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emthimofnight · 13 days

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Getting To Know You

AO3 Link:

Summary: Sonic knows Shadow as an enemy, a rival, and an ally—but a friend and co-parent? Hardly. With their newfound daughter fast asleep, Sonic takes the opportunity to get to know his other half a bit better.

“Well, Stellar is finally asleep.”

Sonic turned his head to follow the voice of his long time rival, Shadow, as he announced his entrance into the living room. He could read the exhaustion in Shadow's body language immediately, even from where he was currently seated on the couch. The game show Sonic had been watching on the TV faded into the background as his focus was drawn elsewhere.

“Oh, yeah?” He answered. “That's good. She took a while to settle down this time.”

Shadow shuffled over, grunting in half-hearted response as he unceremoniously collapsed into the couch beside Sonic. Sonic watched as Shadow craned his neck backwards, resting his head on the back of the couch and closing his eyes. Now that he was closer, Sonic could clearly see how messy his quills were; something that was out of character for the black hedgehog.

Feeling brave, he reached out to pluck a loose quill from Shadow's head, flicking it away with a quick snap of his fingers. A few weeks ago, he would have surely been rewarded for such a breach of Shadow's personal space with a growl or a threat, but now all his rival could muster was a quick, non-threatening glare in his direction. Sonic smiled in return.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Stray quill.”

“You're lucky I'm tired,” Shadow grumbled, failing to sound intimidating.

“Oh, wow.” Sonic turned his body to face Shadow's more readily, the space between them thinning by a small margin. “The Ultimate Lifeform? Tired? Who are you?”

Shadow turned his head slightly in Sonic's direction, cracking a half smile. Sonic had noticed he'd been doing that more lately—smiling—and he couldn't shake the happy flutter of his heart at the sight. It was nice to get along with Shadow. As much as he enjoyed their fights, he had always wished the two of them could be friends, even in a minor capacity. Turns out, the push they needed to get along was co-parenting their illegal government experiment baby. Who knew?

“The only reason you are not tired is that I always do all the work,” Shadow replied quickly, sounding a smidgen annoyed with Sonic’s teasing, yes, but amused regardless.

“Hey, that's a low blow!” Sonic grinned. “You and I both know she likes you better. She never settles down for me!”

“That's because you spend more time goofing around with her than actually trying to put her to sleep.”

“I only try to tire her out! The kid has tons of energy!”

“You only succeed in riling her up,” Shadow retorted.

“Oh, c'mon, Shads. She loves you. I think she must have, like—imprinted on you when you pulled her outta that test tube. It's a miracle she doesn't cry whenever you leave the room anymore.”

Shadow made a soft, “hmm” in response. He seemed somewhat pleased by Sonic's admission.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. He almost seemed lost in thought for a moment, a pregnant pause hanging in the air. Sonic held his tongue, something that he was learning how to do more frequently as of late. It took him a bit to figure it out, but Shadow seems to speak his mind more often if he can just shut up and try to listen. Rewarding Sonic for a rare display of patience, Shadow continued, “It's so strange to have someone rely on you so completely.”

Shadow glanced his way, his eyes expectant. It seemed he was waiting for Sonic to interject.

Apparently, Shadow had him figured out, too.

“Yeah,” Sonic bobbed his head in a steady nod. “Honestly, I never really imagined being a dad. Never thought I’d make a good one.”

“Neither did I,” Shadow admitted. “I don’t even know if I can have children through… Conventional means, so to speak. I don’t think it was ever intended for me to be able to reproduce.”

Sonic bit his tongue, resisting the knee-jerk reaction to tease Shadow about “conventional means of reproduction” and what that might entail, knowing that would be a quick way to shut down their conversation if he wasn’t careful. He and Shadow had certainly gotten closer as a result of this parenting partnership, but there were still boundaries that weren’t meant to be crossed.

“Guess it doesn’t matter either way,” Sonic shrugged. “We’re here now, and we’ve gotta make the most of it.”

“Hmm,” Shadow hummed in agreement. “I guess so.”

For a moment, there was silence. Sonic found himself at a loss as to what he should say next, something that was happening to him more regularly in Shadow’s presence. Keeping the peace between the two of them meant he had to make an active effort not to antagonize the other hedgehog, but that also left him a bit confused as to how he should interact with him. This whole situation caused him to realize that he and Shadow rarely had regular, non-world-destroying contact, and now the guy was around all the time! He was so used to punches flying between them that casual conversation had him floundering awkwardly.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Shadow said suddenly, cutting through the haze of Sonic’s thoughts. It was like he could read his mind, sometimes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shadow’s tone was something he couldn’t quite recognize. Shadow rolled his wrist, gesturing in circular motions with his hand, clawing at the air as if trying to conjure his thoughts into something tangible that he could grasp. “It’s… Hard to deal with.”

Sonic blinked incredulously, his surprise apparent on his features. Shadow gave him a glare and a curl of his lip, showing the pointed tip of one of his fangs, frustration creasing his brow. For once, Shadow was filling the silence between them.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Shadow growled.

“Wait—are you saying that you like when I talk?”

Shadow pinched the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t say that. I’m just used to you talking all the time. I don’t—” a sigh, “I’m not good with conversation.”

Sonic felt his quills prickle with a foreign sense of delight. It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but it was close enough to one that it made him a bit giddy all the same.

Sonic chuckled. “You know what’s crazy? I’ve been trying to talk less.”

Shadow raised an eyebrow, face contorting in confusion. “What? Why?”

Sonic, slightly sheepish, replied, “Well, uh… You talk more when I’m not talking, so. Been trying not to steamroll our conversations.”

Confusion still colored Shadow’s facial expression, his ruby eyes focusing on Sonic’s face. Sonic chose to admire a corner of the room instead to avoid the intensity of his stare.

“You? Trying to listen when I’m talking to you? Are you dying?”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Sonic answered dryly. “Just figured if we are going to be parenting a kid together, I should probably get to know you outside of how hard you can kick me in the head.”

A snort of laughter came from Shadow, a sound that felt like a reward in its own right. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’s managed to get Shadow to laugh.

“A remarkable display of forethought for someone as impulsive as you,” Shadow teased.

“Ahh, the art of the backhanded compliment. A Shadow the Hedgehog specialty,” Sonic taunted back. “Seriously, though! Tell me your favorite color or something. For all the bad guy butt we’ve kicked together over the years, I feel like I don’t know you all that well.”

Shadow was smiling in earnest—at least, as earnest as someone like Shadow could muster. “That’s what’s top of your list? My favorite color?”

“It’s a start!” Sonic replied. “Since I know you are dying to know, mine’s red. Blue is a close second, though.”

Shadow rolled his eyes, his amusement betraying his attempt at brushing Sonic off. “Why am I not surprised…”

“C’mon, Shadow! This is what the more extroverted types call an icebreaker. Humor me?”

Shadow’s eyes were on him again, analyzing his motivations for this line of questioning silently. If there was one thing Sonic knew about Shadow, whether he decided to answer would be determined by his ego. Shadow was paused in consideration, so Sonic once again chose to wait for whatever answer Shadow would give him.

“...Green,” he said quickly, eyes drifting elsewhere as he folded his arms across his chest.

Sonic felt his pulse quicken with excitement. Shadow was actually entertaining his attempt to know more about him! He never thought he’d find the idea of knowing his rival’s favorite color so appealing.

“So you do have one! I was prepared for you to tell me you didn’t care.”

“I don’t,” Shadow quickly asserted. “But,” he continued, “if I had to pick, green is probably it.”

“Cool,” Sonic said softly, the knowledge of Shadow’s favorite color finding a happy little spot to nest in his brain. “How about, uh… Weather? Do you have a favorite kind of weather?”

Shadow gave him a put-upon frown. “Are you going to keep asking me dumb questions?”

“You’re allowed to ask me dumb questions too, you know,” Sonic reminded.

“Bold of you to assume I have any.”

Sonic smirked, “I’m sure you do.”

Shadow let out a bark of dry laughter, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

In a moment of honesty, Sonic replied, “Yeah, man. I would.”

Shadow stared back in silent reply, his eyes scanning Sonic’s face for any signs of deception or trickery. He clearly hadn’t expected that answer.

“...Spring weather is nice.”

Sonic perked up. “You don’t mind the rain?”

Shadow seemed almost sheepish, suddenly. One of his ears twitched in agitation, a growl escaping his lips. If Sonic had to guess, Shadow didn’t appreciate Sonic’s prodding for a deeper explanation. Even so, he still made the choice to answer, “I… Like the flowers, I guess. Maria liked flowers.”

Ah. Maria. The main reason for a lot of the things Shadow did.

“That’s a pretty good reason,” Sonic smiled, his tone of voice gentle. “Perfect weather for a long run.”

Shadow peered at him out of the corner of his eye. “What about you?”

“A nice sunny day with a good breeze is killer,” Sonic answered. “Man, I just love the feeling of the wind in my quills, yanno?”

Shadow nodded, humming in agreement. Despite the tension in his shoulders, he did seem to soften slightly as their conversation went on. It might just be a result of his exhaustion, but he seemed less rigid than usual.

“I suppose I should ask you a question, then,” Shadow said, his voice almost sounding a bit amused. He shot Sonic a knowing look, clearly recognizing his interest would get a reaction out of him.

He wasn't wrong, Sonic couldn't manage to stifle the smile that broke out across his face.

“Yeah, feel free!” Sonic encouraged, “I'm an open book.”

Shadow was staring at him again, and for a moment Sonic wondered if he had managed to scare him off from asking his question. Shadow didn't leave him hanging for long, though.

“...Why did you agree to this?”

Sonic blinked incredulously. Leave it to Shadow to ask the hard questions.

“Like… What? This game, or…?”

“Stellar,” Shadow affirmed. “Why did you agree to help me with Stellar?”

Sonic leaned back into the couch, scratching at his chin with a gloved finger. “Hmm. Good question.”

Why did he agree to this? He'd never really wanted kids, and he certainly never imagined having them with his rival. It was a concept that was so far outside the realm of possibility that to say the whole scenario blindsided him would be an understatement.

“…Well, it’s the right thing to do, for one. I could tell that you were kind of at a loss as to what you should do with her. You so rarely ask for help—especially from me—that I had to give it a try. Besides, you and I have overcome all kinds of crazy challenges in the past, how hard could this be?”

“It's by no means easy,” Shadow thought aloud. “But… It is easier than it would be if I were doing this alone, so. I suppose I should thank you for that.”

Sonic felt his heart do something funny in his chest. It reminded him of the sensation he'd get right before a roller coaster hit its first drop. He suddenly felt the urge to go on a run.

“Did you just thank me? You sure you don't have a fever or something?” Sonic teased. Even now, as he finally managed to earn genuine answers from his rival, he couldn’t stop himself from defaulting back to their usual banter.

To his surprise, Shadow didn’t growl, glare, or move to swat at him with his hand. Instead, he let out a short chuff of laughter, his gaze drifting away and up towards the ceiling.

“I must,” Shadow sighed, not sounding all that bothered. “Or maybe I’m just more tired than I thought.”

Sonic smiled, his expression softening as he observed the other hedgehog. His posture was uncharacteristically relaxed, his body succumbing to the comforts of the couch. Even the Ultimate Lifeform couldn’t fight the exhaustion that came with caring for a fussy baby day in and day out, it seemed. Granted, most baby hedgehogs weren’t capable of teleporting on a whim. Perhaps their unique circumstances were what truly crumbled Shadow’s typical unyielding resolve.

“Take it easy, then,” Sonic said gently. “Catch some Z’s while you can.”

Shadow turned his cheek slightly, peeking at Sonic suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. He was clearly looking for an ulterior motive etched into Sonic’s features.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” Sonic protested. “I’m serious. I’m not going to mess with you while you sleep, and if Stellar wakes up, I can handle it!”

“I don’t trust you to handle anything,” Shadow muttered, lacking the usual bite in his words.

“Hey,” Sonic half-laughed, “you could try.”

“Hmm,” a hum of consideration. “For once, I think I might be too tired to argue with you.”

“That makes it sound like you enjoy it.”

“You’re delusional,” Shadow smirked before turning his face skyward once more, this time allowing his eyes to drift closed. “I’ll just rest my eyes for now. If you try anything, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sonic replied, shifting his weight a bit to get more comfortable in his own position. “I’ll just be thinking of more questions to annoy you with while you recharge.”

When his teasing wasn’t met with a response, Sonic allowed himself to observe the other hedgehog more freely. It was easier to absorb Shadow’s features when he wasn’t sitting on the other end of his intense stare.

‘He couldn’t have fallen asleep that quickly, could he?’ Sonic pondered, peering at the remarkably relaxed face of his fellow co-parent. His breathing was slow and steady, his chest rising with every breath, making the snowy poof of hair that resided there a distraction for Sonic’s eyes. He was never able to grow any fur on his own chest—at least, not to that length—so he had always found himself a bit fascinated with the singular spot of white on the other hedgehog. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, of course.

For a brief moment, he considered what it might feel like to touch the silky-looking tufts of fur, before quickly stamping that thought right back down where it came from. Sonic might be an adrenaline junkie, sure, but he certainly didn’t have a death wish. Without thinking, though, he must have drifted a bit closer into Shadow’s space, because he was soon met with that annoyed ruby glare once more.

“What?” Shadow growled, his hostile edge returning to his voice as his suspicion in Sonic was heightened.

Sonic moved away quickly, letting out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I thought for a second you’d already fallen asleep,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was just a bit amazed, is all. Made me realize that I haven’t really seen you sleep before.”

Shadow rolled his eyes before closing them once more, shimmying his shoulders a bit to settle deeper into the couch cushions. “I’m not going to sleep at all if you keep staring at me like that. Watch your stupid show.”

Sonic blinked, turning his head back to the TV he had been watching before Shadow had entered the room. Right. He’d actually been paying attention to that before he found himself distracted with Shadow’s presence. He wasn’t actually sure what was going on with it anymore, but it was a welcome escape from his own impulses to pester Shadow. It wasn’t like he actually wanted to bother the guy, it was just hard to adjust his behavior to fit their new normal. He was so used to their relationship being full of banter and petty competitions that he didn’t know how to just exist around the guy.

He stole a quick glance in Shadow’s direction before refocusing on the television. From Shadow’s aloofness, it seemed he didn’t know how to exist around him, either.

The silence between them was filled with the sounds of mindless reality TV entertainment, and Sonic felt himself slowly starting to relax. He hadn’t really noticed before, but his own guard was up when Shadow was around, too. It might not be the same kind of hostility that Shadow displayed, but it was still there. He might have asked Shadow to trust him, but that didn’t mean he trusted Shadow.

He felt a tiny pang of guilt—what for, he wasn’t exactly sure. Yes, he’d always wished he and Shadow could get along, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the thrill of fighting with him. Being the fastest thing alive meant he was often leaving others behind, but that wasn’t the case with Shadow. Shadow was one of—if not the only—person that could keep up with him. If they became friends, did that mean Shadow would stop chasing him? Would he stop trying to surpass him? He wasn’t entirely sure he was willing to give that thrill up just yet.

A soft, unfamiliar noise pulled Sonic from the depths of his thoughts. His ear twitched, finding the sound was coming from the black hedgehog that rested beside him. Did he just—?

A rasping exhalation of breath from Shadow’s nostrils confirmed it. Shadow the Hedgehog, the Ultimate Lifeform, was snoring. Not the kind of snore that was disruptive or cacophonous, but the sort that was soft, rumbling, and endearing. Sonic almost couldn’t believe his ears.

A smile wormed its way onto his face as he observed Shadow in his slumber, a newfound fondness settling in his chest at the sight.

‘Just going to rest your eyes, huh?’ He thought to himself, amused.

Maybe he and Shadow’s relationship was going to be different from now on, but perhaps that didn’t have to be a bad thing. If the giddy feeling in his chest was any indication, there might be some thrills to find in this new alliance after all.

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year

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happy (belated, sorry!) birthday to @henderdads!! this was supposed to be just fluffy but y'know. the hurt/comfort monster got me. I hope you had a perfect day! <333

can also be found here on AO3!

stars and satellites (will always bring me home)

---

Eddie tries not to think about his birthday.

He and Wayne have an agreement to let it pass with little to no mention, save for his 16th birthday when he’s able to start driving and his 18th birthday when he hands Eddie a few singles and tells him to go grab himself his first legal pack of cigarettes— and to get one for him, too, since he’ll be at the store anyways.

It works for Eddie and he goes as far as to hide his birthday from his friends for as long as he possibly can. Gareth, Jeff, and Frank still have no idea. The new found family he’s been adopted into since averting the (apparently third or fourth) Apocalypse don’t know, despite being asked by just about everyone at least once. It’s a fine-tuned skill, evading the question and changing the subject.

“Hey Eddie, when’s your birthday? Did we miss it already this year?” Dustin asks at Will’s own birthday party.

Eddie smirks. “Roll for insight, Young Henderson.”

“Alright, got a die?”

“Nope, darn!” Eddie pretends to pat the pockets of his jeans before shrugging and walking away.

Nancy is the hardest to fend off but unless she finds his birth information through the microfiche at the library, he’s stalwart in his stance. She might, though, and that’s his only real concern. But by and large, his friends let it go, chalking it up to one of Eddie’s many quirks and occasionally joking about it when someone else’s birthday rolls around. The one person who won’t put it down though?

Steve Harrington.

Steve I Throw Parties For Everyone Harrington. Steve I’m Going To Annoy You About This At Least Once A Week Harrington. Steve Is It Today? Is It Tomorrow? You Seem Like A Winter Baby? Harrington.

And truthfully, Eddie can’t find it within himself to be genuinely mad at him about it, despite having snapped at everyone else who’s dared to ask more than once. Eddie grants Steve a pass for reasons he’s not quite ready to evaluate just yet, reasons he knows he’ll never tell, reasons that would require the same security clearance that knowing his birthday would because knowing his birthday would mean knowing this past. He’s not sure yet if he wants everyone— or anyone— to know about his dear old dad.

In true The Universe Must Be Sentient And Actively Hate Me fashion, Steve happens to ask him again on his actual birthday. Steve’s backyard is glowing in the bluish tint of the full moon, stars twinkling in and out behind rogue clouds and smoke billowing from the joint they pass between them up towards the sky. It’s cold— early February in Hawkins is no joke— but Steve and Eddie have discovered an affinity for the cold breeze against their skin, finding it grounding and centering in its own way.

“So, when’s your birthday? Is it getting close?” It’s a question Eddie’s heard no less than twenty times in the same cheeky intonation, Steve having learned not to expect anything besides an out of pocket response. What he doesn’t expect is silence. Steve never expects silence from Eddie.

He turns to look at Eddie and sees him sitting in the same patio chair he’s been in all night, right next to him— too close, but not close enough at the same time. One leg is drawn up beneath one thigh and Eddie looks up at the sky, pointedly avoiding eye contact. If the moment didn’t feel as heavy as it does, Steve would find himself staring at the muscles of his neck and the way his throat bobs when he swallows. It is heavy though, and Steve can only focus on the weight of the space between them.

“Hey, you good? You know I’m just fucking with you, right?” Steve asks, passing the joint back to him as an excuse to pull his attention back from the sky above them. Of all of the things Steve’s imagined having to fight for attention from, the moon was certainly not one of them but he supposes that tracks for Eddie. Nothing about Eddie is according to plan.

Eddie takes the joint and carefully avoids Steve’s eyes, keeping his glance at his hands before returning to the stars and taking a deep inhale. Another few hits will make this all go away, he thinks to himself. The day had been difficult— memories he’d rather not have creeping up and wrapping themselves around his limbs like living vines.

Steve watches little bits of smoke curl out on his exhale and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

“Ed, seriously, I’ll stop asking. I’m just teasing, I’ll quit it, just stop with the silence, dude. It’s… weird.”

“Why?” Eddie asks, quietly. It’s just a single word but he’ll take it.

“Why is it weird?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you’re not quiet. You don’t do silence unless something’s wrong.”

“Maybe something is.”

Steve sits for a second, his brain running in circles around itself. You fucked it up, c’mon, you kept asking, you knew better, why’d you have to keep prying, now you made him uncomfortable like you swore not to do—

“I can smell your brain overheating from here, Steve. Relax. It’s not you, I promise.” Eddie chuckles humorlessly under his breath and he makes a spontaneous decision, an impulsive decision he might regret but there's a little part of him that finds it hard to believe he'll ever regret sharing something with Steve.

“Then what is it? What’s wrong? Is it, y’know, End of the World- related or…?” Steve’s voice trails off. Part of the reason they’ve come to have these nights smoking in the cold, alone together, is that exactly: End of the World- related invisible scars. But Eddie just shakes his head no and sighs, placing the joint down on the glass patio table.

“It’s today.”

“Huh?”

Eddie turns to face him and raises both eyebrows. “It’s. Today. My birthday. It’s today.”

“Wait— shit, really? And you’re telling me?” Steve’s heart pounds in his chest, not blind to the gravity of Eddie telling him his closest kept secret.

Eddie shrugs and smiles without it touching his eyes. “Guess so. Take it to your grave, please?”

“Well yeah, man, I don’t make a habit of going around and telling people’s secrets. But… thanks? For trusting me?” Steve reaches the few inches to Eddie’s shoulder and lets his hand rest there. It's contact but it's not enough. It’s never really enough, but it has to be. He has no reason to think Eddie feels the same way about him and he’ll be damned if he loses his best friend— second only to Robin, but that’s besides the point. The point is, he rests his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and lets his fingers move in slow repetitive circles into the fabric of Eddie’s jacket.

“You’re welcome. It’s just— I have some… not so great memories attached to my birthday so I don’t celebrate it. Rather it just not exist, to be honest.”

“Well, since it’s a big secret, you could just make it another day, y’know. We’ll all respect it and you can, like, create new memories and start over.”

Eddie glances down at Steve’s hand wandering, absentmindedly trailing his fingers along the base of his neck and to collarbone. Fuck his birthday, and fuck the horrible memories Clyde Munson had poured into it. The way his heart tumbles from his chest into his mouth negates all of it.

“Really? Any suggestions?” He breathes, relieved that Steve doesn’t pry. He’s learned enough about Steve’s own childhood though to imagine why he doesn’t. For all of their outward differences, Steve gets it. Gets him.

Steve watches Eddie’s eyes widen before they glance down at his hand and back up, filled with something that looks dangerously like hope. Steve, in turn, feels something dangerously like hope.

“Maybe the day you woke up? In the hospital? I don’t know, I can see you liking the whole phoenix thing. Rebirth into something beautiful or whatever.”

Eddie’s breath catches. Beautiful feels like an overinflated balloon floating precariously through the woods in Steve’s backyard— cheerful and buoyant, but always at the risk of catching on too sharp of a branch and tumbling back down to the hard ground.

