.

"Buckley." He nodded.

"Munson," she mimicked back.

You watched the scene play out, hoping she would introduce you. Wrong. She goes straight in for the kill.

"My friend thinks you're cute." She points her thumb at you, and you immediately slap her shoulder as a gut reaction.

"Robin?!" you scold her. Mortified about what she admitted to him just to break an awkward silence, you feel like you want the ground to swallow you whole.

Eddie gives you a cocky smirk before the manager comes back to continue with the tour.

"Why do you hate me? Did I do something? Are you punishing me?" you whine.

"You know I just blurt out things when I get uncomfortable!"

All you can do is roll your eyes, you loved the girl, but she could be really dense.

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about your brief interaction all night. Was Robin telling the truth? Did you really think he was cute? Or was she teasing? He hoped that she had grown up since high school and was telling the truth because he also thought you were cute, like really, really cute. He hadn't seen you before, and Hawkins was a small town; he must have known you from somewhere? He wraps his brain around any memories of your face, but he comes up empty. He had to find out more about you. He needed to know you. Something about you infatuated him so much. He thought about how your body looked in the adorable outfit you had on. He thought about what was under the outfit to... Maybe being forced to volunteer his time at Sunny Acres wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to him after all...

The next day, you were assigned to show Eddie some of the duties he was to do for the residents. Talk to them, run bingo, help them with their phone if the line was giving them any trouble, or their TV if they put in the wrong input, serve them beverages, and get to know them and keep them company. A lot of them don't have families or anyone to come visit them. The staff are their family. That was the main reason you stayed at this job for so long.

Eddie was quiet the whole orientation. The tension from yesterday was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Small talk was not your strong suit; you dreaded it, but you also really wanted to talk with Eddie, so you went for it.

"So what did they book you for? Steal candy from a kid on the playground?" trying to make light of the situation.

"Murder," he deadpans to you.

"Ha ha. Nice try. They don't give community hours to murderers." you couldn't keep your eyes on the task in front of you.

He was dead silent, but you could feel his eyes burning into you.

"Okay, don't tell me; I'll just keep guessing until you do." you gave a cheeky smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Another eye roll was shot your way, but you swore you saw a glint of something behind those eyes.

"So what was it? Trespassing? Vandalism? shoplifting? Public intoxication? Speeding?" you raise a brow at him.

Eddie just smirked and shook his head as you interrogated him. Your bubbly personality was nothing compared to his. He noticed how you would light up the room when you walked in. The residents of the home adored you, and he could see why. You were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen; your eyes sparkled, and he loved how you styled yourself. He wasn't used to being so infatuated by someone so cutesy. He noticed you wore a lot of pink and has yet to see you in anything black. He thought of what you would look like with black underwear... then he snapped back out of his thoughts. He tried to think of something less sexy, but as he was trying to do so, your top slipped down when you went to reach for the deck of cards across from you. He caught a glimpse of the frilly light yellow bra you had on under your top.

Eddie noticed the room was getting hotter, or was that just him? You made him nervous; he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you more than he already has. He felt shame that we had to be waltzed in here by the chief of police, never mind what offence he committed. So he stayed quiet, not wanting the next thing to come out of his mouth to be offensive or crass. So he kept quiet, not saying anything or indulging in the conversation more than he had to.

Another week went by, and you still hardly spoke to Eddie. Work was unbelievably slow yet again. you thought that would give you a chance to speak with Eddie, but you hardly had time to see him because the residents kept hogging him. That was until your manager asked for you to help with the Bingo because everyone decided to show up today. Eddie was in charge of rolling and placing, and you were in charge of announcing and checking.

This was it, this was your chance to speak to him...

"How do you like it here so far?"

"It's fine I guess." He mumbled.

"Everyone really loves you." You smiled.

Eddie gave you a look that said what the fuck?

“No really! … Do you not like it here?” What you were really asking was do you not like being around me?

"Don't you get it? How can I serve these snotty rich people when all they do is look down on someone like me?"

"Eddie, are you blind? The residents love you."

Eddie scoffs at your confession. "I'm serious! When you are gone, Pat always asks where you are! And Linda always refers to you as her boyfriend, and I overheard Martha and June arguing over who got to braid your hair next. You're a real ladies' man around here," You giggle.

"A ladies man you say?" his mood slowly changes as he smirks at you. That made you blush, the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked away bashfully. He was just so pretty… and the way he looked at you like how he is now is making you so shy.

"Yeah, I'm kinda jealous of Linda, if I'm honest." You flirt. You feel like your stomach was in your ass by the time you finished the sentence.

"What's the next number! come on!" Bob yelled from the table. You had completely forgotten about the game.

Small glances were stolen throughout the following weeks. You would feel the heat rise to your cheeks every time he caught you, and you couldn't tell if he found it endearing or annoying. You never got a response out of Eddie after your admission to being jealous over an eighty-three-year-old.

Eddie definitely thought it was endearing and he can't seem to get you out of his head. He would think about you when he was alone in his room at night. He would think about how you always smelled like marshmallows, how your hair looked so cute with the little bow you put in it occasionally, or how you tease him by wearing those short skirts with stockings underneath. He knew you were teasing him. Everyone else bought the Goodie Two Shoes act, but not Eddie. He saw right through it, and he was fed up. He felt like if he didn't have you, he would actually explode.

Eddie had been watching you from afar this whole time. He would sneak around your desk, finding things he could take home with him as a keepsake. Like little doodles you would leave out, or the pen you were using, or your lip balm. The best was when you left your purse out, and he got a chance to take the travel-size perfume that was lying there on top of everything. There was a reason he got booked for defacing public property and not theft. Theft he was good at.

Eddie sprayed his pillow with your perfume and then used your lip balm that smelled and tasted like strawberries, fuck, everything about you was so sweet: your personality, looks and smell, even your fucking lip balm. He thought about how his lips were touching the thing that touched yours as he applied it to his own, and his dick got hard. Then he thought about how your strawberry lips would look around his hard cock.

You were taking over Eddie's senses as he began to tug at his cock. He thought about how he would love to flip up your skirt and fucking you in one of the empty rooms. His imagination ran wild. He thought about your voice, how your tits would look bouncing in that frilly yellow bra he got a peek at. He wanted you in every position, especially under him. He knew you would be the perfect little sub for him. He needed you to be; he was so close to cumming. He thought about you crying from how much you needed his cock to fill you. He thought about how good you would look and feel swallowing his cock. He needed to take what he thought, no needed to believe, was your virgin pussy.

Eddie came so hard that night, the first night he indulged in his fantasies of you with your smell lingering in the air of his room. The mix of your sent with his was too much. He needed you, and he would do anything to try and get you.

"Ok, I can't take this anymore, you need to talk to him." Robin shook her head.

"And say what?"

"Yo Munson, come here!"

"Robin!" You scolded.

As Eddie approached, you felt your heart rate go up; you could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What on earth was she going to say now?

"Okay, I can't take watching you two dance around one another any longer." "She thinks you're cute. Okay..." Robin gestured to you. "Do you think she is cute?"

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just slowly nodded his head.

The tension broke when the shrill of phone ring broke you out of your trance and shook you a little. You just stared at the phone and Robin butted in.

“I’ll take it, you take your lunch” she gave you a wink and you looked to Eddie.

“I could eat.” and he wasn't talking about the chicken they were serving for lunch.

You felt your stomach do a flip-flip; you heard the insinuation in his tone.

"Um, uh- yeah. Okay." You cleared your throat and went to find an empty room for some privacy.

You guided Eddie up to the eighth floor. There were a lot of vacant rooms up there, and hardly anyone went in the west wing since no one was living there yet. The elevator ride up was silent; you felt an awkwardness, like Eddie was looking into your soul even though he wasn't even looking at you... The elevator dinged, and Eddie let you step out first, guiding him to the privacy he yearned for.

809 Eddie read on the door as you fumbled with the lock and key. Finally, you opened the lock and guided him inside. The room was completely empty; it echoed a little as your footsteps filled it.

"So..." You started but Eddie had no time for talking. He wanted you and he wanted you now.

Eddie surprised you by cupping your face and kissing you passionately. No one had ever kissed you like this before; it was strong and hard but also careful.

"You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart." He spoke into your mouth. The kissing got more and more sensual. You ran your hands up his middle before you knew what was happening he quickly turned you around and pressed you up against the wall.

"You think it's cute? Teasing me for weeks with your sweet little outfits?" Eddie's hand was wrapped around your mouth to keep you quiet as his fingers explored you meat of your ass.

"Mmmmmph" You were so scared someone would find you in the empty suite, but it also turned you on more than expected.

"What was that sweetheart? I didn't quite catch that?" His fingers found the waistband of your stockings and pulled them and your panties down with one swift motion. His hand loosened its grip on your jaw so you could speak.

