#THEY DIDN’T UP IT TO A TEEN RATING IT’S STILL A KID RATING HOW DID THEY DO THIS???

[yuttikkele]

(miraculous s5 spoilers)

I do find it really funny how miraculous s5 goes from 0 to 100 like, REAL fast. The season starts off all, “Monarch may be powerful, but Ladybug and Chat Noir are finally gonna KICK HIS BUTT!” and by the end it’s like, “GABRIEL AND TSURUGI HAVE LOCKED UP ADRIEN AND KAGAMI. ADRIEN AND FELIX ARE SENTIMONSTERS. GABE IS FORCING HIS OWN “PERFECTION” DRUG ON EVERYONE. NATHALIE IS DYING. CHLOE’S BEEN HUMBLED. LILA HAS THE BUTTERFLY MIRACULOUS. GABE GOT THE LADYBUG AND BLACK CAT MIRACULOUS AND THE WORLD EXPLODED AND HE’S REVERED AS A HERO AND ADRIEN KNOWS NOTHING.”

[stevie-petey]

oh, you didn't know?

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank.  “Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

Summary: steve is pathetically in love with you and for some reason the universe hates him and continues to pray on his downfall. typical.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 1.6k

Before you swing in: happy valentines day my loves <333 youre all my valentines, i didnt make the rules. anyways, pls enjoy this cute cheesy fic. dont ask how i thought of this: i simply do not know. however, its pathetic!loverboy!steve and i think we ALL deserve that today smh.

-

Steve has never had the best timing. 

When he first manned up to ask you out, it had coincidentally been the same day your childhood dog died. 

There he had been, flowers in hand and a proud smile on his face when he knocked on your front door, completely taken aback when you answered with tears streaming down your face. 

Immediately, Steve’s smile had dropped and he quickly pulled you close to inspect for any injuries or pain. “Y/N? What happened, is everything okay?”

“My dog died.” You wailed, even more tears spilling over. 

“Oh my god–”

“He… He didn’t suffer. He was old and–” You had sniffed, looking so small and frail in your heartbreak, before spotting the flowers in Steve’s hand. You gasped. “H–How did you know?”

Steve had been confused for a moment, but when he followed your gaze to the flowers that were originally meant to be “please be my girlfriend” flowers, his heart dropped. 

Well fuck. 

“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “I, uh. Had a hunch?”

You threw your arms around Steve, the flowers then crushed between you two, but he hadn't paid any attention to them as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. After a few seconds, you placed your lips by his ear and whispered, “You’re the sweetest.”

The sincerity in your voice had made Steve want to vomit. 

He hadn’t had a hunch that your childhood dog would die that day, but what else was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry your dog died, do you want to kiss now? Absolutely not. 

Steve is many things, and oftentimes he is an idiot, but he isn’t that much of an idiot.

So, instead of asking you to be his girlfriend, Steve had instead spent the next three hours at your house as he consoled you and watched your favorite movie to cheer you up. While it hadn’t been his ideal outcome, Steve had still been happy to simply spend time with you. Besides, you had needed him at that moment, so of course Steve was right there by your side. 

Life moved on, a few weeks passed, and eventually Steve decided to try again. 

You had no more animals to possibly lose, Christmas was approaching, and Steve was determined that this time he’d be able to ask you out. 

After buying you some chocolate and planning a fort building night on Christmas Eve, Steve had been sure that the night would go perfectly. There was a beautiful rose pendant bracelet sitting atop of his dresser in his room, wrapped and ready for you to open. 

Steve’s plan was foolproof. 

Build a fort, watch a cheesy Christmas movie, bake some cookies and drink hot chocolate, and then boom: Steve would ask you to be his girlfriend. 

However, Steve really should’ve known better. 

His parents had left that day and he had spent the entire time cleaning the house and preparing all the snacks before your arrival. At six on the dot, his doorbell rang and Steve eagerly ran over to answer the door. 

There, standing on his front doorstep, had been you with a smug looking Dustin Henderson.

“What’s the kid doing here?” Steve had asked, all his hope now coming crashing down upon him. 

You winced. “I know we made plans, I’m so sorry, but his mom asked me to babysit him and she offered me the rest of the money I need for your Christmas gift and–”

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank. 

“Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

“Stevie, I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” You groaned at him, and Steve knew you hated disappointing him. “Can we please just come inside? It’s cold and I was really excited for the fort.”

There are many times when Steve wonders just how he manages to get himself into obscure situations. That night, when he had Dustin Henderson wedged between you and him underneath a super romantic and cute fort that he had spent hours building, had been one of those times where Steve questioned his entire life. 

At that point, Steve was starting to wonder if he’d ever manage to ask you out in the first place. 

A few more weeks passed after that and you were still his best friend and nothing had changed between you two, but now Steve found himself constantly biting his tongue around you. He was so fucking in love with you, he had been for years, but after two failed attempts of confessing his feelings: it was becoming impossible to hold them in. 

Then, late January, your birthday came along. 

This time, Steve was sure that he had it all figured out.

You had wanted to grab some dinner at the local diner you loved, and Steve thought that a small, toned down proposal to date would be perfect. He’d give you your birthday gift (a matching set of earrings for the rose bracelet you now wore every day), he’d order you the strawberry shortcake you adored, and when you weren’t looking, Steve would ask the waitress to write “happy birthday, my love” on the cake. 

Steve was a goddamn romantic genius, honestly. 

Except that isn’t what happened. 

What actually ended up happening was the waitress somehow hearing “my love” as “Milo” and Steve had wanted to bash his fucking skull in. 

“Who’s ‘Milo’?” You had asked once the cake came out, confusion evident on your face. 

Steve, now used to nothing ever working out in his favor, had simply sighed and said, “Who knows, man. Just eat your cake.”

You had giggled, and the sound was enough to cheer Steve up a bit. Sure, it was looking more and more like the world didn’t want you with him, but at least he got to hear your laugh and admire the way your eyes shined whenever you looked at him. 

Now, a few weeks later, it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is terrified that he will somehow set your house on fire with his horrible luck. 

He has spent the last two months trying to ask you out. Now, on the day of love itself, Steve is almost too terrified to even approach you. At the rate he’s going, if he tries to ask you out again, he’ll end up telling you he hates you or something. 

He’s miserable. 

Which is how he finds himself once again outside your door, except there’s no flowers in his hands, and he knocks. 

You guys haven’t made any plans tonight, but it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is so in love with you that it hurts. 

The second his knuckles leave the door, you swing the door wide open and jump into his arms. “Stevie!”

Surprised by such an affectionate reaction, Steve almost falls into the bushes in front of your house. “Woah, hey!”

He steadies the two of you and you simply squeeze him tighter and giggle. You’re in an exceptionally good mood, almost too good of a mood, and Steve’s hands are sweating. He hadn’t exactly come here with a game plan in mind. 

“Happy to see me, I take it?” He mumbles into your ear. 

“Duh,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day, why wouldn’t I be excited to see my boyfriend?”

This time, Steve actually does fall into the bush behind him. 

“Oh my god,” you run over and quickly try to help the boy up, but Steve is staring up at the night sky, overcome with pure shock and fear. “Stevie? Steve!”

Steve lays there, motionless as you continue to tug at his jacket. “How long have I been your boyfriend, Y/N?”

At his question, you stop tugging and look at him, confused. “I don’t know, honestly. How long has it been since the fourth of July?”

“The fourth?” Steve sputters. “Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just now finding out you’re my girlfriend?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

“No!” Steve finally scrambles out of the bushes and grabs your face with his hands. He feels insane, his hands are shaking a bit as he holds onto you. “When did this happen?”

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “On the fourth. We saw the fireworks, cuddled on the picnic blanket you stole from your mom, you grabbed my hand, and then told me you never wanted this to end. I just… I assumed you meant our relationship?”

Steve blinks. “You… You are the love of my life, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, I’d hope so–” Suddenly Steve’s lips are against yours and he’s kissing you with everything he has within him. All those months of pining after you, all the times he’s failed in asking you to be his, and this entire time you had somehow been his all along. 

God, he is so stupidly in love with you. 

He nips at your bottom lip and you make a sound that’s so soft and sweet in the back of your throat that has Steve’s head spinning. He nips again, revels in the breathy sigh you release against his lips, and Steve’s hand tugs harshly against your waist. 

The kiss is perfect and everything he’s ever dreamed of. 

Then, a thought occurs to Steve. 

“Wait a minute,” he breaks the kiss and your love drunk expression almost makes him groan. He tells himself to focus, even though it’s incredibly difficult to do so. “If we’ve been supposedly dating since July, didn’t you wonder why I hadn’t kissed you yet?”

“Oh, I just thought you were shy.” You shrug, as if it’s no big deal. Then, with a teasing smile, you add, “And I guess I love you too.”

Steve decides, then and there, that you will be the death of him.

And he couldn’t be any happier as he pulls you in again for another bruising kiss. 

Afterall, Steve has about seven months to make up for lost time. 

-

⌑ writing masterlist

[thefreakandthehair]

winter sports.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: winter sports | wc: 478 | rating: teen & up | tags: steve pov, steve harrington has a crush on eddie munson, ice skating, fluff, pining, getting together

All his life, Steve has been an athlete. 

Baseball, basketball, swimming; he’d even had a stint playing volleyball and was decent at soccer when he was younger and his mom was still trying to be a Soccer Mom. He’d helped Lucas practice for basketball tryouts, he’d taught Dustin how to throw a football the one time he’d asked at a pool party, and he’d helped Holly learn to ride her bike without training wheels. Nancy had done her damnedest, Mike didn’t have the patience, Karen was a little overwhelming, and Ted was… well, Ted. 

Sports come naturally to Steve, is the point, and perhaps that’s why he’s frustrated enough that he’d about to punch a hole through the carved up ice beneath him when he falls again. 

His poor knees. 

And his poor ego because sure, he’s glad that Eddie took to it shockingly quickly, but Steve would love to join him skating— wobbly, but upright— along the outer boards of the rink. Instead, he just groans and turns around to sit on his ass. Cold and icy, it’s no wonder he’s sore from falling all night. 

“Need a hand?” Eddie skates over, one hand bracing himself on the wall as he makes his way to Steve. 

“I think I need new feet,” Steve sighs, leaning his head back against the boards. “There are fucking five year olds here that are better at this. No offense, but why is this so easy for you?” 

“Wayne lives and breathes hockey. I never got lessons or anything because y’know, poor,” he gestures vaguely to himself, “but he did take me to a few rinks that rented skates for cheap when I was a kid.” 

“You cheater!” Steve looks up at him with no real malice or heat because it’s impossible for Steve to ever actually be angry with him— not when his nose is red and his cheeks are flushed and his hair is frizzing out at all angles. “You said you wanted to learn to skate, but you already know how?”

“Would it help if I hold your hand?” Eddie teases, extending one hand that Steve accepts, allowing himself to be hoisted back up onto his skates. 

He wobbles a bit and catches himself with his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, while Eddie steadies him with both hands on his waist. Steve feels Eddie’s breath against his skin, their noses close enough to touch. Like this, Steve can count every individual eyelash, every imperfection, every hidden fleck of gold in his otherwise dark eyes. Kids race around them, their skates etching nonsensical lines into the smooth surface, but Steve can’t stop staring, can’t move, can barely breathe with Eddie so close. 

“C’mon,” Eddie whispers with a reassuring smile, and Steve feels his words more than he hears them. “I won’t let you fall.” 

Too late, Steve thinks to himself. 

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Stuck

~1.5k words || rating: teen || cws: dissociation; unlabeled neurodivergencies and mental illnesses

He’s never quite sure how it happens, seeming to always sneak up on him. One minute he’s up and moving around, usually cleaning, organizing, or just meandering around the house. The next, he’s lying on the floor in the middle of the living room. He tries to move but can’t. Not because he’s physically restrained, like when the rope from the Russians cut into his wrists or how the vines constricted his neck. 

No, Steve’s just lying here on the floor, trapped in his own mind. His eyes are raw, stinging with dryness. Painful tingles pop throughout his right arm from where his head rests heavy on his bicep. His hip and shoulder ache. He can’t move or talk or blink. Can barely think. He’s not in his body. 

He’s lost. Stuck.

Getting stuck means losing time, chunks of days lost to a void. It means missing meals and unanswered phone calls. Growing up, it felt like an escape. A safe way to pass the time between eating and sleeping. He’d come back to himself, sometimes hours later, sore and hungry, mustering up energy he didn’t have. Once, his parents discovered him frozen on the ground. Mom’s yelling and Dad’s foot shoving his side brought him jolting back into his body. Like waking from a nightmare, rising from the dead chased by panic. 

It happens less now, but still catches up to him when he’s exhausted. He thinks today it was the kids– they were particularly obnoxious. Yelling excitedly about Eddie’s new campaign ideas, trucking in snow from outside after building a demo-snowman. Cooking for them, cleaning after them, getting them home safe.

Yeah, he gets how he maybe overdid it a bit. 

But with Eddie here, it’s easier. His sweetheart always knows how to help, usually checking up on him after stressful days. Hopefully he comes to check on him soon.

Because Steve can’t move. Or talk. Or even blink.

The sun is starting to set.

~~~

The Party were extra chaotic today, pushing him to the fringes of patience. He’s thrilled they’re excited about his newest campaign ideas, but god, did they have to be so unbearably loud about it? Dustin’s screeches are still rattling between his ears. Not to mention the soreness he feels from helping the kids build a snowman demo-thing and the ensuing snowball fight. 

The idea of an occult campaign has been percolating in Eddie’s brain for weeks, and after the day he’s had, he’s lost to the research. Perched on a chair upstairs in their bedroom, books are scattered across the desk and onto their bed next to him. Typically, creative deep-dives restore his energy after a long day. But when he’s well and truly exhausted, he’ll lose hours at a time to the work. Getting stuck, according to Steve. And yeah, Eddie can see how that fits.

Growing up, Eddie would lose hours throwing himself into his latest and greatest project, whether it be drawing, playing guitar, writing campaigns, reading or even the time he tried juggling. Entranced by his newest obsession, his surroundings would fade into the background. He’d forget to do his homework, to eat or drink. Hell, sometimes he’d forget to pee. Wayne’d drop a gentle hand to his shoulder– pulling him back to reality– and he’d take off like a shot to the bathroom. Every sensation hitting all at once: bladder about to burst, stomach rumbling, dry mouth, headache, body stiff and achy. 

As he gets older, it’s still a frequent occurrence. So Robin had given him the idea of setting alarms, saying it helps her remember to take breaks while studying. And he’s thankful, because it works like a charm when he actually remembers. But when he forgets, his Stevie takes care of him. 

He’ll find Eddie crouched awkwardly by the desk, eyes manic, only seeing what’s in front of him. Eddie will eat or drink anything Steve gives him, barely tasting whatever it is, just as long as he can see it. And Steve lets him be for at least a few hours so he can burn energy into whatever project he's lost himself in. All Steve cares is that he’s fed and hydrated. Usually, Eddie comes to slowly, with Steve’s fingers gently carding through his hair, or soft strokes up and down his spine.

Now Eddie breaks his own musings, eyes strained, hungry, and needing to stretch. He can’t help but wonder why his sweetheart hasn’t checked on him. 

Moonlight is shining through the window.

~~~

It’s eerily quiet as Eddie makes his way down the stairs. He half expects to find Steve stress-baking, but the kitchen is dark. 

So he checks the garage– the car is still here. And the backyard– he never sits by the pool alone. Then the front porch– maybe he went out for a smoke.

Guilt eats at Eddie as he finds his beautiful boy on the living room floor, curled into himself.

Stuck. 

He hates finding Steve like this– stuck and lost like Eddie’s engrossed fantasies. Yet so, so different. 

The first time Eddie found him, unresponsive and immovable, he spiraled into a panic so strong Steve had broken free of his own melancholy, finding Eddie hyperventilating and sobbing in the midst of a flashback. Too much like Chrissy. Like Patrick and Nancy. 

They'd talked about it. And Eddie had appreciated afterwards how Steve struggled to describe what being stuck feels like, why it happens, what to do about it. It'd helped. 

So on grey days, long nights, the holidays, or when the kids are extra rowdy, Eddie looks for the signs. He's been good about getting Steve to slow down before it's too late. 

But on rare occasions, there will be a day like today. When it’s too much for both of them.

Eddie doesn't know how long his baby’s been lying here. Doesn't know when he ate or drank or even blinked. Because he’d holed himself up, desperate for time alone to just think. To be with himself after spending all day surrounded by people. But he forgot to set an alarm, assuming Steve would be there.

He focuses on his sweetheart, slowly kneeling down next to him so as not to startle him. Remembers all of the tips and tricks Steve needs. 

"Hey honey," Eddie whispers, close enough to be present but not overwhelming. "Don't worry baby we'll get you unstuck I promise. I'm going to reach out and grab your hand now ok?" 

He continues to whisper gentle praises and reassurances as he holds Steve's hand. It's limp for a time, and Eddie is hungry, but he doesn't stop. Time is lost to them both again, until he feels a slight squeeze on his fingers. Steve finally blinks, slow and hard. 