“Beautiful, huh?”

“Yeah. It fits you.” Steve’s hand wanders again, this time intentionally, to brush a piece of Eddie’s hair behind his ear and cupping the side of his face.

“Steve…” He whispers as they move slowly— achingly slowly— together, as though attached by an invisible thread. And maybe they are— the little red string of fate that’s been pulling them closer and closer since the day they met. Close enough now, finally, for Eddie to know how Steve’s lips feel against his, how his hands feel in his hair, how his heart beats in his chest when Eddie presses one hand there to tether himself to reality with nothing. No one but his stars watch him find his way back home, to Steve, where he should've been all along.

Eddie’s new birthday becomes April 2nd, the day he’d woken up from the induced coma. Eddie and Steve’s anniversary becomes February 9th, his old birthday. He can’t imagine a better way to create beauty out of ashes.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stfic #myfic

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gglitch1dd · 1 month

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I’m curious, when it comes to the dilf izuku cheating story just how did it happen? Did Izuku go out drinking and meet Ochako and things took off from there, or is something more darker taking place and Izuku didn’t actually cheat on his own free will? Also Bakugou being revealed as our ex was actually shocking! I’m also curious as to how that old relationship with reader went down considering he’s a ass who also cheated.

Hmmm... yall want the real details of what happened... okay... BTW, If you want to read how Izuku and Reader got together please read The Contract, which is on my AO3 and on my Tumblr. It's the entire story of how Katsuki cheated and how we got together with Izuku.

How Dilf Izuku Cheated

Warning: does not contain reader but mentions her, non-con/dubious consent, implied intoxicated state.

Izuku typed away on his laptop as he sat in his office. It was already late in the evening, far past sunset with the sky a dark blue and Izuku was exhausted. He leaned back against his chair, rubbing his eyes as he sighed. His body weighed heavier than a load of bricks. He had been so busy lately, especially with the Jigsaw trial having ended. The streets were safer but at what cost?

Izuku refusing to go home.

It felt suffocating. Watching you try and keep it all together as you tried to keep the boys afloat, walking past Shoyo's bedroom knowing there wasn't going to be a little boy there anymore.

Worst part were all the stupid fucking headlines.

PROHERO DEKU: LOSING HIS EDGE?

DEAD HERO'S SON- TOO SLOW FOR EVEN THE NUMBER ONE.

WHERE WAS DEKU?

It all made him sick to his stomach. It was terrible what they were saying, and it made Izuku force himself to try and be better. To work harder so that no little boy would ever go through what his son went through.

Izuku opened his eyes to look down at the gift on his table. Apparently it was sent by Katsuki. A large glass bottle of whiskey. At first Izuku thought it was some ultimate "fuck you" and he wouldn't even touch it. However with a pounding headache and him too scared to go home and face you and the kids. Maybe a glass of it wouldn't be too bad...

There was a buzz that took him out of his thoughts, a call coming from the downstairs desk of his agency, the night shift. "Mr Deku?"

He put a finger to the intercom. "Yes?

"Prohero Uravity is here to see you? Something about the Juggernaut case?"

Izuku sighed. He thought he had told Ochaco that they would talk about it some other time, but then again, he always came up with excuses to talk to any one of his friends these days. "Send her up." He stated before removing his finger and standing up to grab a glass from the refreshment counter he had at the side of the room.

He walked back to his chair and grabbed the bottle while he did so. He poured himself a cup before lifting it up to his lips and taking a long drink. He let the burn of the alcohol hit his throat before he let out a sigh. But... he couldn't shake that something felt off about the whiskey. Izuku took the bottle and moved to check what brand it was. Maybe it was just one he had never tasted.

There was a knock at his door, before a head of brunette hair had peaked through. A friendly smile cam with it. "Deku." She let out sweetly as she walked into his office. She was dressed in a pretty little black dress as she walked over to him. Every light in his office was off other than the one on his desk. "I was surprised to know that you were in still."

Izuku leaned back with a heavy sigh as he dragged a hand through his mess of curls. "Well, crime never sleeps." He gave a pathetic excuse back to her with a weak smile.

She walked over to stand in front of him with a small frown on her face. "I know you've had a rough couple of weeks recently."

Izuku let out a scoff as he took another sip of the whiskey, wanting it to take the edge off his day. "You don't know the half of it." He let out lowly.

Ochaco paused as her brown eyes that suddenly looked so warm, looked down at him. "You should rest, Deku." She spoke softly as she took slow steps over to him, moving around his desk to go stand beside him. She turned his chair so that he could face her. "You work too hard." She said with a slight pout, moving to sit on the edge of his desk. Her dress hiked up a bit, the skirt of her dress revealing the inside of her thighs and more leg to show. Izuku's grip tightened on his glass as he shook his head, trying to focus for five seconds. "Is Y/N not helping you to relax?

Izuku moved to rub his eyes. "Uh..." he took a moment to understand what she just said. "She's busy with the boys and everything. We both need a moment. I couldn't expect that from her." He answered honestly.

"But she's your wife, Deku. She should prioritize you." She tilted her head to the side. "I know it has been rough but you deserve to feel..." She leaned forward, placing a hand on his forearm.

Izuku's eyes moved from where her hand was touching his arm up to her. He then realised that he dress seemed rather... revealing. He could see right down her cleavage and

God did he just want to grab her breasts till the fat was spilling between his fi-

Izuku shook his head as he sat up. His eyebrows furrowed. What was wrong with him today? Having such thoughts about Ochaco, a woman that was not his wife. He only ever found you attractive once the both of you got married, why was he thinking about Ochaco? He put down his glass, realising that he maybe had one too much to drink.

"You..." He let out feeling rather confused with a slur to his words. "You came here for the Jugger... Juggernaut case?" He asked confused.

Ochaco nodded but she looked at him gravely concerned. "I did but... Deku are you alright?" She asked.

Izuku was definitely not alright. His head felt like he was on another planet. He couldn't think straight.

He needed his wife.

He needed you.

Where were you?

Why was he all alone?

He didn't like being alone. He needed help. You were help.

"Y/N." He let out lowly as he stood up from his chair on shaky legs. "I... I need..." He quickly caught himself with his hand on the desk as he tried to focus and he tried to think but he couldn't walk straight to save his life.

"Izuku!" Ochaco quickly came to his side. "Let me help you." She stated as she helped him get to the couch, allowing him to fall back onto his couch. She crouched down in front of him. "Are you alright?" She asked him.

Izuku looked at her, his breath heavy as he noticed her every curve, her every feature. Everything seemed almost all in his face. She gave him a weak smile. "You know... I could help you relax. You look like you need it." She stated as she slowly started to crawl into his lap.

Izuku felt like he couldn't speak but every touch that she was giving him made him feel like finally... finally his brain could just switch off. Her hands moved up, curving over the large thick problem that sat snug in his pants.

She let out a giggle. "Oh... how I missed this." She gripped him through his pants and a moan stumbled out of his lips. He couldn't seem to care for the most part. It felt so good to have her here and she cared so much. "It's been too long Izuku. And I'm sure you've missed a body that isn't rather... stretched out, like your wife's. Don't worry, I'll be nice and tight just for you." Her lips moved to his ear making him feel like he could just be lulled away by her touch.

Maybe... maybe five minutes with her wouldn't hurt.

So he tightened his hold on her hips and kissed her.

-Glitch1d

#izuku x reader #izuku x reader angst #izuku midoriya angst #dilf izuku x reader #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf deku #izuku midoriya x reader #mha x y/n #tw noncon #tw dubious consent

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britcision · 9 months

Text

I’m pretty sure the people bitching about not giving money to tumblr are the same ones who complain when AO3 or wikipedia ask for donations, so I’m just gonna clarify something

Running a website is not free

Even if they made no changes and did only maintenance, they still need to pay for server costs, expert programmers for when something goes wrong, storage (although frankly storage is cheap as chips these days which is nice)

They need to keep up with the capabilities of new tech like improvements to web browsers, never mind their own apps keeping pace with old and new tech developments

Backwards compatibility (being able to run the updated app on old tech) is a massive problem for apps on a regular basis, because there are people out here using an iPod and refusing to update software

There’s a reason every few years apps like Animal Crossing will issue an update that breaks backwards compatibility and you can only play if your phone is running more recent software

This shit costs money even before you look into the costs of human moderation, which I’m not exactly convinced is a big part of their current budget but fucking should be if we want an actual fix for their issues with unscreened ads and reporting bigots

Ignoring that it’s apparently illegal for companies not to actively chase profits, running Tumblr is expensive

And advertisers know we fucking hate them here

They’re still running ads, which we know because they’re all over the damn place, but half the ads are for Tumblr and its store

Other ad companies know we are not a good market, so they’re not willing to put the money in

Tumblr runs at a $30 million deficit, every year, because hosting a site is expensive

They are trying to take money making ideas from other social medias because they’re not a charity; they need to make enough money to keep the site going

If you want tumblr to keep existing, never mind fixing its many issues that require human people to be paid to do jobs like moderation, they will need money

Crabs cost $3

One crab day a year can fix the deficit and hammer home for Tumblr that:

A) we do want to be here and want the site to keep going

And B) they do not need to do the normal social media money making strategies we all hate

They need a way to make money if you want the hellsite to exist, because we live in a capitalist hellscape and cannot all be AO3

If they think they can make enough to keep running without pulling all the tricks we hate, they have no reason to pull said tricks

But they need money

And a way to make money

And if we can show them we can do that, there is a significantly higher chance they will listen to us, the user base they need money from, than if we don’t

Tumblr isn’t perfect, or anywhere close. They need someone to actually screen the paid ads they put through, they need to take the transphobia, antisemitism, and bigotry seriously

These Are Jobs That Will Cost Money

People Need To Be Fucking Paid For Their Work

Tumblr Is Not Run By Volunteers For Free And Nor Should It Be

Paying People Is Good Actually

So if you wanna get all high and mighty over $3/year, by all means, go spend that hard earned cash elsewhere

Good luck finding a perfect and morally pure business to give it to though

Being a whiny negative asshole isn’t more appealing just because you’ve put yourself on a moral soapbox, it just means the asshole is a little higher up

For all the whining about “all the new updates are terrible this site is unusable”…. It’s one fuck of a lot more usable than it was in 2017, 2018, 2020

And yeah, it’s going back down and most of the newer ones have been fucking annoying and I would also like them to stop

But it got up somehow and that means it could do that again

Hope is more fun than edgy nihilism

August 1st is a good and exciting day to summon a crab army

#tumblr #crab day #fuck if i know what a profitable plan for tumblr as is will look like #since half the user base are entitled assholes who think they shouldn’t pay for less than perfection #and tumblr themselves are entitled assholes who think $5/month is a good base proce #motherfuckers would have so many more people if it was $2-3 #totally not paying $5/month for this shit #but $3/year? yeah that’s okay

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apomaro-mellow · 2 months

Text

Hot for Teacher(s) 3

Part 2 / AO3 Link

After school practices for the Thanksgiving performance was only for the students who wanted to put a little more time into it. Apparently a bulk of the rehearsal happened during their music class and that made sense. Still, Steve was glad to put a face to some of the kids his son mentioned. The first night there had been a girl who's lip trembled at the slightest upset and Steve knew that had to be Yasmin.

"She's a crybaby who cries over everything", Shawn had said one time.

"Hm, need I remind you of all the times you've cried? Why I remember just last week-"

"We don't need to talk about that", Shawn said, properly chastised.

Even so, Steve could see how it could get a little frustrating to be in a class with someone as sensitive as that. And yet, Mr. Munson never let on that he was frustrated or anything like that. Every time the tears came, he talked her down. Which was quite the feat since he had probably been doing it for eight hours at this point.

"You're really good with the kids", Steve complimented when Mr. Munson took a seat near them to rest.

Third grade was working on their performance piece on the stage now while the smaller kids got a break. Mr. Munson smiled a bit as he scratched at his head.

"Yeah, well, patience is key, as I'm sure you know. Actually, how old are the kids you teach?", he asked.

"Middle school", Steve answered, laughing a little when he saw the other teacher's eyes get wide in fear.

"Braver than any marine, I swear. I will take spilt milk tears over the raging hormones going on over there."

Steve's brain decided to highlight the word 'hormones' which made him delayed in his response. He cleared his throat to try and cover it up. "It's not as bad as all that. I've got the babies of middle school, the sixth graders, but don't tell them I said that. And I'm lucky I've got a group there that's absolutely obsessed with science."

He met Mr. Munson's eyes and was met with a million watt smile. One that he knew was on his own face too.

"That's the best feeling, ain't it? When they wanna soak up as much as you can give?"

"The best", Steve agreed. It wasn't always candy and roses but it was all worth it for those days when everything just clicked. "Speaking of passions, did you get that approval for your ideas for the show?"

"They said I could play guitar, but they vetoed my pyrotechnics idea."

That night, Mr. Munson walked him and Shawn back to their car. And as such, became a routine for two days out of the week. Through it all, Steve commended himself for only drooling a little over him and only when he was alone.

At home, one Saturday, Shawn was humming his class' song while Steve made them lunch. He looked to the calendar and realized the show would be that coming Monday. Well, he knew that but it hit him that in less than a week, Thanksgiving break would start and then there wouldn't be much of a reason for him to see Mr. Munson anymore.

Just as the thought came to him, he looked at the school events calendar he had put in his phone and saw that there would be a Winter Dance but that it was for 4th and 5th grade only. He held back a sigh. Oh well, maybe if he got particularly antsy, he could schedule a confere-no, nononono.

He wasn't going to waste a teacher's time over nothing. Just because, what? He wanted to see him?

He said as much when he talked to Robin the next day. They were sitting in his living room, Shawn was up in his room, reading on this lazy Sunday.

"So, you're just going to avoid him?"

"It's not avoiding. I'm just not going to go out of my way to seek him out", Steve clarified. "And maybe this little crush", he whispered the word 'crush' like tiny ears were listening, "will die down."

"Mhm", Robin nodded, unconvinced. "You know they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?"

Steve leaned back against the couch. "There's at least one absence I'm not missing."

"...Don't tell me this is all because of him?"

"It's not because of him but...", Steve's eyes traveled to where Shawn's baby book sat on a bookshelf. Inside were the only pictures of Shawn's sire. And honestly, Steve wouldn't even have those if it were up to him. But he wanted to leave the door open just for when Shawn got older and could decide how much he wanted that man in his life.

"I don't think Mr. Munson is anything like him. Of course I don't. But I can't make a mistake like that again. If Shawn got hurt, I could never forgive myself."

Robin gave him a pat on the leg. "If you really think it's for the best."

It was. Steve knew that what was on the surface could be hiding something ugly underneath. He wasn't going to expose him or his pup to anything like that again. Mr. Munson was nice but these feelings weren't deep enough to swim in. Steve was barely getting his toes wet. He would stay high and dry and then Shawn would go on to second grade and then he would only see Mr. Munson in passing, if that.

Steve had all these affirmations in mind as he settled in to see Shawn's performance Monday. Planning ahead, Steve had told his school a couple weeks ago that he had a doctor appointment and wouldn't be coming in until later. Just long enough to pop in and see Shawn sing. As he had planned and rehearsed, Mr. Munson sat on a stool to one side of the stage, acoustic guitar in his lap.

It was all the school would allow and seeing as the kids' singing voices weren't super strong, it was for the best. Steve recorded the act, phone focused on Shawn while every once in a while, his eyes drifted to Mr. Munson.

After the song, Steve waved to Shawn, who waved back. He had told him ahead of time that he'd have to go back to work after seeing him, so that his son wouldn't be disappointed. When they saw each other at home later, Shawn's adrenaline from the day hadn't waned.

"So a lot of the other kids' parents took them home, so Mr. Munson let some of us play with his guitar!"

"Did he now?", Steve smiled.

"Uh-huh. He even taught us how to play. Do you think he teaches guitar?"

"Would you like some lessons?", Steve asked.

"Only if Mr. Munson is teaching it. He makes everything so cool."

-------------------------

Steve watched as Shawn ran ahead to go into the corn maze. Most of the corn was gone, so he wasn't worried about him getting lost as Robin went to get them hot ciders. Shawn scurried through the maze when he found someone familiar.

Robin had come back with two ciders that she and Steve sipped on while Shawn made his way through the maze.

"Dad! Look who's here!"

Steve looked up, expecting to see one of his little friends. Not Mr. Munson.

Not Mr. Munson in ripped jeans and a leather jacket.

Not Mr. Munson in ripped jeans and a leather jacket with chunky rings and his hair let loose, spilling over his shoulders.

"Dad look! It's Mr. Munson! Dad?"

"Mr. Munson! What a surprise!", Robin came in for the save while Steve was speechless. She gave him a subtle nudge that really wasn't all that subtle but that was okay because Mr. Munson was having his own crisis.

Because here was Mr. Harrington, enjoying a harvest festival, shoulder to shoulder with a beautiful alpha woman.

"H-hey, didn't expect to run into you here", Mr. Munson stuttered.

"Me neither", Steve said, voice a little breathless. He cleared it and remembered himself. "This is Robin, she's my neighbor. Robin, this is Shawn's teacher."

"Heard so much about you", Robin grinned.

Steve wanted to kick her in the shin.

"Hey, Shawn, how's about we go and pick out a pumpkin or something?", Robin suggested, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the other two, leaving them alone.

Mr. Munson looked like a deer caught in headlights and Steve couldn't blame him.

"Jesus, she couldn't be anymore obvious."

"Did you want to talk to me about something, Mr. Harrington?"

"No, I didn't. But, I think...I think we should have this conversation anyway." Steve ran a hand through his hair.

They went to a little sitting area the farm had set up near the food booths so that they could talk. Eddie's mind ran a mile a minute, thinking of what this could be about. Both good and bad. He'd gotten a hot chocolate both to keep his hands warm and to give him something to do with said hands. Hands that Mr. Harrington was staring at right now.

"I um", he shook his head and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "I just wanted to-god this is hard."

"Well, let's make it easier", Eddie said. "Is it about Shawn? Is he having problems in school?"

"No, it's not about that. It's about us-I mean, there is no us but I-goddammit", Steve hissed, cheeks getting red in embarrassment. He let out a breath. "Mr. Munson, I'm having..." don't say feelings don't say feelings don't say feelings "-sensations, that aren't entirely professional. About you."

"Oh."

"And I know nothing can come of it, but I just want you to know that, to know that I'm aware of them and if I ever come on, I guess too strong, please just let me know."

"Um, for how long?", Eddie asked, hoping he wasn't vibrating in his seat because it sure did feel that way.

"Uhh, pretty much since I first met you", Mr. Harrington admitted. "And I don't know if it's because you've been looking after me and Shawn when we walk back to the car, or if it's something else but you just smell...you feel safe. And it's hard for me not too....", he trailed off, voice getting soft.

He didn't know how much that meant to Eddie. His first year of teaching, Eddie had gone on scent blockers, not wanting to overwhelm the little noses in his room. But one day he'd forgotten and things just seemed to run more smoothly when they could get a whiff of him. For Mr. Harrington to say his scent made him feel safe...

"It hasn't exactly been easy for me either", Eddie finally said. "Me too, since that first day I... But you already said nothing can come from it."

There was a hesitant look in Mr. Harrington's eyes. "Well, you know, why not?"

"Why...not?", Eddie echoed.

"I have my personal reasons for not pursuing this, but they mostly involve Shawn. If he doesn't know about it, I mean if we can hide it from most people, you won't get in trouble with the school. And we won't, you know get Shawn's hopes up if it doesn't become serious."

"Why, Mr. Harrington, are you propositioning me?" Honestly, Eddie didn't give a flying fuck what this principal thought about his private life. At the end of the day, it really was just Shawn he was worried about. He didn't know what happened to the other half of his DNA, but he knew that kids with only one parent sometimes longed for a second. He couldn't make Shawn think that was him unless this was the real deal. And he wouldn't know that for sure if he didn't give this a try.

"For starters, when we're not on school grounds, you can call me Steve."

"Eddie."

"Eddie, would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Steve's face was a mix of hopeful and confident that Eddie wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon. "I'd love to."

Part 4

There is absolutely some angst with Steve's baby daddy comin down the line. I came up with it where I come up with all my best ideas, half asleep when I wake up in the morning.

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @hippieg1rl420 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

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yournowheregirl · 1 year

Text

welp, this one has gotten out of hand (over 3k... yikes) but here we are! part 3 of the secret-dolly-parton-fan eddie munson saga (only 2 more parts after this!)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 3: coat of many colors

Only a few weeks later, Eddie starts to slip up.

Any other day he’d wake up to the sweet, sweet sounds of his favorite Dio album, but one morning he grabs an old Johnny Cash album that Wayne sometimes listens to and puts that one on instead.

It’s nice, and even though it’s apparently recorded at an actual prison, it still feels like home (Eddie tries not to think about that too much).

On a late night when Wayne’s still at work, he fishes his old acoustic guitar from underneath his bed and starts strumming away random chords that sound like the country songs his momma played when he was little. Sometimes he still remembers the lyrics, softly mumbling them even though there’s no one around to hear them.

It’s nice, it doesn’t sound as sweet as when his momma played it for him, but it still feels like home (Eddie actually thinks about it a lot this time).

And it’s not like he’s abandoned his usual music or anything. He still has his Judas Priest tapes in the van because his driving would probably even more reckless if he drove without any music (and isn’t that saying something). And he still loves his sweetheart more than anything, she just has to deal with sharing him for a bit.

Not a lot of many people notice it, at first. Mostly because he still keeps that part of himself hidden, safely tucked away in the comfort of his own bedroom.

But Wayne notices, because of course does.

“Whatcha wearin’ there, son?” Wayne asks, never looking up from where his eyes are glued to the morning newspaper.

Eddie’s halfway out the door already, car keys jingling against his rings when his uncle speaks up, turns around in the doorway. “Uh…”

He looks down at his clothes - what is he wearing anyway? Ripped jeans - all fine, nothing new. White t-shirt - okay, not his usual color but not that strange. Forest green plaid button down and beat-up leather boots that both actually belonged to Wayne at one point - yeah, that must be it.

“Yeah, I mean I know they’re yours… You want them back or somethin’?”

Wayne chuckles and closes the newspaper, leaning back in his chair. “No, no. Not at all. Just surprised you’re wearing it. Ain’t you meetin’ the kids?”

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie frowns. “Should I… not be wearing this?”

“Wear whatever you want.” Wayne shrugs. “It’s just nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, nice. Nice to see you bein’ comfortable wearing that sorta thing again.” Wayne says. “Lord knows you wouldn’t be caught dead in it years ago.”