"N-no," You whimpered. This was turning you on way more than it should. You thought you would come up here to talk; maybe he would ask you out on a date. You never thought you would be fucking!

"I don't believe you."

You felt your skirt flipped up and a cool breeze on your wet pussy.

"Tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever filled this pussy?" Eddie asked as he ran a single finger through your wet folds.

"Yes," You admit shakily. You gripped Eddie's wrist of the hand that was clamped around your throat.

Eddie can't say he was surprised that you’ve had men before him. You were beautiful, smart, funny, adorable. It's too bad you had to be with them before he got a taste.

"What a shame you've had to suffer through that before meeting me, babydoll."

"Why is that?" you ask bravely.

Eddie chuckled darkly... "Because baby, I'm about to ruin you for all men."

That made you gulp. You can't believe you were about to fuck your crush in the middle of the work day. You didn't do stuff like this! you were a good girl, a rule follower.

Before you could think anymore about the consequences, Eddie, he slipped his throbbing cock into your needy pussy.

"Holy fuck!" You screamed, and Eddie's hand clamped back down over your mouth to keep you quiet.

Just when Eddie didn't think you could get any hotter, the curse word you let slip from your mouth made his cock twitch inside of you.

"Fuck me, you stretch me out so good," You whine, and Eddie thinks he will bust a nut right then and there. His perfect little angel had the mouth of a whore.

"Yes, you like that, don't you, you dirty little slut." Eddie jerked his hips up into you. It was sharp and hard and hit that delicious spot inside you each time. “You wanna be my good girl? Or my bad girl?”

“Good- oh fuck- good girl. I want to be your good girl!”

“That shut the fuck up and take it like I know you can”

"oh my god, you're so big." Your eyes rolled back into your head as he became more controlled with his rhythm. His hands gripped your hip, and he wrapped his hand in your hair, yanking your head back like he was riding you.

The view Eddie had was your ass bounced off his cock was making his head spin. He knew you would hand a perfect pussy. It was his now and only his.

"This pussy is mine now, understand? Im going to fill this pussy so good you won't know what to do for days. The only thing you're going to be thinking of is me and my fat cock."

All you could do was moan in response. "Yea you like that you dirty little whore. You like that I own this pussy now…” Eddie slowed down, he rolled his hips slowly into your pussy and he swore he saw the light “You have everyone convinced you're a goodgirl but all you are is a cumslut. Tell me how much you want my cum coating your walls"

"I want it so bad!" you cried.

You've never had a dick like this before. Eddie was right, he's ruined you for all men and he hadn't even made you cum... yet. You had full faith that he was able to do so because you could feel it. The warm fuzzy feeling was bubbling up in your core. Eddie had picked up the pace at your omission, and fuck if he wasn’t hitting your g spot with each delicious stroke of his cock hitting your walls.

"Fuck I'm going to cum!" You scream, all caution thrown to the wind, you'd forgotten where you were. The only thing you could think of was Eddie and his delicious cock.

"Fuck yes, babydoll. Come on this cock." Eddie's hand let go of your hair and wrapped it around your throat, pulling you flush to his body.

"More" You whisper.

"Greedy greedy girl."

"Please" You begged. You needed him to touch you.

"There is my good girl." His hand that had gripped your hip slid down and started playing with your swollen clit and your legs almost gave out.

"Next time, I'm keeping my word, and I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy." Eddie growled.

That did it for you; your inner walls squeezed, and you felt your orgasm rush through you. Eddie trusted in you as your body convulsed around him.

"Fuck you're so fucking tight," Eddie grits through his teeth, and he fights off his impending orgasm. He doesn't want this moment to end, he wants it to last forever. What if this is the last chance he has to feel your pussy wrapped around him?

"Please, Eddie, I want your cum! I want your cum so fucking bad, my pussy needs it."

That did it for Eddie, he let go and his hot seed was being shot into you with a roar.

After minutes of silence and heavy breathing, Eddie bent down and pulled up your panties and stockings for you, trapping his cum with it. You turn slowly, afraid to look him in the eyes, but Eddie doesn't allow it. He brings your cin up, guiding your eyes to look into his.

"Don't shy away from me now, babydoll. You're going to go back down to the lobby and finish the rest of your work day knowing my cum is going to be seeping through your pretty little panties, ok?" He ordered, and you dumbly nodded your head, still fucked out by the amazing dick you just received.

"Good girl" Eddie patted your ass, and you walked to the elevator with wobbly legs. Eddie laughed and held you stand straight before letting go before you reached the first floor.

You returned from your break fifteen minutes later than allotted, but Robin covered for you. You couldn't even look her in the eyes, and she knew you got freaky with the freak of Hawkins.

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie x reader #perv!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #dom!eddie munson #dom!eddie Munson x reader #dom!eddie Munson x sub!reader #dom!eddie x reader

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 9 months

Text

Steve was looking around for his wallet to pay the pizza man but he couldn't find it. It was Eddie who found it wedged between the couch cushions.

"Thanks, Daddy," Steve said and went to pay the pizza man.

Eddie's eyes widened, and he whipped his head around to face Robin, whose eyes were just as wide.

"You heard that, right?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, buddy, I did," Robin said. "He does that, though, calls people names that are similar to their own. He called me Bobin the other day. Although, I kind of like it. And Daddy is awfully close to Eddie."

"Oh," Eddie said softly.

"You sound disappointed. Did you want him to call you that?" Robin asked.

"What? No. I like girls," Eddie squeaked.

"Eddie, you know about me. You know I wouldn't care if you were also like me," Robin said softly.

"I like girls, Robin," Eddie said.

"Well, I'm just going to put this information out there, for anyone who's interested. . . You can like more than one gender," Robin said.

"Pardon?" Eddie asked.

Before Robin could even open her mouth, Steve came back into the room.

"You'll never believe who's delivering pizzas now," Steve said, only to find Robin and Eddie staring at him. "What?"

"My name is Eddie," he said.

"Thanks, I had no clue," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "Of course, I know your name is Eddie."

"You called me Daddy," Eddie said.

"No, I did not," Steve said and rolled his eyes. "This is just like when Robin thought I called her Bobin. Is it possible that you're just hearing what you want to hear?"

"You think I want to be called Bobin?" She asked.

"You did say you kind of liked it," Eddie pointed out.

"Okay, the pizzas are getting cold," Steve said and headed into the kitchen.

Eddie leaned forward as he stared blankly ahead. He pressed his hands together.

"Do I want him to call me Daddy?" Eddie asked, and then his eyes went wide. "Oh my God, Bobin, I think I want him to call me Daddy, and while he's in my lap, and he's. . . "

"Woah, you can stop there!" Robin exclaimed.

Eddie jumped up and started pacing. He was muttering under his breath as he did calculations in the air. Robin jumped in front of him and grabbed his shoulders.

"Eddie, this a good thing," she said softly.

"I know, it's just surprising, or maybe I'm surprised about the fact that I'm not really surprised at all," Eddie said. "Everyone's been calling me queer for years, I just - "

"Didn't want them to be right because they're a bunch of assholes," Robin said and grinned. "Well, that's understandable."

Eddie was about to open his mouth to say something else when Steve walked back into the room.

"Did I order pizza for nothing?" Steve asked and Eddie stared at him. "What?"

"Steve," Robin started to say before Eddie started crossing the room.

He didn't even go around the coffee table. He just walked directly over it.

"Eddie! What did I say about walking on the furn - Mmmm!" Steve was interrupted.

Eddie grabbed him, dipped him, and looked at him questioningly with his lips close to Steve’s. Steve nodded, and Eddie crashed his lips to his. Steve immediately gasped into his mouth before kissing him back and gripping his shoulders. Eddie quickly broke the kiss and brought Steve back up.

"Wooo! Yeah, definitely not straight!" Eddie exclaimed and slapped Steve’s ass. "You can call me whatever you want, big boy. Hell, you can even call me Big Daddy if you want to."

Eddie swaggered into the kitchen, leaving Steve dazed.

"I told you accidentally calling him daddy would work," Robin said and then winced. "I didn't know he wasn't awake yet. My bad. The hanky threw me off. Well, it all worked out. Steve? Jesus, where did that kiss send you? It couldn't have been that good."

"Leave me alone, Robin. I'm literally seeing through space and time right now," Steve said, closing his eyes.

"Hey! There's pizza in here! In case you forgot," Eddie called out.

Robin rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen.

"You Vecna'd him with that kiss, asshole!" Robin exclaimed.

"Hmm," Eddie said, his mouth full of pizza. "Maybe another kiss will wake the prince."

He skipped back into the living room.

"I'm eating all the fucking pizza!" Robin yelled.

"That's fine! I found something good to eat in here!" Eddie hollered back.

"Swallow that pizza before you kiss me, Eddie!" She heard Steve exclaim. "I'm not a baby bird!"