"Hey big boy, love to see those pretty, long eyelashes.” He smiles down at his baby, honeyed hazel eyes slowly refocusing. “Alright, once for no and two for yes: do you want me to help you onto the couch?" 

A full minute passes before Eddie feels two gentle squeezes to his fingers. 

"That's great sweetheart. I'm gonna tilt you to sit up and we'll get you settled. Then I'm going to ask if you want anything. Ready?" Two squeezes.

They finally get to the couch, and Eddie can already feel a strong sense of relief at just seeing his baby move off the floor. He hears Steve's back pop as they stand, decides he'll give him a massage later. 

It goes on. And on and on. Eddie follows the process of squeezes until Steve is unstuck and back in his body. 

"Water?" Two squeezes.

"Food?" One squeeze.

"Blanket?" Two squeezes. 

Eddie's patience always pays off. He's got Steve set up on the couch, hydrated and relaxed, with his favorite movie playing softly. He’s managed to grab a bowl of cereal for himself. They're cuddled and warm with Steve’s head in his lap. Eddie glides his fingers up and down the sore side of Steve’s body, gently squeezing as he goes.

~~~

Steve comes back to himself surrounded by love. 

His eyes sting and his mouth is dry. He doesn't know what time it is, but notices the sun has long set, moonlight shining through the curtains. The bones in his neck crack and his joints pop as he stretches.

But he's warm under the blankets, tucked into his boyfriend's chest as they watch the teddy bear Star Wars. Eddie's loosely twirling the hairs at the nape of his neck, lightly tugging and sending tingles down his spine. There's a glass of water and crackers on the table in front of him. 

Getting stuck inside his head terrifies him, something he dreads as much as the night terrors. 

But with Eddie, it's easier, happens less often. And when it does, he always wakes up to love.

~~

This was a pure self-indulgence fic. An exact recreation of my relationship with my partner. It fits my headcanon for the boys perfectly (though I'm obviously biased haha)

[thebuddiearchives]

BUDDIE FIC RECS ✴ ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP ✴ VOL. 1

Fic recs with Buck and Eddie in an established relationship.

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all the roads, for your steps by @hattalove Oneshot || Teen || 1796

“I have a minute,” Bobby, still standing there, says when Eddie just blinks at him, frozen. “Are you okay? You look like you need to sit down.”

“I’m, uh,” Eddie swallows, “I’m cursing the patriarchy. Just give me a second.”

or, eddie has a question to ask.

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and longer by far by farfromthstars // @doeeyeseddie Oneshot || Teen || 14547

“Eddie’s been married once, and after Shannon asked him for a divorce and then died before they could do anything about it, he figured that was it for him. One marriage with all its ups and downs is enough for a lifetime. Granted, he didn’t think he’d fall in love with Buck and be lucky enough for that love to be returned.”

OR

Everyone seems to expect Eddie to propose to Buck any minute now, which is annoying because Eddie doesn’t want to get married again. He's sure of that. Or is he?

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Asked, Offered, Given, (He's) Taken by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels Oneshot || Explicit || 2704

People like to flirt with Buck on calls. It kind of makes Buck uncomfortable.

And that makes Eddie frustrated.

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Been about 273 days and I’m coming home. by zimnokurw Oneshot || Not Rated || 1827

When Hen first met Evan Buckley (“call me Buck”) she thought the kid, who looked like a womanizer type, was going to be trouble.

What she did not think was that she was going to win 60$ from Chimney thanks to the fact that the kid is apparently in love with a hot-ass Army Medic.

(Or; Eddie is still in Afghanistan when Buck joins 118, so the team meets him for the first time when he drops by to surprise Evan. / But kinda also like Hen + Chim & Bobby react to Buck as a rookie.)

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beneath my mother tongue by archerincombat Oneshot || Teen || 31552

He sits bolt upright in his seat. Jee-Yun squeals at the sudden movement. “Holy shit,” he says out loud, simultaneously praying that it doesn’t become one of those words his niece repeats until it loses its sparkle. “I told Eddie I loved him.”

Jee-Yun laughs. It feels a little like she’s mocking him. “Dee,” she agrees solemnly, placing a tiny hand on Buck’s cheek.

Or: Buck goes home to Pennsylvania. It's more familiar than he wants it to be.

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bulletproof morning by not1_2write Oneshot || Explicit || 4493

It's not unusual for people to hit on Buck during calls. Beautiful, caring, competent, muscled Buck? Yeah, he gets hit on a lot. He always turns them down. He's taken after all and he only has eyes for Eddie.

Eddie isn't jealous. He is, however, a little insecure. Buck's had a lot of experience with sex and Eddie... not so much. That's not a bad thing... is it?

They have sex about it, then talk.

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call me by your name by ipretendtobesane // @userbuddie Oneshot || Not Rated || 11490

5 times someone calls buck 'diaz' not knowing he was married and the 1 time they call eddie 'diaz' too

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call you home by ashavahishta Oneshot || General || 6000

"He’s like, so pretty sometimes I can’t believe he’s real?” He’d rambled once, so tired at the end of shift he was basically drunk with it. “I’ll take your word for it,” Hen had said patiently, and patted him on the shoulder. “I like girls, remember?”

“He’s built like a Greek god with the face of an angel,” Eddie had argued, a stubborn set to his mouth like he was determined for Hen to believe just how gorgeous his husband was. “Even you couldn’t resist that.”

Or: "Eddie Diaz drinks his 'I fucking love my husband' juice for 6,000 words." OR "5 Times Eddie Told The Firefam About Buck and 1 Time They Actually Met Him".

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doing the things that animals do by @trippedandfell Oneshot || Teen || 3846

“Hey,” Buck says, reaching out to grab Eddie's hand. “How do you feel about red carpets?”

“Tacky in a bedroom, decent in a living room,” Eddie deadpans, because he likes to think he’s funny.

or: Buck's still a zoologist. Eddie's definitely in love.

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Eyes On You by sealeviathan Oneshot || Not Rated || 1060

Hen liked their new probie.

Buck was easy to get along with. He had a husband and a son, he was good at his job and helped everyone to the best of his ability. Not only that, but he was actually interesting. He was passionate, funny, caring and he fit well into the team dynamic. Hen was happy with this information - happy with her knowledge of one Evan Buckley.

That being said, she really didn't expect Buck to be the disloyal type. But here he was, at a bar, practically drooling over some bartender in front of all of his coworkers. The guy even seemed familiar with Buck.

---

Or: The fic where Buck blatantly lusts over Eddie. Hen and Chimney worry they're about to witness a marriage-ending move because Buck failed to mention that Eddie is the man he's married to.

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his name on your heart by spinningincircles // @tripleaxeldiaz Oneshot || Not Rated || 1258

Buck hops off the back of the ambulance, kneeling down so they’re eye to eye. “I’m always happy to help, sweetheart, but my name’s not—”

But he stops, because it hits him like a freight train — he is Mr. Diaz now.

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If I Fall, Can You Pull Me Up? by @princessfbi Oneshot || General || 7066

Eddie could pick Buck from a million miles away. Buck’s entire being was like one bright light in an otherwise cloudy sky. So, he was really interested to know why some stranger was wearing his boyfriend’s turnout coat and pretending to be him.

“This is Captain Nash for Firefighter Buckley. Please report.”

“Bobby,” Eddie said, already hurrying after the guy who was definitely not Buck. “Hey!”

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leading the way home by theosbuckley Oneshot || Not Rated || 4082

Now almost 2 weeks later Bobby was definitely sprouting some new grey hairs that had definitely not been there before and he was sure that he almost had a heart attack this morning - Buck thought he could do some daring rescue and did it without a second thought, and Bobby was slowly going insane, how Buck thought of these ideas was beyond him.

or

an au where buck joins the 118 but is married

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the measuring contest by ColorMeParanoid // @color-me-paranoid Oneshot || Teen || 2598

Hen snorted from her own cot. “Trust me, guys. This isn’t the kind of measuring contest you want to play with Buck because you will lose.”

But, comparing scars and exchanging crazy stories when meeting other people in your profession was basically a rite of passage so of course they didn’t take her warning seriously. It became a challenge instead and Eddie settled in for the show.

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no morning fears, no mountains to climb by iphigenias // @oatflatwhite Oneshot || Teen || 3692

“You’re invited,” Buck read aloud, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “Together with their families, Jason and Amelia invite you to join them in the celebration of their marriage.” He says the word like that: italicised. Teasing and persistent. Eddie swallows his eggs. “Who’re Jason and Amelia?”

*

Eddie's invited to the wedding of an old army buddy in Texas.

Problem is, they all think he's straight.

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No thing definеs a man like love that makes him soft by justhockey // @everything-i-am Oneshot || Not Rated || 4028

“I don’t think you need a dad, that’s not how families work, right? Like, they all look different,” Chris says. “But it’s okay if you want one. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“What’s it like, having two?” Denny asks, and Buck has to cover his mouth so he doesn’t give himself away.

Christopher’s laugh is loud, and sweet, and tugs on Buck’s heartstrings in the same way that it always has done. He doesn’t even hesitate to say, “It’s fun. I love them.”

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plot twist (and turns) by autumnchills Oneshot || Teen || 4090

“I- I remember putting burgers in the truck. I took some off of Chimney so he could help Eddie finish assessing a patient. That’s the last thing.”

“Okay,” Bobby says, then hesitates before adding, “What happened is that someone stole the truck while you were in there.”

Buck’s head snaps up, and he tries to peer around the edge of the seat and console to get a better look at the guy. This was definitely not the turn he saw his evening taking, all jinxes considered.

aka What if Buck was in the truck when Brian stole it in 4x06?

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seeing you with him just don't feel right (you're giving me a heart attack) by bellabrady Oneshot || Not Rated || 1932

“Holy shit,” Chimney says, grabbing Hen’s arm like he needs to make sure she’s getting this. “So you guys killed our captain?”

“No!” Eddie and Buck say simultaneously.

“We were just…we…,” Buck tries before looking at Eddie for help. Eddie opens his mouth to explain that no, they did not kill their captain but—

“Okay, well, I guess we…,” he says with a grimace. “I guess we kind of killed our captain.”

“Eddie!” Buck snaps.

“What?” Eddie snaps back, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I mean, I don’t think the guy would’ve had a heart attack today if it wasn’t for us.” — Or: Buck and Eddie accidentally give their homophobic captain a heart attack.

————————————————————————

she’ll never get to eat you like your heart's a pomegranate by @colonoscopys Oneshot || General || 10217

Chris smiles at him, soft and steady. There’s a loud clang of the metal door behind both of them, a high pitched AHHHHH noise, and-

Eddie knows – he understands – that he doesn’t look like his kid. Chris has a lot of different features, and more often than not when they go out people expect Buck to be his father. Eddie has the brown hair and the brown eyes, and Chris is all sunshine features and bright blue skies.

But the grins they give each other when they realize who has entered the room – they’re identical.

- or, Five Times Buck was the Weird Parent, and One Time Eddie was

————————————————————————

where there's smoke, there's fire by wakeupnew Oneshot || Teen || 24027

Buck loves Christopher. Buck clearly loves both of them. He and Eddie haven't said it to each other yet, but it's in every gesture, every word. Every package of dinosaur nuggets Buck keeps in his refrigerator. Every time he sends a text because he saw a video of dogs looking ashamed after destroying stuff and he knows Eddie will think it's funny. The care he takes when he carries Chris to bed. How he looks at Eddie when he thinks Eddie's asleep.

It turns out that being in a secret relationship with your best friend in an active fire department is kind of a life-altering situation, once it's suddenly not a secret anymore.

————————————————————————

Whiplash by soft_satan Oneshot || General || 6001

She parked near him and got out, avoiding the puddle as she approached him. Hands on her hips, she shook her head in pity. “What on earth happened to you?”

He looked up at her with a pained smile, his shoulders instantly sagging with relief at the sight of her. “I got carjacked.” ... Thanks to a lack of communication, a horrific accident leads the team to fear the worst.

————————————————————————

whatever you lack, i make up (we make a really good team) by wafflesofdoom // @capseycartwright Oneshot || General || 10034

it was eddie, who found out about the bet.

that had been the 118's first mistake.

or, the one where buck and eddie find out about the 118's bet on their relationship and set out for some well deserved revenge - with athena's help, of course. and a seven-phase revenge plan.

————————————————————————

with every heartbeat i have left by iriswests // @fcntasmas Oneshot || Teen || 8040

Buck and Eddie were expecting to have a little girl.

When their baby girl is born a baby boy, instead, Buck is suddenly confronted with everything he’s been ignoring since he learned about Daniel every time he looks at his son. -- or; buck and eddie have a baby boy, and buck spirals a little bit

————————————————————————

[gloomysoup]

falling in love with you

@steddiebingo 12 days of christmas prompt: love at first sight

rating: teen+ | word count: 2,285 | tags: alpha eddie/omega steve, mpreg, hurt/comfort, light angst | ao3

another fic in the home is where you are universe 🥰 (first one can be found here) this CAN be read as a stand alone, though! technically, this one is set several years before the other fic in this universe

If you had asked Eddie even three years ago, he probably would have told you that he never saw himself being a dad. It just didn't seem to be in the cards for him. And then, he and Steve got serious. Eddie had known right from the start that Steve wanted kids. As many as he could. At first, Eddie had been cautious. He tried to keep at least a little bit of distance between them, so as not to get too attached to someone he wasn’t sure he had a future with. It was pointless, though, because he was in love with Steve.

The turning point— the thing that finally cemented in Eddie’s brain that he was going to court Steve with the intent to mate— was the first time he saw Steve interact with a baby. They had been at the grocery store when they ran into someone Steve had known for a long time. Eddie didn’t quite catch who it was, but he thought Steve said something about an old babysitter. Whoever she was, she relatively recently had a baby, and the baby was with her. Eddie watched from slightly behind Steve as he gushed over the baby and asked to hold them. It was over for Eddie the second Steve had that baby in his arms, turning to look at Eddie with the biggest fucking smile on his face.

He was a fucking goner.

That was probably the most in love with Steve he had ever been up to that point. At that exact moment, he knew he would fold. He would give Steve whatever he wanted after that. He was in it for the long haul, prepared to be a dad if only to make Steve Harrington smile like that again. He knew he wasn’t going to be any good at it. He had a shit dad. He still had Wayne, but even that didn’t always feel like he had a good dad. Sure, Wayne was an amazing role model and always treated Eddie like his own son, and Eddie would forever be grateful to that man for everything he did. Wayne was still his uncle, though. There was still a little bit of a divide there, at least in Eddie’s brain. Regardless of his own feelings about being a dad, though, Eddie would do it for Steve. Easily. With zero hesitation at all.

It wasn’t like Eddie wasn’t going to love his own kid. He knew he would. He just… didn’t get the hype. He didn’t understand why people wanted kids. Why they go out of their way to have kids. He just didn’t get what the big deal was. He figured if he had kids of his own, he would care for them and help them learn and grow, but that would be that. Nothing more to it.

Oh, how wrong he was.

When they first found out Steve was pregnant, Steve was ecstatic. Eddie was terrified. He had a big moment of panic that night, after Steve had fallen asleep. He had gotten out of bed to slip into the bathroom. He paced, ran his hands through his hair, splashed his face with water. Anything to try and chill out before his restlessness woke Steve. Anything to cover the anxiety flowing through his entire body. Anything to keep Steve from getting insecure about this, to feel like it's a bad thing and Eddie doesn't want this.

Eddie doesn't know what he wants.

He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. He ended up getting ready for work way earlier than necessary and telling Steve he had an errand to run before his shift. Steve, the wonderful mate that he is, simply smiled and told Eddie he loved him with a kiss on the cheek, sending him off with a lunch packed with love and a promise to see him after work that night.

Eddie went straight to Wayne.

He had burst through the door, pacing the length of the living room while Wayne sat at the table with a bowl of cereal and a beer. Wayne didn’t say a word for a while, just watched Eddie’s pacing with a raised brow. Finally, he sighed and put his empty bowl in the sink. He leaned back against the counter and broke the silence.

“What’s on your mind, kid?”

Eddie stopped pacing, turning to look at Wayne. He tried to keep down the tears that wanted to spill out. He didn’t want to cry. Not now.

“How the hell am I supposed to be a dad, Wayne?” he asked softly, voice trembling.

Wayne frowned, a crease between his brows as he studied Eddie. “What’d’ya mean, Ed?”

Eddie sucked in a deep breath. “Steve’s pregnant.” His voice was so quiet, he wasn’t sure how Wayne heard him. “I- I don't know what to do, Wayne. I’m terrified.”

Understanding crossed Wayne’s features for just a second before he smiled. “Steve’s pregnant,” he repeated. Eddie nodded quickly. “Ed, that’s great.” He paused. “This is good news, right?”

Eddie licked his lips. He took another breath. He tried to center himself. “I- I think so? Steve’s so excited, Wayne. I just- I’m so scared.”

Wayne nodded slowly before gesturing to the table. “Have a seat, son. Let’s talk about it.” Eddie slid into one of the chairs— three; one for Wayne, one for Eddie, and one for Steve. Eddie distantly thinks they’ll need to get Wayne another chair. “What’s really eatin’ at ya, Ed?”

