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woahjo · 8 months ago

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APHRODISIAC! (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Katsuki gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk. You decide to check in on him. What could go wrong?

Chapter Content Warnings: fem!reader, dubcon, smut, porn with little to no plot, aphrodisiac quirks, quirkless reader, prohero!katsuki, rough sex, borderline free use, biting, creampie, multiple orgasms (fem!receiving), masturbation, edging (kinda), manhandling, katsuki is dominant but also not idk he's desperate, possessiveness, overstimulation, size kink, scent kink, some light aftercare! woo hoo!, friends to lovers sort of

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: yeah ik this isn't what i typically write but idk where this came from. i had a thought and it spiraled bad and now i have this. there is no deeper message. there is no meaning. i wrote this to make him FUCK and be kinda weird and desperate and pathetic about it. i needed to see him physically overpower us while also so desperate that it makes him look stupid. i feel violent. this bad boy is not going on ao3 lol. anyway, enjoy, heed the warnings.

Katsuki paces around the one bedroom apartment he rents in downtown Musutafu. His skin is tingling. Every nerve he has burns like it's been set on fire, needing some sort of touch to soothe it. His cock aches between his legs, hard and leaking against the side of his thigh. Katsuki grits his teeth, running his hands over his hair and then letting his palms slide down the sides of his exposed biceps.

Sweat collects on his skin, the kind that comes from desperation or maybe a fever, and he feels it on his palms when he lets them drop to his sides and clenches his fists. Fuck, he can't believe he got hit with a non-fatal quirk and had to be sent home. It's humiliating. What's worse is that it hasn't worn off yet, rendering him completely useless.

He sits on his couch, his legs spread wide, and leans back against the couch cushions, wincing as he reaches to unbutton his pants. He's never been this sensitive in his life and it almost hurts to grab his cock and pull it from his pants. Katsuki watches it twitch for a moment, rigid between his legs and leaking pre-cum from its angry tip. He doesn't even have to think about anything in particular, he's just turned on. Unbearably so.

Katsuki wraps his hand around the base of his cock and jerks upward once, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth at his own sensitivity. Then, the desperation sets in fully and he squeezes the head of his cock with a wince and a low groan before beginning to slide his hand up and down. He pauses to spit into his palm, desperate for some sort of relief from the tension weaving its way through his body, his hand moving faster and fast over this dick. Katsuki only pauses when he touches his overly sensitive head, swallowing down an audible moan as he moves his hips to desperately fuck his fist.

He tries not to think of the humiliation in this, instead focusing on chasing a high that seems to get farther and farther. He stays like this for a while, desperately fucking his fist with low groans and whines. His face is completely flushed, sweat beading on his brow and forehead, covering every inch of his skin with a pathetic, glowing sheen. God, he's almost fucking angry. The frustration, the sheer desperation for release, is making it difficult to control his temper and he knots his free hand into the soft pillow beside him, raising it to his face and using it to cover his head so he can be a little louder.

He's desperately humping his fist when his doorbell rings. At first, it's only once and Katsuki thinks he can ignore it, but then it comes again, five more times and consistently more aggressive.

"Katsuki?" your voice calls through the wood paneling of his door. "I heard you got hit with a quirk and sent home. Let me in."

He furrows his eyebrows at the irony of the last person in the world he wants to encounter at a time like this. Pretty, quirkless, you. His long time friend and recent dispatcher at his agency. Someone he secretly wants to fuck even without the aphrodisiac quirk floating through his bloodstream. You really get under his skin. You’re exactly his type, right down to that annoying little attitude of yours that drives Katsuki insane. Of course, he's always respected your friendship a little too much to do anything about it, but tonight, he doesn't think he'll be able to and he sits in silence with his lip caught between his teeth while he fucks his fists and hopes you'll go away.

"I know you're in there," you call again. "I can see the light on."

You bang three times on the door and then ring the doorbell again, pushy and insistent the way you always are. A match for his stubborn attitude.

Katsuki swears and stands up, his hands shaking as he tucks his sensitive cock back into his sweatpants and flips the head up into his waistband with a hiss.

The crazy thing is, he can literally smell you through the door. The scent of you, that sweet and rounded perfume you wear, wafts under the crack of his apartment door. He pauses outside of it, resisting the temptation to open it, to welcome that smell into his apartment and use you to relieve the aching in his cock and lower belly.

"Katsuki?" You ask, a little quieter now.

Jesus fucking christ, don't call his name like that.