Meanwhile, Robin was smiling as they squabbled until it fell into silence. She was glad they both finally figured things out. Her clueless boys. She wouldn't trade them for the world. Hmm, maybe for the recipe for this pizza. Holy shit, they've never been this good before.

"Hey, who'd you say was delivering the pizzas?" Robin asked.

"Not only did they deliver the pizzas, but they also made them!" Steve hollered back.

"Name, Dingus!"

"Argyle!" Steve yelled. "I asked him to stay, but he had other deliveries to make. He said he needed to spread the love."

"Aw. I love that guy," Robin muttered.

As she chewed down on the pizza, she decided that she definitely needed to add a new best friend to her collective. Yeah, Argyle was definitely her new best friend.

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corkinavoid · 7 days

Text

DPxDC Afterlife, But It's A Bar

[discontinued, feel free to add on]

It was weird. Not wrong, alarming or dangerous type of weird. Not good or comforting either.

Just plain weird.

It all started a few days ago, on Wednesday, to be exact. On a rare occasion, Jason was patrolling outside of his territory ("cover for me, I have a date" my ass, Replacement), and he spotted something out of place. A neon green, almost toxic colored sign that read "Afterlife".

Honestly, who names a place like that? But judging by the placement and design, it was a bar, and Jason could almost appreciate the irony. Maybe it had a slogan along the lines of "our drinks will send you beyond the lines of life and death" or something. But at the same time, it could be interpreted as "alcohol can and will be the death of you," which, technically, is not the best PR campaign for a bar.

Jason decided to visit the place anyway. He was curious about the implied death joke, sue him.

Of course, he didn't visit immediately. He was still on patrol, and he just heard the sound of gunshots to the west. Not to say that the place was quiet.

(Oddly quiet for a bar in Gotham, now that he thinks about it)

Anyway, the next day, he went there not as Red Hood but as Jason Todd, an ordinary civilian who decided to grab a beer in the evening. Only to not find the place.

He couldn't have just miss it - he remembered the street, he knew the building, he was absolutely fucking sure where the "Afterlife" should have been. He searched the whole block nonetheless, and then proceeded to check the whole area, but to no avail.

Damn, it seems like he can't get to the afterlife both literally and- the other literally. Yeah, he might be having too much fun with the oddly chosen name for the nonexistent bar.

It didn't exist on the maps and internet either. At this point, Jason was contemplating the idea of it being a hallucination or a dream. He even checked the recording on his helmet from Wednesday night, but the whole time he was in the area, the video was filled with interference and static.

Weird. Slightly suspicious, but Red Robin, who's been patrolling the same area for weeks before him, never reported any interferences, so it probably had something to do with his helmet and not the area in general.

On Thursday night, he purposefully went there right after patrol. And the nonexistent bar suddenly existed again! The same neon green sign, the same quiet street around it.

Seriously, what is this mysterious fuckery?

Now, if he was a Bat, he would have reported this to others and investigated, lurked around in shadows, and approached with caution. If he was a Robin, he would have still reported and then straight up marched in there and saw how it goes.

Alas, he was Red Hood, so he decided to watch for the bar guests and see just who the hell goes in and out of the place.

And there was the next weird thing.

No one was going in or out. Jason sat there for a whole hour, and not even one person entered or left the building. Despite the muffled sounds of music, voices and laughter coming from the place.

The final kicker was the fact that after some careful questioning and dropping hints, Jason found out that no one except him ever saw the "Afterlife"'s sign. No one's even heard of it, both the Batclan and the Gothamites.

The fuck?

So he did the next logical thing. He brought the smartest member of the Bats with him. Tim owed him anyway. Might as well use it now instead of later.

Friday night proved two things: one, Tim was still his favorite to work with out of all the bats and birds, not questioning anything as to why Jason is asking him to check out a bar, and two, Jason just might be going insane.

Tim couldn't see the "Afterlife" even when Jason pointed at the sign from not further than ten feet. The irony of the stipid name was not even amusing anymore.

Tim didn't ask any questions after this experiment, and Jason didn't want to admit that he is losing the grip of reality, so they ended up simply parting their ways after. Can the Pits cause brain damage? More damage than there was in the first place, that is.

Now that he thinks about it, the color of the sign is really similar to the Lazarus waters. He should have noticed it sooner, but in his defense, who would look at the bubbling pool of toxic waters and think, "Oh, that would make a dope neon sign"? Apparently, the owner of the "Afterlife".

The color might be just a coincidence.

...no, in the world he lives in, coincidences like this just don't happen. Besides, Jason doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny.

So, here he is, on Saturday night, standing in front of the door to the Afterlife. It would have been funny if it wasn't so weird. What's even more weird is that the closer he gets to the door, the less nervous he feels, like the place is radiating some calming aura. Wait, no, scratch that, Jason is so not calling it a calming aura for God's sake. That sounds just like those homemade witches with their crystals, tarot readings, and whatnot.

He's going to call it... tranquilizer vibes. Yeah, that's better.

He takes a deep breath, getting ready to see whatever it is on the other side, pushes the door open, and walks into the bar.

...

Whatever he's been expecting to see, it's not this.

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fanaticsnail · 4 months

Note

Sanji in his little "Kiss the Cook" apron.

Is it romantic? Starting as a joke with kisses on the cheek and temple until the two of you end up full on making out?

Or is it platonic? With the straw hats giving him little kisses in passing, starting with Luffy and spreading through the crew until even Zoro relents? Because what's better than kissing the homies goodnight?

You tell me snail, what's the move?

-♡♡ lots of love

"porque no los dos?"

Kiss the Cook

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,700+

Synopsis: Sanji was gifted an apron from Nami after returning back from town. Every member of the crew aside from Zoro and you have followed the embroidered instructions written on his chest, and he wasn't happy about the lack of kisses from you. You finally relent and give him what he wants.

Themes: platonic kisses, fluff, implied f!reader - but can be read as gn!reader, sanji has feelings for you, you have unspoken feelings for sanji, idiots in love, Sanji has lost that 'line-cook rizz'.

Notes: This has been in my ask box for less than a day. I don't know what it is about you, anon. As soon as I see those two little hearts I'm just overtaken by something. I blame the "kisses". @chikariart on twitter.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @indydonuts @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @writingmysanity

“Could these onions misbehave any more?” the chef grumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth and clamping hard down on his cigarette, “C’mon, now. What have I gotta do to get your layers off? Talk dirty to you?” He used the steel edge of his knife to attempt to pry the brown outer layer away from its fleshy underside with shaking hands.

Sanji’s nerves were ignited, his whole composure on edge and waiting for the next intrusion in his kitchen and potential distraction from his work.

When Nami brought the frilly pink apron his way, he was initially ecstatic at the notion he was thought of enough to be given a little gift. But as the red embroidery with white stitched hearts expressed consent for his body to be given sweet kisses at all times, he was truly alert. With an assault of affection from all who approached him each time he adorned the fabric in its wake, he was finding it difficult to focus on each mundane kitchen task.

In this case, peeling onions was the bane of his existence. As the flickered peel almost withdrew from the circular bulb, it split and only chipped off a small amount of the outer layer.

Sanji loved kisses, adored kisses: all the cheek, forehead and shoulder kisses he'd received from the crew. Cheeky Nami kisses, soft Robin kisses, and nibbled toothy kisses from Chopper were his favorites.

He was less enthusiastic about hulking, wet kisses from Franky, nor the hungry cheek kisses from Luffy which was used to depict the state of his appetite. Usopp was the middle ground, his kisses were a tease on his shoulder with a rough clap and a gaggle of laughter immediately thereafter.

Brook’s kisses were actually quite funny to the blonde cook. As the skeleton man had no lips to kiss with, he resigned himself to the notion of simply walking past him, and taunting him with a melodic hum of the words: “kiss,” “kisses,” or an emphatic “mwah,” as he did so.

Of the members of the remaining crew, he was happy that the stinky moss-head kept his lips to himself. There was no way he would allow him the closer proximity to his body without starting a sparring match. He was, however, not so happy that you were yet to place your lips sweetly on the apple of his cheek.

Sanji adored you, wanted to treat you with the utmost respect and dote on you alongside the other members of the crew. You were special to him, and he rationalized that his small crush was why he was craving a scrap of your attention so much. As he continued cursing at the onions, he heard a soft tap on the doorway to the kitchen.

“Need help, cook?” Sanji looked up, noticing you leaning on the side of the door. He smiled softly at you, biting back his smile and gulping his insecurity.

“Oh, beautiful angel,” he managed to turn away from the counter and look out the window as he resumed his battle with the onions, “I'm all good here, don't you worry yourself. Go relax with the others.” You clicked your tongue and stepped closer to the bench and stood a few feet away from the blonde cook.

Noticing his posture, you knit your brows in puzzlement. He was twitching while he was going about his peeling, finally managing to coax the shell away from the exterior and sigh in relief. His cheeks were tinted a soft shade of pastel pink, his nose the most darkened by the blushy hue.