Eddie sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face. “I never wanted to be a dad,” he explained softly. “I just thought- I thought I wouldn’t be any good at it. I didn’t want to put a pup through shit just because they got stuck with me for a dad. I didn’t think I wanted this. And then I met Steve. He’s always wanted pups. He loves kids, and he’s so good with babies. He was made to be a mom, Wayne. I just- I thought I could do it, for him. It’s not like I won’t love my kid, because I will, I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m so scared I’m gonna fuck everything up.”

Wayne hummed, but stayed quiet for a beat. Eddie felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest.

“So, this is less about you and more about your daddy, isn’t it?” Eddie’s head hit the table with a gentle thud. Wayne took that as his answer. “Ed, you are not your father. In fact, you are the exact opposite of that man.”

“But what if I'm not?” Eddie asked, his voice shaking. “What if I turn out just like him? I can't do it, Wayne. This- this is such a bad idea. I'm gonna fuck everything up. I don't wanna do to Steve what he did to Mama.”

“Worryin’ ‘bout fuckin’ everything up’s what makes you different, Eddie. Your fear is what’s gonna make you a great dad. I know f’r a fact you'll do right by Steve and ya pup, ‘cause I done raised you up myself. I know you, Ed. I know you love that boy, ‘cause I see it in your eyes every time you're with him. I know you're gonna love that pup, ‘cause they're part of him. And bein’ scared’s jus’ part of bein’ a parent, kid. Hell, I'm still scared sometimes, and you're grown now. You ain't got nothin’ to panic for, I promise. You and your boy are gonna be jus’ fine.”

Eddie sucked in a breath and nodded, feeling a lot better already. He knew he could always count on Wayne to pull him back from the ledge.

“You can't tell Steve I told you,” he said, tilting his head on the table to look at Wayne. “He can't know I freaked out about this.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow at him. “Boy, you'd best not think to try an’ hide your feelin’s from him. It ain't gonna do ya any damn good not to talk to him ‘bout this shit.”

“I can't, Wayne,” Eddie whined. “It'll destroy him.”

“And you think it won't when he finds out you kept it from him?”

Once again, Wayne was right. Eddie would never admit it to his face, but he could internally loathe the fact that his uncle was, indeed, correct. A lot. Eddie sometimes hated how much Wayne knew the both of them.

Eddie had to talk to Steve.

It was the right thing to do.

After work.

-

When Eddie got home that night, it was later than usual. He decided to stop at the corner store on his way home to pick up a few of Steve’s favorite things. He hoped it would soften the blow….

He walked in the door laden with a bag of treats and a bouquet of half-wilted daisies to find Steve standing in the small kitchen of their even smaller apartment. A piece of his brain caught on the thread that there was no way they could provide for a baby in an apartment like this. He needed to find a way to fix that.

“You're late,” Steve said, back still to Eddie. He sounded upset. “You left early, you’re home late. It's like you don't even want to be here anymore.”

Eddie frowned, very quickly realizing that he had made a mistake. A big one. A mistake that he needed to remedy immediately. “I'm sorry, baby. I should've called. I, uh, stopped at the store on my way home. I didn't mean to be gone so long.”

Steve turned, then, eyes drifting to Eddie’s arms. Eddie carefully set the bag on the table and held the flowers out toward Steve. “Eddie….”

“I know they're not your favorite, and they're kind of wilted, but it's the best I could find without paying an arm and a leg,” Eddie rushed out. Steve gently took the flowers, inspecting them for a moment before setting them to the side. He pulled Eddie into a hug, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing his nose into his scent gland.

“They're beautiful,” he whispered, his voice shaky with tears that Eddie soon felt soaking into his shirt. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve and held him close, squeezing just tight enough.

“I'm sorry I've been so weird lately,” Eddie whispered into the side of Steve’s head.

“You mean just today, right after I told you I was pregnant.”

Eddie swallowed roughly. “Yeah.”

Steve pulled away and wiped at his eyes, going back to the stove where he had been cooking dinner. “Y’know, if you didn't want pups with me, you should've said something a long time ago, Eddie.”

Eddie shook his head, coming up behind Steve to wrap his arms around his waist. He let one hand settle low on his belly. “No, baby, that's not what it is, I swear,” he promised softly. “I just- I don't know. I panicked a little bit. It all just kinda… hit me all at once. I- I'm just so scared…. I don't want to be like my own dad and fuck everything up. I don't want to do that to you, or our pup.”

Steve turned around again with a frown on his perfect lips. Eddie suddenly had the urge to kiss it away. “Eddie,” he whispered.

“I left early this morning to see Wayne,” he blurted before Steve could say anything else that would inevitably make Eddie feel worse. “I know I should've talked to you about it before I told him, but I was so freaked out and didn't know what to do. Wayne had to walk me back from the ledge. And I wasn't even going to tell you, because I didn't want you to be upset or mad or insecure or whatever, but obviously Wayne is a lot smarter than me and insisted that I had to tell you, so here I am, telling you.” Eddie sucked in a deep breath, and just as Steve opened his mouth to say something, he blurted out a final, “and I brought you chocolate.”

Steve smiled softly, cupping Eddie’s face in his hands. “Do you have anything else to blurt out, or can I say something now?”

“The floor is yours,” Eddie said.

“Good.” Steve pressed a brief kiss to his lips before pulling back and looking right into Eddie’s soul. “I wish you would've told me what you were feeling first, but I'm glad Wayne knocked some sense into you. You are not your dad, Eddie. You are so funny, and kind, and loving, and amazing. I love you. I wouldn't want to start a family with anyone else. I know for a fact that you are going to be a wonderful dad, Eddie.”

Eddie nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I just wanna do everything right,” he said softly.

“I believe in you with everything I have.”

-

Eddie Munson never thought he would be a dad.

He was never one to believe in love at first sight, either.

On September 18, at 2:47am, all of that changed.

That day, Eddie fell in love with his little girl. Addie Louise Munson was the light of his life from the first moment he laid eyes on her. She was the greatest gift he had ever received, the pup who had made him a dad for the first time.

Eddie would never admit it out loud, but he definitely cried more than Steve when she was born. His perfect little bundle of joy, swaddled up in his arms with a sleepy little smile on her scrunched-up newborn face.

Eddie knew from that first moment.

He was a fucking goner.

[tinfoil-jones]

Tate Pines AU One-Shot: Never Forget

Context: Total AU, Extra Info Post

One-Shots: Goodbye

Rating: Teen+/Mature

Summary: Stanley Pines has been alone for a little over seven years, but one day that changes.

Deep in a dark, dangerous, dirty, and some other d-word back alley, Stanley Pines struggled to get back onto his feet.

“I am…. never drinking tequila again.” Stan groaned, muttering painfully under his breath as he forced himself to stand up, hastily buttoning and zipping his jeans as best as he could with only one hand free “Ow, ow, ow-.” 

He had to lean on the wall for support and his hands were shaking, but he finally managed to get himself covered up again after a few fumbles. At least no one saw him, or heard him- well, them.

Tiredly he looked to the bundle he held in his other arm - an undersized baby boy wrapped up in his maroon hoodie. The babe was quiet now; he’d come into the world with one loud cry to announce his presence, and then settled down into whimpers before immediately tiring himself out and falling asleep. Stan was relieved that his face and skin was pink and lively, and not blue or gray like he feared would happen. 

“You just… couldn’t wait for me to get within walking distance of the hospital, could you?” Stan asked, more to himself than the baby; his heart was racing. He absent mindedly adjusted the hoodie around the baby to get a better look at him - he hadn’t had the chance earlier when he was too preoccupied with literally not dying in childbirth.

Impressively full head of hair for a newborn - still sticky and damp despite Stan's efforts in drying him off, but the wispy strands were the same dark brown as Stan’s own hair. Didn’t seem to have the trademark curls of the Pines family.

His eyes were closed now but Stan remembered they’d been a murky blue colour - he wouldn’t be surprised if they changed to brown as he got older, though.

Heart still pounding in his chest from his efforts and the novelty of this situation, Stan carefully pulled the baby's hand from under the hoodie, keeping the tiny palm propped up with his own much larger pointer finger so he could study it.

Five fingers. 

He sighed in- not exactly relief, but at least that was one less problem the kid would have to deal with-.

The tiny hand suddenly gripped his finger, and Stan felt his pounding heart practically melt.

“L-Let’s get you to the hospital and get cleaned up, al- alright?” He said to the baby- his baby, softly but shakilly. He felt light headed. Not just from the blood loss, pain, and hours of unmedicated labor- but the realization that this was his baby. At twenty-five years old, Stan was a father.

He limped his way out of the back alley. 

---

Stan’s family was always weird in the sense that his father held these deep-rooted beliefs in gender roles and what he expected a man to be. How he expected a man to act. And how failing to meet these expectations would be punished severely.

Filbrick Pines had absolutely no qualms with kicking his then seventeen-year-old son out of the family home and out into the world on his own with absolutely no support or assets besides his car.

But he apparently drew the line at transphobia.

As soon as he could talk Stan let everybody know he was a boy. And his family had no issues with this - they had three sons, and that was that. He was Stanford’s twin brother, Stanley Pines. It was so unproblematic and such a non-issue within the family that Stan himself didn’t remember what his birth name happened to be. Because it didn’t matter; he was Stanley, and Stanley was male. 

Did Filbrick get Stan new glasses after he broke his childhood pair? No. But he did always manage to get him the pills and shots he needed to be his authentic self. 

Stan supposed he appreciated that his father did the bare minimum of respecting his gender identity, but if he could have not kicked Stan out over a mistake, that would have been great.

But damn did he hate explaining his biological quirks to others. Medical personnel included. Especially medical personnel. They like to harp on how because they understand anatomy, physiology, and genetics, Stan must clearly be wrong about being a man. But he knew he wasn’t wrong, and those quakes just needed to shove their bigotry-disguised-as-education where the sun doesn't shine.

“He’s perfectly healthy, miss-”

“Mister.” Stan gruffed, interrupting the nurse, who paused briefly before continuing.

“-Pines. We thought he was premature because of his size but it looks like he’s full term, just small. All of the vitals are exactly where we need them to be.” She continued, and Stan nodded along, looking to the trolley next to his bed that held his now-swaddled, properly washed, infant son. “I’d highly encourage you to consider nursing him right away."

“I can’t.” Stan told her simply. Stan’s family could never afford to get him top surgery, but even if they could he doubted they would’ve; he was naturally heavy set so it was easy to assume that his weight was to blame for his full chest, so growing up no one assumed anything. He did eventually get top surgery himself but it was by a shady 'doctor' in Colombia. “I don’t… have any of that… stuff, left.” He explained, and when the nurse looked at him confused, he motioned towards his chest “Milk factory’s been chopped off.”

The nurse shuffled and hummed in thought, Stan knew she was uncomfortable and trying to hide it, he couldn’t bring himself to get mad at her right now, not when him and his baby needed medical attention. 

“Alright… I’ll have one of the neonatal nurses bring you a bottle and some formula. And they’ll show you how to properly bottle feed.”

Stan nodded again, keeping his eyes on the sleeping infant.

“Now there’s the matter of his birth certificate. What is his name?”

“Hmm?” Stan looked back at her.

“A name? What’s the baby’s name? He can’t just remain ‘Baby Pines’.” She said, wheeling over a small table with the birth certificate set on top.

Well.

Shit.

Stanley literally never once thought of a name. He found out (or rather, confirmed after months of denial) about this pregnancy less than two months ago, he was so caught up in the fact he was having a baby that it slipped his mind that he was having a baby who would need a name.

He looked around the room quickly for inspiration - outside of the hospital window, he could make out a billboard. He couldn’t make out too many details, because he didn’t have glasses to fix his poor sight, but he could vaguely make out the outline of a man playing a saxophone, and big bold white letters spelling out 'The Buddy Tate Quartet'.

“Buddy- no. Tate, uhm-” Stan blurted out before he could properly collect his thoughts.

“Tatum?” The nurse questioned.

That didn’t sound bad, so he just nodded “Tatum.” He confirmed. 

“Are you giving him a middle name?”

Stanley’s middle name was Romanov- a slightly different spelling of his mothers maiden name. Stanford’s middle name was Filbrick, their fathers name. He was fairly certain Shermie’s middle name was the same as their fathers-. 

But would Stanley really give his own name as his sons middle? It would make him a bit too similar to his Pa…

“Stanford.” Stanley finally answered, feeling his chest clench up at the thought of his estranged twin. He missed him so much, but…

“Okay, so; Tatum Stanford Pines?” The nurse asked, holding the pen above the certificate, waiting for Stan’s confirmation before she wrote anything down.

Stan nodded “Tatum Stanford Pines.” He repeated. 

---

Once the nurse was gone and all that was left was to wait for the neonatal nurses to show up and teach him to bottle feed, Stan carefully drew the curtain around his hospital bed for privacy and picked up the baby out of the trolley.

The activity woke the boy up but he wasn’t crying- he was just staring at Stan with blurry, milky blue eyes. 

“Hey- Tate.” Stan greeted awkwardly, almost cautiously. He knew how to handle babies just fine, because back when he still lived at home his parents often had his nephew, Shermie’s son, over. But it was different now. This wasn’t just some baby. This was his baby. This was his son. It’d be a little hard for Stan to believe it if he hadn’t pushed him out himself. Tate was so quiet, were babies always this quiet? From what his Ma told him, Stanley certainly hadn’t been a quiet baby.

Carefully, Stan placed Tate’s head against his shoulder, leaning back in the hospital bed as he rubbed the infant's back. Tate made a tiny little noise, and Stan- was he crying?

Yup, Stan was definitely crying. He didn’t know why, he wasn’t the type of person to cry. He didn’t even cry for the four or so hours he was in the alleyway in horrible pain. 

But now? Big, heavy, warm tears pooled in his eyes and fell down his cheeks, growing in more intensity as he hugged Tate in closer and lightly kissed the top of his head.

Stanley Pines was casted out of his family when he was seventeen years old, he was told by his father to not come back without riches, cutting Stan off from his parents, elder brother, and nephew. He didn’t have the courage to reach out to his own twin brother, someone who was once his best friend- not that Stanford made an effort to reach out either. 

For the past seven-odd years, Stan has been alone. For all intents and purposes, he didn't have a family.

But now?

Maybe it was small. And the future was uncertain.

But now, with Tate, Stan had a family to call his own again.

“Looks like it’s just going to be you and me for a while, buddy.” Stan whispered to his son, who continued to drool on his shoulder in response, “As long as we’re together, I’ll never let anything hurt you; I’ll always protect you no matter what the world throws at us.”

Stan kissed Tate’s head again, allowing himself this moment to let the tears flow freely, and he added “I love you, and I always will; never forget that, okay?”

THE END... Go Home

[medusapelagia]

31 Suddenly parents

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:"I'm not going to beg you to love me." ) and @augustwritingchallenge (2 Prompts: accidental baby acquisition + retail workers) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: Henderdads Words: 1153

Working in retail isn’t that bad. Steve is good with people, so he can deal easily even with the more annoying clients. The problem is his coworker and housemate: Eddie Munson.

Eddie has no filter, when a customer asks him a stupid question he tells them in their face how stupid they are and they don’t give a fuck even if the manager keeps telling him to pay attention because he’s going to fire him one of this days, Eddie knows he won’t because the pay sucks and so he doesn’t care.

“I’m going to be a famous guitarist soon, no need to stress about this stupid job. It will be a funny note on my autobiography.” Eddie says everytime Steve reminds him that he still has a rent to pay and Steve is so tired of his bullshit. 

“So, what about your great musical career?” Steve mocks him while they are checking the shop stock at three am because none wanted to do such a shitty job and they need the fucking money.

“I’ll send you a postcard from LA soon, Harrington,” Eddie rebukes, blowing a raspberry at Steve while counting the stupid boxes once more.

Steve doesn’t insist, too busy keeping track of everything on the folder Keith gave him the night before. He’s starving. They have worked a late shift and now they are counting an infinite amount of boxes and god only knows when they’ll finally mange to eat something.

In a moment of silence the sound of a stomach growling fills the air, Steve puts an hand on his stomach but it wasn’t him.

"You hungry?" Steve finally asks Eddie, looking at him in the eye for the first time during the night, but Eddie turns toward him, confused.

"I thought it was you!" He replies, frowning.

They keep quiet for a moment, wondering if someone is in the storehouse with them, but when they don’t hear any other sound they get back to their work until they hear another gurgle followed by a soft whimper.

“Did you hear that?” Steve asks, looking around, hitching for the bat he always has in his trunk.

“I did.” Eddie replies, the same scared look on his face while he looks around the pile of boxes.

“Maybe it’s a dog.” Steve suggests, looking for something to defend himself.

“It didn’t sound like a dog.” Eddie replies, looking warily around them.

“A thief?”

“Robbing paper towels and detergent?” Eddie whispers, but he doesn’t move.

Steve holds the folder tight and steps closely toward the direction where the sound came from, when another little gurgle makes them both jump out of their skin. Gathering all his courage, Steve steps out from behind a pile of boxes, holding his folder high on his head, ready to crash it on the stranger’s head, but when he finally sees what’s making those sounds he freezes.

“Eddie?” He calls, lowering his arms, “Do you see what I see?”

On the ground, close to the shutter, there’s a sleepy little boy in a car seat, brushing his eyes and whimpering softly.

“A baby? What does a fucking kid do here?!” Eddie yells and the child startles, starting to cry out loud.