He swings the door open, letting his hand rest on the side of it so that it is positioned above his head. You look taken aback at his appearance, covered in sweat and flushed from the neck up, his chest exposed and heaving.

"What?" he says, looking you up and down.

Katsuki bites back the urge to yank you in. Why is it he can literally smell the sweat on your body and every prick of your emotions? It's like he can tell exactly what you're thinking, or maybe it's what he wants you to be thinking.

"Don't get on my ass about me still technically needing to be at work," you start, stepping forward. "I heard something happened and I just came to check and you look like shi-"

Katsuki blocks you from coming in with his body. You stumble backwards lightly and raise your eyebrow at him. There's a pause as you register that you've just run into a solid wall of muscle, sweat covered and glistening, while Katsuki eyes you like you're meat on a platter. He knows he's doing it, but he can literally smell every turn of your scent, soft and sweet. And he may be fooling himself... but are you... turned on?

"Let me in?" you say with a small laugh, side stepping to go around him. He blocks you again, his fingers gripping the door frame so hard that his knuckles are white.

"Go home," he says quietly, his voice tense.

"What? No," you furrow your eyebrows at him. "What's the matter with you?"

You duck under his arm and place your hand momentarily on his chest. Your touch makes him tingle all over and he sucks in a sharp breath.

"I'm not fucking around," he says.

"Okay, me neither," you respond with a bit of an attitude. "I expected you to be worse for wear but you look like crap. Like you're... I don't know."

You trail off a little.

"Let me help," you say, shaking off whatever thought had come over you. "I'll make you some food."

"Look, no offense, but I don't think you want to help me with this," he says, a frustrated bite in his voice. Food isn't exactly what he's hungry for.

"That's too bad," you say slowly, seemingly put off by the desperate air about him and settling into his kitchen. You move to open the fridge.

Katsuki walks up to you quickly, taking your wrist from the door and holding it between the two of you. Cool air hits his exposed chest and arm as the door falls shut again.

"I'm dead serious. Get the fuck out of here or I'm gonna do something I regret," he hisses through a clenched jaw. Your skin is warm on the pads of his fingers, wrist held flush against his palm. He bites back a genuine shudder.

Your eyes are wide as you look back at him, glancing between where he's caught your wrist by your head and his eyes. Katsuki's gaze roams over your face, pausing as he hits the top of your blouse where a few buttons remain open. When he returns his eyes to yours, your mouth moves to open before a heady understanding settles over your features. You're so pretty. Everything about you is pretty, so delightful and delicate. Your eyes look glassy and wide. Katsuki has always found them tempting, but today he can't stop himself.

He leans forward and kisses you, holding your wrist to his chest as his mouth comes messily into contact with yours. You squeak and freeze and it takes all he has to pull away from you.

"Go home," he says again, his lips tingling. Katsuki feels the color creep onto his cheeks, his hand still holding your wrist.

You don't say anything, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He swallows thick and feels the saliva drag against his throat. Then, his mouth dries completely, his expression twisting into discomfort as his cock throbs between his legs as the scent of you takes on a sharper turn. He's never felt anything like this before, something animal.

Katsuki tightens his jaw, staring at you for a moment. Then, he takes a step towards you. You take one back, though he doesn't feel like you're afraid. Rather, you tilt your head down to look at him through your lashes. He lets out a breath through his teeth and walks you back until your ass hits the counter, his free hand coming to gingerly touch your waist. You inhale when he leans in to kiss you again, screwing your eyes shut and reaching to grab at his shoulder to pull him closer.

Every touch tingles. It burns and he drops your wrist to manhandle your hips. You suck on his bottom lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. He ruts his hips against yours, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache, and you gasp a little and let your mouth fall open. Katsuki takes the opportunity to bite down hard on your lip with a low groan, slipping his tongue into your mouth as the pads of his fingers press harshly into you. You whine, eyebrows pulling up.

Katsuki’s eyes are slightly open, just so that he can look at you. Every aspect of his senses feel heightened and the relief of your mouth far surpasses that of his hand over his throbbing cock only minutes earlier.

He pants, taking your hips and lifting you onto the counter so that you’re seated, pulling away for just a moment to lift the hem of your shirt and expose your breasts. Katsuki puts his face on the pillowy tops of them, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as his hand teases its way up the skin of your back to unclasp it. He thinks you’re probably looking at him, but if you are, he doesn’t have the mind to care about what sort of behavior he’s exhibiting. He can practically smell how wet you are from just a little touching and if he weren’t so fucking desperate for a little relief, he’d tease you for a few hours just to watch your pussy drool over him.