Looking down, the frilly pink apron with ‘Kiss the Cook,’ held the final piece of information as to his nervous composure. You smiled softly at him, looking to where his hands skillfully minced the onions and threw them into a scorching pot with molten butter and aromatic herbs.

He rinsed his hands in the sink, lathering them with soapy froth and soaking the suds with glassy water. The scent from the pot of sweetened onions with rosemary, sage and thyme had your mouth salivating in anticipation of what was to come.

“What's cooking, good looking?” you smiled at him softly, gesturing with your chin to the pot on the stove. He froze up, his ears tinting darker with the shade of pink.

“J-Just a mirepoix,” he stuttered out, prompting you to shake your head and offer him a soft laugh in response. Taking the extinguished cigarette out of his lips, he placed the butt in the bin beneath the sink.

Noticing the tension in his body, you reach up and place a hand on his shoulder to urge him to turn to face you. He meets his gray orbs with yours, a sheepish look on his face as you gaze up into his eyes.

“You've been off the line for too long, Sanji,” you scrunch your nose up playfully at him, “Lost that flirtatious kitchen charisma and banter, blushing like a bride at the most simple of compliments. What's going on with you?” You graze your fingers along his jaw, leaving a rising layer of goose flesh in its wake.

“I-It’s-...” Sanji gulped his nerves back, hanging his head with a soft laugh and subtle shake in response, “...It's this stupid apron.” You look down at the apron with a smirk.

“What about the ‘stupid apron’, Sanji?” you ask with a raised brow before gazing back into his eyes, “Not your color?” He continued smiling and shaking his head at you before looking up through his eyelashes into your questioning and puzzled eyes.

“To be honest with you,” he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to halt his words from sounding too eager, “I actually love it. Even though it started as a joke, it has actually made a big difference the way I’ve been feeling lately.” He shrugged, turning his eyes back to the ground and snickering, “Stupid, right?”

Cupping his face, you elevate his head and hum at him in deep contemplation.

“Not stupid,” you shrug at him, darting your eyes between his and flickering your gaze down to his lips, “Not stupid at all.” His breath hitched in his throat, eyes beginning to fill with hope as you drew your face ever closer to his.

Closing his eyes, he parted his lips and anticipated feeling yours brush with them. His heart beat in his throat, his ears hearing that drum of hope ringing with his elevated pulse. As he drew his face closer still, the balloon of anticipation was instantly deflated as he felt your lips brush with the apple of his cheek and linger for less than a single second.

As you withdrew from his cheek, Sanji was left feeling like a complete idiot. He stared vacantly, directly ahead with unblinking eyes and his ego completely deflated. His heart fizzled out like a flame being snuffed by a wet blanket.

Looking at his vacant expression and the soft blush on his cheeks, you couldn’t help yourself. A single, timid kiss was not enough of an indulgence to grant to the blonde cook, in your opinion. You leaned forward once more, pressing a soft kiss on his angular jaw before pressing another on his neck above his pulse and beneath his ear lobe.

Sanji’s breath hitched, his hands opening and closing in clenched fists and shaking extensions. Gasping, he leant his head to the side and whimpered at the soft touches you were pressing into his skin. His pulse quickened, his breath hitched, and his eyes clenched tightly shut as he argued with himself where to place his hands on you.

Trailing your lips down to his collarbone, you pressed a sweet and gentle kiss against the bone before clamping your teeth down onto the flesh. Sanji mewled in pleasure at the attention, throwing his head back and drawing up his forearm to his face to catch the damp blood from exiting his nose. His head was dizzy, his lips parting and whining as he felt your tongue swirl around the soft bite to his collar.

Pulling away from him, you sucked your lips into your mouth and bit-back your smile at his reaction. He slowly drew his eyes down to meet yours, the irises eclipsed by blown pupils and his desire. Giggling at him, you tilted your head to the side and clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your feet.

Sanji surged his body forward, claiming your cheeks beneath his hands and carding his fingers through your hair the moment his lips descended onto yours. You squeaked in response, immediately placing your hands on Sanji’s hips as he pinned you against the sink with his hips. His kisses were needy, desperate and full of desire.

As he rotated his chin to deepen the oscillation, you reached up to his shoulder and tapped it twice while gasping in his mouth. He tugged himself away, looking down at you in shock with wide eyes and panting breath.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he began to hastily relay his apologies, “I didn’t mean to do that, truly. The other kisses I get from the crew are usually a little more hasty and less indulgent. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, honest-.”

“-Sanji,” you laugh at him, looking up through half-hooded lashes and brushing your nose with his, “Your mirepoix is going to burn.”

Immediately, Sanji broke himself away from you and stomped over to the large pot. He grumbled as he stirred the aromatics with a wooden spoon, growling under his breath, “This stupid apron has been nothing but a complete distraction.” You giggled at him as he aggressively began stirring at the pot to salvage the caramelizing vegetables.

“That’s it,” he tore the apron away from his chest and cast it to the side, “No more kisses in the kitchen. I refuse to have good food spoil because I’ve been getting distracted by soft kisses… sweet kisses…” he trailed off, fishing around in his pocket for a cigarette after he rotated the vegetables within the butter.

Shaking your head, you go and retrieve the apron from where he cast it aside and hung it over the kitchen table. Eyeing him over mischievously, you walk over to him and hold his hips firmly from behind and place one more soft kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Come find me when you want to put on that stupid apron again, hm?” you utter, releasing his hips and making your way over to the kitchen doorway and out of the room with haste.

Sanji shook his head with a warm smile and a dark blush. Looking to where you had just left, he sighed deeply and began to focus solely on the meal preparation with no more cause for distraction.

#one piece #x reader #sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #op sanji #black leg sanji x reader #kiss the cook #ask snail #snail answers #anon. what are you doing to me?#I love your requests #they're so much fun to write #straw hats #straw hat sanji #straw hat pirates #one piece x reader

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bats-and-the-birds · 6 months

Text

I like to think about young Dick Grayson a lot, and right now I'm specifically thinking about him from the Justice League's perspective.

Like, imagine you're in the Justice League, maybe you've been there for a few months, maybe for a few years, but either way, you know how it works. Superman's terrifyingly powerful, but you get over the fear factor as soon as you see him cry over a sad cat video, and Wonder Woman's still a bit intimidating, but as long as you're good and truthful, you can trust that she won't crush your head like a grape.

And Batman... well, you've made your peace with the fact that you'll never figure him out. You know literally nothing about him, other than the fact that he claims to be fully human, but you're not even really sure about that, because you're pretty sure he just materializes in the shadows sometimes. The only things that you're 100% sure of is that you're terrified of him, and you're so glad that he's not on someone else's side.

And then, suddenly, he has acquired a child. Just like everything else, you don't find out immediately, because god forbid that man tell his team anything. But you start to hear vague reports of another shadow trailing behind Batman in the night. Superman asks him about it one day, but of course, he doesn't respond, and they all wonder, but it never gets brought up again.

But one day, unexpectedly, that shadow is at a league meeting, and he's not as shadowy as you would have thought. In fact, he's wearing the most vibrant costume you've seen, and you spend all of your time with other heroes in spandex. He's also young. Terrifyingly young. It's his twelfth birthday, actually, he explains to the league, and he pestered 'B' until he agreed to take him to a meeting. You all agree later that he looks younger than twelve. And you worry about him, because why is this child in Batman's care? Can he really be trusted to look after someone so small, so young, so seemingly fragile?

Besides, Robin (Robin, his name is Robin, he's a songbird for christ's sake), is everything that you'd think Batman would hate. He talks everyone's ear off with a giant grin stretched across his entire face. He begs Superman to fly him around and cackles and claps as Wonder Woman demonstrates basic sword maneuvers for him. Before long, the whole team is in a better mood. Meanwhile, Batman stands in the shadows, his face impassive, with no explanation about the little masked boy that walked into the room hiding under his cape.

He leaves just as he came, disappearing under Batman's cape as the two exit the watchtower together, and the whole league is left to wonder how the fuck that child ended up in Batman's care, and whether or not they should intervene, because spending prolonged time in Batman's company cannot be healthy for a child.

But then he starts showing up more and more, popping up in some places that you know from Batman's glare he's not supposed to be. He's teamed up with that speedster boy and the two of them cause havoc, but Robin takes the lecture he gets with a grin and gives a half hearted promise to behave.

You steadily start to realize that he might not be as out of place in Batman's company as you originally thought. You realize that the boy is a performer through and through, and that extends to that grin of his that dazzled the team when they first met him. You get the impression that sometimes its genuine, yes, but you'd never know if it wasn't. His exuberance is a persona held in place as meticulously as Batman's grim seriousness.