“No, no. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” Steve coos him, picking him up and rocking him softly, while the kid brushes his face against Steve leaving snot and tears on his uniform, “I know… I know. He didn’t meant to scare you, little boy. Tell him you didn’t mean it.” Steve says to Eddie, still rocking the baby.

“What? No! There’s a child in the storehouse and the problem is that I screamed?”

The baby starts to wails while Steve glares at Eddie who begrudgingly finally whispers his excuses to the child.

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to scare you. But you scared me first. What the hell are you doing here, little buddy?” Eddie asks, looking at the baby seat and finding a crumpled letter under a worned out blanket.

‘His name his Dustin. Please take care of him because I can’t.”

“Holy fucking shit, Steve. Someone abandoned him.”

“No shit, Sherlock! Kids don’t appear in storehouses on their own! Are you a hungry little man? Yeah, you’re. We’re going to find you something to eat soon, don’t worry.”

“What? How? What do babies even eat?”

“Formula. Let’s go to the pharmacy and pick up some formula and a bottle for this hungry baby. A pacifier and some diapers too.”

“Steve, you can’t just take a random kid home!”

“We can’t leave him here!”

“Of course no! Let’s call 911 and give him to them.”

“It’s three am in the morning! He needs to be in a safe place, not tossed around from one car to another.”

“Steve…” Eddie tries to help him be more reasonable, but Steve isn’t listening.

“Are you going to help or not?” He asks, still holding the baby tight to his chest.

“I… I… ok. I’ll help.”

“Good. There’s a pharmacy that should be open next to our place. I’ll wait for you at home.” Steve replies, grabbing the babyseat and the kid and throwing the storehouse keys to Eddie, “And close everything before leaving!”

***

When Eddie arrives at home, the baby is still crying but it’s clear that Steve bathed him, even if he’s still fussy and he calms down only when Steve finally gives him a bottle of warm milk. He lets out a huge burpe that makes both Eddie and Steve giggle, and then he falls asleep in Steve’s arms.

“You look good with a kid in your arms.” Eddie admits, caressing the baby’s puffy cheek.

“I always loved kids. Wanted to become a preschooler teacher, but things didn’t worked out.”

“Your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“You should try again. You would be a great teacher. And a great dad.”

“Eddie, I’m gay, who’s going to give me a kid to raise?” Steve asks in mocking tone.

“I would. And someone else did.”

“That’s just a coincidence.”

Eddie shakes his head in denial, “I don’t think so, Stevie. It’s no coincidence if the kid was there tonight.”

Steve chuckles and the baby complains at being jostle, “Sorry, sorry. Keep sleeping, Dustin.”

“Now what?”

“Now we wait for the morning and we go to the hospital to check him out and find him a family.”

“We could be his family,” Eddie declares, looking at the little boy while Steve raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, "I'm not going to beg you to love me. I know that train left the station long ago, but we could still raise the kid together."

“What about your dreams of becoming a great musician?”

“You’re right. They were just dreams. This,” Eddie says, pointing at the baby, “this is real.”

That night Steve and Eddie slept in the same bed for the first time after years, a little baby between them and a dream of family accidentally coming true. 

[lonewolflupe]

Lighting The Way To Your Heart (LDE24)

For @rinwritesfics as part of the @cloneficgiftexchange 🎄🎁

This is the first fic gift exchange I'm participating in, so I'm a tad nervous (for real, I am very nervous). I couldn't help adding some mistletoe to this Life Day story; hopefully it didn't become too much of a cliche, but I hope the loads of fluff make up for it. I'll stop rambling please go read now and enjoy! <3

Summary: After Omega provides a little nudge into the right direction, you and Echo find yourselves in an illuminating situation Rating: Teen and up (SFW) Tags: fluff, love confessions, friends to lovers, romance, kissing, Christmas/Life Day Words: 5.058 Pairing: TBB Echo x fem!reader Prompts: “I thought you were just being nice” / Friends to lovers, one’s oblivious (reader) and the other’s a denier (Echo) Read this one-shot here on AO3

“Alright, easy now,” Echo said patiently as Omega steered the Marauder to the surface. Concentration was written all over her face as she stared through the transparisteel viewport in front of them, her hands firmly on the ship’s controls. With a slight thud - less smooth than Tech would have liked, but Echo definitely noticed her progress -, she landed the ship on the ground. She sat completely still, holding her breath, as if the next challenge was awaiting.

Instead, Echo turned towards her with an affectionate smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes, giving away how proud he was. “You’re getting better with each try,” he said with a warm voice, resulting in a deep exhale from Omega as she leaned back into the pilot’s chair and finally started relaxing. Echo couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“You’re doing great, Omega,” he tried reassuring her, before pressing some buttons to shut off the engines and the controls. “I just hope Tech thinks the same. He said he’d teach me some of his moves if I mastered landing before Life Day,” Omega sighed, a worrisome expression on her face. Gently, Echo put his hand on her shoulder, turning her attention towards him. “You shouldn’t worry about it. In the pace you’re making progress, you’ll best Tech at his own moves in no time,” he comforted her, and he noticed how the enthusiasm returned to her bright eyes.

Omega jumped from her seat, jolting towards the boarding ramp to exit the ship, but Echo didn’t make any preparations to leave just yet. His mind wandered back to Omega’s words, lingering on a certain holiday she mentioned. “Speaking of Life Day..,” he started slowly, resulting in Omega skidding to a halt, “Do you think, er- She will like it if.. If we decorate the place?”

The girl’s shoe soles made a squeaking sound when she turned on her heels on the durasteel floor, skipping back to him. She appeared at his side with such energy that it startled him. “Are you kidding? She’ll love it!” she shot at Echo, a newfound enthusiasm radiating from her face. Echo huffed in a mixture of surprise and amusement, looking at the beaming face beside him. “Are you sure about that?”

Forgetting all about her eagerness to tell the others about her flight lesson, Omega climbed back into the pilot’s seat and turned it around to face Echo. She had never been more ready for this conversation. “She told me how much she likes Life Day. No wait, she doesn’t like it; she loves it. I think she would be disappointed if we didn’t decorate,” she shared with Echo with such speed, he wondered if she even took a breath in between sentences.

The flustered look on his face made Omega giggle as she rolled back in her seat. She had never seen Echo react like this before, and it made her suspicious. She needed to get to the bottom of this. “Why did you ask?” she informed casually, watching Echo closely so she wouldn’t miss the slightest change in his expression or demeanour.

He shifted in his seat, frowning his eyebrows; it took him just a moment too long to come up with a straight answer. “I thought, er- I wanted to know if we should decorate or not,” came his slightly uncertain answer. Omega leaned towards him, a smug smile briefly adorning her face before she continued. “Then why did you specifically ask if she would like it?”

The furrowing of his brows deepened, his eyes briefly twitching. “I-I just, er.. It’s because I.. Because I appreciate her,” he stammered, and to Omega, he couldn’t have been more obvious about the matter. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Echo, her lips slowly sliding into an amused smirk. “Do you like her?” came her more direct question.

For a very brief moment, and she almost missed it, his eyes filled with panic, before he shot her a confused look; why would she ask such a thing? “Of course I like her. I like all of you. It takes something to stick around with the lot of you,” he grumbled softly, but he granted her a genuine smile anyway. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy Omega.

“Do you like-like her?” she continued, heeding little serious attention to his previous explanation. It made him scoff, accompanied by a wild gesture with his scomp. “What is that supposed to mean?” Omega rolled her eyes; could she be more obvious with her questioning? “Well, do you have feelings for her?” She leaned a bit further towards him, her body tense from anticipation. 

The brief moment of silence that followed was almost deafening. Echo stammered before he finally found the questionable words: “Feelings like..?” It made Omega grunt in frustration, throwing her head back before gesturing towards him. “Really, Echo? You’re never lost for words around her? She doesn’t make your head spin? Like your legs feel weak?” He looked at her with a straight face, not a glimpse of mockery on it, as he replied. “My legs are very strong, actually.”

Omega pressed her lips in a thin line to share how unamused she was. “I thought you might have had some more experience, but you’re as bad as the rest of them,” she spoke accusingly, and now it was Echo’s time to shoot her an unamused look in return. She ignored it in order to continue her interrogation. “So answer this: does she give you a warm feeling when she’s near, or when you think about her? What does she make you feel?”

Without uttering a word, Echo leaned his head back against the headrest, closed his eyes and pictured you. You had so much love and care to give, always ready to jump forward when anyone was in need of help. Ready to aid any physical needs, like wounds or damaged armour, but you were also there whenever someone needed some words of encouragement or affirmation. Your lively eyes, the little lights that danced in them whenever you looked at him. And your smile.. The mere thought of your affectionate smile made his stomach churn, but in a surprisingly comfortable way.

Slowly, Echo opened his eyelids, blinking them a few times to return to reality. “She gives me a strange sensation in my stomach,” he confessed softly, and he immediately felt how a warm feeling reached his cheeks. Omega shot forward in her chair instantly. “Butterflies!” she cried out, almost falling from the seat in her enthusiasm, “Those are butterflies!”

Echo could only huff in disagreement. “I’m pretty sure they’re not, Omega,” he said under his breath, but she heard him alright. “It’s a figure of speech, Echo. It means you’re in love!” she shot at him, grinning from ear to ear, whilst folding her arms to conclude the matter. But Echo was not ready to draw conclusions yet. “I am not,” he grunted softly, turning his head away from her in a failed attempt to hide the blush on his cheeks from her.

“You most definitely are,” she continued the bantering with a raised eyebrow, resulting in a deep sigh coming from Echo before he turned towards her again. “Omega, don’t be silly,” he said to her, but she wouldn’t have the derogatory words he was using. She pointed an accusing finger at him as she spoke her mind. “No, you’re being silly here. Don’t deny what’s right in front of you!” Her directness and seriousness startled him. “And what do you think I should do about it?” he sighed at last, finally giving in to her suspicions.

The smug expression returned to her face. “You’ve come to the right person. I have the perfect plan, and as a matter of fact, it involves Life Day decorating. So listen up..”

---

It had taken most part of the day to complete the on-planet supply run. Which was strange, because the members of Clone Force 99 were usually way more efficient. Wrecker would get distracted from time to time, but never before would he dawdle like he did today. He had stopped at nearly every stall or booth, pointing out to you what he liked, asking you what your favourite items were, even involving Hunter in the conversations. Tech would occasionally pause to interact with his datapad, which wasn’t a rare occurrence at all, but usually he was able to focus on it whilst walking. Even Hunter acted dubiously; where he’d normally make you all hurry and keep the group together, he seemed to have all the time in the galaxy today.

It was rather suspicious, but you didn’t let your mind linger on it. The lot of you had acquired everything you needed, which was most important, and were now heading back towards the Marauder, where Echo and Omega were waiting for you. You caught yourself feeling excited at the thought of returning to the ship. Maybe it had to do with earlier today, when you had been surprisingly disappointed when Echo had volunteered to stay behind with the ship; you always enjoyed your talks together in between missions, and supply runs seemed like the perfect opportunity for those. You tried staying behind with him, but Wrecker had been so stoked to explore the nearby town with you; you didn’t have the heart to let him down.

But now that you were nearing the ship, a strange feeling of anticipation filled your body, and you couldn’t hide the smile on your face when you finally laid eyes on the Marauder again. Hunter reported the group’s arrival over the internal comm channel, and it didn’t take long before Omega came jolting from the boarding ramp - wearing the biggest smile on her face. You laughed when she reached you, her enthusiasm being contagious in the best possible way.

“Omega, what is it?” you laughed affectionately at her, as she twirled around you. When she finally halted, she reached for your hand and took it in hers, slightly tugging it to make you follow her. “We have something to show you!” she shot out in excitement, whilst pulling you along in all her haste. You complied willingly, following her behind as you were overtaken by curiosity and wonder. “We?” you chuckled, trying to slow her down to a speed that was more common for a casual walk, but she wouldn’t let you. In her eyes, this was nothing like a casual walk.

“Yes, me and Echo!” she elaborated in all her enthusiasm, just when the both of you reached the Marauder’s boarding ramp. With anticipation radiating from her face and her big eyes filled with expectancy, she looked up at you when she finally let go of your hand. Curious and a little bit nervous, not knowing what to expect after all the excitement, you walked the ramp. You had assumed Omega was right behind you, but you hadn’t noticed how she had stopped following you. Grinning, she watched you reach the ship's entrance. And when you glanced inside the Marauder, you instantly forgot about everything else in the whole wide galaxy.

The interior of the ship was filled to the brim with lights. A wide variety of different kinds; big and small, from spare indicator lights to a dimmed multispectrum searchlight. Glowrods were giving off soothing gleams and from activated glitter-lits came iridescent glowing. There was white and slightly yellow lighting, but as your gaze slid over the premises, you started noticing an ocean of different colours. You didn't even know all those spare parts had been stuffed away onboard the Marauder.

Without realising, you had walked up to the centre of the ship, where you were surrounded by all the captivating lights. You extended your arm to touch one of the little lights, but when you did, you noticed how the lights formed a mosaic of colours on your skin and sleeve. In awe, you slowly waved your arm around, turning your hand and letting your fingers dance to see how the mosaic kept changing with every movement. You felt a surge of warmth wash through your body; the lights and colours made you feel cosy and secure. It made you feel at home. With a content hum, you spun around as your eyes wandered the illuminated scene again and again, until they landed on Echo.

Echo.

You had been so immersed in the magical spectacle, you had forgotten about anything else. Only now you noticed Omega hadn’t accompanied you aboard the Marauder, and only in this moment did you realise Echo had been inside all along. He must have seen your amazement, the wonder on your face as you beheld the scene unfold around you, your gentle movements when you danced with the lights.

And he had, and he was mesmerised by you. If his earlier conversation with Omega hadn’t convinced him, this moment had. Here you stood in front of him, more breathtaking than ever, showing your true self in a moment of pure beauty and innocence. He was grateful you hadn’t noticed him immediately, for otherwise you might not have blessed him with this sight. He quickly closed his mouth after his jaw had dropped, swallowing as he awaited your next move.

With eyes wide open, you blinked a few times as you watched him standing inside the cockpit, briefly averting his gaze from yours whilst awkwardly shifting on his feet. When you regained yourself, you wrapped your hand around the other and pressed them both against your chest to show your profound gratitude. “Echo, did you two.. Did you do this for me?” you asked him softly in disbelief, and despite it being a question, your voice was already full with excitement and appreciation.

Very slowly, you started to shuffle towards him, closing the gap between the two of you with every step you took. Echo mustered the courage to look you in the eyes again, and when he did, he noticed how all the little lights reflected in them, making your eyes dance - just the way you had done yourself, only moments ago. The sight made him feel like the air was being knocked from his lungs, resulting in a surge of incoherent words flowing from his lips. “Yes, we, er- We know h-how much you like Life Day, so I- we thought, you know..,” he managed to stammer all flustered, his eyes darting around nervously.

You nearly melted on the spot; you couldn't believe they had gone through all this trouble just for you. And now you understood the inefficiency of today's supply run; the others had been stalling, granting Echo and Omega all the time they needed to decorate the ship’s interior. “Echo, I.. I'm lost for words, actually,” you murmured with an amused huff from disbelief, allowing your eyes to slowly wander the ship’s interior again. You were still slowly walking towards Echo, unaware how his heartbeat rose with every step that made you get closer to him.

And when you finally reached him, you nearly bumped into him as you were still looking around in awe. You apologised, smiling up at him, and suddenly noticed how oddly he was behaving; he almost seemed nervous to be around you. You had never seen him like this before; he was usually so confident and fearless. This sensitive side of him was completely new to you.

As your gaze continued sliding upwards, you noticed a very specific plant dangling from the ship’s durasteel ceiling just above him. You couldn’t believe your eyes; were they playing a trick on you? “Wait, is that.. Is that a mistletoe?” you asked with a gasp of anticipation, the lights in your eyes starting to dance again as you locked eyes with Echo. He coughed softly, before starting to explain: “I-I think so. Omega said it wa-”

You didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence. You lunged towards him, closing the last gap between the two of you, and placed your lips on his. You felt his breath shudder against your lips as you closed your eyes, indulging yourself in the moment. And Echo let you; those were the rules of the mistletoe, after all. It was supposed to be a quick, fun moment.

But a strange feeling erupted deep down in your belly, growing stronger as long as your lips were connected. It warmed your body, creating a smouldering sensation that was a mixture of nervousness and longing. A haze in your head made it hard to think clearly; was this taking longer than the usual mistletoe kiss? Were you supposed to withdraw by now?