The cool air of his apartment hits your exposed nipples. Katsuki takes it upon himself, without even a second thought, to roll the hard bud under his tongue. He feels the way goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands coming to rest over the tops of your thighs. Katsuki bites lightly on your breast and you fucking whine at it, tipping your head back and rooting your hand into the tufts of his blonde hair.

His cock jumps in his pants and he’s no doubt leaked enough to leave an evident wet spot against the gray of his sweatpants. He stands to his full height, pushing your skirt up and pressing the outline of his cock to your crotch. Heat bleeds through your panties, the kind that makes him feel like he’s going absolutely fucking insane. You gasp, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him close again.

Katsuki’s mouth hits yours messily, breathing hard as he ruts his hips up against your crotch, pulling you forward on the counter so he can feel as much of the pillowy folds of your pussy through the thick fabric as possible. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth, sharp canines digging into the wet flesh of your mouth. He whines— high-pitched, desperate sound—as you position your hips to press your crotch against the head of his cock. His head falls onto your chest, forehead resting against the hollow of your throat. Katsuki humps at you, pulling you against him to match the rhythm of his hips, grinding your clothed cunt over the bulge of his cock. It’s a desperate motion, completely subconscious as he lets the quirk he’s been hit with take the lead.

His fingers dip into the crease of your thigh, fumbling as they reach for the waistband of the panties you’re wearing. Katsuki’s desperation is so palpable that he finds himself panting as he slips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down. You gasp at the force of it and he swears he hears a small tear as he pulls them from your cunt, the crotch sticking to the lips of your pussy.

He leans his hips forward again, sliding his cock between your folds with a deep grunt. His mouth finds your neck and he bites along the side of it, lathing his tongue over your pulse point. It’s like he can taste you. Salt and that stupid perfume, collecting on his tongue as you dig your fingers into his back, his dick rutting restlessly against your clit. At one point, he almost slips in, his eagerness and your wetness making him careless. Katsuki sucks in a breath through his teeth, his whole body on fire.

The kitchen light shines down on his back and he can see the outline of part of his shadow on your thighs as he stares down at them, guiding the tip of himself to your entrance. He hears you wine when he presses against it and moves his hand down subconsciously to rub at your clit. An attempt to ease the stretch.

You tip your head back in a moan and Katsuki takes the opportunity to kiss your neck before settling his teeth against your shoulder and biting down harshly on the muscle connecting your neck and arm. You yelp at the sensation and Katsuki shutters at the sound, willing out a choked I’m sorry as he slides into your wetness. His hands push into the delightfully soft flesh of your upper thighs, the fat spilling up around each individual digit as he uses your legs for leverage, sliding you forward even further to better seat you on him.

Your legs are shaking and he can feel the way your nails dig into his exposed shoulder blades. Your bunch up skirt causes the fat of your tummy to fold over in a way that practically makes Katsuki drool. He urges himself to pause, attempting to come back to his senses as the quirk kicks into high gear. There’s relief in being inside of you, in feeling the flutter of your walls around his thick cock, but it also makes him desperate. Katsuki feels like he’s chasing something that he was desperately and it’s just out of his reach.

You’re breathing heavily above him, he can see the rise and fall of your chest from where his head hangs down, his hands trembling on the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes, his vision foggy around the edges as if he were peering through a tube. You’re at the end of it, your eyes glassy and mouth open, returning the look. Your eyebrows are knitted up in pleasure, but you almost seem confused.

“What are you waiting for?” You breathe out, the first thing you’ve said since he started touching you.

The tone of your voice is needy, with a delightful whiny lilt that makes him groan out loud. He can barely manage the words that come out next, his brain half mush, and he feels the way his cock jumps inside of you.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth, his breath coming heavy.

There’s a pause and he feels the distinct sensation of you squeezing down around his cock, like the idea turns you on.

“Use me,” you respond cautiously, your voice still containing that needy lilt.

Katsuki’s hips fuck up into you voluntarily and he feels the way his breath catches in his throat at the near desperate sound of your voice.

“Say that again.”

“Use me, Katsuki,” you respond, choking on your words as he fucks his hips up into you.

You reach for his face, taking it in your hands and drawing it close until it’s just in front of yours. Then, your palms slide down his shoulders and he screws his eyes shut and fucks into you again, harder this time, causing your body to jolt upwards on the counter.