And though you'd assumed that Batman's sidekick (partner, the boy insisted, rather intensely, though his smile never faltered) would be well trained, this kid could take down league members, you're sure. You quickly realize that he enjoys fighting, and he fights viciously, giggling and putting on a show, but leaving broken bones in his wake. Your first impression is that Robin was more human than the demon they called the Batman, but you quickly start to question that too. If Batman can materialize in shadows, then Robin can fly. He twists through the air like gravity doesn't affect him and lands with so much grace that you'd think he had hollow bones like his namesake. You're not fully convinced he doesn't, considering he climbs up the bat with no warning, clinging onto his back like he belongs there (you quickly start to think he does), or he'll throw himself through the air with no more warning than a quick 'catch' yelled to his partner. And Batman catches him. Batman always catches him. Everyone keeps an eye on him when he's up high, but there's a part of you that feels like it's impossible that he'd ever fall. Or at least, impossible that Batman would ever let him hit the ground.

And you start to think that Robin's exactly where he's supposed to be; perched on Batman's shoulder, hiding in his cape, or fighting by his side. You still hope there's a normal boy behind the mask, going to school and making friends with someone to tuck him in at night, but you also can't imagine anything normal about Robin, and maybe that's why he needs to be by Batman's side, and maybe that's why Batman needs him too.

#batman #comics #dc comics #dick grayson #justice league #robin #batman and robin #dick grayson robin #dick grayson headcanon #batman headcanon #justice league headcanon #headcanon #sorry this is so long #i had more to say than i thought about tiny dick grayson #and kinda just kept typing #i'll write a fic if people want it

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rambling-at-midnight · 1 month

Text

Second Chances

Summary: It’s not common knowledge that you have a superpower: regeneration. You didn’t think that would be a problem... Jason and Damian think otherwise.

Relationships: Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader, Damian Wayne & Jason Todd & Reader (platonic because they’re brothers duh)

DAMIAN WAYNE IS MY SON I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (I just watched the Supersons movie he makes me smile so hard)

Word Count: 4.8k

Content warning for temporary character death. Reader’s vigilante name is Ghoul, BTW.

Jason is in the shower when he hears someone break into his apartment.

He groans, makes sure all the shampoo is rinsed out of his hair, then grabs the knife mounted to his curtain rod. It’s not the first time someone has attacked him in the shower, and it probably won’t be the last. Still, Jason wishes they would at least give him time to grab a towel. It’s just as uncomfortable for him as it is for them.

This time, they actually do. Maybe they’re going to be polite enough to wait for him to finish cleaning all of Gotham’s sludge off his body. Jason would appreciate the sentiment more if the upcoming fight wouldn’t immediately dirty his body again with their blood.

He doesn’t turn off the shower when he steps out, dries his feet on the bath mat. He’s reaching for his towel when he hears one of the intruders say something.

He recognizes that voice.

Jason sticks his head out of the bathroom and glowers. “What are you doing here, brat?”

Damian Wayne, one of Bruce Wayne’s many children and the current Robin, scowls right back. “Why is your shower still running, Todd? Do you not care for conservation efforts? There are people in Michigan who would—”

“Okay, Dami,” interrupts another voice.

Jason’s whole body flushes. He makes sure every part of him except his face is hidden behind the door when a second person comes into view.

Your vigilante costume is zipped halfway, the top pulled down and sleeves tied around your waist, exposing the compression shirt with kevlar-like weave you wore beneath it. A large bandage is wrapped around your upper arm, growing redder by the second.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jason says. Does he sound too excited? Does he not sound excited enough?

You just smile. “Hey, Jace. Sorry, we came by for first aid supplies. We’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.”

“No, don’t rush on my account,” Jason says. Does he sound too desperate? “Just give me a—”

He ducks back into the bathroom to turn off the shower after making sure he’s clean and one hundred percent soap-free. Not expecting company, he’d only brought a pair of boxers and military-style shorts in with him. Rushing, hoping you don’t leave before he gets out (Damian can leave, though) he pulls both on and slams the door open.

It hits the wall so hard it rebounds back into Jason’s hand. You jump at the sound, nearly poking Damian with the needle in your hand.

“Watch it, idiot!” Damian snaps. To Jason, he says, “You just dented your wall. Moron.”

“Don’t talk to them like that,” Jason says sternly. God, he knows why the brat is so prickly, but he still got on Jason’s last nerves. He checks the wall, hoping the brat exaggerated, but nope. Another dent to match the nicks, scrapes, and bullet holes that already littered his apartment.

He is never getting back his security deposit.

You’re about to stitch up a cut on Damian’s arm when Jason clucks his tongue. “That doesn’t look good.” The bandage around your arm is sodden with blood.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say dismissively. “Ready, Dami?”

Interestingly enough, the brat doesn’t tell you off for giving him a nickname. It seems to be a privilege reserved exclusively for you and Dick; every time Jason tries, he’s vehemently told off.

Then again, his nicknames are usually derogatory. That might contribute to it a little bit.

Damian sets his jaw and you stitch him up quickly, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” every time his fingers twitch—the only indication of pain he’ll show. Jason eyes the bandage around your arm with worry, but the blood stain doesn’t grow any more in the interim.

As soon as you tie off the thread, Damian hops to his feet and scurries for the bathroom. You start to get up, brow pinched with worry, but Jason says, “Let me look at your arm.”

Your eyes take a while to slide from the shut bathroom door to Jason’s face, but then you say, “Yeah, okay,” and sink back into your chair.

To distract you as he unpeels the sticky bandage from your arm, Jason asks, “So you’re on babysitting duty now, huh?”

“Oh, no, Damian and I patrol together every Friday night.” You use finger quotes with the other hand and say, “B think it ‘promotes more accountability’ when someone gets injured during patrol if they have a partner.”

Jason frowns at the sight of the cut. It’s obviously from a knife, and not pretty, exactly, but also not big enough to let out as much blood as soaked through the bandage. “Who did this to you?”

“Just a typical goon. It’s really not a big deal.” Your eyes follow Jason’s gaze. “I guess it bled a lot, huh? Like a head wound. You know, disproportionate.” You tug your sleeve over the wound.

“Y/N is not as weak as the rest of you,” Damian sneers, having vacated the bathroom on silent feet. You jump, and so does Jason, even though he has Batman-honed instincts.

There’s just something intoxicating about your presence. You’re… distracting.

It was manageable back before Jason was Robin and you were one of his classmates. You were obsessed with Batman and crimefighting, and Jason was a bookworm, so your friendship shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

Then, ironically, Bruce Wayne adopted him and Jason became the crimefighter. He never told you about his identity to protect Bruce’s, but you figured it out when he died.

Then he came back to Gotham, hellbent on revenge, and burned every bridge he’d ever built. Including the one with you.

Jason still could barely believe you give him the time of day after all the awful things he’d said and done. But you’re just as obsessed with redemption and forgiveness as Bruce, and he will never take that for granted.

His fascination with you was manageable before Jason died, but it’s downright consuming now.

Jason can’t believe how you’d grown up to be so… so flat-out amazing. Graceful, and maybe not as skilled at hand-to-hand as the rest of Gotham’s vigilantes, but you adapt with a long-range fighting style. You’re strong, and self-assured, and really, seriously gorgeous.

Jason realizes his hand is still on your arm, touching the soft skin, and he yanks it away as if burnt. He doesn’t understand how you remain so scar-free despite years of crimefighting, and he’s abruptly self-conscious about the marks that litter his torso, arms, and legs. Your eyes roam over them, lingering on his chest and stomach

He’s most self-conscious about the jagged ‘J’ carved into his cheek, and Jason tries to cover it with his hand without drawing attention. That doesn’t work—he looks like a weirdo waving his hands around—so he tilts his cheek away so you don’t have to see it anymore.

You clear your throat and look away, as if embarrassed for some reason.

Damian’s gaze pingpongs between the two of you before he rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Are you two finished?”

You push away from the table and make a grabby hand. Damian rolls his eyes again, but he sidles closer, and you check his stitched cut. Your thumb rubs over the raised line of stitches like you’re trying to wipe his pain away.

Jason realizes he’s staring at the bottom lip you’re jutting out in sympathy. He flushes again.

After everything he did, he can’t expect anything more than friendship from you. If that’s what you’re willing to give, he’ll never push for more.

“I am fine, Y/N,” Damian said, pushing your hand away, albeit gently. A hint of whine entered his voice and Jason blinked. It wasn’t often that he heard Damian sound like an actual kid. “Can we resume patrol now?”

“Wait,” Jason hears someone say, and it’s—him, he’s the one saying it. “Are you hungry? I have a casserole in the oven.”

Damian snorts. “My apologies. I did not know you had adopted the personality of a middle-aged white wom—”

You cover Damian’s mouth with your hand and say, “That sounds great, Jay. Thanks.”

Jason’s greedy. He’ll take whatever scraps he can get from you.

The three of you eat, the conversation pleasant whenever Damian isn’t threatening Jason because Jason taunted him. You laugh as they bicker, used to the antics of Gotham’s vigilantes by now.