Echo wasn’t retreating either. So instead, you took it up a notch. Slowly, and almost without thinking, your hands slipped over his shoulders behind his neck, pulling him closer towards you. His reaction made your heart rate rise; gently and with the utmost care, he wrapped his arms around your waist, softly pressing your body against his. The smouldering sensation evolved into something more fiery, like the way a spark ignited a fire. And so did the soft, sweet mistletoe kiss.

Burning with desire, you parted your lips, inviting him to do the same, to explore each other as you kept kissing eagerly, your soft lips brushing against his rougher ones. Tender, slow kisses growing into something more needy, something you didn’t know you had been longing for. His grasp around you tightened, but in the most delicate way; like he was holding the most precious thing in the galaxy. Careful, to hold it dear, to not let it fall apart.

Your breath caught in the back of your throat as soon as you realised what you were doing; mistletoes were supposed to be a fun, quick thing without any serious meaning, right? Nothing more. Then why did it make you feel this way? Why did it evoke so many pleasant emotions? And why didn’t you want this to stop? Wait, what was happening?

In a moment of panic, you abruptly pulled away from his grasp, taking a few hesitant, wavering steps back. You noticed the expression of shock on Echo's face, and it almost felt like disappointment; but you didn't take the time to think about it due to your own confused feelings. “I-I’m so sorry, I, er- I slightly overdid that,” you stammered, excusing yourself for your intrusive behaviour, looking around disorientated. Why was it suddenly so hot inside the ship? And why were your legs shaking?

With a newfound courage, Echo grabbed your shoulders in order to get you back into reality. His face was suddenly close again, but his soft features were calming you. You felt safe with him. “Breathe,” he said with his warm, reassuring voice, grounding you on the spot. You felt how your shoulders relaxed in an instant, how your legs regained themselves and how your breathing returned to a normal pace.

“Echo, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” you started explaining, but he cut you off whilst squeezing your shoulders and looking deep into your eyes. “Well, I did,” he interrupted you, and the sudden determination in his voice startled you. Your chest started heaving from rising anticipation. “What.. what do you mean?” you managed softly, whilst unknowingly getting closer to him again. As if he attracted you like a magnet. “Listen, I.. It’s when.. You make me..,” Echo stammered, searching for the right words. The right words to make you understand what you meant to him.

But he was a soldier; an ARC trooper, for karking out loud. He had been a skilled trooper of the GAR, completing missions with an unfound cunning and sketching battleplans to aid in the Republic’s success. He was never trained to express his feelings. But Omega’s earlier words echoed through his muddled mind, clearing a path for him. She had encouraged him to speak his mind, to describe what you made him feel. How he felt for you. Honesty was the pillar of any relationship, after all - being platonic or romantic. You’d both figure out where to go from here, as long as he was being honest with you.

“Echo, what’s wrong?” you whispered to him, your voice full with concern because he didn’t finish his sentence. It wasn’t like him to get flustered. He even looked like he was absent; a sense of deep thoughts clouding his eyes. His gaze shot back to you as soon as you addressed him, and for a moment, you thought you noticed a glimmer in his eyes. “I’m- Just- Please.. Please hear me out,” he stammered softly. He took a deep, shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he looked straight at you again. The corners of your mouth curled in the slightest of smiles when you noticed the brightness in his eyes had returned.

He wet his lips before starting to explain himself, his eyes getting brighter with every confession he made. “You.. You give me a warm feeling. A feeling of.. Of belonging. A place where I feel at home. Like I matter in this galaxy; like I make a difference. You make me feel unique, like I’m one of a kind. You’re making me feel sharp during missions, when it matters, and when it doesn’t.. You make me feel appreciated anyway.”

His gaze slid away from yours for a very brief moment, still searching for words as he clearly wasn’t finished yet. And at last, he chuckled softly and found your eyes again. “I don't even mind the rain when you're around,” he whispered, and his lips slid into the most affectionate smile.

For a moment, all you could do was stare back into his bright, golden eyes, as they were shining with his love and affection for you. They were like gateways to his soul; opening up to you, pouring down his feelings upon you like water flowing from a waterfall. And in that very moment, you felt like you were floating, as he shared his most vulnerable and sensitive feelings with you.

Only when he gently touched your hand as it hung slightly shaking beside your body, you returned to reality. You let out the deep breath you were holding in, looking at him with watery eyes. “Echo, I.. I thought you were just being nice!” you managed at last, a shaky chuckle coming from your lips as you tried relaxing after all the build-up of emotions. He looked at you in all seriousness, but with eyes ever so kind. “I’d like to think I was being nice there,” he smiled at you, and with a genuine laugh, you landed a hand on top of his chest. “That’s way more than being nice, Echo,” you replied, your lips sliding into an amused smirk.

He took it as an invitation to gently place his hand on top of yours, as you still held it on his chest. He closed it off with his scomp, gently pressing your hand against his chest, as if he was trying to get you closer to his heart. You felt his heartbeat quickening before you realised yours was doing the same. His touch sent a sensational shudder through your own body, and searching for the right words to respond to his confession, you started to open your mouth. But his deep sigh made you swallow those words. “Kriff, I think my legs are feeling weak,” Echo said under his breath, his earlier conversation with Omega unknown to you.

“Do you.. Do you need to sit down?” you asked him softly, a sudden wave of concern washing over you. But he instantly eased you with a smile and a little tilt of his head. “Only if you’ll sit with me,” he said to you, his voice warm and welcoming, and you responded by tenderly placing your free hand on his cheek. “Of course. Anything for you,” you whispered at the same time, and you felt him exhale against the palm of your hand as he leaned into your touch.

He gently waved his arm around, gesturing towards the chairs in the cockpit to offer you a seat. You walked forwards, your hand sliding from his cheek to his shoulder, squeezing it for a moment as you passed him. He followed you right behind and only sat himself down after you had taken your seat. “This wasn't supposed to be about me,” he murmured to himself whilst briefly shaking his head. You managed to put a smile back on his face with your next words: “What if.. What if we make this about us?”

Very gently, you put your hand on his knee and leaned forward, looking at him with a serious look on your face. “Echo, did you mean all those words?” He sat upright instantly, straightening his spine in a way to show both his sincerity and integrity. “Of course I did. I would never lie to you,” he said with the determination you were used from him. Your lips slid into an affectionate smile and it softened his features instantly. “I, er- I’ve been a di’kut. I think I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, but I just.. I didn’t know what they meant. I didn’t know how to handle them. I’m just a simple soldier, you know,” he continued his confession, unable to resist your affection any longer.

Due to all the emotions, you hadn’t been able to speak your mind just yet. But now that you both had been able to catch your breaths, it was time to start sharing how you felt. “You’re not just a simple soldier, Echo. You're so much more. You're skilled and talented, you're caring and galant. You keep this squad sharp, and you're such an inspiration to them, to Omega. And to me. You are one of a kind, Echo.”

Now it was his time to look at you with blinking eyes, mouthing some silent words. Your face started to feel warm from his stare, and you shyly averted your gaze. But he caught you in the middle of your movement; your chin cupped in his hand, he gently guided your gaze back to his. “Does that.. Does that mean you, er- You feel the same about me?” he asked carefully, his eyes narrowing and an expectant frown covering his forehead.

His question was far from a surprise, but it still startled you. You were grateful to the Batch for picking you up and allowing you to stay, happy you could contribute on their missions. You felt comfortable with them; your newfound family, friends you could rely on. But you never considered your relationship with any of them to evolve into something more than that. “Obviously I care deeply about you, but I.. I never really thought.. Never considered..,” you stammered softly as you searched your feelings for the truth.

Echo’s touch around your chin weakened, and he let his hand slide away from your face. But before he could retract it completely, you caught his hand in yours mid air. You weren’t going to let him slip away from you. Not before you had been completely honest with him. He swallowed audibly, the muscles in his hand tensing due to his nerves. You squeezed it reassuringly, allowing his muddled mind to clear a bit, making him remember Omega’s earlier words, when she tried figuring out his own feelings. “So what.. What do you feel when I'm near or when you think about me?”

A warm smile adorned your face before you closed your eyes, ready to search for the answer to his question as you still held his hand. “I feel safe, mostly. Like I don't have to worry as long as you're around. There's this feeling of.. Comfort. Like I've known you for years. As if we fit together like.. Like puzzle pieces.” Your smile widened for a moment, your lips pushing your cheeks upwards. With your eyes still closed, you didn't notice the look of affection on Echo's face as he beheld your soft features. Carefully, you stretched your free hand towards his cheek, tenderly caressing his skin once you reached him. “You make me feel whole.”

And with those words, you opened your eyes again. When you looked at him, you noticed a slightly twitching frown on his face; like he was holding back tears. You had never seen him this vulnerable before, but simultaneously, he looked like he could conquer the whole Empire. He was strong. Fierce. Invincible. With your thumb, you wiped away what looked like a tear, and with a relieved sigh, he leaned into your touch as your hand still laid on his cheek.

Softly, he placed a kiss on the inside of your hand, before he looked right into your eyes, his golden eyes reflecting all the lights inside the ship. Like a golden nebula holding an array of stars. “Then would you please be mine?” he asked you with a longing and desire that made you shudder in your seat. “There’s nothing in the galaxy I’d rather want,” you replied softly, before sliding from your chair and moving towards him, where he lifted you upon his lap so the both of you could continue your passionate kissing.

The truth was finally out and the galaxy laid wide open in front of you.

…

Epilogue

Outside the Marauder, Omega was pacing back and forth, a troubled look clouding her eyes. With a grunt, she wasn’t shy about showing her impatience. “Ugh, it’s taking so long! Maybe.. Maybe I should go check, see if everything’s alright?”

Sitting near her, his back arched against a cargo crate, Hunter sheathed his vibro-knife before sitting upright. With a focussed frown covering his face, he turned his attention towards the ship. After a very brief moment, his features softened again. “Best if you wait a little longer. I’m sure they’re figuring things out just fine,” he eased Omega’s troubled mind, before returning to his thoughts.

An affectionate smile appeared on his face when he watched Omega find something else that required her attention, granting you and Echo some more precious time together. With the war fresh on his mind and the rise of the Empire raising only more questions and concerns, Hunter was glad at least some good had come from it all.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Faithfully

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauders Era]

Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader

Characters: James Potter, Female Reader, Harry Potter, Sirius Black

Word Count: 2250

Rating: Teen

Summary: And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be.

Tags/ Warnings: Hogwarts, Summer Challenge, Writing Challenge, Song Fic, Band AU, Can be lily if you want, Kissing, Tour, Band Life, Baby Harry potter,

Notes: This is my summer writing challenge 2024. Seven fics over seven days - all will be hp based and song fics.

Summer Challenge 2024 // Song Inspo

‘Do you know when you’ll be home?’ you asked quietly, careful not to wake the baby sleeping soundly on your chest.

‘Dunno,’ James said with a sigh, ‘a day or two? I’m sure we’ve got a gap before our Paris show. Could probably squeeze in a visit.’

‘You don’t have to if it’ll be too much hassle,’ you said, trying to keep your tone light and unbothered. You didn’t want him to have to rush only for him to be home for less than twelve hours but you were missing him.

‘Seeing you two is never too much hassle,’ he said, the smile present in his voice though as you listened down the line you heard the noise of someone coming into the room, a muffled voice, which sounded like Sirius, asking if he was ready or not. You heard him ask for a minute before he put his attention back on you and said, ‘love I have to go.’

‘I know I heard,’ you said, a sigh escaping you before you could stop it.

‘I’ll call after the show I promise,’ he vowed.

‘I know you will,’ you said, ‘you better go. Love you.’

‘Love you more,’ he replied before he hung up leaving you with nothing more than a dial tone. As you placed the receiver down you heard a whimper and looked down to find you baby boy, Harry, looking disgruntled from being jostled about. He’d not opened his eyes though and after a moment of watching him you realised he hadn't woken and so as quietly as you could you climbed out of the chair so you could carry him upstairs to bed.

You put him in his cot as gently as you could, hoping he’d not be able to tell the difference between your touch and the feel of the mattress. Fortunately he continued to sleep leaving you free to leave though you still stood there for a good five minutes so as not to tempt fate. It'd been a nightmare to get him off to sleep tonight though that had been the trend for the last few weeks as the more he missed James the worse his behaviour got. You didn’t blame him. You missed him too. But you knew it was for the best.

You’d been with James since school and you loved him just as much now as you did then. You’d moved in together, gotten married and even had a baby despite being so young. People had told you it was foolish, that you should wait a while, but you didn’t see the point. But now you were starting to wonder if they were right.

Because James was a musician, he and his three friends had formed a band called the marauders at school and had continued to try their hand at it after they’d left in lieu of what your dad would call a ‘proper job’. But they weren’t some kids playing at rockstars. They were good. Phenomenal showman and they'd been signed not long after leaving school. You’d been living the high life. The wife of a rockstar.

Until two little pink lines on a stick had knocked that all of kilter. You loved Harry, more than anything in the world, but he had definitely changed your life. Instead of shows and parties you were now at home with nappies and bottles. You saw James infrequently though he always called whenever he had a chance. It wasn’t even as though you missed staying out till three am or drinking to oblivion. You missed being there, watching your husband give the performance of a lifetime and basking in the high with him. You missed waking up in the same bed, wrapped around one another until you had to drag yourselves to the next venue or tour bus. You missed James being at home with you and Harry, watching how your baby grew into the fabulous little boy he was becoming. You’d only had a few solid months together after he was born before he’d had to leave and though you’d met him for a show here and there or he’d raced home to see you it wasn’t the same.

Quite simply you missed your husband.

You missed him so much that as you climbed into bed, exhausted and sad, you found tears running down your face as you pressed it into his pillow for comfort.

✵✵✵

‘What’s that? Is it a fishy?’ you cooed, moving the toy fish through the water as Harry splashed at it, ‘is it gonna get ya? It’s gonna get ya!’

You moved the fish until it was nestled in his neck making him wobble and giggle as it tickled along his skin.

‘It’s gotcha!’ you laughed as he fumbled to take it off you, his chubby fingers locking around it as he waved it towards your face, ‘is it gonna get mummy?’

You were face to face with him, pressing kisses on his plump cheeks as he clunked your face with the plastic fish, when you heard someone say, ‘well I’d say do you want me to take over but you look as though you’re having far too much fun for me to intervene.’

You whipped around immediately at the voice, finding James stood in the doorway, leaning against it looking bemused. Having not expected him home for another day or so you were stunned but not enough that you couldn’t hurl yourself up off the floor and into his arms which wrapped around you on instinct, the pair of you absorbing every inch of love you could from one another.

‘Hiya,’ he said as you pulled back, his hand on your cheek.

‘Hi,’ you beamed, ‘what you doing home?’

‘Oh charmin,’ he said, rolling his eyes which earned him a swat on the chest. James ignored it, moving to it on the edge of the bath to watch Harry who upon seeing him immediately decided he was done with bath time and offered his arms up to be picked up. You nodded as he looked to you for permission, not knowing where in the process you’d gotten up to, and then he grabbed a towel from the side of the bath and scooped Harry up into his arms.

‘Hiya mate,’ he said, pressing a kiss to his cheek which earned him a sloppy one of his own. You smiled just watching the pair of them, your heart swelling with pride and love which grew as he looked at you with a grin, ‘you two happy to see me then?’

‘Ecstatic, but it’s nearly bedtime,’ you said, sadness tinging your voice. As James stood up from the bath, Harry now on his hip you ran a hand through Harry’s wet hair. It was flat against his head, though you doubted that would last long once it was dry. Back to the unruly mess it was like James. James watched you, an encouraging smile on his face as he said, ‘well then let's get ready for bed.’

You nodded and headed out the bathroom. He followed you, babbling to Harry as you led them through to his nursery where you’d laid everything out. Despite being prepared for bedtime it was a struggle to get him dry and dressed as he refused to be more than three inches from James but eventually you got him bundled into his pyjamas and ready for a bedtime story.

Whilst James took a seat in the chair in Harry’s nursery you nipped downstairs to make up his evening bottle and as you boiled the kettle you tried to will yourself to be happy, to not look at the clock and think about how he’d be gone in however many hours and you two would be on your own again. And in that vein you rushed to get Harry’s bottle ready so that you could make the most of the time together though by the time you got back upstairs James was near the end of his bedtime story.