Eddie thinks back to when he first came to Hawkins, with an almost empty suitcase and ratty old teddy-bear in his hand. He didn’t have any clothes that were fit for the cold Novembers in Hawkins, more used to the mild Tennessee winters, so Wayne did the best he could and dressed him up in the warmest thing he had on hand at the time. A warm, blue flannel that Eddie’s small frame almost drowned in.

Not that he cared about it at that point. He only cared about how warm and soft it felt.

Which was fine up until the point that the other kids at school started caring about their clothes and how they looked and they started laughing at Eddie’s clothes. Making fun of how poor he was that he couldn’t even afford a decent sized shirt. Teasing him in the locker room about the holes in his socks.

He decided then and there to swear off all the clothes Wayne picked out for him and changed his style up completely. His classmates were gonna bully him anyway, but he’d be damned if they insulted Wayne in the process.

“Well, yeah. Guess I’m goin’ back to my roots.” Eddie shrugs.

“Noticed that as well.” Wayne is smirking now, way too pleased about the whole situation and gestures to his mouth. “Your accent, Ed. Any minute now and you’ll be talkin’ like Miss Parton herself.”

Eddie’s face heats up - if only Wayne knew what he’s been up to in his spare time “Shut up, old man. You’re gonna make me late.”

He drives a little faster than normal to the Wheeler’s house, because Wayne really did keep him a few minutes too long, but he still ends up relatively on time for Mike’s birthday party. Everyone’s already in the decorated basement (balloons and garlands and all) and Mrs. Wheeler is snapping pictures left and right, much to Mike’s obvious dismay.

Mike’s face does light up when Eddie comes stumbling down the basement, present in hand.

“Happy Birthday, mini Wheeler.” Eddie says, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, not fair! We were friends way before you befriended my sister.” Mike sighs.

“Eddie’s just got good taste.” Nancy smirks before turning back to her conversation with Max and El.

“She said it, not me.” Eddie laughs. “Now open your present.”

He’d bought Mike this older copy of a D&D manual. It’s a first edition that Eddie randomly found one day in a thrift store and considering the grin on Mike’s face, Eddie knows he made the right decision.

Behind them on the table there’s a bunch of already-opened presents but one sticks out to Eddie - a beautifully depiction of the Party members, including El and Max, painted onto a notebook.

“Nice notebook.”

“Isn’t it the coolest? Will made it for me.” Mike gushes. “He always knows what kind of present to get me. He’s such a good friend.”

Eddie bites back a laugh. Poor Mike, so tragically oblivious to what’s staring right in front of him, bowl-cut and heart-eyes and all. But since he can’t actually laugh Mike in the face, he just smirks and pats Mike on the shoulder.

“Oh Michael… Bless your tiny lil’ heart.”

Mike just beams at him, once again blissfully unaware of the little back-handed compliment that just escaped Eddie’s Tennessee mouth and runs off again to join the party. Not noticing a thing.

But apparently someone does.

“What was that?” Steve asks from where he’s standing behind Eddie.

“What was what?” Eddie replies automatically. He doesn’t turn around just yet, slightly terrified to find out Steve’s reaction. Not there’s any malice to be heard in his voice, but Eddie’s learned to be careful even when everything seems to be safe.

“That… the whole bless your heart thing.”

“That’s a just saying.” Eddie shrugs.

“But the accent… where did that come from?” Steve stammers.

That comment finally makes Eddie turn around only to find Steve staring at him, jaw slacked and cheeks tickled pink. And well, isn’t that interesting.

Eddie grins as he takes a step closer to Steve, head cocked to the side. “Didn’t you know? I ain’t from around here.” He’s really laying the accent on thick this time, just to see how Steve will react.

It pays off beautifully because Steve just stares at him again, his face turning an even deeper shade of pink that contrast with the tight yellow t-shirt he’s wearing. Eddie’s stomach bubbles with giddiness at the sudden power he’s holding over Steve, making him all flustered like this.

God, he really shouldn’t be flirting with his very-much-straight crush but it just feels so good.

“Where- where are you from then?” Steve clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Tennessee, baby. Born ’n raised.”

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again, does it a couple of times actually, like he’s a goddamn guppy. It’s, frankly, adorable and Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. He lowers his gaze, his hands moving through the air like he’s unsure what to do with that.

“I’m just… I’m just gonna talk to Robin for a sec. Be right back, okay?”

Eddie watches as Steve disappears in between the kids, sees how he frantically talks to Robin before dragging her upstairs, clearly in need some alone time.

Huh. Weird.

-xxx-

Eddie comes clean about his roots to the rest of his friends a couple days later and to his surprise, no one really seems to bat an eye. Sure, there are few laughs here and there but it’s never bad. A couple of questions (mostly from El) about where he grew up and that’s that.

Or so he thinks.

Because he also told Steve, Robin and Nancy about the fact that there’s a country bar just a couple miles from Hawkins and that he’s being going there almost every week just to feel a little at home again. And now, they obviously want to come with.

Eddie’s feeling slightly nervous about it - this is still on a whole other level than just wearing one of Wayne’s flannels and bringing out his drawl every once in a while. This is about who he is, how he was raised, and he’s not really sure how things’ll go down if his friends react weirdly about it.

Pat is surprised to say the least when Eddie strolls into the Off-Road next Wednesday with Robin, Nancy and Steve in tow. Robin swore up and down that they should dress the part even though Eddie told her it wasn’t necessary, but there they are anyway, plaid shirts and all.

It’s slightly embarrassing to be honest, but Robin seems to enjoy making him suffer (well, that was until Nancy took off her plaid shirt and tied it around her waist to show off her tight black dress underneath and Robin almost had an aneurysm. Ha, how’s that for payback?). And besides, Steve’s looking unfairly hot in that light blue flannel so who’s Eddie to complain?

“Well, well, well. Looks like you got some friends after all, Ed.” Pat grins. “Welcome y’all.”

After Eddie introduces everyone, Robin starts talking Pat’s ear off, overjoyed with the fact that she’s finally meeting another queer woman, asking her all kinds of questions about growing up queer and how she met Tish. Eddie smiles, feeling happy for his friend.

On the other side of the bar, Steve and Nancy are hunched over the jukebox, arguing about the next song to play.

“Is that him?” Tish asks as she puts down his beer - Eddie figures he might as well take advantage of the fact that Nancy’s driving tonight. She nods to where Steve is clearly losing the argument with Nancy. The way he’s bending over the jukebox in those tight Levi’s is making his ass look insane and Eddie lets out a strangled sound.

“Yeah, that’s him alright.”

Tish lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Eddie. You’re screwed.”

“Why, geez. Thanks for that boost of confidence, Tish.”

Tish just winks at him and disappears back into the kitchen. Eddie just sits and sulks for a bit, head rocking along to the song that Nancy picked out until Robin suddenly slides into view, eyes filled with mischief that Eddie doesn’t care for one bit.

“So… A little birdie told me you’ve been singing Dolly Parton songs here on the regular.” Robin says in a sing-song voice.

Damn Pat and her blabber mouth.

Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “And what about it, Buckley?”

“Nothing! Just wondering if you might wanna play a song for us tonight?” Robin asks. She clasps her hands together and pouts when Eddie rolls his eyes at her. “Please? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

“Well… I can’t really say. Not yet anyway.” Robin smiles awkwardly. “But I promise you’ll be happy about it once it works out. Please?”

Eddie sighs - he’s never really been able to resist someone begging and he’s not gonna start now. He finishes his beer in one swig and makes his way over to the stage, taking the now-familiar acoustic guitar from the wall.

His friends sit down at a table close to the stage, staring at him with eager excitement as Eddie tries to think of a song to play. He feels strangely nervous. They had seen him play before, been to a few of Corroded Coffin gigs and he even sang the Beatles’ Blackbird for Nancy’s birthday but this still feels scarier, more intimate.

And the thing is, he can’t really go with one of the songs he played her before because one wrong look in Steve’s direction and he’d be fucked for life. Or even worse, a love song - that’d make for a real awkward evening. So, he finally settles on a song that’s neither of those, but still a song that’s very close to his heart.

“Back through the years, I go wonderin’ once again. Back to the seasons of my youth…” Eddie sings softly, though his drawl rolls out of him with full force.

He can’t help it, it’s the only way he knows how to sing this song because it’s the way his momma sang it to him every night before going to bed. Tucking him in tightly underneath the duvet, covering his face with kisses until he couldn’t stop giggling. Her voice soft and warm as she sang him to sleep.

“There were rags of many colors, every piece was small. And I didn’t have a coat and it was way down in the fall. Mama sewed the rags together, sewin’ every piece with love. She made my coat of many colors, that I was so proud of.”

He thinks of Wayne. Thinks of the clothes Wayne gave him while growing up. How he wore them to school with pride, excited to have clothes to call his own. To have a home and someone taking care of him, not because Wayne had to but because he wanted to.

“So with patches on my britches and in holes in both my shoes, in my coat of many colors, I hurried off to school. Just to find the others laughing and are making of fun of me, in my coat of many colors my mama made for me.”

Thinks of his classmates laughing at his accent, at the way he dressed, at his amazement of seeing snow for the very first time. Remembers going home to Wayne with tears in his eyes, stuffing his plaid shirts into the deepest corner of his closet and trading it for plain black tees instead. Remembers staying up late when Wayne was at work to practice his speech pattern by watching old tv-shows and repeating the lines.

Looks up at his friends. Realizes how he’s showcasing all those parts he hid away for years and is for once, rewarded for it. They’re listening intently, proud smiles on their faces. Nancy and Robin are leaning against each other, their fingers finding their way to one another.

Glances over at Steve, whose hands are folded underneath his chin as he looks at Eddie with a gentle smile, his eyes soft and almost like honey underneath the warm ceiling lights of the bar. He barely blinks, eyes glued to Eddie and Eddie only. It’s a bit distracting, if Eddie’s being honest. He feels his cheeks heat up and he almost misses a chord at one point, realizing then and there why he didn’t pick a love song in the first place.

He needs to sing, not melt into a puddle of goo underneath Steve’s gaze, goddammit.

“Now I know we had no money, but I was rich as I could be. In my coat of many colors, my mama made for me. Made just for me…”

The song softly fades away and Eddie mumbles a quick thanks into the microphone as his friends and the rest of the the bar burst out into applause. He shuffles over to the table where he’s met with Robin and Nancy beaming at him and pulling him into a tight hug.

“That was so good.” Nancy gushes.

“Yeah, it was amazing! You should switch music genres, if I’m honest.” Robin nods. “Change Corroded Coffin’s name into Corroded Cowboy or something.”

Eddie chuckles. “Not sure if the guys are gonna like that. But thanks, girls. Means a lot.”

Steve stays strangely quiet in between Robin and Nancy’s stream of compliments, just fiddling with the coaster in between his fingers. It’s not until Nancy drags Robin to the dance floor when an upbeat song starts playing and Eddie slides into one of the empty seats they left behind, that Steve speaks up.

“You have a really nice voice, you know that?”

He says it so softly that Eddie can barely hear him over the bluegrass music on the speakers. Still, it’s enough for Eddie’s cheeks to flush pink.

“Thanks.” Eddie replies, ducking his head to prevent Steve from seeing his flushed face.

“Seriously, man.” Steve says. “Think about Robin said. I mean, I love hearing you sing and scream about the world’s injustices with Corroded Coffin as much as the next person but…”

Eddie’s heart starts beating out of his chest because holy fuck, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing.

“But these songs seem to come so natural to you, y’know?” Steve glances up to meet Eddie’s eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “You make it seem so…”

“Easy?” Eddie supplies.

Steve smiles and there’s something in his eyes that Eddie can’t quite decipher. A secret that only Steve seems to know. “Yeah, exactly. Easy.”

Eddie feels the flush on his face deepen underneath Steve’s gaze and he needs a way out before he starts doing something incredibly stupid like drag him to the bathroom just to see what happens when he calls Steve darlin’.

“You want a refill?” Eddie says quickly, gesturing towards the empty beer bottle on the table. “My treat.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Eddie.”

The sound of his own name rolling off Steve’s tongue almost makes Eddie stumbles as he stands up makes his way towards the bar. Smooth, Munson, real fuckin’ smooth.

“Two beers please.” Eddie tells Pat, drumming his ring-adorned hands on the faded wood of the bar.

“Here ya go.” Pat says, handing him the drinks. Eddie’s about to turn back, when she stops him. “Ed, I don’t mean to mess with your head or anythin’… But are ya sure that boy’s straight?”

Eddie snorts. “What’d you mean? ‘Course he is.”

“Well, I won’t be so sure about that, kiddo.” Pat says with a knowing smile. “I’ve been seein’ the way he looks at you tonight and well… let’s just say it’s the same way I look at Tish every morning I wake up next to her.”

Eddie looks up to where Steve’s chatting with Jack, one of the older regulars who’s an actually banjo player in his spare time. He just watches them for a minute, a soft smile playing around his lips, the one he always gets when he’s looking at Steve.

Steve looks up and their eyes meet, a bright smile appearing on his face as he wiggles his hands in the air to wave at Eddie. He seems so happy and he’s never looked more beautiful.

Christ, Eddie’s so in love with him.

“That. That look right there. No one looks at their platonic friend like that. Not when there are other feelings involved.” Pat says firmly. “You might wanna start re-thinkin’ this whole situation, Ed.” She adds cryptically and returns to where she’s drying off another glass.

A tingly feeling spreads all over Eddie’s body, a shiver running up his spine. It should feel nice, it does feel nice, but at the same time Eddie knows it’s actually the worst feeling in the world.

Hope.

tag list:

@solosnail @gothbat99 @unclewaynemunson @legitcookie @henderdads @goblin-eddie @trikigirl271 @alienace @stevethehairington @blank1eboi @fruitandbubbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @stereoteleversion @wrenisflying @spectrum-spectre @hotluncheddie @punkharringtxn @remislupinisthevoiceofgod @panicatthediaz @thegingervulcan @sharkruption @goodolefashionedloverboi @thelastwalkingsoul @undreamingscatworld @magpiemuseum @mightbeasleep @maya-custodios-dionach @theokatz @this-earlobe-is-naked

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #this one got away from me #i got cursed by munson family feels as i often do #also sorry to everyone i tried to tag but somehow failed to do so??#really dunno what happened there #alice's writing adventures

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getvalentined · 2 months

Text

FF7 Fandom PSA

This is not a callout post, this is a warning about a genuinely dangerous abuser who uses fandom spaces to acquire victims.

Apparently my abusive ex is ingratiating himself into fandom spaces again, so if you're in the FF7 fandom please keep an eye out for someone calling himself Pix or Pixeled.

The details of what he did to me specifically are available in a post from almost exactly two years ago, readable here. Other people have shared their own stories, but I don't have the energy to dig up all of them. Trigger warnings for gaslighting, emotional abuse, violent threats, forced isolation, manipulation, and more that I'm definitely missing.

Known usernames:

Instagram: midgardsomrnights, pixeledartsy, okgoosefus, pixeledpalace

AO3: pixeled, pixeledxxx

tiktok: pixrexpen, gaywrathlet

FFXIV: sarielperedhil (on Brynhildr)

ko-fi: pixrexpalace

Other: pix pendragon, pixeled pendragon, pixrexpendragon

Some of these are current, most of them are not; he's no longer active here or on Twitter that I'm aware of, so I'm not referring to his usernames there, but he uses some combination of parts from these for his usernames everywhere so they followed the same theme.

This is not "fandom drama," this is a sincere warning to anyone in his orbit to be careful and be safe. Please love yourself more than he wants you to.

With that in mind, there are more personal details under the cut, discussing the fallout of going public with his abuse and more of his behavior; no screenshots on these because it's years in the past, not all of the related accounts and spaces still exist, and back when I was first gathering evidence I had to stop before it lapsed into the territory of emotional self-harm.

Same trigger warnings as above, plus racism, (implied) sexual exploitation, sexual manipulation, and discussion of Body Dysmorphic Disorder.

I want to be very clear that I was not the first person to go through this, I was just the first to go public afterward. I have lost relationships with people I thought were friends by doing so, and actually been referred to as abusive in response to my initial thread on Twitter letting people know what he'd done. I've had people who used his treatment of me as an excuse to join in with hurting me go on to co-opt my abuse to make themselves look like victims, claiming that we were best friends until he drove us apart—or worse, to use him as a complete stand-in for their own behavior, implying or outright stating that he forced them to isolate me from friends and fandom activities and treat me like shit, all while these people have me blocked on every possible platform where I could reconnect with them.

Pix was the Bad Guy of early 2022 on FF7 Twitter, and while he deserved the title, not everything everyone said about him was true. Not everything everyone said about me was true, either, but people tend to take anything connected to fandom as "drama," even when it involves literal abuse.

One thing I never told anyone except my closest friends is that Pix drove me to the verge of suicide multiple times. He put up videos insulting me to be "funny" and got friends laughing along, when I asked him to stop teasing me all the time he exploded and said that he was allowed to express himself however he wanted and if I had a problem then I should break up with him so he could finally kill himself guilt-free, he told me that he wasn't going to placate me anymore by saying "I love you," he told me in public spaces to shut up because I didn't know anything. He used racist slurs against Asian people behind my back and told everyone who called him on it that I'd told him it was all right, leading to a continuing belief among some circles that I have some deep internalized racism toward my own fucking ethnicity.

He told me that his mother saw me as a whore and a homewrecker, because I'd seduced him away from his boyfriend of eight years—in spite of the fact that I told him outright I did not want a romantic relationship with him because he was already in one, and I wouldn't be party to cheating. When I went public with what he did, he claimed that I pressured him into a romantic relationship, neglecting to mention that he'd been pushing for one almost since we met and that I'd shot him down because he was already with someone else. He said that I'd forced him to break up with his boyfriend, and seemed to be implying that I'd somehow sexually exploited him because I'm a cisgender lesbian and he identified as an aro/ace trans man at the time we broke up. When we got together, he identified as a bisexual nonbinary person.

To be completely honest, though, his orientation and gender identity doesn't even fucking matter with regards to the implication that I exploited him because we never had any form of sexual contact—unless you want to count RP, which I don't, and if I did I would be calling him a cheater because I was not his only RP partner.

To be completely clear, we were in a long distance relationship, thousands of miles apart, and we had no sexual contact. We never sexted, we never had phone sex, we never even exchanged dirty pictures. Our relationship had no sexual element whatsoever. He eventually told me in no uncertain terms that if/when we got married, he wasn't going to sleep with me because he didn't have a sex drive anymore due to trauma, and that since I loved him so much I'd have to be happy with that.

He would remind me of this when my Body Dysmorphic Disorder began to relapse constantly from the amount of stress he had me under, because my experience with the condition is rooted on my lack of physical femininity and leads me to see myself as completely sexually repulsive. When I was triggered and trying to untie the knot in my chest that made me want to throw up at the thought of my own body, he would remind me that I didn't have to worry about being too ugly for sex with him, because he was never going to fuck me anyway. That it didn't matter if I was disgusting, because he found all bodies disgusting, so really I was lucky to have him. He didn't even care that I was disabled and that my arms and legs are too long, that my joints slip out of place all the time, that the way I have to move sometimes to keep from hurting makes me look "weird and stupid." I was so lucky to have him, because even though he was very aware of all those things, he didn't actually care. He wasn't going to fuck me anyway.

The last Christmas card he sent me literally had the words "You deserve a high-five!" printed on the front, and on the reverse he'd written something along the lines of "okay but you know I'd be sure to miss and slap you in the face, sorry not sorry."

He made my life hell in every possible way, and people said it was drama because we met through fandom—and that I deserved it, honestly, since I was so fucked up and he was such a good person for even caring about me in the first place. I deserved it, people said, since I turned around and stabbed him in the back after he'd done so much for me for the years we were together. It was just fandom drama, they said, and I was just thriving off the social capital it allegedly earned me.

And now he's back and making new friends, but it's fine because this all happened years ago, and everyone with a brain should be able to see that it's just fandom drama. But it's not. It never was. Don't let him convince you otherwise.

#PSA #personal #abuse tw #should I tag this with the fandom?#should I put it on the block?#it's dangerous #for me #but I think it's worth it #to keep others safe #final fantasy 7 #FF7 #final fantasy vii #FFVII #rufus shinra #tsengru #rutseng #the [redacted] files

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lululandd · 11 months

Note

Ok I can't stop thinking about the froggie statues in the plants. (Find all the froggie figurines!) Reader should keep a teeny tiny one in her pocket so that when (if?) Ghost eventually invites her inside, she can sneak one in his apartment. 🐸

at peace;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

wordcount: 1205

warning: fluff, froggies, simon riley is a fucking mess, part 2 of this fic

note: also on ao3

summary: what tendy said.

The last time he felt nervous to the point of nausea was a year ago, when he learnt of Graves and Shepherd’s betrayal. But today he felt even worse than that. He saw a glimpse of her daily, sometimes once every two days. The woman saunters to his balcony, waters his plants, wipes the little frogs clean—apparently he missed a little purple one by the orchid—and goes back upstairs.

He bought different kinds of teas the other day, not knowing what kind she would like, and now the possibility of her not liking tea at all made bile rise up to the back of his throat. Why is he feeling like this? She’s just his neighbour. He’s just being polite by repaying her for making his fire escape look decent. He’s killed men numerous times before and felt nothing, but why is asking his neighbour to come insi—

Realisation hits as he ran for the sink.

He’s never invited anyone in before. Not even Johnny knows where he lives. This would be the first time since he moved here that he would invite someone inside. He looked around the place. Is this how normal people live? Could it be too… pristine? Too immaculate? Should he have at least one picture on a shelf? He glanced at the gloomy state of his apartment and decided he needed to add a little more…. life to it.

He was caught off guard on his way back from his third trip to the store. He had a little shoe rack and some books on the backseat of his car.

“Hey neighbour!” He heard her speak.

Fuck.

“Allright?”

She nodded. The woman had a cup of something he can’t distinguish but recognise the café it came from. “You need help?” She gestured at his car.

“Yes.” He answered without thinking. The word just fired out of his brain like a bullet; straight out of his mouth. He didn’t need her help, didn’t want her help. There’s a very empty picture frame on the desk next to the telly and he’s fairly sure she’d be weirded out by. “In a bit.”

She visibly backed off and he thought he had said the wrong thing when she just nodded, “I’ll swing by in an hour? That allright?”

“Yeah.”

He fixed his empty frame problem, placed the books down, and arranged all the extra knick-knacks he bought to somewhere he thought would look normal and presentable. It was after spraying his living space with some air freshener that he started questioning what he was doing. Why was he doing this? To what extent is he going to pretend he is a functioning human being? Would he have done the same thing if Soap was to come over?

A knock on his balcony door lets him know if he would pass as being normal to a civilian. He was greeted with a decent sized tupperware of brownies half shoved into his face. “So what am I helping with?”

Shit.