Once everyone is done, it’s just about time for the Red Hood to start his patrol, so with a little cajoling from you, Damian agrees to let Jason tag along until your patrol ends. Jason suits up, and you lead the charge out of his apartment window, followed by Damian. Jason is last out, stopping briefly to make sure the window latches before stepping off the fire escape.

The sensation of his stomach rising is familiar from so many years of grappling through the city, but no less exhilarating. He follows your and Robin’s flipping shapes as the two of you tear through the city. The bright primary color accents on Robin’s suit and the pale gray color of your own shouldn’t blend in so well with Gotham’s shadows, but you and Damian manage pretty well. It turns into kind of a game of tag, and whenever he gets close enough, you grin and twist away, muffling laughter behind one hand.

He could definitely catch you, but he thinks you’re enjoying the game of cat-and-mouse just as much as he, if not more.

Jason’s just thinking to himself that there’s not much crime tonight when the Batsignal lights up the sky.

“Way to ruin the mood,” he grumbles. The game is over. The three of you grapple toward the giant light without any more flipping or laughter.

Jim Gordon obviously isn’t expecting them when they land. After all, it’s common knowledge that Ghoul is a Bat-affiliate, but Red Hood’s alliance with the Batclan is still relatively new. Shaky.

And a lot of people still think the Red Hood hates Ghoul. Admittedly, the way Jason tried to kill you when he returned hadn’t helped the rumors.

It made sense at the time. He’d also tried to kill Batman, Nightwing, and Robin, so it’s not like it was entirely personal. You don’t hold a grudge.

“Where’s Batman?” is his first question.

You shrug. “Running late.”

Jason’s not sure if that’s true. With you and Robin patrolling Newtown and Otisburg, Spoiler and Red Robin handling everything from the Coventry to the Upper East Side, and Black Bat and Batwing watching over everything else but the Tricorner, the city is in pretty good hands for the night.

And yes, Jason’s knowledge about patrol schedules is from his days as a crime lord, but it still comes in handy as a reformed vigilante.

“Why did you summon us here, Commissioner?” Robin asks.

“Bane escaped Arkham earlier tonight,” says the Commissioner. “We have reason to believe he’s hiding out in Amusement Mile. The Joker’s not out, for one, and we have a… witness… that claims to have seen Bane in the park.”

“Where is this witness?” Robin demands.

“In our holding cell, sobering up,” Gordon says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Oh, great,” Jason says. “So it might have been Bane, or it might have been one of those giant stuffed bears at every amusement park.”

You elbow him in the side and promise Gordon, “We’ll check it out, Commish. Let you know when he’s handled again!”

You and Robin balance on the edge of the roof. Jason asks in a low tone, “Batman’s not coming tonight, is he?” He would have already been here.

You and Robin share a guilty look.

Jason sighs. Bane is a tough opponent, possibly their strongest rogue. It’ll take a lot of force to bring him down… force he’s not sure you and Robin can muster. You’re good vigilantes, don’t get him wrong, but Robin is a prepubescent boy and has the height and muscle mass to show for it. You’re strong and graceful and should be fine as long as you keep your distance, but Jason’s the only one that comes close to Bane in terms of muscle mass.

It’ll be up to him to keep the two of you safe.

“I think I parked my bike somewhere around here,” you say. “It’ll get us there faster than grappling.”

Jason thinks something is stuck in his throat. He croaks, “You have a motorcycle?”

You nod. He can’t see your face beneath the mask, but he’s pretty sure you’re smiling. “Got it just a couple weeks ago, but I needed Earl to paint it over.”

“It is parked in that alley.” Robin points.

“Okay,” Jason says. “You two drive to my apartment. I’ll follow above, then we’ll head to Amusement Mile.”

“Aye-aye,” you joke. “Come on, bud.”

You and Robin swing away, the younger boy loudly complaining about the myriad nicknames you think up for him. Jason swings away to get a headstart. A minute later, the sound of a bike engine revving hits Jason’s ears, and it isn’t long after that he looks down to see you and Robin on a pale bike painted in the same colors as your suit.

You look up and wave.

Jason almost misses his next swing. He swallows and has to look away. Seeing you on a motorcycle…

As soon as he puts the key in his bike’s ignition, you speed away, tires squealing against the asphalt. Jason grins and twists the throttle. He shoots onto the street and hunches low to decrease wind resistance, pushing the bike hard to catch up to you.

You wear no helmet, but you’d forced Robin to wear one. He sits behind you on the bike, arms locked around your waist. At the sight of Jason, he makes a rude gesture, but Jason just huffs out a laugh. The brat likes to aggravate him on purpose, but it’s hard to feel annoyed when he drives next to you, racing side-by-side.

It doesn’t take long to reach Amusement Mile. You and Jason shift gears, rolling to a stop.

“You and Robin go high,” Jason instructs. “I’ll go low.”

“Roger.” You kick the stand for your bike, then you and Robin shoot your grapples for the nearest roof.

In seconds, the two of you are out of sight.

Jason swallows. He hates this strip of clown-themed land. The Joker isn’t in it currently, but it still reminds him of that madman.

Come on. He shakes himself. Jason can’t afford to get distracted. Bane is dangerous.

Jason makes no effort to muffle the sounds of his footsteps as he strolls through the park. A plastic bag drifts along the path with a gust of wind, and a couple bowling pins on the ground roll. But apart from that, the park is empty and quiet.

Too quiet.

Jason turns just in time to avoid a crushing blow to his head.

He hits the ground rolling and comes up with guns blazing. Bullets deflect off Bane’s armor, and he doesn’t seem to feel the ones that burrow into his skin.

“You will not stop me, Red Hood,” says the mechanized voice. “No one will stop me in my pursuit to break Batman, even though he sent you in his place.”

“He didn’t send me,” says Jason.

Help comes from above. A steel bola—one of your weapons of choice—whips through the air and wraps around Bane’s throat. He chokes and reaches up to untangle it. At the same time, a Batarang slices through the air and cuts straight through one of the hoses pumping super-steroid into his body.

He groans. Drops to one knee.

Jason spares a glance to the rooftops, but he only sees Robin.

That moment of distraction costs him. Bane surges back to his feet and tackles him. Jason hits the ground, the back of his head colliding against the pavement so hard his vision blacks out for a moment.

He blinks away the darkness in time to see a punishing fist aimed right for his head. There’s not enough time to dodge. Jason can only brace for an impact… that never comes.

The hook of a grapple is embedded into Bane’s wrist. Its line is taught. On the roof of a decrepit popcorn stand, Robin yanks back with all his might.

Jason knees Bane in the crotch, then elbows him in the face.

Bane grunts and yanks his arm forward, pulling Robin right to the ground in a flutter of cape, but Jason slips out from beneath him and rolls to his feet. Bane may be strong, and his hits may hurt, but that’s only if they connect. And Bane isn’t very fast.

The engine of a bike roars, and your voice shouts, “Hood, out of the way!”

Jason obeys without thinking. It’s a good thing he doesn’t hesitate, because he barely dodges your motorcycle before you ram it full-speed into Bane.

Not even the giant can resist a motorcycle going full-throttle. He topples back, and you keep driving, treating his body like a ramp.

Jason laughs despite himself. “I can see tire tracks on your face, ugly!” He and Robin throw knives at the same time. Robin’s slices off another steroid line. Jason’s lodges in Bane’s shoulder. It should have severed his deltoid, leaving his arms useless, but the man doesn’t react to the pain at all.

Getting run over pisses Bane off. You turn in a sharp circle on the bike and rev your engine, obviously ready to try the same trick twice.

But Jason sees the tension in Bane’s legs, and he’s shouting for you to stop after you start.

You don’t listen. You just drive.

Bane sidesteps your bike at the last possible second, and his arm shoots out. His hand is large enough to wrap around your entire throat, and it yanks you off your bike, which skids away with a screech of tire and metal. You choke, scrabbling at the iron fingers around your throat.

Jason has his gun out in a second, but Bane holds your body in front of his. So Jason shoots his foot. It doesn't have an effect.

“Ghoul!” Robin shouts. He unsheathes his katana.

“I tire of this,” Bane says through his modulator.

He snaps your neck.

“NO!”

It’s like the world slows down. Jason can only watch as Bane carelessly drops your lifeless body.

He sees Robin lunge with his sword. He sees Bane casually backhand him so hard he drops his katana. Robin flies backward, hits the popcorn stand, and slumps to the ground, motionless.

Bane steps on you—your body—and something in your spine cracks. Something in Jason’s chest cracks, too, and he sees green.

The Pit surges.

After it recedes, Robin’s katana is lodged firmly in a moaning Bane’s side. Every one of his steroid pumps is severed, and his mask is cracked. He’s weak enough without his Venom that three Bat-restraints and a set of handcuffs can hold him.

Huh. Jason’s surprised he didn’t kill him.