You perched on the arm of the chair, swapping his book for the bottle which Harry took to immediately, content on watching the pair of you whilst you watched him. James placed a hand on your thigh as you leant down to nestle into him, placing a kiss on the top of his head. Harry was content with staring at you both but the more he drank the heavier his eyes got until he was asleep, the bottle dropping from his grasp before James caught it. When he didn't disturb you realised it was probably safe to transfer him and so moved out of his way so that James could put him in his cot. To your surprise he went down well, so well you wondered if James would even believe you when you told him of the anarchy of bedtimes you’d been living with. But still you waited for a moment, watching him to ensure he was fully settled. James was watching him too, adoration plastered on his face. 

‘Cmon,’ you said, pulling his attention away from the sleeping tot, ‘if we stare at him any longer he might wake up.’

‘Good point,’ he chuckled quietly following you back out to the bathroom. Whilst you drained the bath and sorted Harry’s toys out he washed the used bottle in the sink.

‘So how long have we got?’ you asked, draining water out of a plastic sea creature before tossing it into the small box for bath toys.

‘Before I have to leave for Paris?’ he asked, leaning against the sink as he watched you.

‘Yeah,’ you said, trying not to sound too disheartened.

‘Have to meet the boys at Dover for eleven,’ he said, checking his watch, ‘so about twelve hours.’

‘Great twelve hours and we’ll be sleeping for most of it,’ you said as you threw the last of the toys in the box and pulled the plug. You didn’t look at him, instead watching the swirling water so that he couldn’t see your face but he could sense your disappointment and moved to hug you from behind pulling you into his chest.

‘You sound disappointed,’ he said as he placed his chin on your shoulder, watching you in the mirror.

‘Not with you,’ you said, moving your hand to his cheek and stroking it gently, ‘I just miss you that’s all. We both do.’

‘I miss you both too,’ he said, turning you around to hold you close. He looked tired, the skin beneath his eyes tinged purple which didn’t surprise you. He’d probably gotten to bed well into the morning before a full day in the car to get home. 

‘Well we’ve got twelve hours I suppose,’ you reasoned, ‘if you can stay awake that is. You look shattered.’

‘Actually that’s something I wanted to speak to you about,’ he said.

‘What?’ you asked, confused.

‘Well I was thinking we could spend the night packing for you to come with me tomorrow,’ he said simply.

‘What me and Harry come to Paris?’ you scoffed.

‘Paris, Brussels, Berlin, Cologne-’

‘Babe that’s your entire tour,’ you said, the piece of paper pinned to your fridge with the dates you’d committed to memory flashing to your mind.

‘Yeah,’ he shrugged.

‘You want me to come on tour with you?’ you asked in disbelief.

‘You’ve done it before,’ he shrugged.

‘And Harry?’ you reasoned.

‘Well I don’t think he’s old enough to stay home alone,’ he teased, earning a smack on the chest which made him laugh.

‘We can't come on tour with you!’ you chastised.

‘Why not?’ he asked.

‘He’s a baby!’ you reasoned, ‘he needs routine and home comforts and-‘

‘Two parents who aren’t miserable,’ James said, looking at you pointedly. You shifted under the weight of his gaze but he moved so that you were looking at him by taking a seat on the bath, pulling you in between his legs as his arms locked around you.

‘Babe I know what we said when Harry was born. I know we wanted a normal life for him but our life isn’t exactly normal. It’s never gonna be normal so long as we’re doing this thing,’ he reasoned, ‘and I’m not saying there's not going to have to be adjustments, we're not gonna be able to act like we did before but we’ll still be together. That’s what I want.’

‘Me too,’ you said, ‘but all the travelling and the shows-’

‘He’ll get used to it,’ he vowed, ‘I promise it’s better to have a life that’s a little chaotic but happy rather than one that’s normal and miserable.’

You deliberated that point for a moment. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Everyone you’d spoken to when pregnant had told you that the road would be no place for a family but maybe they were wrong. Because they'd been wrong about everything else.

They’d assumed you’d gotten married because you’d gotten knocked up, not that James had been walking around with a ring in his pocket for six months before he’d gotten up the courage to ask. They assumed that you came on tour to keep an eye on him, not because he’d managed to talk you round into attending so many dates it had become easier to just join them for the entire thing rather than think of another excuse to give to your old boss on why you’d not turned in for yet another shift. When people saw you in town, shopping or in the park with Harry they assumed you’d been left behind to raise him whilst James did whatever he wanted. They pictured him bedding fans or hookers instead of running back to his hotel to call you like he did every night, the two of you talking until one of you fell asleep. They assumed that you staying behind had been his choice and not yours.

But maybe James was right.

After all, what use was routine when it was different for half the year. Harry got used to having two parents and then was forced back to having one, his dad a stranger popping in every so often and leaving him more confused than ever. And it wasn’t just James he missed. He missed his uncles, James’ bandmates, all of whom adored him and showered him with love. He also missed you, the person you were around James.

The road wasn’t a place to raise a baby but who said? Maybe you could make it work, at least now whilst he was small.

‘You’re right,’ you agreed, moving to perch on his knee, ‘I am miserable. Harry too.’

‘And me,’ he said, ‘and the boys truth be told.’

‘Yeah?’ you giggled, ‘miss me that much do they?’

‘Of course. You’re mum to more than just Harry, remember,’ he chuckled, ‘and apparently I’m no fun to be around when you’re not about.’

‘That makes two of us,’ you mused.

‘So you’ll come with?’ he asked hopefully, his thumb moving gently along your denim clad thigh.

‘How could we refuse?’ you smiled. James beamed a smile and then leaned into kiss you, his lips capturing yours gently for a moment before he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours, still smiling.

‘I will say one thing though,’ you said.

‘What's that darling?’ he asked.

‘The sex isn’t going to be half as good when we’re seeing each other all the time,’ you said, your mind on those incidents when he’d managed to see you over past few months, the short time span and neediness in the both of you serving as conduit for passion you’d ever experienced before.

‘Hmm you might be right,’ he said, ‘but we’ll just have to keep trying to recreate it then won't we.’

‘Definitely,’ you giggled.

[midsummer-semantics]

under the dancing lights

Small break while I do a million other things but here's *checks calendar* day 16 of @steddieangstyaugust.

Prompt: Halloween

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags: Underage Drinking, Cemeteries, Canon Complaint (question mark???), Ambiguous Ending

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

He isn’t sure why he’s out here. It’s not like there’s anything left, anything calling him to action. The kids are old enough to trick-or-treat without supervision, Robin is with Vicky at a party he didn’t want to third-wheel to, and everyone else…

The point is, traipsing through Roane County cemetery on Halloween night seemed like a good idea when Steve is three Jack and Coke’s deep and unsure of where he fits into the regular world. He bought a dozen flowers on the way here just before the shop closed for the evening, like he couldn’t risk showing up to the cemetery empty-handed for some reason. 

Barb’s grave is overrun with flowers 365 days a year, three years running. Steve leaves several of the carnations in the bundle he carries at the tombstone, begging forgiveness as he does every few months. He hasn’t told Nancy what he does, even when he’s accompanied her a few times. He simply stays silent, lets Nancy grieve, and returns a few weeks later to replace the dead ones when no one is paying attention.

Next is Bob Newby, whom he didn’t know, but the kids did, so he drops a couple of flowers off out of perfunctory expectation.

Billy is the one of the hardest, his grave near Steve’s dad’s grandparents’ joint plot. He tends to spend a little more time here, aware of how the plot feels under his knees, remembering how Max looked as she lifted in the air under Vecna’s influence. Sometimes, Steve comes just to sit, to stare at Billy’s name and curse his existence, even if it brought him Max. Other times, Steve sits and talks, tells his rival how his step-sister is doing, how Steve learned to plant his feet, how regardless of what a piece of shit he was, no one deserved to deal with the bullshit the Upside Down had to offer. He leaves one flower out of obligation, but he doesn’t linger like he normally would.

He leaves a few at Chrissy’s grave, not just because she died, but because he knew her, even vaguely because she was a cheerleader while he was still on the basketball team. And because Eddie would want him to.

He flips off Jason’s grave as he passes it.

Three years — less than, technically— since the first death. Almost three years since Steve took Jonathan’s nail bat and made it his weapon of choice against the monsters that lurk beneath their feet. 

Over half a year since Max went into a coma that doctors — UD connected or otherwise — or Eleven haven't been able to wake her up from. 

Seven months since Eddie Munson was added to the list of people Steve couldn’t save.

The sun has dipped well past the treeline on the edges of the cemetery by the time he reaches Eddie’s grave. There’s no one else around, thankfully, but Steve knows it’s only a matter of time before some idiot high school kids make their way to the cemetery to get trashed and try to see a ghost or fuck near one of the graves. He should know, he was one of those idiot kids not too long ago.

There’s writing on Eddie’s headstone, scrawling letters spelling out MURDERER in red spray paint. One of the R’s is backward, Steve notes, rolling his eyes, a gesture that makes his vision swim a little. It’s not the worst thing that’s been blasted across the headstone since it was placed, but it’s by far the dumbest. He sets the remaining flowers down at his feet as he crouches to examine the writing closer. It’s dry, but it can’t have been there for more than a few days considering he was just here for Eddie’s birthday and had cleaned the last slur himself. He should have brought a bucket and brush instead of the stupid flowers, but he’s a little wobbly from the alcohol and the idea of going back to his car for any reason other than to go home and pass out alone sounds terrible. He’ll come back tomorrow and clean it, plus whatever gets done to it tonight probably. Maybe he should have brought his nail bat. Camped out next to Eddie’s grave and waited to see who exactly is doing it so he can make sure they know never to do it again.

Steve loses his precarious balance, falling back on his ass in the cold, damp grass with a soft “oof!” The flask in his back pocket digs into one cheek, and he shuffles around until he can extract it, then leans back on one hand while the other holds the cool metal.

“Probably stupid to drink more, but I doubt you’d give me shit about it,” Steve says to the grave, holding the flask up like he’s making a toast before closing his eyes and taking a swig. He actually hates whiskey, but it was all that was in the house since it’s his dad’s favorite, and beggars can’t be choosers.

Still, he coughs a bit as the straight liquor burns a path down his throat — he really should have brought some kind of chaser with him, but hindsight and all that — and then lays back on the grass as soon as it clears.

He keeps his eyes closed, breathing through the slight roil in his stomach, and imagines what it would be like if he simply sank into the ground beneath him. Not like if vines were to spring up and drag him under, but if he just slowly melted into the earth the way one feels like they’re melting on a really plush mattress.

It’s only a slight comfort that the grave he’s lying on is empty. Otherwise, his vision of being swallowed by the earth might come with the extra twist of Eddie’s hands dragging him down Evil Dead-style. 

He snorts to himself, his head lolling back and forth a bit. Eddie would have loved that reference, he knows it. He may not have known him for long before. . . before, but he’s sure of it regardless.

After a moment, he brings his hands up to rub the heels into his eyes, waiting until he sees stars before he opens them. The stars continue to blink for a few seconds as his eyes adjust to the inky black sky.

Wait.

No.

There are stars dancing. Little lights swaying to and fro in front of his face, with more popping up around him. He turns his head in awkward directions against the grass, knowing he’s getting foliage in his hair the whole time, watching as more blink to life.

He shuts his eyes again as he sits up, but when he reopens them, they’re still there. It’s too late in the year for fireflies, too cold this late at night at the end of October, and yet the lights dance regardless. 

“Whoa,” he breathes, feeling a distinct sense of deja vu to when he was blitzed out of his mind on Russian truth serum and staring at the ceiling of Starcourt.

One of the stars comes close to him, wisping against his cheek like a tickling feather before flying away. Another does it to his left arm where he’s holding himself up, another to his hip where his shirt has ridden up slightly under his windbreaker. Steve giggles uncontrollably as another brushes his forehead and he turns his head to follow them. There’s another, and another, and another, and as he reaches out to catch one—

“Having a good night, big boy?”

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Home Pt.2 || cbf!Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rating: M Words: 2K CW: child abuse (toward reader - REFERENCED), physical injuries, violence (REFERENCED), military enlistment references (NOT PROPAGANDA), crying. Tags: you/your pronouns, fluff, ANGST, teen romance, teenage rebellion, British slang (attempted), poverty, Simon Riley’s family (mentioned), Reader's family. a/n: This one made me cry y'all. Also, wrote this instead of eating dinner. On AO3 this fic is ✨doing numbers✨ (per my standards).

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“I’m here, I’m here.” Simon said as he pressed a tall beer tin against the bruise on your cheek and temple area. It was basically piss in a can, but it was cold, and God knows you needed that against your warm, throbbing bruise.

Your eyes were so beyond cloudy with tears, you couldn’t even see a foot in front of you. Hell, you couldn’t see him and his pretty face. The only reason you knew he was there was his constant reassuring words and his warm breath on your face, scented of nicotine.

He was glad you couldn’t see him, because if you did, you’d see the wince in his face and the way he struggled to straighten his left hand to cup your cheek with a gentle touch while his right hand held the drink tin to your wound.

A couple of his left fingers were definitely broken. Should he be going to A&E right now and getting his hand checked out? Probably. Was he going to? Absolutely not. Not unless it was to drive you there. The bruise on your face was swelling nastily, your skin not used to taking a beating. Not like his was.

“You’re alright… Don’t cry, darlin’, you’re alright…” Simon kept trying to calm you down while he did his best to caress your face with a gentle, hurt hand. “You’re alright, pet…” He kept cooing at you. But you just kept wailing. 

As usual, Simon had come to get you at 9 P.M. You only lived a couple of streets over and he never let you walk the distance. Not after dark; it wasn’t safe. It already wasn’t safe during the day, but at night it was so much worse. But this time… Oh, how he blamed himself. Maybe if you had walked to him, you would’ve escaped this mess.

He had shown up to see you waiting up the street, rather than at your door. Weird. 

He slowed his dad’s Clio to a careful idle which he held with his foot on the clutch and the other on the brake pedal. He stretched over the center console to pop open the door from the inside, as he usually did, but you beat him to it, opening it from the outside. Weirder.

You weren’t cheerful as you slunk into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut, sulking quietly in your seat. Weirder x2.

Suspicious of your behaviour, he clicked on the overhead lighting of the car… And the sight he got of your face filled him with a rage he didn’t know he could ever feel. The throbbing bruise on your temple: swollen, red and still hot to the bloody touch… And the way you looked at him, brows furrowed, watery eyes, nose dripping, lips set into a frown so tight that your chin scrunched up with wrinkles… 

It all had him seeing red.

“What happened?” He demanded, his voice hostile, but not toward you, but regarding whoever did that to you. You couldn’t answer. You broke into wails, fat tears streaming down your face.

And he didn’t need words to know. Your crying did all the talking.

It didn’t matter that you were fifteen. Every innocent kid who gets beaten beyond a simple spanking or belt whooping to the arse has the same reaction, regardless of age: They cry and scream. The pain is unlike any they’ve ever experienced before. It’s the mix of taking a punch to a tender temple/cheek that has never known violence, and of seeing your father’s face on the other side of the fist… That’s what does it.

Simon pulled up the handbrake with more aggression than he meant to, the car stuttered with his motion. He turned it off and threw open the driver’s side door, tossing his legs out and exiting the car.

“Riley!” He heard you call after him, your voice choked up, as he marched up the street to the brick-front house you live in. He could hear your hurried footsteps after him and you were able to grab his arm to stop him for a second.

He looked back at you with an unbridled level of very poorly-contained fury in his brown eyes. He softened a bit when he saw your crying face again, but then, his eyes were once more drawn to the now bruise that you sported on the left-side of your face. You now had a matching bruise to his… Something he never wanted you to ever know. And that only renewed his rage.

Simon grabbed you by the shoulders and made you sit on the side of the road. He hurried at shrugging off his parka and tossing it over your shoulders, his hands guiding your own arms into the warmth of the thick sleeves, and fixing the faux fur-lined hood to sit a bit more flush to your neck.

He wanted you warm. He wanted you warm and safe and healed. And right now you were only two our of three. And he couldn’t provide the third one. But he’d provide something better.

“Stay here.” He demanded, his voice freezing you onto the pavement where he sat you. You brought your knees to your chest, still sobbing in pain.

You looked back at him and watched as he made himself as big as he could, his shoulders squared as hard as they could be, and his chest puffed up, all while he was pounding a fist on your front door with one hand while the other pressed the doorbell repeatedly.

Even at 16, Simon was already much taller than most grown men in the area, and certainly taller than his drunk and druggie of a father. It’s no wonder the old bastard now thinks twice before raising his hand at Simon, not that that stops him from trying to throw his weight around with his wife and even Tommy. That’s why Simon still finds himself covered in bruises that never quite heal before he’s getting new ones.

When the door opens, your mother is on the other side, trying her best to cover her own face as well. Poor lady is just as battered as you, the testament of a night where her husband finally lost it. She has to look up at Simon, just like you do, his height imposing abover hers. Her face looking paled and afraid.