In his daze to make his place seem normal as possible he had cleaned and put everything in its place. “Sorry, fixed it actually. Fancy a cuppa instead?”

She handed him the brownies so she can take her shoes off. She left them outside by the plants, and saw they were just like them, colourful. He gestured to the sofa as he walked to the kitchen, “Any requests?”

He was unimpressed when she skipped the sofa entirely and walked with him to the kitchen. The girl probably doesn’t trust him with her tupp—

“Any would be fine, I’m not picky.” She instead sat on the dining chair that previously held his dying plant. The plant that started all of this.

“There’s a couple. White, black, earlgrey, chamomile, matcha, as—.”

“No way. Matcha? Do you have that whisk thingy too?” She moved her wrist around.

He opened a drawer and grabbed the wooden whisk and proudly held it up. “You want matcha?”

To his dismay she shook her head, “I’ll just have whatever you feel like having right now.”

“Guest’s choice.”

“I brought brownies. Host’s pick.”

“Matcha goes great with brownies.” He lied. He just wanted to see her eyes light up like earlier.

She nodded enthusiastically, “Whatever you say, you’re the tea expert.”

Fuck. She was just being polite and leaves everything to him because she thinks he’s knowledgeable. He needs more info about tea if he— If he what, actually. Why does he keep thinking about what she wants and what she thinks of him? Would he have thought the same if it was Price thinking he knows more about tea than he really does?

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that when he turned around to hand her the tea, she wasn’t in her seat anymore. She was looking at the books he had put on the shelf. He had to walk over to hand her the mug.

“You a fan?” She pointed at his freshly purchased Dune books, he sees the sparkle in her eyes again and he has to disappoint her for the second time today.

“Haven’t read ‘em yet. Thought the covers looked interesting.”

“So you just… bought the whole hardcover set because they looked… pretty?” He notices the many crinkles at the edge of her eyes when she smiles. He would like to coun—

“Gotta match my new garden.” He nodded at the balcony. It was utter horseshite from his part but he must admit that the books did make the view prettier. He needs to take that into consideration when buying things now.

The way her face lights up to look up at him mimics the first time he had offered his space to her. “You mean it?”

He took a sip of his tea with one hand and crossed his heart with the other. He hoped this would distract her from his face because he was sure he was blushing. Where’s his mask when he n—

No.

Ghost doesn’t belong here, not now. Ghost will be needed someday when someone bothers her. Ghost will be sorely awakened that day when she tells him she shouldn’t be coming over anymore, but for the time being Ghost doesn’t belong here.

He reminded her about the brownies and glad that whatever bollocks he spewed earlier turned out correct. Matcha did go with brownies. The girl said so herself.

“I’m Simon, by the way.”

—

He got a call from Price that night, and for the first time, he was sad he had to leave. His mind wandered to his books and wondered if he will ever even read past a quarter of the first one. As he walked over to look at them, he noticed something.

There was a skinny little frog covered in glitter—standing upright with an unamused face—hidden behind the books and the empty basket he had up there. He then moved the frog front and centre, where it really belongs.

Or, that’s where he thought it does, until a week later. The glitter caught his eye as he scans the room one last time before leaving, so he snagged it from its perch and slips it into his inner jacket pocket, comfortably held against his heart.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty #scuffed writing

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sidekick-hero · 1 month

Text

On April 2nd, freshly delivered to AO3: Emotional Motion Sickness, my contribution to the @strangerthingsreversebigbang inspired by art from the amazing @arimakes

Have a lil snippet as a treat 💜

When he looks at Eddie again, he sees that the other man is already looking back at him. A warm smile is on his face, which Steve returns without thinking. It grows even wider when Eddie takes his hand in his own and caresses his knuckles.

"So, I just had at least twenty different conversations with you in my head and none of my opening lines were any good. You were great, don't worry, you said all the right things." Steve laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. He didn't pick Eddie to be a Casanova, but definitely a charmer. And while Eddie is charming, he's apparently also a total dork.

In other words, he is exactly Steve's type.

"I hope you'll forgive me if I mess up this one too, I'm trying a new approach," Eddie announces, clearing his throat. "Steve, would you allow me the honor of showing you that kink can be different than what you just described?"

When Steve says nothing for too long, Eddie adds hastily, "Not that you were wrong, not at all. Everything you described is kink, and I'm pretty sure you'd find people here for all those things. I'm just saying I could show you a different part of it, one you might like. Or not, which would be totally fine. We can stop at any time and you can say no to anything, consent is the most important thing.” Without really waiting for an answer, Eddie barrels on. "God, I'm really screwing this up, aren't I? Twenty-one tries and I'm still fumbling it, no wonder I was always picked last in gym class.“

Steve, who, thanks to his friendship with Robin, can spot a nervous rambler from a mile away, flips their hands, laces his fingers with Eddie's and squeezes his hand. "Deep breaths, Eddie. You're fine, I promise. It's actually a sweet offer, and I hope the "me" in your head told you that, too.”

Staring at their joined hands with a smile, Eddie ducks his head and looks back at Steve with a painfully sincere, hopeful expression on his face. God, he's so screwed, Steve thinks, an all too familiar feeling tugging at his heart. No, no, no, way too soon, abort, he scolds his heart, but he knows it's not listening. It never does.

"So? What do you think? Or if you need more time to think, that's totally cool, too." Eddie tells him earnestly and Steve believes him. He can tell how much Eddie wants him to say yes, but he's willing to wait for Steve, no matter how long it takes. Steve has no idea how he can know that, since he doesn't know much more about the man than his name, but he does. It's in the way Eddie keeps smiling at him, his thumb running absentmindedly over the back of Steve's hand, his body language open and soft.

As he keeps looking at the man in front of him, Steve marvels at how different it feels to be wanted by Eddie. The guys he had been with before had been easy, a sure thing, their hunger for Steve palpable but shallow. Easily satiated and discarded. With Eddie, it's deeper, more substantial. He makes Steve feel wanted in a different way, not as a means to an end. Rather, it feels like at this moment, there is nothing in this world for Eddie but Steve and the prospect of taking Steve home and exploring something new with him. It's heady and warm and Steve wants to say yes.

Steve had wanted to say yes to Eddie the moment he first laid eyes on him, if he's being honest.

So he does. He tells Eddie he'd love to and bathes in the sheer glow of Eddie's answering smile.

Just like when he entered the Hideout tonight, he has no idea what he's getting into, but at least this time he's not alone.

A special shout out to my cheerleaders @firefly-party and @thefreakandthehair as well as @starrystevie and of course for the most amazing beta @acasualcrossfade who picked this one apart and helped me put it back together even better. Love you guys! 💜🥰

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things reverse big bang #strbb #my writing

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questforgalas · 10 months

Text

Code Red Training

···

GIF by mlmanakin

Summary: Kix has to give a training on the menstrual cycle to the 501st. It goes exactly how you think it would

Characters: 501st legion (Jesse, Fives, Rex, Kix, Echo, Dogma, Appo, and made up clone names), Ahsoka Tano

WC: 2.4K

Notes: This is based off another silly HC I posted the other day I couldn't get out of my head. I think the idea of the engineered clones raised surrounded by men learning about the menstrual cycle is a hilarious concept. Very silly stuff. The boys are in awe of their commander after

Tags: descriptions of the menstrual cycle and what occurs. Swearing

Tay's Masterlist

Read on AO3

Kix was running out of tasks to keep his hands busy. The informational flimsies were on the fourth variation of stacking, and he’d rearranged the educational sculptures in every possible space on the desk. He wasn’t nervous. He just could make a list of 1000 other duties he’d rather be doing than, well, this.

Kix had the 41st Elite Corps to thank for this one. The poor padawan commander of the 41st apparently wasn’t prepared for her cycle, and while she was trying to retreat to her quarters to remedy the situation, she was caught with a noticeable blood stain that, understandably, caused her troopers to go into a panic. Chaos ensued as an entire corps sprang into action to save their commander who, to their knowledge, was bleeding to death for no reason.

There’s no official report on the matter, but the message from Insi, the medic of the 41st, simply said “The troopers involved won’t be looking Commander Offee in the eye anytime soon”.

So now, all battalions led by a female general or commander had to sit through educational training on the menstrual cycle.

A 3-D model of the uterus taunted him from across the desk.

“Gotta say, don’t exactly envy you with this one, Kix,” Captain Rex’s voice interrupted Kix’s internal battle to cancel the next session and run, but instead, he turned to face his Captain, standing at attention and offering a short salute.

“You envy everything else I get to deal with, sir?” The medic offered a sly smirk as Rex put him at ease.

“You got me there,” Rex chuckled. “Although, last I remember, it wasn’t too long ago you’d be right next to Fives and Jesse when I’d be threatening another ‘fresher duty to ward off any antics.”

Kix brought a hand to his chest, feigning hurt, “Me, sir? Antics? I’d never.”

“Just because you knew how to hide the evidence better doesn’t mean you were more innocent.” A playful shove on his shoulder broke his performance.

“It’s called a medic’s attention to detail, sir.”

Rex offered a hum in response, the fond smile on his lips softening the threat of his eye roll, and he continued to make his way across the room to the chair set up in the back corner. As the commanding officer, Rex had to give his approval on the training which meant Kix already took him through the session – The captain remained professional the entire session, but the increasing crimson of his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed – so his presence here now only meant one thing.

Rex knew who was on the roster, and he was here for a show.

“You think you’re being sly Captain, but I see right through you,” Kix accused.

“I’m not sure what you mean. It’s my duty as captain to perform surprise training inspections. It’s for the good of my men.” Rex’s face remained impassive, but the medic didn’t miss the smirk tugging at his lips or the glint in his eyes.

Before he could answer, he heard voices coming down the hall. Kix went through the same mental routine he did when he boarded a LAATi, and with one last deep breath, he readied himself for battle.

_____________________________________________________________

“Wait, wait, wait! A tube?! They have an actual tube in them?”

“Not just a tube, Hardcase. Two tubes!”

“Can females create metal?!”

“How does a baby even fit in there? Like, the same size as us in the tube? Come out of THAT!”

“FEMALES LAY EGGS?!”

The first ten minutes of the session went about as well as Kix could hope for. Characteristic of this group, they were rowdy when they filed in, most coming in from the mess hall, and many in the middle of glorified battle stories that their audience wasn’t buying. As they took their seats, they settled in, and most conversation had quieted down, but when Kix stood upfront waiting for a second too long, pointed looks by Echo and Dogma had the room quieting down quickly.

Much to Kix’s surprise, the group remained attentive and curious during the first parts of his notes as he walked them through the anatomy. Not to his surprise, all hell broke lose when he started to explain conception and gestation. When the questions erupted, Kix stole a glance to the back of the room. Rex was barely holding his composure, and it looked like Jesse’s outburst broke the professional dam as Rex quickly hid his face behind his hand, shoulders shaking.

“Alright, alright, alright. Calm down! One question at a time,” Kix barked. “First, the fallopian tubes are not metal tubes, Hardcase. It’s just what they’re called because they connect two sections. Second, yes, babies as big as we are when we come out of the tube are born through the vagina. If necessary, they can be cut out, bu-“

“THEY CUT THEM OU-“ Smack “Ow!”

“Cut it, Appo,” Echo scolded.

“As I was saying, they can be cut out, but that’s in emergency situations. And lastly, they don’t lay eggs. Not females with this anatomy. They carry eggs, and once a female hits puberty, their ovaries release one egg once a month for it to be fertilized,” Kix finished.

“Oh I can tell you allll about how they’re ferti-“ Smack. “Ow!”

“Fives, you’ve never even talked to a girl,” Echo was on a roll Kix very much appreciated.

Taking a pause before moving onto the next section, Kix swept his gaze across the room. Dogma furiously scribbled notes while Hardcase and Oddball looked like they were trying to solve the equation of an ion engine. Echo lazed with his arms across his chest, attention trained on the medic, but gave Appo another swat when he noticed his head nodding to the side. Fives still rubbed the back of his head where Echo hit him, looking like a hurt loth pup not getting to make his crude joke.

Crowded in the middle, a hand raised. Kix recognized the trooper as one of the newest 501st.

“Yes, Doma?”

“Thank you, sir. I’m just curious. What, what happens to the egg if it isn’t fertilized? Does it just…fall out?” The trooper looked around on the ground as if expecting to find a scattering of eggs around him. A soft laugh floated from the back corner of the room.

“Well, Doma, that leads us into the final part of this training. If the egg isn’t fertilized, then the female body goes through what is called the ‘menstrual cycle’ in common. It’s possibly called other things in other languages, but it all refers to the same process.”

Kix picked up the 3-D model and moved back to the front and center of the room, pointing to the uterine lining.

“When released, the egg settles in the lining of the uterus. If it’s not fertilized, the lining sheds and discards the old lining and the egg through the vagina. Then the lining builds up again over the next month preparing for the next egg,” Kix explained. Silence settled over the room and not a single trooper moved. Even Echo looked like Kix just explained a 10-page battle strategy to him with one minute to learn it. “Ok, where did I lose you all?”

Eyes glanced around, no one wanting to speak first. Finally, Dogma raised his hand.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘sheds and discards the old lining’?” he grimaced.

“Here goes nothing,” Kix thought.

“Well, exactly what it sounds like. The lining literally tears itself from the uterus, falls through the vagina, and exits.”

Eruption.

“YOU MEAN-“

“THEIR BODY IS LITERALLY TEA-“

“HOW OFTEN DOES-“

“SHEDS? LIKE, THEIR BODY JUST-“

Fives, Hardcase, Jesse, and a trooper Kix didn’t recognize jumped to their feet, yelling questions. Dogma turned pale. Doma was bracing his head in his hands. Echo’s eyes went wide, stare fixed on a spot in front of him, and troopers around the room reacted with a mix of horror and confusion. The quiet laugh in the corner of the room mingled with the ruckus. Acting fast, Kix brought his fingers to his lips and let out a whistle the patrol across camp could probably hear. Immediately, the questions ceased, but the looks of horror remained. His narrowed eyes got the message across, and all the troopers settled back into their seats. Once he was sure they were focused back on him, Kix went on.

“This is where we’ll open up the question portion of the training.”

Every hand shot up.

“Fives, if this is a joke,” Kix warned.

“No, it’s serious I promise!” Fives pleaded. Kix nodded for him to go on. “When they’re going through this men-menstrol? Mens-“

“Menstrual.”

“Thanks, vod. When they’re going through this menstrual cycle, is it painful?”

“Yes. Pain can vary female to female, but common symptoms are severe cramps. Many females experience cramps painful enough to cripple them anywhere from a couple hours to days. Other common symptoms are muscle cramps in their lower backs and legs, interrupted sleep cycle, severe mood swings, bloating, digestive changes, and headaches or migraines.” Kix explained. A room of faces grimaced back at him.

“How long does it last for,” Echo asked.

“Again, it varies female to female, but on average 3 to 7 days.”

“7 days?! They’re just…bleeding! For 7 days!” A trooper exclaimed in the back.

“Maker, I didn’t think of that,” Jesse mused. “They’re just walking around with their bodies tearing itself on the inside, and they’re just…ok?”

“Well…” Kix started. “I wouldn’t say they’re ‘ok’, but they’re expected to go through life with it. So yes, many females you encounter could be in their cycle.”

“And this happens, every month?” Jesse asked, amazement in his voice.

“Yes, once the female becomes of age, and as long as everything is regular, it happens once a month.”

“Whoa,” Awe passed over the troopers.

“Wait,” Appo shot up in his seat. “Commander Tano!”

Kix’s eyes instinctively found Rex’s. The captain’s smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and it took all of Kix’s respect for the decorated captain to not flip him off.

“What about the commander?” Kix returned to the group.

“Well, she’s a female!” Appo blurted.

“Appo, are you asking if Commander Tano experiences a menstrual cycle?” Kix asked. The captain answered with a vigorous nod of his head, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Well, I can’t disclose patient information, but Commander Tano is of the age that it’s common for females to begin theirs.”

“That..is so…fucking…cool!” Oddball exclaimed.

“You mean our Commander is out there kicking clanker butt while her body is literally tearing itself on the inside? I mean, can she be any greater?” Echo proclaimed, a proud twinkle in his eye.

“Ohhhh is that why she randomly hordes all the chocolate cakes in the mess?” Fives mused.

“I don’t think I need to remind all of you that it is not procedure or polite to bombard the commander with questions about this,” a stern voice interrupted from the back. Amusement still danced in his eyes, but the expression on Rex’s face shut all conversation down immediately.

“Yes, sir,” echoed unanimously.

“Alright, well, if there aren’t any more questions, that concludes the training,” Kix dismissed. While his brothers filed out of the room, Kix allowed himself to relax his shoulders for the first time since Fives entered.

Rex appeared in front of him, hand clasping down on his shoulder, “Not bad trooper. I think you’ll only be getting questions from Hardcase for the next 20 rotations.”

____________________________________________________________

“Hey, Rex. Have you noticed the boys have been…odd lately?” Ahsoka asked while she and Rex made their way through the halls of the Resolute,

“Not sure I know what you mean, Commander,” Rex responded.

Walking through the narrow halls, a few troopers stepped to the side to salute the commander and captain as they passed. Ahsoka noticed two things. First, their eyes went wide when they first took her in. Second, their force signatures spiked instantly with something mixed with astonishment and pride. Once they passed, she could swear she heard one of them murmur, “An absolute legend.”

These types of occurrences had been happening regularly over the last few weeks, and Ahsoka grew more confused with each one.

“I don’t know. All of them have been looking at me like the shinies look at Anakin when they meet him for the first time. It’s, unnerving,” she explained.

Rex did his best to hide the chuckle rumbling in his chest. Of course, he’d noticed his brothers completely obvious demeanor change towards their commander. Ever since Kix’s trainings finished, the whole 501st viewed their vod’ika in a whole new light – one that put her on par, if not higher, than their general.

“Eh, I’m sure it’s nothing. You know how they get, especially in between missions. Restless and bored. Start actin’ weird. Don’t pay attention to it,” Rex tried to deflect.

Making their way around the corner, Fives and Echo were spotted leaving the mess heading in their direction. When the ARCs recognized who was ahead of them, Fives bounded their way.

“Commander! Lucky running into you. Here, I grabbed an extra chocolate cake just for you. Figured you can stash it away, save it for later,” Fives suggested, giving a wink like he and Ahsoka were in on a secret only the two of them know.

“Uh, thanks, Fives. That was, kind?” Ahsoka shot a look to Rex that said “See?”, but he just shrugged her off as if Fives giving her chocolate cakes happened every day.

“Oh, and commander, I stopped by the med bay earlier. I saw they were low on high strength painkillers, so I requested that Kix put in a supply order right away so we’re well stocked. Wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared, right?” Echo added.

Rex groaned internally. For ARCs, these two were the most obvious troopers he’d ever known.

“That’s, good to know, Echo. Thanks, I think?” Ahsoka tried her best to sound polite, but the whole interaction just confused her more.

“You’re welcome! Well, we’re off to the rec center for some sparring. Rex, join us later?” Echo asked.

“Another time, Echo. I have a briefing at 1500,” Rex answered, dismissing the troopers.

Later that day, Ahsoka stashed that cake in her quarters and made a note to stop by the med bay to grab some of the painkillers before next week. She didn’t know what was going on with the boys, but she wasn’t going to not take advantage.

#tay writes #star wars #the clones wars #501st legion #captain rex #arc trooper echo #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper fives #clone trooper dogma #captain appo #clone trooper kix #clone medic kix #clone trooper hardcase #divider by samspenandsword #cw: menstruation

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stevesjockstrap · 6 months

Text

kinktober last day Steve/Eddie

& voice kink

read on ao3

MDNI - rated E - modern setting, drunk texting, dirty talk

He was an idiot. A complete and utter menace to himself. Why hadn’t he let Robin take his phone or change the password last night? He had honestly thought if he was that blackout drunk he would’ve just come home and passed out. But no.

Steve stopped scrolling through all the notifications on his phone and went to make coffee. After a few sips he sighed and called Robin. Hopefully there wasn’t more to the story.

“Hello?” A deep voice answered and he dropped his phone.

“Oh fuck. Huh?“ He was looking at Robin's name, but who was this? Putting the phone back up to his ear, he could only stutter, “I-I’m sorry, I’m confused I guess. I was trying to call someone else.”

“Well at least I know your phone does make calls,” he mused. This stranger’s voice was already doing things to him. It was so deep and rumbly and he could almost picture the person curled up in bed. Maybe with his shirt off.

“I’m really sorry, I’m trying to catch up on what my drunk self decided to do last night,” he winced. “I, um, apparently saved your number under my best friend’s name, for starters.”

The man chuckled and Steve’s dick stirred in his boxers. He was so fucked. “That does explain some things, at least on my end. How about you do some catching up and call me later? If you want. And stop apologizing, sweetheart.” The endearment with the rich silky voice had him holding back a moan.

“O-okay. Um, could you tell me your name? Please?”

The man groaned and Steve heard rustling which had him imagining the man repositioning on his bed. Oh shit. “So polite now, huh? I’m Eddie. Start on Bumble, for your research.” He snorted and Steve winced.

“Oh man, it’s going to be bad, isn’t it?” Steve’s face flushed and he was glad this stranger couldn’t see him.

“Not the worst drunken flirting I’ve been a part of, promise. Now,” Eddie yawned. “I’m going to go back to sleep I think. Some hot guy had me up late last night. Hopefully he’ll call me back, though.” Steve couldn’t hold back the whimper as Eddie apparently ramped up his flirting voice and his knees almost buckled.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “Uhhh yeah, I’m going to do that. Both of those things. Fuck.”

Eddie huffed a laugh and purred, “Talk to you later, Stevie,” before he hung up.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

Steve immediately went to the Bumble app and gasped. He had a ton of new matches and messages. Matches that were men. He’d never made the change to his dating app when he’d allowed himself to face that part of him. Probably for this reason.

But in the mess of rude and gross messages and messages that were just emojis or asking for his number, he found one that said Eddie.

“Holy shit,” he gasped. Eddie was fucking gorgeous. He scrolled through his pictures and each one was better than the last. Long dark curly hair, sometimes twisted up on the top of his head with little bits pulled out to taunt him. Huge brown eyes with ridiculous eye lashes, the most delicious lips he’d ever seen. Steve never really went for the rock and roll look but apparently he was into it when it looked this good. The shredded jeans with a cropped band tee really converted him.

There were a few prompts where Eddie had used the voice feature and Steve played the first one.

Eddie’s caramel voice resounded in his tiny kitchen and he gasped again. “I get way too excited about finding the perfect album in a dusty pile in the corner of an antique shop. Or when someone wants to watch Lord of the Rings with me.” There was another little aggravating chuckle and Steve didn’t hold back the moan.

“This cannot be real.” Steve made himself go back to the beginning of the messages, knowing it was going to be embarrassing.