His knuckles are bleeding; they’re slick inside his gloves. When he flexes his fingers, pain screams up his nerves, through his arm all the way to his heart. At least two are broken, and another knuckle might be dislocated. His jaw hurts, his brain is pounding—concussion, probably—and his knee feels swollen. But he can put pressure on it, at least, and he limps to a stirring Robin.

“Hey,” Jason says. His voice is rough. He doesn’t remember yelling. He tries to crouch, but can’t with the stiff knee, so he just kind of collapses in front of the kid. “Robin. Status report.”

The kid looks at him, wobbling even though he’s sitting down. One hand goes up to touch the back of his head, and the tips of his gloves gleam with dark blood when he pulls it back. “Possible concussion,” he says with a wavering voice. “Ribs—”

Robin gasps and stumbles to his feet.

“Don’t—”

Jason tries to grab him, but Robin wobbles out of his reach. He walks hunched over in a zigzag, limping to your—

Jason grunts and stands back up. “Hey, hey, Robin.” He gets between the kid and you. “Don’t. Don’t—don’t look.”

“Do not stop me, Todd,” hisses the kid, and wow, he must be seriously out of it to use Jason’s civilian name. “Let me see them.”

“You don’t want to,” Jason says grimly. He’s seen snapped necks before, and they’re… Well, they’re as unnatural-looking as they sound.

He hears a rushing in his ears. A wave of grief is cresting, ready to sweep him away, but Jason has to keep it together for Robin. He barely hears his own voice when he says, “Ghoul’s gone.” He can’t say the ‘D’ word. Not when he feels like puking.

“Unhand me, you blackguard,” Robin hissed. “You do not understand. They might be—”

“They’re not.”

“Todd!” the kid says, voice rising into a shrill.

Something clicks behind them.

Jason whirls around to make sure Bane hasn’t broken out of his restraints.

He hasn’t.

So what made the noise?

He and Robin are looking right at the body when some invisible force takes your head and—and wrenches it.

Robin lets out a low cry.

Jason feels frozen. He doesn’t stop the kid when he stumbles forward and collapses next to the body. His shoulders shake, head bowed with grief.

Jason is still watching when he sees your chest rise and fall with a breath.

“Oh, what the fuck,” he whispers, stumbling back. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the—”

Your head raises, and you reach to your neck with a wince.

Robin freezes.

“Ow,” you grumble, pushing up to your elbows. “That sucked.”

“What the fuck?” Jason exclaims.

“What is going on?” Robin demands.

You look between the two vigilantes. “Sorry to freak you out, guys.” Which is a completely underwhelming thing to say when you just died and then unsnapped your own neck.

Robin makes a low, wounded sound, then throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck and squeezing hard. You hug him back just as tight, murmuring low things that Jason tries not to hear. It’s a personal moment, and he feels like an intruder, but he can’t move. His feet are planted to the ground.

Seconds ago, you’d been dead. No doubt about it. Bane had snapped your neck and you had crumbled like paper.

Now you’re breathing and alive.

It doesn’t compute. It doesn’t make any sense.

Robin comes to the same conclusion, because he pulls away and pinches your arm. “How is this possible?”

“Bud, do you remember when… you remember when Pyg got me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I don’t,” says Jason. Professor Pyg kidnapped you? What the fuck? When did that happen?

You look up at him, still holding Robin close. “We weren’t exactly on speaking terms when it happened, Hood.”

Oh.

“But Father ran his tests and said his experimentation just gave you advanced healing,” says Robin.

“Which is technically true—”

“Resurrection is quite different from healing!” the kid says.

“Wait, you knew they had powers?” Jason asks Robin.

The kid sneers at him. “Of course. I was the one that found Ghoul, and I patrol with them at least once a week. It would take an unobservant fool to miss their obvious healing abilities."

Jason bristles with indignation.

Robin's head turns on a swivel to glare at you. "It was less obvious that you have nothing to fear from physical injuries. Informing me of this fact would have greatly reduced the chances of experiencing emotional distress at the sight of your dead, mangled body."

"I know," you say, cupping his chin in your hand. "I'm really, really sorry, Dami."

"Do not address me as such," he says, "we are in costume." Robin huffs and scrambles out of your lap, brushing debris off his suit. Then he wobbles and nearly falls over, and you lunge to catch him.

"Woah, bud, you okay?"

"He's concussed," Jason says.

"Too concussed to ride on the back of my bike?"

"Of course not," says Robin. Then he leans over and pukes.

"Oh, Batman's gonna kill me," you mutter.

It's a much tamer drive to the Batcave, in case Robin rolls off the bike accidentally. He doesn't, but you do have to stop a couple of times so he can lean over the side and retch.

When all is said and done and you're back at the Cave and Alfred and Bruce are fussing over Damian, you and Jason hang back a bit. He can't stop sneaking glances at you. Your Ghoul mask is off, and there's a little dried blood around your nostrils, and your hair is a little sweaty, but you're the most beautiful thing Jason's ever seen.

You're alive. He can hardly believe it.

You suddenly sigh and mutter, "I guess you're mad at me, too?"

"What?" Jason startles.

"For not telling you about my abilities."

"Y/N—"

"I just didn't want you guys to think of me differently. Duke has his powers, yeah, but he was born with them. I got mine from Pyg. I didn't want everyone to start treating me like a victim."

All things considered, you're remarkably well-adjusted for someone that survived Professor Pyg's experimentation. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Y/N," says Jason. "Your powers don't change that. They make me feel a little better about you patrolling at night, anyway. They're basically like... a second chance."

You snort. "I think I'm on my fifth chance by this point."

Jason shakes his head. "How did you keep your powers a secret, again?"

"Well, the first time, Pyg shut off my heart, but that didn't shut down my body. When I actually noticed that I couldn't die, though, was that time one of Cobblepot's goons stabbed me in the neck and I woke up in the middle of a shootout. Now that wasn't fun." You grimace. "A bullet caught me in the head and I died as soon as I sat up. The Bats were too preoccupied to notice me, luckily. Then there was that time with the poison dart that I kept a secret, and now this time." You smirk, cross your arms, and bump Jason's hip with your own. "I'm beating you in the resurrection department, aren't I?"

Jason huffs, pretending to be offended, and your eyes widen. "Oh, my God. That was in such poor taste. I'm so sorry."

"No," he says, trying to hide the twist of his lips. If it was anyone else saying it, Jason would probably kill them. "No, it's okay. I'm just glad you're all right. It would have been awful if you'd died and I never took the chance to..."

"Chance to what?" You look up at him through your eyelashes.

Jason's breath catches in his throat. He's never done this before, dammit, but seeing you die today made him remember just how limited their time is as vigilantes.

Well, maybe not yours, but he walks a thin line.

"Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you," Jason says slowly, feeling sweat prickle on his hairline, "want to... Um. Get coffee? With me. As in, like—"

"A date?"

"Only if you want to."

You nod, eyes sparkling. "Hell yeah I want to!"

Damian, Bruce, and Alfred look over at your raised voice. Their disapproving smiles are all eerily similar.

"Sorry," you whisper. You look back at Jason and say, "Yeah, I'd like that. I've been waiting ages for you to ask."

Yes. You said yes. Adrenaline rushes through Jason's veins, and he only barely resists the urge to pump his fist in the air like a moron. He's brave enough to tease, "Well, why didn't you ask me?"

Your face flushes and you look away.

It's at that moment that Damian calls, "Y/N. Stop twittering with Todd and come here. Your presence is required."

"Seriously," Jason said under his breath, "the way he talks like a Victorian child doesn't bother you at all?"

You're smiling. "I think he's adorable." You walk backwards to the brat, making a phone gesture with your hand and mouthing to Jason, Call me.

He definitely will.

"Master Jason," comes Alfred's disapproving voice when he turns back to his bike. "Don't think I didn't notice that you have your own injuries to tend to."

Of course, that sets off Bruce's worry alert even more.

Jason groans. He won't be able to sneak out for coffee with you for an entire week after this whole debacle.

DC Taglist

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Let me know if there's anything you guys want to see with Jason in the future. My requests are open!

#jason todd x y/n #reader insert #jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #damian wayne #damian wayne & reader #vigilante reader

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jinxs-gf · 1 month

Text

snack thief

the team x spider!reader

summary: someone is stealing your snacks and you’re going to figure out who.

content, warnings: kind of a crack fic, spider cusses a lot? not proofread

word count: 1.8k

a.n. Aunt May mentioned! who cheered?

It was peaceful in the confines of Mount Justice. So peaceful it was almost suspicious to the team. They barely get downtime nowadays, something they used to practically beg for. Now all they want is a break.

It's perfect and quiet and peaceful.

Until they hear their friend scream bloody murder.

Spider.

Everyone jumps up, alarmed and ready to fight.

You're in the kitchen holding an empty container, the refrigerator wide open, and looking more stressed out than they've ever seen you. But there was no threat?