It’s not like she doesn’t know you have a “boyfriend”. She’s covered for you many times when you snuck out to be with him, has seen him drop you off late at night plenty of times, especially when she was worried about what you were up to… Long before she noticed that you were just being teens and never in any real danger. 

In fact, she knows Simon quite well. Even from before you became whatever it is you are now, he used to stand at your door, at 8 A.M. every weekend, waiting for you, so you could go out and ‘play’ around the neighborhood. She had waved you two off plenty of times with a reminder to be home for dinner.

But she’s never seen Simon quite this way before. Hell, neither have you. But the look in his eyes told her she should just stand aside and let it happen. And so, she did… simply using her head to wordlessly point out that her good-for-nothing husband was upstairs in the bedroom. The teen boy gave her a curt nod as he marched upstairs.

Your father was shorter than him and fat. He was also drunk. The moment he entered the bedroom, the old bum had struggled to even roll up from the bed where he was watching footie on an old box TV. He shouted at the unknown teen in his home… trying to be intimidating. But he couldn’t do shit against Simon’s rage, didn’t even stand a chance.

The violence he impinged on your sleazy father that night had come surprisingly easily to him. It was like an itch he finally got to scratch, releasing years of pent-up aggression onto a man that was an almost direct copy of his own father (minus the drug abuse). 

That was the first night the ‘Ghost’ ever came out. 

By the time Simon came back out the door, his knuckles were bruised to shit, and covered in blood, his left hand in so much pain that he knew he’d broken a couple fingers. He had taken one of your father’s cold, cheap beers from your fridge to use as an ice pack for you, your mum having told him she didn’t have any frozen ice in the freezer.

He sat by your side in the pavement, his hands holding your face and icing your bruise the best he could as he whispered reassuring words at you while you cried all you needed to. Then, his words turned from reassurance to promises. None of them empty.

“We’ll get out of here, lovie.” He promises you. “I’ll get us out of here.” He kept repeating while he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead with chapped lips while you sobbed against his chest.

“How…?” You asked him, your lip trembling as you resist falling into another sobbing session on his chest, your head craning up to look him in the eyes. “We’re both skint…” You choked out.

“I’ll find a way.” Simon said as he rubbed his busted hands through your hair, the best he could, trying not to wince and grunt at the pain in his broken fingers. “I’ll… I’ll join the military if I have to.”

“Simon…” You said in a hush, your eyes already welling up with tears. It felt bizarre to say his actual name, almost as bizarre as hearing him talk about enlisting.

“I’m serious, darlin’.” The blond lad tells you as he looks down at your eyes, his brow furrowed a bit as he once again takes in the size of your bruise. “The recruiters came to my secondary a month ago… I nabbed one of their sign-up sheets… Just in case.” He explains as he rubs your hair.

“It’s just… three months.” He assures you. “Basic Training is super quick and I’ll start getting paid from the start.” He says. He doesn’t seem excited, despite the fact he’s trying to convince you of how good it’ll be.

You’re not excited about the idea. What if he gets sent out to foreign land? What if he dies? What if…

“I’ll start to save up. I’ll send you money every month… And as soon as you graduate secondary next June, I’ll rent out a flat down in wherever I end up, really… and I’ll get you out of here… And you’ll come stay with me!” He assures you with the most confident in himself that you’ve ever heard him have.

“Simon…” You whine a bit as your eyes well up with more tears. The idea of living with him, just the two of you, away from all this, it sounds so nice… The peace you’d get.

“I’ll call all the time, I’ll write, I’ll come visit when I can, and I’ll pay for you to go visit too when you’re on school holiday.” He keeps promising.

“It’s going to be just you and me, lovie.” He assures you as he presses loving kisses to your mouth. “I’ll get you out. I’ll get you to safety.” He continues, his own eyes softening with tears. “Okay?” He asks you.

Your eyes are still watery and your bruise hurts, but you see the look in his eyes, and the promise of peace and quiet and a life of love and affection by his side makes the fire in your heart burn just a little bit brighter.

You wanted to tell him you love him. He wanted to say it too. But neither of you do. It’s not the time. Or maybe it’s the fear. 

So instead, you find yourself returning a sheepish “Okay.”

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[bellysoupset]

Is it okay if I use 🍁 as my anon emoji? If not then 🦊?

But my request is could you do a story about Vince and Max taking a class on an overnight field trip somewhere and both begrudgingly have to share a room. But of course one of them (I don’t mind who) gets a really upset tummy and the other has to be the reluctant carer while also having to deal with kids who are constantly knocking on their door, complaining or asking for things as young kids do. And then, the next day it’s a painstakingly long, bumpy bus ride home.

-🍁/🦊

-🦊 anon and ☂️ anon requested Max with a tummy ache opening up to others.

I'm sorry it took me so long!!

—----------------

Vince zipped up his jacket and turned around as he looked over the teenagers, all brimming with anxiety over the trip. 

It was a tradition of Doverport’s High to grant senior students a more expensive field trip than usual. Usually all excursions had to fall under the guise of education, with a teacher drafting up a whole proposal signaling why it was important for the students to experience it and how it would benefit their curriculum. 

The seniors trip, though, was exclusively for socialization. The fancy word they used for fun. 

Sophia had been talking about the trip nonstop for weeks now, she had even gone on a shopping trip to get a new swimsuit — one Ma had promptly forbidden her from wearing — and had nearly exploded with happiness when Wendy had gifted her with a fancy toiletry bag with three hundred little pockets that Vince thought was a monstrosity. 

He’d never understand women.

Vin could easily spot his sister in the crowd of excited faces, as they showed Daniels their parent permits. She was in the far back, talking with a much shorter black girl and they were giggling and whispering. Sophia was as tall as the boys in her grade and she attracted quite a bit of attention, so Vince was under sworn duty to watch out for her. 

He hadn’t even wanted to be a part of the trip, unlike Max who had been hand picked by the seniors. Vince had only volunteered as a replacement to Ms. Lobdell after much begging from his mother, only for the literature teacher to injure herself a month ago and end up with a cast leg.

“Hi, Mr. Daniels,” Vince cringed as he heard his sister’s sugary voice, a tell tale of her flirting. This was more awkward than Sophia hitting on Luke. 

“Hi, Sophia,” Max answered without missing a beat, not indulging her in the least, “Hi, Charlie. Permits?”

“I don’t really need papers, mom sent him to follow me around,” Sophia complained glaring in Vin’s direction, but handed Daniels a folded paper. 

Max snorted, “I’ll make sure Mr. Monacelli has enough on his plate he’s not following you around,” he patted the metal of the bus, “go on to your seats, shoo.”

Vince scoffed as he noticed Sophia was red up to her ears as she walked past Max and entered the bus, right in front of him, “comportati, Soph,” he told her to behave herself and she responded by folding her arm in a bras d’honneur, which went over her American friend’s head but meant a loud fuck you to Vin.

“Ready for the trip, Mr. Mo?” Max asked cheekily, as he finished up retrieving the permits and slammed the pile of papers against Vin’s chest, “I’m sure it’ll be great.” 

—------

Senior trips were a dying tradition around the US, but the few schools that still did it normally took their students to Disney World or New York City… Not Doveport. They were mainly a harbor town, made of blue collared workers and glamor wasn’t in their alphabet. 

This year, the trip was to Canada, to a resort that had offered them some incredible rates since it was off season. The only downpoint was that the trip there was nearly five hours long. 

Vince didn’t mind long bus trips, had gotten used to them when in the football team, but he did mind not having anyone to talk to. The teens were noisy, but mostly enthralled with themselves and so excited that no one was causing much trouble. Daniels, on the other hand, had curled up on his seat up the front and gone quiet. 

Vin glanced at his watch. One hour down.

“Are you gonna keep pacing?” Sophia whined, when Vince walked the bus hallway for the fourth time and caused the boys who were chatting her up to sink back to their seats. 

Vince rolled his eyes, “just doing my job.”

“You’re a history teacher, not a hallway monitor,” Sophia spat back without hesitating, “you’re making everyone nervous by walking around like a prison guard.”

He didn’t buy that, but once he glanced over his shoulder, there were more than a couple pairs of eyes glued to his back, probably wondering if he was giving Sophia a hard time and if they were next. Vince sighed. 

“Fine, fine, fine, I’m going back to my seat,” he relented, walking back up to the front. Daniels stirred slightly when Vince sat next to him, grimacing and scratching his prickly cheek.

“Did little miss Monacelli chew you out?” he asked, his voice rough as if he had been sleeping. Vince didn’t know how he could even fall asleep with so much noise. 

“Doesn’t she always?” Vin teased lightly, stretching his legs as much as the cramped seats allowed him. From the corner of his eye he could see Max was still frowning, so Vince squirmed on his seat, retrieving his phone from his back pocket and throwing the other man a quick glance, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “just tired, that’s all. You got them handled?” 

Vince shrugged, glancing over his shoulder, “they’re all behaving, it’s not as if they’re children. You can take a nap if you want.” 

“Thanks,” the blonde curled up against the window once more, shivering violently and rubbing his hands as if to warm them up.

Not thirty minutes later, Vince snapped out of his New Girl rewatch, because Daniels had just…Kicked him? 

Vin frowned, looking over his shoulder — All of the teens were busy, chatting amongst themselves, napping or listening to music — then back at the blonde. If Vince didn’t know better he’d think it had been on purpose, but no… Max was pressed up against the window and he had an arm curled around his stomach, when yet another twitch hit him and he involuntarily kicked. 

Vin snorted, sliding down his seat and getting comfortable. He was bored, but texting Wendy or his friends was out of question, they were all at their jobs right now. 

An hour later he muffled a yawn of his own, getting up to stretch and looking ahead. Now most of the kids were knocked out and the bus was much quieter. Outside, the sun was setting and the wind had picked up, howling. 

He did another round in the hallway, just to keep his leg from falling asleep and snorted as he passed by his sister’s seat. The teenager was curled up on her friend, snoring softly, long legs folded like an origami project. 

Vince’s stomach rumbled with hunger. There were two more hours to go in their trip, but once they arrived and finished check-in, they had a free pass to the hotel’s restaurant and he couldn’t wait. 

He sat back down and rubbed his stomach to stop the growling, only to realize Max was shivering.

Vin frowned, turning off the mini A/C unit that stayed over their heads. Daniels looked much more friendly when he was passed out, face smooth, no snark. 

“Daniels?” Vince whispered, shaking his arm slightly, “you’re ok?” 

“Uhhhm,” Max groaned, forcing his eyes open, looking out of it. It wasn’t a nap, the man had fallen into slumber. 

“Are you alright?” Vince repeated himself, a little louder.

For a moment it looked like Max was going to bite his head off for waking him up to ask such a question, but then the other man groaned again and shook his head, “I’m fff-fucking fee-freezing,” he said, his teeth chattering. 

Vince raised his eyebrows. The temperature had dropped considerably since the sun set and they were about to cross the Canadian border, but the bus was packed with people and fairly warm. 

“Here,” he said without thinking, digging through his backpack and handing a hoodie to the other guy. Even with the beard covering most of his cheeks, Vince could see the man turning red. 

“I don’t-”

“Don’t be stupid, you’re cold, I’m not using it,” Vince shrugged, “but it’s not that cold…” he reached in without thinking, but before he could feel Max’s forehead, the man slapped his hand away sharply, glaring at him.

“Don’t do that.”

Vince scoffed, turning on his seat in an offended manner. The other man was still a puzzle for him: adored by all teenagers, hated by other teachers. An asshole and ex-bully, but at the same time willingly driving Vince back home when he found the man plastered at 3 AM.

And then there was that haunted look on Max’s face, that Vince had seen the other night with Lucas. That horrible, terrible yearning, which Vince could easily place alongside Max’s cavernous one bedroom house, the fact he never saw the guy hanging out with anyone, never texting a soul… 

When they did park outside the resort, two hours later, the teenagers were quickly shaking off the sleep, their voices getting higher and higher. 

“I want- I want-” Vince pinched his nose bridge as loud piercing laughter interrupted him two times in a row. Daniels was watching the crowd with a pacific smile, happy to let Vince deal with it. 

“I WANT TWO QUEUES,” Vince said loudly, startling the teens and cringing, “GIRLS WITH MR. DANIELS, BOYS WITH ME.”

There was a minute of silence, then hurried steps as they organized themselves. Vince grimaced as he felt a thump to his back and Max whispered, “good job, Mr. Moron, you scared the ducklings,” stepping ahead to shepherd his group of teenage girls. 

It was a minor chaos to sort through all the room keys and get everyone checked-in, but around one hour and a half later Vince finally made it to the bedroom he would be sharing with Daniels. His stomach was hurting with hunger and he was starting to get considerably cranky. 

Max’s bags were on his bed already, claiming it, but he wasn’t in the room. Irrationally, Vince felt a wave of annoyance at the fact the man was probably down in the restaurant having dinner, not that this was Max’s fault at all. 

However, when he made it to the cafeteria… The other teacher was nowhere to be found. Their students were already spreading around, playing as adults and getting together in little cliques. Sophia lit up as Vince walked in the room, something she rarely did and Vince raised his eyebrows as the girl waved for him to join her table. 

He grabbed a bottle of juice as well as his full plate and walked over, sitting on the booth and squeezed between a pack of girls who were all blushing. 

“Yeah?” 

“This place is great, Vin,” Sophia told him, “I never wanna leave.”

Vince snorted, starting to eat. Before him, one of the girls started to rave about the hotel having an indoor heated pool. Vince’s stomach clenched with worry as a million little accidents flashed in front of his eyes. 

“You girls are going to behave, won’t you?” he asked seriously, “act like adults.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Soph dismissed him easily, grinning mischievously with her friends, “do you know if Mr. Daniels is single? We never see him with anyone.We should invite him to swim-”

“I don’t know and even if I did it wouldn’t matter,” Vince glared at them, “you’re all underage, this is simply embarrassing.”

“I’m eighteen!” Sophia cried out, as Vince stood up, taking his food, “c’mon, don’t be such a prude!” 

Vince scoffed, “wait until babbo hears about this, Sophia Maria,” he told her viciously, causing his younger sister to glare at him, her light eyes squinting.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” he glared back, “focus on the boys your age, or better yet, don’t focus on any boy. Focus on college.”

“Thank you Mr. Hypocrisy,” Sophia pouted, “you were dating in high school!”

Vince sighed, “and it led nowhere,” he pointed out gently, “I just want you girls to be careful and-” he snapped his mouth shut as Soph yawned at his words, exaggerating it and causing her friends to giggle. Vince rolled his eyes, “leave Mr. Daniels alone, this isn’t cute, he’s working.” 

“Are you dating, Mr. Monacelli?” one of the girls called sweetly as Vince started to walk away, only for Vin to hear as Sophia said sharply “EWw Rita, that’s my brother!”

Deciding he’d have better luck eating by himself, Vince found a secluded corner of the restaurant and all but inhaled his food. He hung around as the kids finished up their meals, then ushered them to bed, despite knowing they were allowed to enjoy the hotel facilities. For the next three days, they were allowed nearly everything. 

His sister had long disappeared, much to his worry, and Vince was still scoffing to himself as he made his way back to the room. Vince’s anger vanished with a puff as he noticed the bedroom was untouched. Max’s bag was still on the bed, but no sign of the man. 

“...Daniels?” Vince kicked the door shut, walking further in and noticing the bathroom door closed, “Daniels, you in there…?”

A beat of silence, and then a groan and Vince raised his eyebrows, walking closer to the door, “man, are you alright?” 

“G’away…” Max slurred, his words sticking together, “m’fine.”

“Uhum, you don’t sound so good… ” Vince picked at his nails, glaring at the knob, “did you have dinner at all? Restaurant is closing, but I can get you a plate if you di-” a retch answered him, a muffled little oh-god before the sound of liquid hitting liquid.

Vince cringed, clearly realizing the other guy was sick. He tried the knob and realized the door wasn’t locked, even if the request for privacy couldn’t be more clear as Max let out a loud groan from the floor and tried to kick him. 

“Gooooaway-”

“Shit, Daniels,” Vince crouched down, taking the other guy in. Max had pulled his hair into a manbun, but some strands had already escaped and they were sticking to his clammy face. He was the color of spoiled milk, white with a green undertone, and there was a dark wet spot in the front of Vince’s borrowed hoodie, a clear tell he hadn’t made it to the bathroom in time, “why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve handled the students-”

“Itssssfine,” his honey colored eyes were dazed with fever, “they’re not hard to…To handle…” He turned his face towards the toilet once more, groaning as another wave of nausea hit him, cheeks puffing as he blew out a belch towards the water. 

“Were you already sick when we left?” Vince didn’t know what to do with himself. If this was any of his friends, he’d be all over them. Rubbing their back, holding back the strands of hair, getting them water, checking their fever… But this was Daniels, who clearly didn’t want him there.

“No,” Max pressed his overheated forehead to the cool porcelain, “just a stomach- Stomachache…” he gulped down nervously, “but I- I get those all the time, so…” 

Vince sighed in sympathy. It must be terrible to be sick so often that Max couldn’t recognize when he was coming down with something or not. 

“Okay,” Vin decided, stripping himself of any grudge he might hold towards the guy. He just couldn’t be mean when Max was looking so pathetic, “are you done? Let’s get you into bed.”

The blonde shook his head, leaning forward and panting over the toilet, “not done…” 