It was worse than he could imagine.

(2:18am) u r so ducking hot n ur voice is driving me

(2:18am) so so crazy

Steve swiped out and went into his contacts to try to actually call Robin. The number listed under her name was clearly now Eddie. He went to his messages and found the thread with just her number and hit call.

“How are you functioning already this early? You were fucked-“

“Robin, I have a code red! A double code red. I don’t-“

“Wh-huh? What?”

“Apparently I drunkenly hit on this fucking gorgeous dude on Bumble last night and it’s, oh shit,” he rubbed at his face with his free hand. “Well, maybe I didn’t fuck it up completely because I just accidentally called him and he seemed…”

“Seemed?” Robin prompted. He could hear her smirk through the phone.

“He didn’t seem put off. Like at all. He told me to catch up on our messages and call him back.”

“That’s very cute.”

After putting her on speaker, he swiped back into Bumble, encouraged now by having Robin metaphorically by his side and knowing Eddie still seemed interested after all.

(2:34am) Thanks, you’re pretty ducking hot yourself. Having a good night?

Eddie let him ramble for a while about his night out with Robin, even Steve having trouble deciphering his terrible drunk texting. It was then full speed ahead for horny drunk Steve.

(2:56am) cd cum jus from ur voice omfg

(3:12am) need ur dick in my

(3:12am) mouth

(3:14am) r wherevr u want rly

Steve winced but saved Eddie’s pictures and screenshotted his embarrassing nonsense and sent it to Robin.

“Oh my god, Steve.”

“Bobbi I swear to you I don’t remember any of this but I mean I do think his voice is like the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. His morning voice was like-“ he groaned and Robin made fake gagging noises at him.

“You said you accidentally called him today? So he gave you his number even after all of this disgustingness?”

“Oh, yeah! And I somehow saved his number as you. So when I tried to call you this morning it was him.” He navigated back to his messages and opened the text thread for 👯 Robin Bobin🍦”Oh no.”

The messages weren’t much more coherent but Steve understood what Eddie had meant when he said it cleared up some things on his end.

“I was texting him thinking I was texting you… about him… oh my god, Rob. What did I drink last night?”

(3:39am) hes soooo so so soooo forgoes

(3:39am) gorgus

(3:40am) gorgeus

(3:48am) Lol oh yeah?

(3:49am) I hope you’re home and safe, babe.

(3:50am) yah I’m in m bed

(3:50am) wanna hear ur voice

(3:52am) Okay lol give me one sec

(3:54am) stop calling me im wating for te love of my life to call dingus

“Jesus Christ.” He chugged the rest of his coffee and sunk into the couch. “Dude I kept demanding he call me but then yelled at him… thinking he was you calling. Telling you to stop calling me because ‘the love of my life’ was going to call. I’m never drinking again.”

“Why did he put up with this? And still wants to talk to you! You must have some amazing pictures on your profile,” she laughed.

“Well you picked them.”

“Oh,” she scoffed. “Then of course he’s in love with you.”

The texts kept coming.

(4:02am) want to lik ur face

(4:06am) You’re cute.

(4:19am) boo I threw up ☹️

(4:22am) Aww sweetheart are you okay?

(4:34am) malljng asleep

(4:35am) Me too. Get some rest, honey.

“He’s so fucking sweet and amazing, Robs. All this shit I was doing and he was just worried about me. I can’t call this guy back. I can’t believe he answered when I called and woke him up.”

“He clearly likes you, dipshit. Call him back!”

He tortured himself for the rest of the morning going through the messages on Bumble. He saved his number properly (Eddie 🥵🥵🥵) and saw in his call log he’d missed a few calls and a FaceTime call from him the night before.

He scrolled through his own profile, trying to look at it as if he was someone else. Robin had done most of the profile for him. He groaned and covered his face when he saw a ‘throwback’ picture of him in his Scoops Ahoy uniform from years ago. But Eddie had commented on it, “You wouldn’t happen to still have this outfit, would you? 😏”

Unsurprisingly, on a picture of Eddie in big black boots Steve had said, “I want u tk stomp on me w this boots.”

He took tylonel and chugged some water and took a shower. Then he found himself back on his couch with his phone in his hand. He replayed all of Eddie’s voice prompts to continue to torture himself. How could he be so attracted to someone’s voice? Their recorded voice, even. In person it had to be mind melting.

He texted Robin, triple checking that it was the correct thread.

(1:08pm) what if I move to Guam?

(1:09pm) that means you haven’t called him yet?

(1:09pm) ofc not, Robin! I’ve already made a huge ass of myself

(1:10pm) if he’s interested in you he apparently likes huge asses 🍑🍑🍑

Steve groaned.

(1:10pm) why am I best friends with you again?

(1:11pm) cuz we’re the same person and we were trauma bonded by a terrible ice cream job

(1:11pm) CALL

(1:11pm) HIM

The choice was apparently made for him because his phone was ringing and he stupidly answered it.

“Um. Hi?”

“Hi. I know I told you to call me but I figured I’d jump the gun since I work later. Didn’t want to miss you.”

“That’s okay. I’m, uh, I’m very embarrassed, honestly.” He covered his eyes with his hand and scrunched into the couch. “I promise I don’t do things like this.”

Eddie made a soft comforting noise. “It’s okay, Stevie. I promise it wasn’t offensive. Intriguing, actually. Endearing.”

God, his fucking voice. He could listen to him read the dictionary. A small groan punched out of him before he could hold it back.

“You’re okay, though? I was mostly worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for being so nice while I was being a menace.”

Eddie laughed. Steve pressed the phone against his face trying to get it closer to him. “You weren’t being a menace, sweetheart.” His honeyed voice cascaded over him and he made another simpering noise. “What’s got you all whimpery then?”

“Fuck. Your voice,“ he whined. He shouldn’t have been listening to his prompts all morning because he had already been buzzing from it and now getting it directed at him was too much.

“Oh that was for real? I assumed that was just a line.” Eddie definitely made his voice even more dark and sexy and Steve whimpered for real. “Maybe it’s a good thing you never answered last night. Would’ve kept your promise but been too out of it to remember.”

“Kept my promise?”

Eddie chuckled. “You told me you could come just from my voice.”

“Fuuucckk. I mean maybe, I’m hard from just listening to your prompts- uhhh,” he groaned.

“Oh really?” His voice changed again to a more dark and sultry tone and Steve’s hips jolted up with a low moan. “God you really are, aren’t you?”

Steve did a little breathy “mhm” and Eddie groaned, low and dirty.

“Oh my god.” Steve was losing his mind. He had never been so turned on from someone talking to him. Every word he said felt like it was going straight to his dick. “Eddie-“

“Holy shit, if you keep saying my name like that I’ll be coming in my pants right after you.”

Steve grabbed the back of the couch to stop himself from reaching for his throbbing dick. He whined again, feeling so desperate already.

“You’re okay, angel. So you went out last night? With your friend?”

“Oh shit. Y-yeah. Finals are over.”

“Are you in school?” Eddie’s voice seemed to shift again but Steve just shook his head. Then realized he couldn’t see him.

“Ah- n-no, Robin, my friend. She’s in her last year of college. I’m, uh, not.” A less fun version of humiliation clenched his guts.

“Robin is the one you saved my number under? You seem close.”

“Yeah. We met in high school. She’s, can we not really talk much about her, like right now?”

Eddie laughed. “Sure, baby. I get it. You wanna hear more about me, huh?” He could picture the exact smirk he bet was spread across his face.

“Fuck, sure. Anything. Please just keep talking.”

“You’re so sweet,” he said. “You by yourself? No roommates we have to worry about?”

“Ah- no. Just me. Apartment neighbors, but they’ve probably heard worse-“

“Oh yeah? You get loud, baby? Gunna be loud for me?” He sounded downright pornographic now. Dark and filthy and Steve wanted to roll in it.

“God, how are you doing this? I’ve never- ah, shit- This is weird, right?”

Eddie hummed. “Not weird, Stevie. It’s so sexy, hearing you get all flustered over me. If it makes you feel better you’re the first person who’s been this interested in my voice,” he chuckled again and Steve moaned. “You gettin’ close, angel?” Steve made a noise he hoped was affirmative. “Not touching yourself, right? Wanna see if you can do it with just me talking,” he dropped his voice low and sultry again.

“Oh my god,” Steve was reeling. How was this possible? “You need to run a 900 line or something.” Eddie laughed again, a real laugh and Steve could picture him throwing his head back, hair flying. His neglected dick throbbed at him.

“I think it’s just you, babe. Which is fine for me. I don’t usually like this sort of attention. But you’re so genuine about it. You just want someone to take care of you, huh?” The words and the rich silky tone had him moaning again, dick jumping in his sweats.

“Yes,” he breathed. “So close, please,” he gasped out, letting his hips move uncontrollably.

“Doing so good, Stevie. Gunna make a mess for me? You’re so amazing. You know you were driving me crazy all night right? Telling me to call and then not answering and telling me off about it. Would go stare at your pictures in your profile and all was forgiven. You could convince me to do anything, baby. Just turn those eyes up at me and I’d fold instantly.”

Steve whimpered loudly, then shoved knuckles in his mouth, suddenly self conscious about his noises.

“Hey, let me hear you. Want you to be loud for me, c’mon. Know you’ve gotta be so close, little one. Gunna come so hard. I know,” he crooned. “You’ve got me close, too. Picturing you all sprawled out for me, all needy and desperate. Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you if I was there.”

A loud moan burst out of him and his hips jolted forward again. The thought of Eddie being here, touching him and talking to him was forcing him to clench his fist into the couch to keep himself from touching his dick.

“Please,” he cried out.

“Oh, honey, I know. You’re so perfect, so sweet. Making me crazy. Bet you looked so good when you went out last night, yeah? Couldn’t stop thinking about it. Did you dance? Let everyone see you? Did you let them put their hands on you? Slide in behind you?”

Steve groaned and said, “Uh huh.” Eddie groaned back.

“Yeah, but then you came home and found me. Chose me instead. Because you knew I’d give you what you really needed. Isn’t that right, baby?”

He was squirming around so much now and constantly making little punched out moans and whimpers. Eddie’s voice in his ear was just right, saying just what he needed to hear and going straight to his cock.

“Yeah, yes Eddie. Fuck- oh oh,” he rocked his hips, getting a tiny bit of friction against his boxers.

“C’mon, you can do it. So fucking hot, baby. Maybe we’ll try this again when I see you. Lay you out across my lap and just talk to you. Huh? Think we’d make it? Before I lost my mind and fucked you?”

Steve cried out, almost dropping his phone. “Oh fuck, oh my god-“ he panted and shoved his phone back to his face. “Please-“

“Yeah, you’d be begging for my cock huh? And I’d give it to you. Would give you everything you wanted. So fucking good for me. Now come.” The growl under his voice sent Steve spiraling.

He yelled out as he came, seeing stars. He dropped the phone out of his hand to clench around the cushion behind his head as his hips continued pumping.

When he scrambled for his phone his thumb hit the video call button and suddenly he was face to face with the man who just made him come untouched.

“Oh. Hi.” His face was red and sweaty, hair stuck to his forehead in the little box. Eddie smirked at him, looking mostly nonplussed. His hair was piled in a bun on the top of his head and it made Steve want to yank the tie out.

“Hi baby. Well? Let me see.”

“Oh my god,” he panted. But he turned the camera around to pan down to the growing wet spot in his sweats, his legs still jumping.

“Fuck, you’re so ridiculously hot.”

Steve turned it back to his face again but covered it with his hand.

“Don’t do that, honey. You’re perfect. That was the hottest thing ever.”

Steve peeked out from over his hand. “Really?”

“Really. When can I see you? What are you doing tomorrow?”

Steve giggled. “Tomorrow’s free.”

@lawrencebshoggoth @lighthousebeams

#Kinktober #steddie Kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #Steddie smut #stranger things smut #we made it to the end lol

132 notes · View notes

cranberrymoons · 4 months

Text

winter games

prompt: sports (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 605 rated: t tags: basketball, fluff, eddie enduring jock stobin ✊😔 notes: this one stands alone but is part of the future fic series!

welcome to Day 22 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Eddie has a type, and much to his eternal dismay, his type is jocks – with a heart of gold, though! That’s an important distinction.

Anyway.

He’d been afraid that this would lead to him marrying into a Turkey Trot family, a bunch of evil sporty people in spandex who wake up at five in the morning on Thanksgiving day to run a 5K in the freezing cold before they’ll allow themselves a slice of pumpkin pie, but luckily for him, this hasn’t turned out to be the case.

Unluckily, he has instead found himself married to someone who takes basketball… so goddamn seriously.

It’s actually kind of adorable, even if he doesn’t actually know or care what’s happening as he sits back on the couch with Steve’s feet in his lap while he and Robin yell at the screen.

“I don’t know what the hell he thinks he’s doing,” Steve says as Eddie takes a swig of his beer and watches impassively at the tiny men in the red jerseys running back and forth on the court. “It’s like he’s never even seen a hoop before.”

“Seriously,” Robin says. She hands over her bag of chips when Steve makes a grab for it. She rips an anxious hand back through her hair where she’s curled in the big squashy armchair near the couch. “Pathetic.”

“They’re still winning though, aren’t they?” Eddie asks. They turn to him with twin exasperated looks, and Eddie widens his eyes. “Indiana. They’re winning.”

“That’s not the point,” Steve says as Robin nods along emphatically. “They should be winning by more.”

Eddie makes a face. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t make sense to you,” Robin says. She rolls her eyes. “Just because –”

But they both devolve into outraged shouts at something that’s just happened in the game, and she doesn’t finish her thought. Steve gets so wound up that his feet shift in Eddie’s lap, heels digging into the tops of his thighs, and Eddie lets out a little grunt of pain. He squeezes Steve’s ankle to get him to move, and Steve gives him a distracted apology as he commiserates with Robin over what is apparently something worth being very upset over.

“Neither of you even went to this school,” he says under his breath, taking another swig of his drink. “Why do you even care?”

Robin glares at him. “How many ear-blasting rock shows have I sat through over the years?”

Eddie sighs. “A bunch.”

“An innumerable number,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “You can put up with one basketball game.”

Steve makes a face. “She kind of has a point.” He rubs a hand over Eddie’s arm where it rests against his legs. “Sorry. Go do a snack run or something if you’re bored. We’re not even to halftime yet.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be asked twice, not when there are several hours (?) of this in his immediate future. He shifts out from under Steve and collects a few empty plates before starting in the direction of the kitchen.

“Bring more drinks!” Robin calls after him.

“And some of the Christmas cookies from earlier!” Steve adds, craning his neck around to be heard from his spot on the couch.

Eddie just rolls his eyes, smiling to himself as he pulls open the fridge and stares into it, considering starting some type of cooking project just to keep himself out of the way of the two-person cheering squad in the living room.

And – okay, so his type is jocks. Doesn’t mean he actually wants to be around them when they’re doing jock things.

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

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jellalism · 5 months

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Diluc x GN!Reader fic: In safe hands

You are having a depressive episode. Diluc takes care of you.

Word count: 1018

Genre: Comfort

Content warnings: Depression, not wanting to eat, and anti-natalist thinking (i.e. thinking it is better not to be born).

Notes: First published on AO3 a year and a half ago. Thought I'd finally post it on here, too.

Read below or on AO3.

You sit on the couch of the Dawn Winery Manor. Knees up, nestled under a blanket, staring into space. Comfy, but you’re not happy. It isn’t that anything is particularly wrong, but you’ve been feeling down today. The whole week, really. It’s just one of those episodes you have every once in a while. You know you’ll get through it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. On the worst days, you can barely drag yourself out of bed, eating is a chore, and doing any actual work is an impossible task. Today is perhaps not that bad, but not much better either. Add to that, the terrible boredom. If you had anything to distract yourself with, it might be bearable – but what do you do if your very diversions seem insurmountable tasks themselves? You sigh.

“y/n?” Diluc stands in the middle of the room, taking his coat off. You hadn’t even noticed him coming in.

“Hey,” you say. You wish you could be more outwardly enthusiastic, but you’re too sapped of energy. Inwardly, though, you are quite happy to see him.

“I see you are not doing so well.” He pauses, then walks up to you, bends over, and kisses your forehead. “Hold on, I will make you some tea.”

You murmur a word of thanks, but probably too softly for him to hear as he leaves the room. He could just have one of the servants make the tea, but he prefers to care for you with his own hands. Besides, his expertise doesn’t only pertain alcoholic drinks. He knows the exact right way to make tea, too. None of the servants’ tea can match the Master’s.

You listen to Diluc making noises in the kitchen, as he left the door open. Bringing the water to a boil, measuring the amount of tea, taking the pot from the cabinet – all the while humming a soft tune. Diluc has told you before that humming is an indispensable part of making good tea. You have your doubts, but have no reason to complain; you’re quite content listening to his song. Diluc isn’t free of his own demons, but he can get into the tasks at hand and lose himself in it, which allows him to hum in such a carefree way.

After a couple of minutes, Diluc returns, carrying a tray. On it, a pot of tea, two cups, and… a croissant. Why must he be so perceptive? you wonder. He definitely noticed you haven’t eaten – it is like a sixth sense he has. Diluc places the tray on the table and, without a word, starts pouring the tea. Then he puts one cup in front of you, giving you a smile and a wink. The second cup he places next to yours, and then he seats himself next to you on the couch. His arm goes over your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. You relax, leaning against his body. It’s warm, comfortably warm. You close your eyes.

“Tell me what is on your mind.”

You are silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you start softly. Diluc murmurs an encouraging sound. Still trying to find the right words, you continue: “Sometimes I just feel so down without an apparent reason. And once I’m that way, the negative thoughts come pouring in, to keep me held down. I fear that I’m never gonna be alright. That I’m not worthy of love. That I’ve misled people into loving me, because if they truly knew me, they wouldn’t stick around. That it'd be better for everyone if I were never born.”

“I respectfully disagree, my love.” Diluc replied. “You are… quite someone, you know? There is no need to be afraid that people would cower at the sight of the ‘real you’. I have been with you for some time, and you have bared your soul. And I am still here, remember? I love you with all your insecurities and wounds, all your mistakes and the things you think are imperfections. I have seen all of you, and I am ‘sticking around’. I love you, and I love being with you.”

A single tear runs over your cheek. “Thank you,” you say. The response feels inadequate, but you can’t quite put your feelings into words. “That means a lot,” you add, turning to face him. He smiles at you in a loving way. His right arm still wrapped around your shoulders, he brings his left hand to your face, holding your chin. His touch is ever so gentle, like you’re a beautiful yet fragile flower. You close your eyes as he leans in. His lips touch yours, press upon them with reservation betraying unparalleled devotion. He tastes like apple cider, with that slight taste of cinnamon.

As the kiss comes to an end, Diluc doesn’t lean back, but rather embraces you tightly. “You mean a lot to me,” he murmurs in your ear. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

You make no sound, letting yourself melt in his arms. They are so warm, so safe. Diluc breath tickles your neck.

After a while, Diluc lets go of the embrace, though one of his hands searches yours and holds it. With the other hand, he reaches for the plate with the croissant and picks it up. “Eat something, sweetheart.” You look at the pastry with aversion. Diluc doesn’t fail to notice. “I know you do not want to, but I do not wish to see you neglect your body. If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for me, alright?” He looks at you imploringly and softly squeezes your hand.

“Alright.” You remove your hand from his hold, take the croissant from the plate and take a small bite.

“Good,” Diluc mumbles under his breath. His now-freed hand goes to your head, and starts playing with your hair. “It’s so soft.”

As you slowly eat the pastry, Diluc continues his play with your hair. His fingers are so delicate, so careful. If it’s under his care, eating isn’t all that bad, you suppose.

Notes

Thanks for reading! I really enjoy reading your comments, whether that's as an actual comment or just your reactions in the tags of a reblog. So if you enjoyed, please leave a comment!

#genshin impact #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x gn!reader #diluc x you #genshin x you #genshin x gn!reader #my writing

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xiaq · 5 months

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Steddie Time Travel Fix-it Pt. 10

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9

Eddie has no idea what showering-with-your-bro-because-he’s-injured-and-needs-help-washing-his-hair protocol is but he’s pretty sure stripping completely naked and facing each other isn’t it.

Yet here they are.

Because Steve had insisted that Eddie smelled like smoke and if they were going to be bunking together (apparently they were going to be bunking together??) Eddie needed to get clean too.

He tries to tell himself it’s just like the locker room at school but nothing even remotely like this has ever happened to him in the locker room at school.

“So,” he says, thoroughly mortified and trying very hard to keep his attention on Steve’s face. “Hair?”

“Hair,” Steve agrees. He’s being downright cavalier about the nudity situation. Then again, he’s Steve Harrington. And even though he looks seventeen, apparently he’s, what—20? 21? He’s probably seen loads of people naked. He’s definitely not a virgin. Eddie wonders if the version of Eddie that Steve knew in the future was still a virgin. Maybe they talked about it. Shared stories, like friends do. Or maybe… Eddie thinks about the way that Steve looks at him. The way he’d clung to him. The way he’d said, so casually, that he liked both. So. Maybe. Maybe they’d––

“You know,” Steve says, thankfully not party to the small internal breakdown Eddie’s having, “it’s weird, seeing you without all the tattoos. You had a lot more, before. Or after, I guess.” He’s eyeing Eddie’s arms contemplatively, and then his eyes slip down Eddie’s chest, to his belly. Lower.

Eddie would make a quip about taking a picture because it’d last longer, but he doesn’t actually get the feeling that Steve is checking him out. More like just…checking. Reassuring himself.

“Hair,” Eddie reiterates. “Turn around. You have a preference for shampoo?”

“Whichever one smells best.”

He takes a step forward, wincing empathetically as the spray hits Steve’s wounds and he makes a soft, aborted noise of pain.

This is not sexy. He reminds himself. This is caretaking. He psychs himself up. He puts his fingers in Steve’s hair.

It’s such a mess that it actually takes some time to work the shampoo in and get the tangles out. It’s good, to have something to focus on. Something that isn’t the fact that Steve Fucking Harrington is naked in front of him, suds sliding down his neck and back and ass which is literal inches away from Eddie’s dick. Something Eddie’s dick is quickly starting to realize. Steve leans back into him as Eddie helps him rinse his hair, as Eddie proffers the conditioner options to Steve for a smell-test.

It gets harder —pun absolutely intended—for him to focus on Steve’s hair and not the rest of him, once the water in the shower is running clean and Steve is making quiet appreciative sounds while Eddie massages conditioner into his scalp. He’s never been this thorough with his own hair before but Steve doesn’t need to know that.

He does need to distract himself, though, if he doesn’t want things to get weird quickly. Unless—no. Now is definitely not the time.