The team is still worried but confused. There was no one else in the kitchen with you so...? Why were you screaming? And there was seemingly no spider on the container you were holding, the only creature that could scare you bad enough for you to freak out like this. (You denied this claim again and again, unfortunately they didn't believe you. How embarrassing was that? Spider had arachnophobia? How damaging to your reputation.)

You continue to stare at the container, and your friends have concluded their near heart attack at your cry for help was all for not.

Their shoulders all sag simultaneously, breaths of relief leaving their mouths.

Kaldur is the first to speak, "What has gotten into you, Spider? You scared us all." He does not sound happy.

And if you took the time to look at the rest of your teammates, the annoyance would be evident.

But no. You continued to stare at your stupid container.

"Hello!" - Artemis

"Earth to Spider!" - Robin

"We're not getting any younger over here." - Wally

Roy only sighs, shaking his head, Conner raising a brow beside him, amused for the most part.

M'gann just stands quietly, wondering if she should read your mind without your permission to figure out the problem or not.

"Which one of your imbeciles did this?" Your voice was eerily calm...it was disturbing.

They all shared the same sentiment. What?

You glare in their direction, eyeing each one of your supposed friends carefully.

"One of you is the cause of this," you hold up your empty container. "Someone ate my cookies. I've had the worst day of my life and the only thing that could help was having my precious cookies. Only I get here and they're gone!" Ah. They get it now.

"I'm going to find out which one of you is responsible. And it won't be pretty."

"Uhh why was it in the fridge anyways?"

"Shut it Robin. They’re leftovers. And you’re at the top of my suspect list. You and your little buddy there," you eye Wally.

He squirms in his spot.

You were grocery shopping for your aunt when you spotted them.

Spider-Person gummies.

You wince, the name Spider-Person did not roll off the tongue correctly. You prefer Spider like the team calls you. Or maybe Arachnid would be cool? Oh well, it's too late now. The name Spider-Person was plastered onto kid's snacks for Pete's sake! There was no coming back from that.

Whatever. You threw it in your basket and immediately opened the box when you got home. Showing off to Aunt May, she was very proud, just like you thought she’d be. Except for when—

"I always thought you'd be known for curing diseases or something, but children’s snacks? This'll do!"

"Hey!" She was joking of course (right?).

And later that day you brought it to the team's kitchen, wanting to show off to them. You didn't want them to eat it of course, it was going to be your post-mission snack. A little pick-me-up.

No one but Red Tornado was there, which was a little weird but it was a rare day off. You'll just come back when everyone is here.

You made sure to stick a post-it on the box of gummies, effectively claiming them yours that shall not be touched.

You hadn't left your snacks alone in the kitchen of Mount Justice since your cookies disappeared a mere week ago.

You still hadn't figured out who the culprit was.

You will. One of these days.

You leave and don't come back until the next day, everyone is there.

"Oh goodie! I have something to show you guys!"

Only you get to the kitchen cabinet, open the box, and...no.

Nonononono

The box of "Spider-Person Gummies" was completely empty.

The box that clearly had your name written with the words "DO NOT EAT!" on the post-it!

You scream like the first time.

"Who did it?!"

The team is a little slower this time around, not trusting your panicked screams after the first incident.

Robin face palms, "Come on spider, it's not that serious."

You gape at him, "Not that serious?! Are you crazy?!" You eye him suspiciously, "it was you, wasn't it?"

"What?! No! I'm just being reasonable here. You can always buy more,” he shrugs, clearly not seeing the bigger picture. Someone is eating your snacks without permission. Deliberately ignoring your name that was written in bold on the post-it stuck to the front. You try a different approach though.

"First of all, I don't exactly come from a background of money. I can't just waste valuable green for some fruit snacks! And second, it was the last box in that section. How do I know they'll be restocked by the time I get back? What if they were there for limited time?!" The thought terrifies you, "oh no."

The team watches you nearly have a breakdown over your gummies "...those snacks are usually less that 10 dollars, Spider."

"And that's too much!"

"You can't be that poor."

"Eh, you'd be surprised."

It’s a full two weeks of the snack thief’s attacks.

Your spidey senses go off at the two week mark and they lead you to the kitchen.

You gasp.

"You!"

Wally is caught mid slice into the chocolate cake you made for the team, he looks petrified at being caught.

His voice cracks, "what?"

"It's been you! I knew it was you!"

"What! No! You made this for the team, right? That's not fair to pin the blame on me when I have permission to eat this!"

Okay, he's got a point.

"Whatever. You're still at the top of my list."

You’re in stealth mode with the rest of the team, waiting for your cue to attack.

You communicate through the mind link to keep yourself from boredom, this is gonna take a while.

You decide to bring up the most recent snack attack.

‘I still need to figure out who this snack thief is. They took my leftover brownies this time! The ones May made for me. Do you know how upsetting it was to see the brownies made by my very precious, hardworking Aunt all gone?’

You hoped to weed the rat out through sympathy.

‘Oh...that was yours?’

‘M'gann!’

‘I'm sorry! I didn't know!’

Just then, Kaldur makes your cue to attack. And before you know it, you’re in battle. However, your mind is elsewhere.

The distraction earns you a kick to the face, your spidey senses were screaming but you couldn't be bothered to really care at the moment, too focused on the fact that M'gann admitted to eating your brownies.

She's the snack thief?! But she was at the bottom of your list...

You regret ignoring your senses immediately, that kick was more powerful that you thought it’d be. Definitely going to bruise later.

‘I'm not the snack thief! I just thought Red Tornado left them! Remember? He said he wanted to be more involved with us outside of missions? I swear I know better! You forgot a post-it with your name this time. I'm really sorry, I should've known.’

You sigh, she sounds too sincere for it to truly be her.

‘It's alright, I forgive you. This time. It was my bad anyways.’

There’s many instances of coincidences as your friends would call it.

Robin caught digging into your chips;

“But you said I could have some!”

“No not those ones! My other chips!”

“Wow, thanks for specifying that.”

Conner caught…eating your candy?!

Conner doesn’t even eat sweets like that, so what changed? Or was that all a ploy? Pretending to not be fond of sweets only to eat yours behind your back…

But his eyes pleaded forgiveness, truth. Damn him.

Roy, Kaldur, and Artemis also had their moments of suspicion.

So who was it?

You only had one more course of action. You beg May to let her borrow your phone.

“It’s an emergency!”

“An emergency that could last all day? Or more?” She lifts a brow, don’t let her intimidate you, Spider.

“Pleeeaaaase,” you bat your lashes at her.

She can’t resist you. The child she’s come to see as her own. You are hers, no one could tell her otherwise. She sighs, “Don’t know why I even try with you.”

“Thanks May!” You plant a kiss on her cheek, “love you!”

“Whatever kid,” trying not to show disappointment in herself for allowing you to get to her.

Set your phone up in the kitchen cabinet of Mount Justice with your snack. Hit FaceTime with Aunt May’s phone and accept on yours.

There’s no way you don’t catch your thief now.

You wait a good 20 minutes before you’re already tired of your plan.

You groan in annoyance, can they hurry up and attempt to take your snack already?!

It takes another three hours before something happens.

Your spidey senses blare, making you jump from your place on the couch with Artemis and Roy. They look at you like you’re crazy, yeah you were getting used to that.

There’s shuffling on the other end of the call.

Whoever is in the kitchen is toast. You look down at May’s phone.

“You!”

“Uh oh.”

“I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it! From the beginning! How could I be so stupid and not listen to my gut?!”

Wally states back at you through the phone screen, eyes wide.

“You lying son of a-”

“Listen, we can talk this out-”

“Put my cookies down! You know damn well my name is written on the box!”

He surrenders, placing the cookies back in its place.

The rest of your team came out to witness this very amusing and long awaited moment.

It was funny, the living room you were in was right next to the kitchen, meaning speaking through the phones was pretty useless. They won’t say anything, lest they catch your attention and get yelled at.

“I’m going to ruin you for what you did, Speedy Bitch.”

Roy hears his code name and it’s enough for him to scare. He holds his hands up, “whoa! What did I do?”

“Not you! Obviously not you!”

You get up from the couch, bolting to your “friend.”

Wally panics, “Someone call Superman! Spider’s gone crazy!” And he books it.

It’s okay. He may be the fastest man alive, but no one messes with a Spider’s food.

so who’s attending Wally’s funeral? definitely not spider.

this is based off a video I saw, someone’s sibling was on FaceTime w a phone in the cabinet to catch who was eating their snacks 💀 I just HAD to use it

#spider & the team #young justice x reader #conner kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x you #superboy x reader #kaldur’ahm x reader #kaldur x reader #wally west x reader #artemis crock x reader #m’gann m’orzz x reader #roy harper x reader #aqualad x reader #red arrow x reader #dick grayson x reader #omg it’s 2am what am I doing #young justice fanfiction

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