They sat there for another minute, the sick man’s breath picking up and then calming down just as Vince thought he was about to puke. He hung his head in shame, “you don’t have to stay, I’m gonna get you sick… Again.”

“I have nothing to do,” Vince shrugged, sitting against the small hotel cabinet and playing Candy Crush on his phone, “my girlfriend is probably at class right now, so I can’t even call her…” 

Max turned his head to face him, pained lines around his eyes and his lips a grayish shade, wrapping an arm around his stomach, “your girlfriend with the cute bob?” he gestured to his hair and Vince snorted, nodding. 

“Yep.” 

He raised a judgmental eyebrow, “Oh no, please don’t say she’s a high schooler…?”

Vince frowned, “Do you always assume the worst in people? Do I look like the type to date a high schooler, when I’m about to turn twenty five?”

“Yes,” Max groaned, gagging and spitting. He let out a whimper as a cramp hit him, squeezing his eyes and waiting for it to pass, “fuck my entire life…” 

“See, that’s karma,” Vince teased him, leaning back, “I’m not an asshole, you know? Or a criminal. Wendy’s older than me,” he rolled his eyes, “she’s a doctor.”

“But you said she’s in class,” Max pointed out and when Vince only stared at him, he pouted, “humor me? My gut’s killing me, I don’t wanna think about it.”

Vince let out a huff at that, but indulged the guy, “she takes Interior Design classes on thursday nights, she likes to keep busy,” he explained, “I don’t understand why you think I’m such an asshole, you’re the one who were a fucking bully, not me.”

“You look like an asshole,” Max pressed on his stomach, closing the toilet lid and letting out a groan, “and you acted like a homophobic moron the other day, when I said your boyfriend was there.”

This elicited a startled chuckle from Vince, making him throw his head back with such force it hit the cabinet and made him wince, “shit, ow-” he was still giggling and rubbing his head as he said, “I’m not homophobic, I’m bi! You’re ridiculous!” 

“Ah,” was Max's despondent answer, as he leaned back and rubbed his chest in an uneasy manner, “but you were an asshole for no reason…”

“I thought you were being t-” Vince interrupted himself, cringing. It was not his place to out Wendy, “homophobic. You know, the new teacher is gay haha so funny,” he rolled his eyes, feeling very proud of himself for the save. 

“Now I feel queasy, disgusting and stupid, thanks,” Max said sourly, wrapping both arms around his stomach and making Vince snort all over again. 

“You’re welcome,” he got up from his spot, filling up a glass of water for the guy and then offering him a hand to get up from the floor, “you should be in bed, you’re burning a fever there…” 

“Anyone ever tell-” Max swayed on his spot as Vince pulled him up, bracing against the sink, “ever tell you that you’re such a mother?” 

“Not really,” Vince patted the guy’s back with a little too much force, “I’m the chill one of my friend group.”

Max scoffed, leaning over the sink with a wet belch and spitting some frothy saliva “uhmmm… Don’t- Don’t believe you…” 

[sixeyescurseuser]

Thinking about Curse Geto inspired by Medusa, where he has snakes for hair and will turn people to stone if they make eye contact.

Back in ancient times, Geto was a sorcerer from a prominent clan. He was the middle child of ten siblings and was on the quieter side. It wasn’t until he got his technique at eight years old that his family noticed him - and not in a good way.

Geto was powerful, and progressed at a rate that was envied by others of his clan. While they had the same technique - something along the lines of sound/air manipulation - Geto was still stronger than all of them.

By his teens, Geto had an ever-piling mountain of responsibilities. Only valued for his abilities, and abused for them too. There was a lot of pressure…and constant noise. All day and all night, Geto heard every single sound: one of his relatives crying, or fighting, singing or screaming

So. Much. Noise.

And no one bothered checking in on him.

He despised them.

Geto planned to escape but his clan would never allow that. In his attempt to run away, Geto’s clan managed to overwhelm his senses and kill him.

In the end, the ugly feelings of resentment and hatred consumed him. This was also an era where no one knew that sorcerers could become curses if they didn’t receive a proper burial; therefore, his body wasn’t properly disposed of either.

That’s how Geto became a curse who found his peace and silence by turning people to stone with one simple glance.

This was Geto’s fate.

***

Three centuries later, Geto has left behind the days of him rampaging and killing humans left and right. He’s a changed curse!

He doesn’t want to kill anymore, but the humans keep bothering him! They spread horror stories where he dwells, meaning many impulsive kids and teens cross his territory on stupid dares, and well Geto has to kill them now, doesn't he?

Geto is very protective of his territory.

***

Geto had always wanted a friend though.

Being a curse was lonely.

Geto’s snakes are the only company he has.

Though some days, they drag him down like an oversized crown. They are his true cursed nature, after all - one that Geto constantly fights.

His bloodthirsty babies will whisper to go to the village and turn it all to stone.

You know you want to, the snakes hiss.

Humans are nasty creatures. They have it coming, they repeat.

Imagine how energized you’ll feel after.

Geto can’t deny any of it.

***

The universe sends Geto (now a special grade curse) his first friend in the form of a 190cm human sorcerer with albino-white hair and white bandages secured around his eyes.

Oh yeah, did he mention this sorcerer was sent to exorcize him?

But Geto is like “NOT TODAY” and flees the scene.

Not that that accomplishes anything. This sorcerer - Gojo Satoru - is definitely following Geto’s cursed energy traces, exorcizing other lesser curses while he’s at it.

Gojo is probably following a random statue here and there leftover from Geto’s accidents. See, Geto can't see with his eyes closed, so if people end up crossing his path…

Well, it can’t be helped. Not with Gojo hot on his trail.

Then, Geto will think he’s safe, wiping the sweat off his forehead when a flower appears into his vision. Gojo is sitting right next to him, holding the flower out like an offering.

“Hi.”

Geto shrieks and runs away.

***

It seems Gojo is flirting throughout this chase.

Geto must show no signs of weakness and outrun this madness!

***

Gojo has cornered Geto once again. The layers of white bandages are no match for Six Eyes, since Gojo comments about how pretty Geto looks.

“What?!? I- what?” Geto exclaims, too shocked to move away. Gojo places a hand on his cocked hip.

“What? No one’s told you look beautiful before?” he asks.

“…No,” Geto says. “Usually, the last thing people get to say- er, do, before they turn into stone is scream.”

“Oh…well that checks out.”

Geto’s eyebrow twitches.

Gojo continues on to say, “Your beauty is just too stunning!”

Geto is dumbfounded. And maybe a little touched. Are his cheeks heating up? Impossible, this form of his should be incapable of expressing human emotions and reactions.

To blush at such a comment…Geto must have more dignity than this.

***

One day later, Geto is sprinting through the forest while Gojo hollers behind him: “You know, you’re super boring. But at least pay attention to me!”

***

The next day, Geto weaves through the crowds on the street while announcing to people who can see curses, “DON’T LOOK AT ME!”

Gojo cackles as he trails after Geto.

***

To think Geto was a curse born from negative feelings of overstimulation, while Gojo wears a blindfold to not get overstimulated. They’re truly a match made in heaven.

Gojo quickly finds out that Geto isn’t malicious by any means. It’s just…he keeps accidentally killing people. 😭

For Geto, every day is a fucking struggle. After centuries passed, suddenly the silence wasn’t so good anymore. And it’s not even full silence since his snakes constantly hiss in his ears.

The big cities are overcrowded, and he’d stand out too much in the suburbs. Geto should really escape to the countryside.

It’s also a pain to run away from Gojo because that fool makes almost no sound when he moves.

Fortunately, Gojo has stopped claiming he’s giving chase under the pretense that he’s hunting Geto down.

That’s progress, right?

***

And maybe, Geto begins to look forward to Gojo’s visits.

Just a little.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

***

part 2

[kbirbpods]

Fandom: Danny Phantom x Batman | Tim Drake, Danny Fenton

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences | Length: 4,200 words

Summary:

Is it that Tim Drake & Danny Fenton lead very different lives? Or is it that Tim Drake & Danny Fenton lead lives that mirror one another too closely? These are their stories; or, at least, how their stories begin.

Notes: written for @flowerparrish for the @haunting-heroes-creative-games discord server's one year anniversary gift exchange! This is installment one of my new series the ones who gave me life (my parents' child), inspired fully by prompts listed by Flowerparrish. It is a fae AU, Tim & Danny are both trans, and Danny's canon diverges only slightly up until the college point. I really hope folks enjoy it! Excerpts below the cut.

Excerpt #1: Tim's POV

Tim’s eyes land on the newest Wayne ward, Jason Todd. A kid from Crime Alley, who is two grades ahead of him at school. Tim envies him. He looks… free. On edge, sure. As uncomfortable as Tim is in this crowd, though likely for different reasons. Yet, still, there is a freedom to him that Tim is unable to possess. Like he was born in the right body, a small voice says in the back of Tim’s mind. He shoves that thought down. Or, well, he tries to. But it rises again, unbidden.  The right body. Tim is suddenly so, so aware of how wrong his changing body feels. He tugs again at the pink monstrosity engulfing him. Realizes how desperately he wants out, not just out of the gala but out of this dress. Out of this body. The want—the need— overtakes him. Out, out, out. Tim gasps for air as panic washes over him until, suddenly, the panic becomes a physical thing. His body is aching , feeling stretched and pulled, as though an invisible sculptor is working on the very clay of his existence and forcing his structure to remold.

Excerpt #2: Danny's POV

Dani was a surprise. An enemy, at first. A tool of Vlad’s (the first of Jack Fenton’s ghostly disasters). She terrifies him. “Breathe, Danny,” Jazz tells him, cupping his face in her hands. He looks up at her, vision blurred by tears. “Dysphoria,” is all he manages, voice shaking. She pulls him close and hums an old lullaby, one that calls forward memories of safety. “She’s not you,” Jazz reminds him. But she is, the traitorous voice in his head says. “She’s not,” Jazz says. Did Danny say that out loud?  “She’s your DNA,” Jazz continues and she sounds so much like their mother in this moment. “But she isn’t you, Danny. Vlad wanted a son but he couldn’t replicate you. Dani is a clone of who you would have been, if our parents didn’t love you. If you didn’t know who you truly are and fight to fix your situation, yeah?” “Yeah,” he whispers back, nodding as he wipes his tears. “Danny, what’s important now,” she reminds him, “is that you show her the way.”

[ladamedusoif]

Starry Night (Joel Miller x Stargazer f!reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 1

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Stargazer F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Word count: ~1500

Warnings: Strong language (Ellie is involved); canon doesn’t go here; alcohol references; fluff; almost certainly some stargazing errors please forgive me

Summary: There are a lot of wonderful things about making it to the safety of Jackson, but the darkness of the night sky makes it a perfect home for a stargazer like you - and you’re only too happy to share your knowledge with a space-mad teenager. Oh, and her grumpy dad.

Every time you set up your telescope, you remembered the look Maria had given you the day you returned from a scavenging mission with it strapped to your back, still in its packaging.

“Seriously?”

You shrugged as you got off your horse. “Seriously. Got plenty of other stuff too, so let me have this, please?”

She looked dubious, but threw up her arms in resignation. “If we need it for lookout - it’s ours, okay?”

You nodded, hugging the telescope close to your chest, and raced home to set it up. 

Space was your dad’s thing, and he’d made it yours, too. Nights in the backyard with his very basic kit trained on the skies, stargazing maps in front of you, climbing on his lap to look through the viewfinder.

He taught you the major constellations, how to find planets visible in the night sky, explained how stars helped people navigate, long ago. 

Little did you know then how that information would come in handy years later, finding your way to the safety of the Jackson settlement with nothing else to guide you. 

Stargazing in the suburbs wasn’t ideal. Too much light pollution. In Jackson, though? Wide, open dark skies, far as the eye could see. 

Every time you watched the night sky, you looked out for your dad.

Cold, crisp, clear winter nights were your favourite time for stargazing. Bundled up in your warmest coat, hat, and blankets, you sat on your porch, telescope in front of you and an old Atlas of the Night Sky on your lap. Out of the corner of your eye, you became conscious of two people walking along the sidewalk past your home. Recent arrivals, you guessed, seeing as they weren’t familiar; a young girl, an older man. Father and daughter, probably.

“Whoa, dude. She’s got a fuckin’ real telescope!”

The girl had stopped to stare at you, eyes wide in astonishment. You offered a shy smile and a little wave, and were about to speak when the man interjected, beckoning the girl on with a frustrated tilt of his head.

“Mind your manners, Ellie. Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to disturb you. You have a good night.” He nods and you return the gesture, touched by his somewhat old-fashioned manners, and they walk on as you go back to seeking out Castor and Pollux.

Over the next couple of weeks, you learned that the man was Tommy’s older brother, Joel. His exact relationship to Ellie, the teenage girl, was not clear: she wasn’t his biological daughter, you suspected but Tommy tended to refer to her as “Joel’s kid”.

They tended to keep to themselves, for the most part. But she would peek in your direction if she spotted you at social events in the community, as if she was weighing up whether she should go and talk to you. No amount of friendly waves and smiles from you could ever convince her, it seemed.

You took matters into your own hands at the holiday tree lighting ceremony. You picked them out easily: Joel, big and broad in a sheepskin-lined winter coat, greying hair curling over the collar; Ellie, ponytail bobbing from side to side as she looked at the illuminated tree in absolute awe and wonder. 

“Joel and Ellie, right?” 

They turned to appraise you, still wary of new people. You held out the mugs of eggnog you’d grabbed for them on your way across the room. 

“Thought you might like some eggnog, and I wanted to introduce myself. I’m the telescope lady.”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “So cool,” she murmured, as if to herself.

Joel nodded and accepted the eggnog gratefully, the mug suddenly appearing doll-sized in his large hands. “Ellie’s got a thing for space, don’t you? Loves hearing about the space programs, the astronauts, all that.”

The teenager looked down at her shoes and blushed a little as she nodded. Apocalypse or not, teenage girls will always be embarrassed by their dads. 

Ellie took a sip of her eggnog. “How’d you get a fuckin’ telescope, anyway?” 

Joel scolded her, but you chuckled. “I found it in an old hobby store on a scavenging mission one time. I wasn’t gonna leave that behind, now was I?” She grinned at your conspiratorial wink, and Joel seemed to relax a little.

“Come over whenever you want, and I’ll give you a guided tour of the sky. We’ve got perfect conditions here for it.”

She beamed and turned to Joel, who shook his head softly. “We don’t want to be disturbing you, ma’am.” You corrected him with your name, and he repeated it, low and slow, in that warm, dark voice of his.

“I mean it, Joel. You are both very welcome to do some stargazing with me, whenever you’d like.”

“No fuckin’ WAY!”

Ellie tears into the kitchen on the morning of December 21, excitedly brandishing a piece of paper under Joel’s nose as he sips - or tries to sip - his morning coffee.

“Whatever it is, El, it’s far too early for this kind of excitement.”

“Look at it, dude!”

He rolls his eyes, puts down his mug, and looks at the piece of paper. It’s a handwritten invitation, decorated with drawings of celestial bodies and, at the bottom, a bright red telescope. He can’t help but chuckle as he reads the words aloud.

“Ellie (and Joel) are invited to a special winter solstice stargazing party tonight, December 21, at 6pm. Wrap up warm and be ready to see stars.” Underneath, you’ve carefully written your name and address in neat print.

By now, Ellie is positively bouncing with excitement. “The fuckin’ telescope! I’m gonna look through a fuckin’ telescope! At fuckin' SPACE!”

Joel’s heart swells as he takes in her sheer joy at the prospect of looking up into the heavens, knowing how hard everything has been for her, how much he has wanted to make her smile again. 

“Alright, but there’ll be no telescope if you don’t eat and get dressed for school. Go on, now.”

The telescope is already set up on your porch when they arrive later that evening, Joel carrying a flask of hot coffee and Ellie a tin with a few cookies - the best they could rustle up at short notice. 

“I’m so glad you came!” You beam at them as you open your front door, beckoning them inside. “I’ve got some snacks ready, and some hot punch.”

A smile creeps over Joel’s face as he realises you’re somehow playing a compilation of holiday music. Brenda Lee is singing about rocking around the Christmas tree, Ellie is nodding her head in time to the song as she makes a beeline for the bowls of snacks you’d set out, and he is struck by just how long it’s been since he’s experienced anything akin to “holiday cheer”.

“What the fuck does ‘rockin’ around a Christmas tree’ mean, anyways?”

Joel tuts and rolls his eyes. “Ellie. Language.”

You giggle as you hand Ellie a cup of non-alcoholic hot punch. “It’s fine, Joel. I think she means people are dancing around a Christmas tree, Ellie.”

Ellie looks sceptical. “Fuckin’ weird. Hey, when can we look at the stars?”

Joel lets you take the lead, as Jackson’s resident stargazer. He sits on one of your kitchen chairs, sipping from a mug of punch, watching you show Ellie how to navigate the night sky. 

The punch is warming in more ways than one. As Ellie bounded out to the porch earlier, you’d subtly held up a bottle of liquor at him and raised your eyebrows in a silent question, before adding a little to your and his mugs of punch once he’d nodded his assent. 

“See that really bright, orangey one there? That’s Betelgeuse. It’s a red supergiant.”

Ellie’s mouth hangs open as she squints through the telescope’s eyepiece. “Red supergiant,” she repeats. 

“See if you can find Orion’s Belt for yourself. It’s not too far away.”

You turn to Joel, checked blanket wrapped around your shoulders, and raise your mug towards him with a warm smile. “Happy holidays, Joel.”

He reciprocates the gesture, dark, warm eyes crinkling as a gentle, genuine smile spreads across his face. It might be the first time you’ve ever really seen him smile.

He looks to the heavens, taking in the perfect, pitch-dark blue-black carpet of a night sky embroidered with millions of twinkling stars. For an instant, he finds comfort in remembering that we all - everyone who is, who has ever been, and who will ever be - gaze up at the same firmament. 

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