“Hey,” Eddie says, “what’s your middle name?”

Steve glances over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because I want to know.”

He exhales the answer like he knows exactly what Eddie is going to do with it: “Clive.”

“Clive?” Eddie repeats, delighted. “Steven Clive Harrington? Oh my god.”

“Big words coming from a man named Edmund Byron Munson,” Steve mutters.

Eddie freezes. “What the fuck? No one knows my full name. No one. Well, except Wayne. Did Wayne tell you?”

Its Steve’s turn to still.

“Oh,” Eddie realizes. “Did I tell you? Back in your, or, our, uh…back in the other timeline?”

“No,” Steve says, and it looks like the word hurts him.

“Okay,” Eddie stretches out the word, hoping Steve will elucidate.

He does not.

“So how did you know?” he prompts.

Steve still doesn’t say anything. He’s half-turned, now, looking at Eddie in a way that Eddie is only just starting to understand—something composed of grief and horror and maybe a little madness.

“Steve, come on,” Eddie prompts.

“Your obituary,” Steve says finally, unblinking. “It was in your obituary.”

Right.

Because he’d died.

Steve had watched him die.

Fuck.

Distraction absolutely accomplished. This is now the least sexy shower he’s ever taken.

“Well, shit,” he says. “Is it weird if I ask what my funeral was like?”

Steve coughs on a morbid little laugh. “We’re nowhere near my threshold for ‘weird.’” he sighs. “It was small. Just the band, a couple of us, and Wayne—most of the kids’ parents wouldn’t even let them go because of the protest, actually. Henderson was the only one.”

“Protest?”

“Oh, right,” Steve clarifies. “You were wanted for multiple murders at that point. People picketed the church. ”

“I killed people?”

“No, of course not. But Vecna— ”he still says the name cautiously, “he killed a lot of people and you were the primary suspect for a while. We cleared your name eventually but not until after the funeral.”

“Oh. Damn.”

The air is thick with steam and things Eddie wants to say, to ask. But he’s not sure how to voice them; for once, words are failing him.

He uses one hand to protect Steve’s eyes and the other to tip his head back under the spray again, fingers helping to rinse out the last of the conditioner.

He reaches automatically for the bar of soap and the washcloth next, and starts scrubbing the grime off Steve’s back, lifting first one arm, then the other, moving him with a degree of proprietary confidence that surprises even Eddie.

When he gets to the small of Steve’s back, he lingers, paying more attention than is warranted to the bruise that wraps from his spine nearly to his belly button. He tries to ignore the fact that his opposite hand, holding Steve in place, is cupped around Steve’s hip and his fingers are pressed, slick with soap, into one of the V lines where Steve’s obliques meet his transversus abdominal muscles.

Eddie had paid attention, that day in anatomy class.

“Well,” Steve says with sudden urgency, moving the scant few inches he can to leave Eddie’s grip. “I think you’ve got everything. Thanks for that. So I’ll,” he jerks a thumb toward the shower curtain, angling his body carefully away from Eddie. “But you should stay. Wash your hair and uh, whatever else. I’ll have Robin help me get dressed. She’s terrible with blood, though, so I’ll still have you help with my hand and my face in a minute. Or I can ask Nance, if you’d rather—”

“No,” Eddie says. It comes out both confused and way too forceful. “I mean, no, that’s fine. I can help you.”

“Good, cool, well I’ll leave you to it; you said you have clothes in my car, right?”

“Right,” Eddie agrees, baffled.

“I’ll grab it and meet you in the guest bedroom, then,” Steve says, still facing away from him, shoulders oddly hunched. He tries to step over the lip of the tub and reach for the towel on the bar at the same time and trips, tipping sideways into the wall as he scrambles to keep himself from face-planting.

“Whoa,” Eddie says, “Dude, are you okay?”

“Ah-hah,” Steve laughs badly. “Totally, yeah,” he wraps the towel around his waist, bare feet on wet tile. “I’m just,” he points for the door and then opens it without even attempting to dry himself off. “Clothes,” he says, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut like an omen.

Eddie pulls the shower curtain back into place, slowly.

He picks up the shampoo bottle and tries to figure out what the hell just happened.

Maybe…no.

Surely not.

Unless?

Eddie washes his hair and tells himself not to be ridiculous.

***

When Eddie leaves the bathroom in a billow of steam, towel around his waist and hair dripping down his back, the house is quiet. He thinks he can hear the kids voices in the kitchen, but they’re muted, tired. He slips inside the guest bedroom door, expecting to find Steve and Robin, but Steve is alone.

“Hey man,” he says to Steve’s back, “were you able to find something that fit, or—”

Eddie stops. Steve is sitting on the bed with the duffel bag unzipped next to him. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of his boxers which Eddie would definitely like to spend some time thinking about except for a much more pressing issue: Steve is holding Eddie’s battle jacket in his lap. And he’s crying.

What the fuck.

Steve sniffs hard, standing, head ducked. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I was just––“

The vest is still in his hands. It looks like he’s struggling to let go of it.

“Sorry,” he repeats. He sets it, gently, so gently, on the bedspread, and runs his good hand, oddly reverent, down the right lapel.

“I promise I’m not as insane as I seem,” he says, wry and wane and terrible. “You’re just missing a lot of context.”

Eddie considers. “I take it I was wearing that when I died?”

“No,” Steve says. His head is still ducked. “I was.”

Eddie rocks back on his heels. “…I gave you my battle jacket.” It’s a question, but it doesn’t sound like one. He can’t seem to manage the right inflection in the face of the fact that he gave his battle jacket to someone. It’s unthinkable. He wouldn’t even let one of his bandmates wear it. The only reason he’d willingly part with it would be––

“Yeah.” Steve says.

His arms are crossed and the black Metallica shirt he’s wearing is stretched thin around his chest. His hair is a half-drying mess and still somehow looks purposefully artful. His lips are bitten and red. And Eddie wonders—finally actually lets the thought form for the first time—he wonders if there’s something there. If somehow, some way, the older version of himself actually managed to romance Steve fucking Harrington. Because that feels pretty damn laughable but it’s also the only thing that makes sense. It’s the only thing that explains this: Steve’s fisted hands tucked in his armpits, his clenched jaw, the tear tracks down his face. The vest.

He wants to ask.

He doesn’t.

“Did I ever find anything to put on the back of it?” He says instead.

Steve shoves his wrist under his running nose and huffs something that might be a laugh but might be a sob. “Dio. You cut the back out of a Dio tour shirt and sewed it on like a giant patch.”

“Nice. I wonder where I got the shirt,” he says absently.

He’s been wearing the vest already. But nothing he’d found so far felt right for finishing the back piece. Dio would do nicely.

“I don’t know. But you had it by the start of the semester, so. Maybe over the summer?”

“Huh.”

“But also,” Steve says, careful and low, “you don’t have to do what you did before. That’s kind of the point of all this. That you can do things differently. Better.”

“Well,” Eddie says just as carefully. “Maybe now that you’ve finished saving the world you could join me on a thrifting trip to Indy. Help me find a good backpiece. Dio or otherwise.”

Steve finally looks up, meeting his eyes. “I’d like that,” he says.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Pt. 11

***

Tag list:

@perfectlysensiblenonsense @stxrcrossed186 @mushie8123 @starlight-archer @estrellami-1 @snowstar2368 @superfanne @starlight-archer @child-of-cthulhu @djohawke @zerokrox-blog @alwayscertainwasteland @brie-luna @sharingisntkaren @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @deadfromtheneckdown @y4r3luv @manda-panda-monium @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlprocastinator1000

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie munson/steve harrington #myfic #fix it fic

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britcision · 2 months

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AND HERE WE ARE! Totally getting this out in February well done team! And this is gonna be our last chapter before a wee teeny tiny time skip and Jason’s finished core! What a beautiful day 🥰

We’re getting another two-parter too, because Danny and Jason refused to let me get to the end of this lil introductory arc without at least one more pile of abject fluff! But finally, we’re ready to begin the plot!

Once again, the link to the AO3 version is in the first chapter and the 15th chapter; you can see it in the text for the link if you wanna subscribe to be told when it updates 😁

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

——————

So That Just Happened part 1

Back in her own room on the other side of the country from Gotham, Sam Manson reclined back into giant, coffin shaped body pillow her beloved girlfriend had given her when they moved and contemplated her phone.

The brand new Wayne-chat was blowing up satisfactorily, although apparently Tim was a massive stalker too. That was probably a good thing; it meant she hadn’t actually nuked Tuck’s chances with his nerd-crush. Now they could bond over their mutual stalker tendencies.

But, did that make her revenge less effective?

It wasn’t like she was actually out to ruin his life, but she’d kinda like to leave a mark. Something that would make him think twice about letting her think he and Danny had fucking died in Gotham in her absence.

Or. Well. Gone radio silent in Gotham, which was probably actually worse because if they were dead she’d know exactly where they were.

The Wayne chat were all pretty sure Tim and Tucker were together too, and Sam’s new best friend Babs had even pulled up the feed from their living room tv somehow. Sam wasn’t exactly the tech wizard Tucker was, but… after seeing that, she disconnected her and Val’s TV from the wifi.

And settled in to remote watch Tuck get his ass kicked at Spiderheck, apparently. At least for a little while; until something else on her phone caught her attention.

It was… almost funny. While she knew she was a whole three timezones away, she’d never really felt left out before. Like maybe she should have stayed on the east coast…

Not that she regretted it, of course. She had a good job, a good school, a wonderful girlfriend who’d been so excited to get into a good school and really go to town on the business department.

(Apparently there were posters of Val’s face in the ethics classrooms. Sam refused to ask if they were golden example or dire warning.)

She was just… a long way away. Even a long portal away, and… being back with the guys, even in Gotham, made the quiet of their comfy little apartment seem lonely.

Huffing, she turned and traced her fingers through the leaves of her mimosa plant on the windowsill beside the bed. They curled gently shut at her touch, and made her smile. Just like always.

She was happy to be home. She wasn’t technically liminal enough yet that it was her haunt, but… well, for all the jokes Val made, Sam had to admit she’d put down roots. She loved her job at the greenhouses, and her internship at the botanical gardens.

She loved scaring the hell out of the dudebros in Val’s business classes who thought ethics were a waste of time. She loved sharing messages with Jazz about the boys, laughing that even three hours ahead, Tuck and Danny still couldn’t get up before them.

She was kinda considering texting Harley about Timblr too. Not like, for any particular reason; if Tim’s family weren’t gonna embarrass Tucker enough, Harley probably wouldn’t either. She’d probably think it was adorable.

Or, y’know, worrying evidence of obsession. Psych types worried about stuff like that, usually.

Sam was kinda also considering sending Harley Jazz’s number. Jazz might still be skating just on the neurosurgery side of the line, but she’d always been big into psychology. Big enough to try and triple major, and only drop to major-major-minor after the third pre-exam meltdown.

And she could use having someone else do the shrink bit on her a little more often. Although really, for that Sam should make her a professional appointment; friends didn’t ask friends to psychoanalyze their overprotective pseudo-sisters. And Jazz could use more friends.

Jazz could use a transfer to a specialty that would let her sleep once in a while, a more stable supply of fresh ecto, and about six weeks in a meditation retreat to get the accidental telepathy under control, but more friends would be good too. And less stubborn insistence on her second try for double majors.

Maybe the switch to psychiatry full time would be good for her? Or psychology. Sam was a little fuzzy on the difference, which one Jazz was currently still minoring in, and which one Harley did.

(Jazz’s current second major was neurosurgery, which Jazz insisted was totally less taxing alongside a neurology major because it was the same body part. She was the only person in her class attempting the double major though, so.)

Humming tunelessly to herself, Sam flicked back into the group chat. Babs was still sharing the feed… brows drawing in, Sam frowned at the little spider figures still fighting to the death. Now, she wasn’t as big of a gamer as she used to be, but she was pretty sure Spiderheck didn’t actually offer red berets.

Snorting a laugh, she flicked back out of the chat and opened a new one, adding both Jazz and Harley. All it needed was the perfect name… something that would grab both of their attention.

Obvious. Child’s play.

Snuggling back into her coffin pillow, Sam grinned down at her phone screen.

Danny Has A Boyfriend chat was live.

Having eight legs wasn’t exactly the same as suddenly having four new ones, or two new legs and two new arms. While the first two were definitely functioning as “hands”, being the ones to pick up and use all of the weapons, Tim had quickly learned that he could grip with any of the eight “feet” that were available.

Yeah, spinning a laser staff all the way down one side of his body and up the other was fucking cool.

He’d adjusted pretty quickly during their “practice” round, while they all got used to the web slinging and worked out how to open the boxes and use the weapons.

(Tucker had swung himself into the lava by accident, so they’d started a second round.)

Tim felt pretty much ready to go, although if he was honest with himself… his only actual complaint was that he didn’t have a camera.

Conner had asked Tuck at the start of their second round if his powers had been nerfed to make it “fair”. Tucker, sweet innocent Tucker, had managed to convey a sidelong look even looking at even without a face on their little blob bodies and said he didn’t think Conner needed a nerf.

He just needed to understand how the powers worked, and they could be incorporated into the system. Which, well, was like catnip for Conner.

At least Tucker seemed a lot less flustered about talking to him while they were both spiders, because Conner had started talking his ear off about TTK and hadn’t stopped since.

Tim was kinda considering swinging over and taking them both out, just to get the game moving. But Conner was cute when he got really into something, and being a headless little spider body did not seem to have changed that.

He spent the time practicing with the webs instead, spinning and tossing himself around the map. It was pretty similar to using a grapple, although he wasn’t exactly sure whether or not the web was coming from his own body.

If it was, it was coming from inside a foot, which wasn’t how actual spiders worked… but Tim was pretty sure that was on Spiderheck, not Tucker.

Being able to run around upside down was the biggest change for him, and pretty cool. Tim scuttled around under a couple of the higher platforms for a while, planning his strategy.

Honestly, he was pretty sure TTK was going to wind up fucking Conner over rather than making anything easier for him. You’d think that flying would be an advantage in Spiderheck, at least as far as avoiding lava or an out of bounds, but Tim knew pretty explicitly how far it took Conner to stop.

It wasn’t exactly on a dime, and in this game? The pace didn’t exactly allow for imprecision.

And they were wasting time talking about it rather than getting used to having an extra six hand-feet.

Still upside down, Tim twisted until he could see the other two spiders. Which was when he learned that… they did kinda have their faces on them. Just, instead of being in a face position, on the front of his body that he was seeing out of, it was just sorta… plastered across the body.

Like a photo skin mapped onto a flat blob.

He considered letting the other two know; if anyone walked into the room, they’d probably be able to see their little faces on the screen. If they were just standing around talking.

Also, the pictures’ mouths weren’t moving, which hadn’t been weird when Tim was listening to them talk and didn’t think they had mouths. Kinda was to look down on Conner’s smiling face and hear his voice at a mile a minute.

Tucker probably already knew, and might have done the faces on purpose? And if he hadn’t, it was gonna be pretty funny to see what happened when he noticed.

He’d gotten progressively better at actually talking to Conner the longer he wasn’t actually looking at him, and the focus being on the game had helped too. Face in the game? Probably gonna throw him again.

And it was probably time to get things actually moving, so he could enjoy that.

Humming softly to himself, Tim scuttled across to the loot crates, found himself a double ended lightsabre, and dropped down on Tucker and Conner’s heads.

“Sooooooo…” Danny clapped his hands, doing his best to make his broad grin at least look a little innocent as he floated sideways into Jason’s field of view, “not that that wasn’t adorable and dramatic and everything, super touching, buuuut…?”

He almost laughed as Jason jumped, having apparently forgotten Danny was there for a hot second, then pulled his hand back from Lady Gotham’s to glare at him. The Lady herself didn’t bother hiding her chuckle, settling back to recline once more on a cloud of smog.

“Was there something you needed, Phantom?” She asked with a dry amusement.

Danny shrugged innocently, sticking his hands in his spectral pockets. Much more dangerous than regular pockets, but he’d not been doing more than blob wrangling lately.

“Not so much what I need, just, y’know, trying to keep things on track. I dunno if you’ve got other plans for the night Jay, but we were with Frostbite for a while and if you did…” he trailed off, and Jason grimaced.

“Not what you’d call set plans, but…” Jason trailed off as well, and Danny could feel the guilt even before it tried creeping in.

Nope, not having that. He’d almost talked himself into that bullshit already tonight, none for Jason. He nodded airily, floating up to drape an arm over the larger man’s shoulder.

“All I’ve gotta do is get to bed before midnight, so I’m not rushing now that Tucker’s found himself a new ride.” Waggled eyebrows punctuated that comment with enough emphasis that Jason snickered, darker feelings pushed aside without finding purchase.

“What, you don’t wanna go watch that train wreck in person?” Jason teased with a lopsided half smile.

Danny pulled a face, both at the thought of Tucker’s goddamn disastrous attempts at flirting and… well, the possibility of running into Bruce again. Maybe Constantine.

Danny was maaaaaybe kinda avoiding the wizard since he’d started collecting the other contracts on his soul; it wasn’t like he wanted them for nefarious purposes, it was just fucking weird. He didn’t like owning people. Not even overgrown Sour Patch Kids in trench coats.

(At least Constantine was still alive though. Those unlucky souls who died still bound to Pariah damn near went through a full reboot. No memories, no personality, none of what Danny would have thought of as like, the core components of a soul.

So far nothing anyone had done had been able to help them, and Danny had a nasty feeling the final answer would be Ending them. The Observants didn’t want to, they were perfectly happy with a thrall army so long as they controlled it, but Danny was firm.

No slaves, no thralls. If the only way he could free them was through a final and permanent death… he would.

But Clockwork was still looking, and so long as the ancient of time thought there might be a way… Danny held out hope too.)

For now, he shook his head quickly, holding up both hands.

“No way man. Bruce already hates my guts, I’m gonna keep a healthy distance.”

For both their sakes, really. Jason’s mood every time Bruce had spoken to him today kinda proved he hadn’t listened to Danny’s advice and stepped up. Not that Danny had exactly expected him to; again, hated his guts.

Jason pulled a face but didn’t bother to argue; he’d probably rather not actually deal with the old man for a third time either. Instead he just shrugged, turning his attention back to Lady Gotham.

“Do you know what time it is in Gotham now, my lady?” He asked, and the really weird thing was that it didn’t actually sound weird.

Danny always felt awkward and formal whenever he tried to address a ghost by their title, and Lady Gotham was the very worst because she never bothered to hide when she was laughing at him. Which was, y’know, every time he said it.

(He wasn’t gonna just call her “Gotham” though. That would be worse, so he just sucked it up.)

On Jason’s lips, words like “my lady” just sounded right. Danny flashed back for a moment to snow in a graveyard, and Jason knelt before him quoting Shakespeare. There was something in Jason that was just made for flowery language and dramatic proclamations.

Lady Gotham clearly agreed, bestowing a fond smile upon Jason before inclining her head back for a moment, those red on black eyes glowing suddenly brighter. Looking into the living world, or right up Clockwork’s ass?

“It’s coming to ten o’clock,” she said softly, something almost like regret in her tone. The smile that she turned back to them was softer, sadder.

Danny’d feel bad about being the one to point it out, except, yeah. He’d had to. Ghosts in general didn’t exactly think about time. It was a problem for the living, so - him. And Jason.

Who didn’t seem nearly so sorry with the answer. He nodded, fingers beginning to drum against his thigh.

“Time for a few more questions, then.” That wasn’t a question, and if Danny was completely insensate or possibly locked in a sensory deprivation tank he might have warned Jason about talking to a powerful spirit like that.

It’d need to be a damn good tank for him to miss all the signs though; Jason was so in the good books. Lady Gotham just smiled and nodded, gesturing once more with her traffic cone.

“Of course. And, of course, we will have plenty of other opportunities to speak. I may spend much of my time here, but now that we have been introduced… I can also speak to you there, if you would like?”

It was a delicate question, and Danny hesitated, suddenly wondering if he should… well, elaborate again.

“Uh… yeah, sure? I’d like that?” Jason asked, clearly confused by the reticence, and that made up Danny’s mind.

“She’s not going to sound the same,” he explained quickly, giving Lady Gotham a quick smile. She smiled back, gesturing for him to continue, because none of the damn older ghosts explained shit for themselves.

Danny totally didn’t roll his eyes.

“Like, the way we talk to her in the Infinite Realms is kinda the abstract? She looks kinda human,” he added, gesturing vaguely at the Lady.

Jason’s brows furrowed for a moment, but he felt more curious than concerned.

“So… she’s an anthropomorphic personification, but not in the living world?” He asked, and Danny’s eyes nearly crossed.

He turned to Lady Gotham, hoping that this might be some weird city slang, and she laughed at him. Again.

“Yes,” she agreed with Jason instead, which absolutely did not help. “It’s easier for me to speak with you here, using eyes and ears like your own. But building and maintaining this shape in the living world is… complicated.”

“Because her real body there is the city,” Danny added, privately resolving to ask Sam what the fuck Jason was talking about later.

Honestly, Jason would probably get along real good with Mr Lancer. They both liked weird words.

At least he actually looked a little confused too now; Danny had freaked the first time Lady Gotham talked to him out in the city itself. He gave Jason a consoling pat on the shoulder.

“You’ve gotta see it to believe it, man. Just… it’s gonna be weird.” Not the most helpful, sure, but Danny was doing his best!

Jason nodded slowly, willing to table it for now, and refocused on Lady Gotham, something darker now welling in the purpose building inside him.

“So you said the Joker wasn’t from the Curse,” he said bluntly. Danny flinched, more from the lack of any aura inflection than the remnants he could feel.

Yeah, a lotta Gothamites hated the Joker specifically, but if Danny had even the faintest doubt of who’d killed Jason… the black, leaden lump of Death in Jason’s aura wiped it out.

Lady Gotham stilled too, her own smile fading as she regarded Jason. Those red and black eyes were suddenly so much older, so much sadder.

“Yes,” she agreed softly, lowering her traffic cone to rest at her hip. “Are you sure?”

‘Are you sure you want to know?’

Or ‘Are you sure you want to know now?’

Danny wouldn’t put money on which she’d intended, but it didn’t take a genius to know the answer to both. Stubborn, emotionally repressed, and self destructive as hell, bat-training only left one answer.

Jason nodded firmly now, his jaw clenching.

“Yes.”

Lady Gotham studied him for a moment longer but didn’t argue, inclining her head gently.

“Then I will be brief. While the Curse has always been part of the city, feeding on fear and despair, in recent years we have both felt… something else. I told you of the malevolence on the land?” She asked, and Jason made a soft, impatient noise.

“And that it’s where the Curse comes from, yeah. And that the Joker is different,” he prodded.

Danny made a face. He was usually very much on the side of blunt answers, and knew full well that the Lady wouldn’t actually like, break Jason for being mouthy. He was very, very used to seeing favouritism from the outside, and Jason was clearly a firm favourite.

Maybe because he was currently Gotham’s only actual part ghost child? (To be fair, Danny didn’t think that’d change much in the fullness of time; Jason was his favourite of all the bats alive or dead.)

Whatever it was, his interruption only brought a flicker of a smile to the Lady’s lips, which vanished just as quickly.

“Yes. The Curse is indeed the original manifestation of that malevolence, given form and now, purpose. But even that malevolence came from somewhere; Gotham lies on a crack between worlds, older than time. Every world in the multiverse exist along certain markers; certain weak spots. Gotham is one of them.”

“Of course it is,” Jason grumbled beside him and Danny shifted closer, brushing their shoulders together.

Personally, he figured that if Gotham was a weak point in the universe and all the bad shit just leaked through, they were probably doing pretty well for themselves. Then, he’d seen the depths of the Ghost Zone; he knew what else could be trying to leak through.

Which, obviously, meant the good luck had to end.

“When the Joker died,” Lady Gotham continued, only to be cut off by a startled “What?!” from Jason and a totally-super-dignified squawk from Danny.

“You are not gonna tell me that asshole’s a ghost!” Danny moaned, dragging his hands down his face. Honestly, if he’d missed a whole actual ghost in the city for an entire year too, he was never going to live it down.

Like any of the other ghosts had any fucking clue what it was like being half alive… or living fully inside a city spirit’s haunt. Let them visit Lady Gotham’s and see what they sensed.

“Who the hell killed the Joker?!” Jason demanded, something weirdly like panic spiking through anger. “It wasn’t fucking Bruce-”

Lady Gotham silenced them both with a pointed look, shadows growing suddenly long and dark under her stare. Then she returned her gaze to Jason, her expression sombre.

“The Joker is not a ghost, nor a halfa. Bruce Wayne resuscitated him, which may be all that kept him from becoming a manifestation himself; he was killed not only in Gotham, but by a nexus point, in rage and revenge and hatred.”

There was something dark in Lady Gotham’s eyes now, something black and burning and for half a second Danny could swear he felt that rage himself, deep in his chest.

“Something else leaked through in the short time that he was dead,” she went on, her gaze firmly locked on Jason’s and Danny couldn’t imagine just how much the older-younger halfa was feeling under its full force. “Something small, and hungry, and craving death because it was denied his - the death I believe would give it shape.”

It wasn’t enough for Jason, that much was obvious; bitterness-frustration-grief hung in the air in a cloud almost thicker than the Lady’s smogs, and this time Danny gave in to temptation.

Let his own soothing-sorrow-loss twine through, even if he didn’t exactly understand the cause of the feeling. Jason startled a little, knocked from grumbling something that hadn’t been for anyone but him, but his hand reached back for Danny’s. Squeezed tight, even as the bitterness deepened.

His eyes narrowed, he remained focused on Lady Gotham though.

“Of course. Of course he fucking brought the clown back, even after someone did the world a fucking favour,” he hissed through his teeth, then raised his voice more clearly. “So, what? No one can ever kill the Joker, or Gotham gets another curse? Who’d fucking notice at this point?”

A genuine sorrow and pain passed across Lady Gotham’s face but she schooled it, kept her own aura calm and composed… or at least in closer than they could feel. There was probably a reason she’d put space between them again.

“Not quite, but close,” she agreed softly, those red bat eyes somehow more gentle even against the black pupil. “This other entity is already here, growing each day. Every violent death in Gotham is being consumed by it, which I will admit has strengthened the truce between the Curse and myself. Neither of us wish to feed it any more than necessary.”

Danny’s brows furrowed at that and he tried to think back to everything that Frostbite had ever told him about spirits. Not the dead-people kind, but the Neverborn; entities, concepts, ideas given form. Like time, and cities.

“So… when did the Joker die?” He asked cautiously, and felt surprise jolt through Jason. Lady Gotham gave him a quick glance, and cocked her head at Jason himself.

“Not so long after Jason did. A matter of months, less than a year, though he was dead less than a few minutes.” There was something in her tone, a weight on the words that made Danny think he was on the right track… but that she didn’t want to say it.

Which. Well. That was all kinds of bad fucking news if an entity as old as Lady Gotham was wary of speaking it into being. Luckily, Danny was just a fucked up little half ghost who had absolutely no supernatural tie ins to things like belief.

And he believed in just laying all the cards on the table before he decided if he had to flip it.

“That’s really young for any kind of belief spirit,” he said bluntly, watching Lady Gotham’s eyes. Saw… just a hint of something, creasing the corners, and seriously considered reaching his aura to hers for the first time today.

It’d save so much time to just get the message through feeling, but… if she preferred words, the words had to be important, and Jason probably needed words.

Fuck, they’d all need words, because this was going to be a goddamn bat-briefing if Lady Gotham was filling them in, and Mr Emotional Repression Is My Soulmate was not going to be up to aura reads.

Chewing his lower lip, he thought through the next stage a couple times before speaking slowly, watching for any hint he was still on the right path.

“If… it’s grown fast enough that you both noticed… it’s not new?” He tried, wondering briefly if he’d retroactively doomed them all by thinking about “what else could break through” from the depths of the Zone.

Lady Gotham shook her head though, gesturing impatiently through her smoke to clear it… maybe the first sign he’d ever seen that she didn’t control it entirely.

“No. That much, we are both certain of. This entity… it is new and unformed, with no Name of its own. At the moment, all of the fear it wreaks is only feeding belief in the Curse, which is why it only has death. But there is already a will there, long before it should even have awareness. And it wants to grow.”

“Oh great, so Joker’s got a Pitty 2.0 but his is on the outside,” Jason quipped, irritation sparking through him… and Danny was kinda glad to see it, honestly. Just a little flash of the guy he’d been getting to know in all the dark.

Even Lady Gotham managed a brief smile, and didn’t actually bother refuting it; closing her eyes for a moment, she waved her hand and the clouds of smog between them solidified briefly into a model of the city. Buildings only, but with horribly empty shadows between them.

“The Joker’s death gave it an entrance, and his revival denied it his shape, his Name, and the fear he commands. But it is no longer fixated on killing the Joker - and it was, for several years. It pushed him before it had the power for anything else, driving him further, feeding poison to those around him, trying to have him killed so that it could become The Joker, the pure essence of every bloody mark the clown left on Gotham. And it very nearly succeeded,” she added softly, her gaze turning back to Jason with an almost tangible sorrow.

Something in Danny’s gut iced over, and suddenly he was really, really glad he didn’t know what she was thinking.

Bruce looked better as he rose from the table, Diana decided, watching her old friend closely. For all that he’d come with an actual reason for his doom and gloom (for a change), his attitude during the briefing was positively relaxed compared to their own discussion that followed.

He would still be worrying and fretting, she knew him too well to believe anything else, and… she knew why. While Diana had no children of her own (though she had met and heard of other versions of herself who had), she did dearly love her own proteges, and those of her friends.

She remembered Jason as the young, sweet boy who’d stumbled over every word he said to her and stared at her like she’d hung the stars. She remembered Bruce’s grief, Batman’s rage, and the shadow that hung over the Dark Knight with every step until Tim Drake took him to heel.

She knew that there was too much there, the guilt and pain and loss and grief for Bruce to see Jason objectively, and she didn’t begrudge him that. Nor did she condone it.

It only hurt both men, and while she would not give her opinion when it wasn’t wanted… well, she was aware Bruce spoke to Clark of his worries around Jason much more often than he would to her. This time though, she’d had no choice.

She knew the man well enough to know what was truly scaring him in this situation; that Jason would be taken from him again. He was at least as upset by this “Danny” boy as the thought of war with an entire realm.

It would have been cute, if he wasn’t a grown adult man who prided himself on critical thinking. Or actively forcing his son away with his own actions at every turn.

Still, there was one piece of counsel she could give. The thing he hated the most of all was a mystery. And while she also didn’t usually condone his stalking-as-a-sign-of-affection…

“Batman.”

He stopped in the doorway but didn’t look back, still as a statue. At least he was listening.

A fond smile pulling across her lips, Diana shook her head. Let the formal tones of Wonder Woman return to the voice of a friend.

“You see many dangers in the unknown. Perhaps you might reassure yourself by getting to know young Danny Fenton as a person, rather than a potential threat.”

He stayed frozen in the doorway for a moment longer, then nodded his head sharply and swept away.

Diana stifled a chuckle. Honestly, for all Constantine had come to her as if the world were about to end… all of their problems with this Infinite Realm were perfectly clear to her.

The American government had overstepped drastically with their Anti Ecto Acts and would be brought to heel.

The new ruler of the Infinite Realms had turned their head in this direction, and guided them to what must be fixed.

And young Jason Todd, while far from the only hero who had died and returned, had been chosen by this ruler to be favoured with protection, in exchange for service.

Of course, it may all blow out of control and become as dire as her dear friend already seemed to believe it was, but for all Bruce was constantly creating contingencies and backup plans, he very rarely had to use most of them.

She turned her attention to John Constantine instead, the magician seeming much less inclined to make himself scarce than usual. At least he had also calmed considerably, and was even smiling in his own crooked fashion after Bruce.

“You know he’s gonna go stalk that poor kid even more now?” He asked sardonically, pulling another cigarette from his pack but not reaching for the lighter.

Diana hesitated for a moment.

She’d meant for Bruce to talk to Danny, preferably directly. But Bruce did not like talking to new people; not without thorough research and a chance to prepare.

Then she shrugged.

“If it will keep him from disrupting our already tense situation with the Infinite Realms, better that he distract himself with more fatherly concerns,” she said simply.

Constantine snickered again, then frowned.

“Wait, fatherly concerns? For some kid his boy’s known like, a week?”

This time, Diana didn’t bother to restrain her smile, glancing down at the phone in her pocket.

“Merely a week, perhaps, but according to Wonder Girl they have already been caught at least once without their trousers.”

Which hadn’t been part of the official presentation, of course. Nor apparently whatever Bruce had already shared with Constantine, as the mage promptly nearly swallowed his unlit cigarette and began choking.

Diana gave him a carefully gauged slap to the back, sending the now soaked and crumpled smoke across the meeting table, but politely did not laugh.

Jason was pretty sure he was going to puke. Or scream. Maybe both.

It wasn’t bad enough that Bruce had refused to kill the Joker, to stop him from killing anyone else, no, he’d fucking brought him back to life. Given the fucking Joker the chance that none of his victims ever got.

None of them except Jason.

And now apparently even wanting the bastard dead was all part of some master fucking plan to make the fucking asshole even worse.

He’d wanted Bruce to be the one to avenge him from the second Tallia pulled him out of the Lazarus Pit, but when he’d come to Gotham… when his plans to carve out his turf, provoke the Joker with an old alias, set the trap had suddenly become stuffing heads in a bag…

He’d thought about it. A lot. About just hunting the fucker down, putting a bullet between his eyes, and leaving him in the Batcave deader than dead.

Had nearly done it, but no. He’d wanted… he’d wanted Bruce to choose him. To put him first, to say he loved Jason more than some moral stance, to value Tim’s life more, and Steph, and Cass, over the fucking scum who would have happily killed every last one of them with a smile on his face just to see if Bruce finally broke.

And Bruce hadn’t.

Bruce had nearly killed him.

And in and around that whole mess, he’d never gotten around to actually thinking about how his fucking daddy issues had saved the Joker’s life for… years, by now.

Jason wasn’t killing anymore. Not like, actively. Intentionally. Not because he thought Bruce was right; something, someone, had to be willing to stand up for the people of Gotham and actually stop fuckers like the Joker from killing them.

But… well, Crime Alley was his territory, and a scared enemy, a cowed enemy who’d seen their life in Jason’s hands and knew just how easily he could end it was more useful than dealing with the power vacuum, or the next million upstarts who’d think they knew better, would be better, and could take on the Red Hood themselves.

Ironically, keeping fuckers like Black Mask and Great White Shark alive and in power (at severely reduced scale) saved him time. Kept him from dealing with all those upstarts himself.

That was how Waylon had put it, back when Jason was considering adding to his bag of heads. It was… like farming. Keep them low, but keep them stable. Break anything new they went for, or anything that got on his turf.

Let them harvest some of the power hungry fucks who thought they could take a piece of the Alley.

And then Dick had noticed. And reached out. And didn’t stop until Jason gave in and reached back.

When Danny came to Gotham. Somehow, it all swung back around to Danny.

And the fact that if he actually believed what he told Bruce, he could have gone to kill the clown himself at any time since returning to the city.

And he never had. The time wasn’t right. Something came up. Something went wrong, or broke, or distracted him before he thought too hard about it.

Killing the Joker hadn’t even been in his original plans for his triumphant return. He’d just wanted to take back the Alley, prove his point to Bruce. Keep his home safe.

When had killing the Joker become such a big part of the plan? Who the fuck had gotten into his fucking head, redefined him as the last moment of his fucking life, demanded his new life be all about how the last one ended?

Eyes narrowing, he looked searchingly into Lady Gotham’s face just in time to catch her slow nod, like she’d heard every thought. Like he’d been speaking aloud.

“I could not stop it from reaching to you,” she said softly, her voice heavy with sadness, “but I could… distract. Get in the way, make its path harder. That you did not give in…”

Something soft, something proud flickered in her eyes again, and it made him want to squirm.

“You may not have consciously known that you fought yet another enemy, yet you triumphed regardless. My dear Jason…” she sighed, heavy with sorrow, and reached out a hand again as though to cup his face.

Jason found himself moving to meet her before he even thought about it. Stopped himself just before it actually got him anywhere.

He wasn’t done being angry yet. He wasn’t even sure he’d actually started. If he could ever, would ever, be angry enough for this.

There was something building in him like a tide, riding high on resentment and his spiralling thoughts. It wasn’t green tinted like the pit rage, his vision was still clear… if anything, it felt sharper, like everything had been dialled up to eleven. Like the terrible, roaring anger was seeking a target.

“I am sorry that you have been robbed of your justice in this way,” Lady Gotham said quietly and once again Jason’s focus narrowed down with her intensity, like she was the only real thing in the world, “that even your own emotions of this, your death, have been used against you. It is…”

She hesitated, actually looking to Danny for help herself for the first time. Judging from the sudden low horror Jason could feel from the other man, he might actually be under reacting.

Or the tide was still rising.

He felt like razing the whole city to the fucking ground, with his own hands, brick by brick. Or puking. Or screaming until his lungs ripped out of his chest, if only he could move.

It felt like something had reached into his brain and cranked up the contrast, made the already neon brights of the Ghost Zone brighter, the shadows darker, the very air prickling at his skin like needles with the urge to do something.

Because if he moved, did anything, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Not when every muscle ached to tear the whole universe apart.

He was almost a passenger in his own skin as something else, a different, slow boiling rage barely under control clamped him in a vice.

“So y’know we talked about not asking about how ghosts died?” Danny said slowly, his voice suddenly low and hoarse.

Jason managed a stiff nod, every muscle twanging tight with tension. It had been pretty important, pre-Ghost-Zone.

And he could put the pieces together, right from the tight hot center of that ball of rage that he was pretty sure was his own core.

“This is worse,” he said gruffly, not bothering to look over. Didn’t have to, when he could feel the face Danny was pulling through the worry-worry-fear-anger-horror still surrounding him.

He… fuck. He was a little afraid of what he might do, if there was even an ounce of pity on Danny’s face, and honestly that panicked him more than anything else. All the rage wanted was a target, and he didn’t think he’d be able to choose what it was.

Danny nodded anyway, making a conscious effort to try and reign his aura in. Like he couldn’t hear the subtext, feel it in Jason’s, or like he could and didn’t care.

It left him feeling cold, icy and alone, but still relieved under the echoing slam of rage in his veins. A little more alone in his own head. A little less watched. Judged. Not good enough.

“Like, worse than worse, dude. Ghosts will throw down and rip each other apart just for fun and no one’s actually hurt, but… you don’t fuck with somebody’s death. You just don’t. It’s the worst thing you could do to a ghost, worse than Ending them. Not even Pariah Dark…”

“Exactly,” Lady Gotham hissed, baring her teeth in something not even remotely a smile, full cheeks and lips suddenly gaunt and hollow as the teeth became fangs. It lasted barely a moment, a flicker before it faded, but it snapped Jason straight out of his fury with a sudden shock of terror.

She’d been intimidating before. Effortlessly, gracefully powerful and commanding, the kind of person people would beg to step on them without a hint of aggression. Those teeth though… just the moment of that rage, of something so powerful suddenly nothing but raw, feral danger…

It wasn’t even directed at him but it still felt like a bucket of cold water down his spine. An instant urge to duck his head, show his throat, convince this much larger predator that he wasn’t a threat.

She was immediately contrite, turning her head away as her face cast into shadow, only the red pupils still visible.

“My apologies. It is… less personal for me than it is for you, yet it seems still too close to my heart.”

Forcing himself to swallow, Jason took a couple of deep, heavy breaths. The anger was still there, kind of. He could feel it in an almost distant way, past the hammering of his heart, but it wasn’t all he was anymore.

It was just… a feeling now. One he was in control of.

The shadows were just shadows again. The green of the Zone no longer blinding.

He blew the last breath out slowly, and let the remnants of the anger go with it.

“No, uh… it’s fine. I think that helped, actually,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and suddenly embarrassed at just how tense he’d become.

Justified, apparently, from both the other ghosts’ reactions, but that didn’t mean Jason wanted to feel so out of control. How close to just… being carried away by the anger.

No matter what anyone else said, no matter what the damn Pit or Joker-monster or whatever the fuck else tried to do, Jason Todd was not going to be defined by rage.

For one thing, he’d never live it down.

Danny sagged beside him, relief as tangible as that last breath flowing out of him, despite the core of concern underneath. That was fine; Jason was still concerned too.

And maybe thinking about his stash of ecto-candies again, but he honestly didn’t feel half as drained this time. He wasn’t even scared of Lady Gotham anymore - that moment had ended as soon as it started. As soon as she’d tucked those terrifying needle-like teeth away. Now she just looked…

Proud. Proud, and fond, and so, so sad. Like Alfred had been the first time he presented Jason with his very own Robin suit for the field.

It choked something inside Jason just a little, made his throat tight and breath hitch.

“You are so much more than anyone gives you credit for, Jason Todd,” she said softly, her sclera softening briefly to a bright, sunshine yellow. Like the cape he’d drowned in as a boy flying from her rooftops, “and they all think far better of you than you believe.”

That caught him up for a moment, confusion pulling into the absolute fucking mess of emotions he was pretty sure he was projecting to all and sundry.

Then Danny sighed heavily and draped himself sideways over Jason’s shoulders like a particularly lanky and bony scarf.

“Yeah, yeah, and your ghost mom is fucking terrifying. Did not need that reminder, Ladyship,” he tossed at Lady Gotham with a cheeky wink, effectively steam rolling the tension yet again.

Jason could have kissed him, but from the angle Danny had flopped on, his options were armpit or hip, and neither appealed.

Sassy comebacks, he could handle. Reassurances that people didn’t think he was a complete sack of shit, apparently not.

The whole batfam were just perfect poster kids for mental health, alright?

The Lady herself laughed softly and inclined her head, not arguing the point.

“Of course. Still, I am sorry Jason.”

He cut her off this time, raising both hands and stopping just short of reaching for the back of his neck again, which was about where Danny’s waist was sat.

“Don’t be. I… think I needed to be knocked out of my head there. I really do feel better now,” he added, and Danny huffed a noncommittal noise and ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, well. You’re allowed to be pissed about it,” Danny informed him like he wasn’t sure if Jason actually knew that.

Which, obviously, Jason absolutely wasn’t. He had a pit ghost baby to teach good habits to, and Danny still had no idea what Jason was like when he actually lost control of the anger. But he could appreciate the sentiment.

And deflect like a Robin.

“Oh, is that a royal decree?” He asked archly, and while this noise was no more coherent than the last it was decidedly more whiny and drawn out into wordless protest.

Which still ended in a very quiet “yes.”

Luckily, quiet enough that Jason could pretend he didn’t hear it.

“Anyway, I’m good. Still gonna kick this thing’s ass for messing with my head, and maybe put it in a blender, but for now I’m good. Chill vibes only for Pitty,” he added with a roll of his eyes when Danny made a confused little chirping sound.

Lady Gotham chuckled softly to herself and nodded, resettling herself to recline on her smog clouds once more.

“Indeed. You currently have more pressing concerns; as little as I enjoy the present situation, it can wait. The Curse and I can monitor this new being’s behaviour through the rogues it has affected; they are noticeably becoming more violent, while the Curse is swaying the rest towards being less. For contrast,” she added before Jason could ask.

Which… might actually explain why Riddler had tossed a broken game box at Croc and the Wayne gala rather than trying to fix it. He’d stripped most of the interesting stuff according to Tim’s report, sure, but Nygma never let a thread go.

So he wasn’t gonna be on this new bad guy’s kill list.

Nor would Waylon, and Harley had been more destructive than homicidal for years. Already making a mental list on the events he’d caught wind of in the last few weeks, Jason didn’t even realise the conversation had moved on without him until Danny stuck a wet finger in his ear.

“What the actual fuck!” Jason demanded, trying to shrug the ghost off his shoulders. And while there was deadass no weight to Danny in this form, it was frankly unfair that he just rolled with the movement like he also didn’t have bones, snickering.

“You had Resting Bat Face,” he explained with a grin, twisting upwards to look down at him in a way that actually really shouldn’t have been doable with a human spine - and Jason had grown up around Dick Grayson, who ran the limit of everything a human spine was capable of.

“He does best with a problem to solve,” Lady Gotham noted with a sly amusement. “This one, however, has no time limit as yet. If I thought you would listen, I would have insisted on telling you at a later date.”

And that was just pointed enough that Jason rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush in spite of himself. He just… liked to have all of the information. It’s not like he was Bruce.

“Yeah, well, I like to know what I’m dealing with,” he grumbled, folding his arms and scowling at Danny. Who grinned back and ruffled his hair.

“Well, either way. Not like you need to pull the spandex back on imminently, right? There’s plenty of bats around,” he offered hopefully, and Jason felt a quick pang.

Danny… really didn’t want him to have to be a vigilante. He could taste it in the hope, in the worry, in everything his king was putting off. For some reason, he seemed to think Jason had come back to life and left the masks behind.

Like he hadn’t even thought about why Jason was still in fighting shape to be his fucking knight in the first place.

He knew he’d be annoyed if it was anyone else trying to insist he stay out of the game. He’d shot at Dick more than once for suggesting he go home when he was injured; the rest knew better than to say a word.

He hadn’t even considered giving up the vigilante life when he came back from the dead… except that brief period when he’d sort of been a rogue. He’d never even been a normal crime lord, most of them were way less hands on.

If he looked at the future now, he couldn’t imagine ever giving it up. The rogues would apparently literally always be a problem; the city would always need protectors.

That thought had never made him sad before, and yet…

Was it really the first time anyone had suggested he’d done enough? He’d died, and sure Jason was back now, but Danny seemed to really, actually believe he could stop wearing the mask.

That he’d given enough, given everything, and could and should just have a peaceful life now.

It made him almost ashamed to admit that he’d never even considered the possibility.

For all Jason railed against teen heroes, he’d only stopped being one for a temporary villain arc. Which was apparently at least partially supernaturally motivated, which was fun.

It’d shut Bruce up if Jason ever dragged that out in an argument, but Bruce already thought Jason was too volatile and susceptible to being controlled. Never mind that he hadn’t actually killed the Joker and started the apocalypse or whatever, all Bruce would hear was “someone else made Jason a villain so it could happen again”.

He’d probably try and take Jason off the case of this mystic whatever that was feeding on death. Fuck that noise. Until Bruce got a face to face with Lady G, Jason probably wouldn’t even tell him the details.

(Honestly, if there was even half a chance of avoiding that subject altogether, he’d take it. Bruce got ornery about magic in his city in a way none of the Robins had ever enjoyed dealing with, and that had been back when he and Jason had a good relationship.

Now… well, Constantine had been sticking around, so hopefully he could handle that mess and Jason could just get the actual work done.)

He gave Danny his best reassuring smile anyway, rolling his eyes and reaching to try and ruffle his hair. Found that he actually couldn’t quite reach with the way Danny was twisted around him, which was kinda weird.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard Frostbite. Side effects of the forming core could be pretty much fucking anything, and til Pitty pops out I’m not even gonna do research on anything that’ll set us off.”

Which wasn’t the same as saying he wouldn’t start the case. He could arrange what he already knew, start a plan of action, and organise his next steps without doing any additional research, after all.

Something about Lady Gotham’s delicately arching eyebrow let him know that she, at least, was onto his bullshit. Lucky for Jason, Danny just accepted the words, grinning and twisting around to wrap his whole head in a hug.

And then flowed back off his shoulders like a fucking liquid before Jason could worry about having to breathe.

“That’s great! Oh, and we should set up your haunt too! That’ll help!” Danny enthused brightly, clapping his hands and doing his best impression of a totally solid human that was apparently not his default.

Maybe it was a ghost thing.

Just so long as he never did it in human form, Jason could ignore that he definitely shoulda felt a ribcage being squeezed like that…

And no, Jason absolutely wasn’t wondering about what else Danny could use that noodley flexibility for. Totally not letting Dick know either… for competitive gymnast reasons, definitely.

No one wanted to deal with that.

And then his brain fizzled to a halt as Danny’s actual words penetrated and a sliver of concern slipped in.

Because… yeah. They’d talked about haunts. It was practically the first topic on the list; what to do in someone else’s haunt, what to never ever do even near someone else’s haunt, what a haunt meant to a ghost.

It was soul-underwear again, one of the most sacred parts of a person’s soul; their truest, actual home. Fortress and power source.

Halfas had to have them too, since Danny and Frostbite had both insisted that keeping and maintaining his haunt were going to be vital to his health while his cores stabilized. As in, Frostbite told him not to leave it for long and suggested redecorating as a soothing activity.

(Danny’s was officially Amity Park, which had not escaped Jason’s notice when he was apparently being put on haunt-arrest. It might have been an older halfa thing; very few ghosts actually stayed in their haunts all the time, although Jason could see the temptation.

It also might have been something else, and Jason had this thing about secrets and surprises down the line. He’d ask later, if he couldn’t work it out himself.)

Danny called Crime Alley Jason’s haunt, and that had felt right from the first time he’d said it. Crime Alley was his, his territory, his space, his home more than anywhere else. He knew it inside and out, could feel its moods and taste the changes in the air when something went wrong.

Baby ghosts usually couldn’t claim a haunt of any size as their own, but Jason knew that the Alley belonged to him.

That was before he’d met Lady Gotham. And if she was the spirit of the whole city… maybe he’d been wrong? Maybe it was just through her that he knew it so well?

He found himself looking to her uncertainly, searching her face in case there was any trace of displeasure. Any sign she didn’t want another ghost’s haunt in… well, what was kinda her physical body.

He couldn’t see or feel anything, but when she’d already been so careful about keeping her feelings her own… no better time to ask, really.

“Yeah… about that…” this time he did scratch the back of his neck, Danny safely down beside him. Which was about when he realized that he had no clue how to word the question.

Haunts were personal, he knew that much.

Then again, Lady Gotham said she was his ghost-mom. That had to include stupid questions. Blunt it was.

“Is it weird if I have a haunt in the city? I mean, it’s obviously your city, duh, but how do I… it feels like I’m squatting in your closet,” he said finally, giving up on not being just the most awkward creature in a thousand mile radius.

Danny’s mouth opened and closed a few times, excitement fading to a confused fascination as his words sunk in.

“Y’know, that’s a really good point… except it’s more like he’s squatting in your kidneys,” he pointed out to Lady Gotham, turning to face her too.

Lady Gotham chuckled softly and took a slow drag from her traffic cone, which had almost stopped smoking.

“Ah, I forget the limitations of a halfa’s knowledge… all ghosts begin with a haunt within their parent’s, Jason. From the moment you returned to my arms I opened up the Alley for you, and it has been yours ever since.” She paused to blow out a long plume of smog, which shaped itself into a tiny row of very familiar buildings.

Jason didn’t have to see more than a couple to know what they were; he could feel it right down to his core.

“When you are older, stronger, you may desire another, although being in the mortal world is already a degree of distance, but Crime Alley will always be your first,” Lady Gotham continued as Crime Alley bloomed from the smog before them, tiny and yet more than just an image, more than just a replica; the real thing in the scope of her power.

There were no lights in tiny windows, nothing moving through the smog, and yet it was still clearly alive. No, filled with things that were alive, people and noise and even the rats.

And it was his. His beating heart.

Lady Gotham’s smile was a tender beacon in the fog, her hands coming up to caress the smoking Crime Alley and gently waft it in his direction.

“Every crumbling brick, every pothole, every shadow. It is a heavy responsibility, and one I shall share with you until you decide you no longer need my help, but it will always be yours, Jason. It would not have accepted anyone else.”

The cluster of smoggy buildings fell apart as they reached Jason and for a moment he nearly panicked trying to keep them together, but… he was suddenly washed in a wave of old, familiar scent.

Not the burned rubber and pollution of all the rest of the smogs, the constant smell of the city. This was… floral. Soft, and sweet, and chemical in the way that cheap perfumes always were because they couldn’t have afforded the good ones.

Watered down, because they could get even that so rarely that she would begin refilling the bottle with water when it was barely half empty. Catherine Todd’s favourite perfume.

It hadn’t covered the stink of cigarettes and worse coming from the very walls of their apartment; he’d only smelled it when she was holding him close. Shielding him from Willis’s rage, tucking him into bed, cuddled up on the couch to wait out the rain or sickness.

The smell of home.

It brought tears to his eyes, the pressure of the day threatening to spill over and overwhelm him again.

Intellectually, it felt like another moment that should have been terrifying. More than any show of teeth, this was her strength. Who and what she was, she could break him with a wave of her hand, a wisp of smoke, and yet…

He felt warm. Comforted. Wrapped in her smile and at peace in a way he hadn’t in… fuck it had been years.

There was something else too, a layer under the flowers that only the deepest detective-trained parts of him tried to pluck apart; it was part of the home smell, inextricable, but it didn’t make sense. Wasn’t the perfume. Just the very faintest hint of baking far away, and Catherine Todd had never been able to afford…

Oh.

Of course not. Because Catherine Todd, his mother in every possible sense of the word but one, had never met Alfred.

So, the good news: Tucker was currently in the lead for Spiderheck. Bad news: they’d finished the first set (Tim won, but he’d been two ahead from the start which was cheating), and… the game had ticked directly over into another set.

They hadn’t been planning on changing any settings, so it was fine, and Conner and Tim hadn’t noticed anything wrong.

But… Tucker was beginning to worry, just a little. He’d done video games before, with Danny and Sam; no worries, they’d taken a turn directly in pretty much every game they’d played together.

Just, y’know, he knew Danny and Sam really well. And Tim and Conner were really cool, and he understood a lot more about how the Supers worked than he ever had before? But, maybe that was why he’d kinda screwed up.

Because he wanted things to be fair, and didn’t want them to think he’d given himself extra advantages. So they were all spiders, all the same.

And he wasn’t completely sure where the meta controls were?

Danny and Sam always insisted he have a version of the controller somewhere, so they could flick to the menu (and sometimes run riot there too). Last time they did Spiderheck, he’d put the buttons on his stomach, so Danny and Sam could try and hit them for an extra level of difficulty.

But he wanted to be fair. Didn’t want extra powers. And, apparently, technopathy had sorta maybe converted that wish into him not being able to feel it while he was spidered up.

All his combat moves were fine! The break, grab, web commands were smooth and easy, just like every other time he did them. Different attacks, no worries. And, obviously, he hadn’t stood still and tried to look for the code, because they were playing Spiderheck and that was a really easy way to get wiped.

Dodging another swinging attack from Tim, he scuttled at top speed across the platform and jumped behind a box. No weapons here, and he scanned quickly for the next spawn point.

Which, normally, shoulda shown up on two levels; the normal game vision, and the white lined underlay of the code, which he could always see through from top to bottom of the level.

(This was usually an active impediment rather than an advantage in Spiderheck; it was way too hard to know what he could stand on.)

He couldn’t see one, just the platform above and the wall behind.

Maybe he should take an early death, just to give himself a little time to work this out. Just so he could stop worrying. He was 21, he’d had these powers for years, he totally knew how they worked by now.

He just, maybe, might have gotten overconfident.

Danny would never let him live it down if they all had to be rescued from Spiderheck.

And, way more importantly, Tim Drake-Wayne and his super hot boyfriend would only remember him as the loser who couldn’t even control his powers.

Nope. Absolutely not.

A loud buzzing heralded the arrival of one of the spinning laser traps, and Tucker made up his mind. Just one early death. No worries. He had a two win lead, and honestly he’d rather lose the set than admit he’d fucked up.

Scuttling “away” from Tim’s probable next attack, Tucker scurried into the path of the spinning laser trap.

And saw, at the very last second, Conner swinging in from the other side, directly into a laser.

Shit.

Sam was comfortably snuggled down into her pillows and thoroughly enjoying the chaos her new chat was creating when she finally heard the door. A little too buried to easily get up, or look particularly graceful doing it, so instead she stuck a hand straight up into the air.

“In here, love!”

And, like the angel of mercy that she was, Val only made her wait ten minutes to get out of all of her winter gear and put the kettle on before coming to save her from her fate.

“Not the fastest rescue I’ve received,” Sam teased, even as Val hauled her easily to her feet. Val grinned back and pulled her in for a quick peck.

“I wasn’t aware I was being timed. I can do better.”

“I bet you can,” Sam laughed, draping her arms around her girlfriend’s shoulders. Val gave her another, deeper kiss, then drew back enough to press their foreheads together.

“So, how was Gotham? I saw Danny made the front page,” she teased back, and Sam hesitated.

In amongst all of their various plans for disaster, it hadn’t really come up that whatever they did at the party, it was sure to make the gossip rags. Front page though? That was probably an achievement.

And, given what she herself had done, really annoying.

“What, they gave the front page to him? I blatantly accused at least two CEOs and Lex Luthor of weaponizing misogyny, with citations, and Danny got the front page?” She huffed, drawing back and folding her arms, fully intent on turning away to sulk, but not remotely objecting when Val’s arms snuck around her waist and pulled her back in.

Val’s chin tucked in over her shoulder and the taller woman snickered.

“I know, right? Sadly cold hard facts just fade away in the face of a scandal.” Val sighed dramatically, then dropped a kiss on the side of Sam’s neck. “You’re on page seven. It’s mostly about your parents, but using Lex’s name got a couple other points in. Oh, and Vicki Vale did a three page piece on how Brucie Wayne specifically upholds the patriarchy. I think she quoted you.”

Sam considered that for a moment, her arms automatically coming around to cover Val’s for a brief squeeze. It wasn’t like she’d actually been planning to change anything at the gala. Mostly she’d just wanted to be heard.

It could be an interesting starting point, though. Especially since she got to pick her outfit for the next gala; her mother hadn’t even specified that it had to be a dress on the document, which was definitely a peace offering.

Cass Wayne had looked really good in that suit.

Her cheeks suddenly hot for absolutely no reason, Sam twisted in Val’s arms to kiss her again.

“I’m sorry my mom’s… the worst,” she finished lamely, wrapping her arms around Val again.

The whole fall-from-grace thing may have been seven years ago, and Val had more than moved on, but. Well. Sam didn’t exactly believe all the scars had healed.

Especially when Val stilled for a moment in her arms.

Then she chuckled, wrapping her arms a littler tighter around Sam and lifting her off her feet.

“Hey, at least she’s not actually a bigot. It’s always nicer to be hated personally than in general, y’know?” She teased, echoing something Sam was pretty sure Danny had said to her back in her Phantom-hunting days.

Sam huffed and wrapped her legs around Val’s waist too, raining kisses down on her face.

“Yeah, well, she can still shove it up her ass. You’re my date for the next gala, if you actually want to come.”

Which.

Well.

Was about when she realized that the next gala was probably going to be extra interesting, after all their shenanigans. Maybe they should have been more discrete? More careful?

Her worry must have shown on her face, because Val gave her a very gentle bounce to shake her out of it.

“Hey. Samantha Manson. I would be delighted to go to the next gala with you, and tell all the little journalists that yeah, I’m that Val,” she said firmly once Sam had refocused on her. Then she grinned. “I’ll even be on my best behaviour and not one up Danny until the second one.”

That made Sam laugh again, hugging on tight even as Val turned and easily carried her through to their little kitchenette and sat her up on one of the counters.

“Hey, did you get that autograph from Harley for me by the way? I wanna send it to my dad for his birthday,” she added, sneaking another kiss and then pulling a pair of mugs next to the steaming kettle.

Sam considered hopping off the counter. Didn’t bother, reaching behind herself instead to pull her favourite tea for the month and drop a bag into her mug.

“Yeah, a couple actually. And she said if we wanna meet Ivy she’ll let us know when they’re back on the west coast, but it won’t be any time soon.” That hadn’t been particularly surprising, but it still made Sam a little sad.

Just another reminder that they were on the outside looking in all the way over here.

Valerie stilled, coming back and resting both hands on Sam’s thighs.

“Do you miss being on the east coast?” She asked quietly, those gorgeous green eyes so large and gentle.

Sam hesitated a moment longer, then sighed and let her head thunk back against the cupboard behind her.

“Honestly, I think I just miss being closer to everyone. It’s not far for Danny with the Zone, but if you or I wanna visit anyone we have to hop on an airplane or spend weeks driving, neither of which are good for the environment. We just… get forgotten out here, stuck out of the loop.”

Val raised an eyebrow, a smirk on her face but eyes still soft with understanding.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk. I thought I’d pick up a new phone and rejoin the group chat that day, but suddenly I gotta wait nearly a week for “new secrets”,” she teased and Sam sighed, shaking her head. Not quite able to lift all the way out of her funk.

“Yeah, I know… it probably woulda been fine, Danny shouldn’t have dropped anything at all in the main chat if he didn’t want everyone to see it, I just…”

“Wanted to be more sensitive than he is,” Val finished the sentence, leaning in for another kiss. Not needing to reach up even with Sam sat on the counter. “That’s why I’m still dating you.”

It did pull a smile from Sam anyway and she draped her arms over her girlfriend’s shoulders again.

“For some reason. So, what did you think?”

Val shrugged, her hands sliding up to settle around Sam’s waist.

“About a new halfa? Probably sucks for him. Especially when he’s gotta come out as dead to his family. The Waynes aren’t exactly known for being stable,” she pointed out when Sam snickered.

Which was a fair point.

“They’re actually worse when there’s more of them,” she mused, glancing back towards the bed where she’d left her phone, “and the oldest’s a cop now.”

This time it was Val’s turn to snicker.

“Yeah, I heard. Tuck already sent me the blow by blow of you eviscerating the poor guy.”

Sam preened. Deservedly.

“Hey, you know me, I’m not gonna play nice just cuz I’ve been dragged to some social function.”

The snicker turned to a chuckle as Val leaned in, rubbing their noses together.

“And you know me, baby girl, ACAB all the way, and I still think that should extend to the Justice League. Heard half of Batman Inc also showed up, did you let them have it too?”

“You know I did,” Sam purred, locking her ankles behind Val’s back and nipping playfully at her lower lip. Val laughed, her hands creeping slowly up the small of Sam’s back.

“That’s my little leopard. Tea’s done.” And then, totally unfairly, she reached back with one hand and pulled Sam’s ankles apart, slipping free with a laugh as Sam pouted. “Hey, you’d be more upset if I let it over steep.”

“I can make more tea,” Sam grumbled, finally slipping off the counter, but a rebellious smile made it onto her face anyway. Val toasted her with the french press.

“True that, darling, but I’m not wasting the good coffee beans. Daddy asked me four times if I was sure about taking the train but honestly, he’s a state away now, it’s not worth a flight.”

Setting her teabag aside, Sam squirted in some vanilla agave syrup and took a deep breath. Gotham was fine, but no hotels could match her home tea stash. Not even the Waynes could.

“Beautiful, strong, environmentally conscious, and a Daddy’s girl. How did I land you again?” She asked innocently as Val dropped creamer into her own mug.

“By being all of those but the last one,” Val countered easily, taking a mug and holding an arm out for Sam to tuck under. “Now c’mon, if I’m going to the next gala you need to tell me allllll about a certain cutie Cassandra Wayne,” she cooed, making for their couch.

Sam’s face flushed red and she made to duck away instantly, but those damn vigilante muscles made it so hard.

“Okay, veto, you’re not allowed to do that anymore! My mom is trying to hook me up with her!” Sam did not whine. She. Protested. With dignity. Totally no idea why Val snickered, holding her coffee up and away in her other arm.

“Yeah, that’s the point. How funny would it be if Danny and I both stole a Wayne from you?” She asked with a vicious grin.

Which… did make Sam pause. Because that would be really funny. And Cass would almost certainly be down for it; she wasn’t as loud or attention seeking as any of the boys, but Sam could recognize the wicked gleam in anyones’ eyes when they enjoyed the chaos.

Then she sighed.

“No, we have to be good for the next gala. Otherwise no one’s going to listen to what I actually have to say.”

Val hummed an agreement, guiding her to sit on the plush, well loved cushions. It was an old couch, and a hand-me-down from Sam’s work, but it was just too good to pass up. They could both lie comfortably side by side on the seat, if they snuggled just a little, and the back was wide and plush enough for two throws.

“Okay. The gala after that, then. It’ll make our slow burn long distance romance all the more compelling,” she added when Sam snorted, finally releasing Sam to sink comfortably into oblivion.

Sam swatted at her and put her tea down on the table.

“You’re dreadful. I love you. We’ll ask Cass, lemme just get my phone and I’ll hook you into the group chat with her, Steph, and Babs. They’re Wayne family friends,” she added at Val’s questioning noise, “I haven’t met Babs yet, but Steph is great. You’re gonna love her.”

“Only if we’re going for some three’s company action,” Val snickered as Sam jogged to the bedroom, flipping her girlfriend off as she went.

Jason was quiet as they left the Zone. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, especially after the day he’d had and the emotional whiplash.

Danny was doing his very best not to let it bother him. He remembered the early days of being a halfa, how much he’d second-guessed himself, how much every new change and discovery had rocked his world. And he’d been a teenager, all hormones and fire and energy.

He hadn’t even been dead a month before shit got weird.

Jason was twenty-two, and had already been dead for almost seven years. Danny’d like to think he’d found ways to cope, but seven years in himself he was pretty sure he still hadn’t.

Whatever Jason had dealt with in those six and a half years was being ripped up in front of him day by day.

If there was anything he wanted, anything he needed, Danny would be there for him in a heartbeat. Before he could even have to ask, if possible. Aaaand the only thing he couldn’t do that for was if Jason needed space.

Lady Gotham had been able to open them a portal directly into Jason’s apartment; Danny preferred to aim high enough to miss walls and buildings on the way back, but it was her city. She knew exactly where everything and anything was - the portal had been in the back of Jason’s front door.

Danny totally wasn’t jealous. He could come back out almost at the same place he’d gone in, if he was quick. And he could go intangible anyway.

It was still really cool to watch the city spirit do it, the way the realms opened easily and willingly at her touch. She’d given Jason a token, a coin that had to be at least six hundred years old that showed the city’s skyline. Apparently he could use it to get in touch with her, or get back to the Zone on his own if Danny couldn’t take him.

Danny was fine with that. For sure.

The Infinite Realms were dangerous, but the token should bring him straight to Lady Gotham, in an emergency. And then Danny could follow and find her, and find Jason. It was a super reasonable backup plan.

He still found himself hovering in the doorway, unsure if Jason wanted him to stay or go while the other man shrugged out of his coat, boots, and shoulder holster that Danny had totally missed this entire time. And then walked directly into the bathroom.

Danny hovered a little closer, entirely unknowing what exactly he’d do if Jason was crying. Or screaming. Or beating a hole in the wall away from prying eyes. Or, actually using the bathroom for its intended purpose, apparently.

Because Danny forgot Jason was still in mandatory human form at all times.

He couldn’t hear anything from inside the bathroom with the door shut anyway, not even movement or the sink running. But then again, Jason’s family knew Superman personally. That probably lead to some inside jokes and really specific precautions.

Danny hovered back to the door. Stared around at the incredibly clean, well organized display of video games and weaponry on the walls, the double shelf of books.

This, he was beginning to suspect, was a third, larger, more expensive apartment. The furniture and room layouts were about the same, but he was like 80% sure the apartment they’d played MarioKart in hadn’t had as much stuff.

This one had some dishes waiting by the sink though. Given how well organized everything else was, they stuck out.

…

Five minutes. Jason was still in the bathroom.

Danny hated waiting. If he was going to stick around, he could justify it by helping out. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

———————

Part two imminent! All my love to the tag list, you’ll be following the link on this one so you don’t get both separately

Part 2:

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop p @mayoota-blog @xysidhe e @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper r @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking g @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor r @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 8 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf f @frivolous-pastel

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny fenton dead and loving it #dfdali #dead on main ship #chapter probably 18 part 1 #so that just happened #in which there is LORE #and SPIDERHECK #and LESBIANS #feast my children feast

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