He curses under his breath, pushing one leg further to the side and fucking his hips up into you roughly. You’re looking right at him, your expression drawn and pleasure-soaked, sweat collecting on your forehead as your mouth drops open into an o-shape. You punctuate his thrusts with high pitched yelps, squeaking out your pleasure and the deepness of where he’s hitting through choked moans.

Katsuki’s hands move up your stomach to roughly cup your breasts, his mouth so close to yours that he’s practically breathing in the sounds you make in exchange for his own hurried groans. He kneads at the fat of your chest, rolling your breast under his fingers before taking your nipples and pulling lightly on them.

He’s aware of just how rough he’s being, just how hard his hips are slapping yours, but he feels like he can’t stop. Katsuki chases a high so fucking desperate that his body is on autopilot, reaching and touching and moaning unabashedly as the room fills with the wet sound of his balls on the backs of your thick thighs.

You push your chest forward towards him, legs spread wide to make room for the width of his hips between yours as he bullies that perfect sensitive spot inside of you. Katsuki feels the way he makes you flutter. Every shift of your body, every involuntary squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, registers as if he were a part of you. His skin tingles everywhere you touch and the drag of your nails over his shoulder blades makes him want to crawl into the deepest part of you. Even the sound of your voice, drawn and desperate and mildly overwhelmed, feels like a drug to him. Every sense he has seems to be acutely attuned to just how badly he needs to fuck your lights out.

His hands slink down to your hips, resituating you and pulling you flush against him. Then, he drags his cock all the way out of you and quickly ruts back in, moaning as he does. His pace picks up, manhandling you forward on the counter until he is supporting most of your weight. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as you let him use you like a toy.

Katsuki chases his high, his stomach seeming to wind tighter and tighter but never finding that perfect snap and release. His movements grow faster, using all of his strength to fuck his hips up into you, barreling his cock against your gummy walls and bullying your sweet spot. He feels the way you tighten down around him, your body tensing and fingers digging crescent moons into the tops of his shoulders.

“Ka-” you choke out desperately, your voice breaking. “Wait, Katsuki, wait! I’m gonna-”

You shudder, your thighs squeezing around him as he continues to fuck you.

“Do it,” he seethes, “just fuckin’ do it.”

The end of his sentence comes out as more of a whimper as you cry out and squeeze down around him, squirming in his grasp as you begin to twitch with every additional thrust. Your body shakes, legs locking around him and struggling to hold him inside as he fucks you clear through your orgasm and then to the other side.

Katsuki’s voice breaks, almost whimpering like an animal as he buries himself in your pussy over and over again. He wants to smother you, he wants to completely cover your body and get as close as he possibly can. He’s already so much bigger than you, so much broader, how hard could it be to swallow you completely?

Katsuki’s hands come up under your ass as he wordlessly lifts you from the counter and moves to the couch on desperate, shaky steps. He lays you down, slipping out of you for a moment, before pressing a hand to the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs, and sinking his cock back into you as he crowds his body over yours.

“You know what?” He says, not really sure what’s going to come next. His head is so clouded with the quirk that he can’t think straight. “I’ve wanted to do this forever. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so- long-”

He screws his eyes shut, almost angry with the way he can’t seem to hit that high, teetering on a desperate and near painful edge.

“Those fuckin’ pencil skirts,” he says, unable to control his words or sharp tone. “The way you wear your hair, that damn look in your eye that constantly makes you seem like you’re beggin’ for it.”

Katsuki whines, a sharp sound from the back of his throat, as you tighten up around him. He meets your gaze, clouded and watery eyes accented by the delightful furrow in the center of your brow.

“And then you show up here,” he groans, not even sure of what he’s really saying. “Blouse unbuttoned, looking for trouble. I’m gonna fuck your lights out. ‘Till you can’t even think about fuckin’ anyone else.”

He leans in close, his mouth right up against yours.

“This is g’nna make you mine, right?”

You nod, your movements clumsy, and pull him close to you.

Katsuki loses all of his sense, burying himself in the feel of your pussy and the way he sinks into you, giving into the desperation of the quirk. He can feel just how deep he’s hitting, the way you suck in sharp, whiny breaths with every inward thrust. Katsuki’s hands grip your waist, pulling your ass up off the couch so that his angle is better.

His cock seems to drag endlessly against your overstimulated, pillowy, insides and you practically drool around. He feels like a dog slobbering over meat, any semblance of politeness completely gone from both his expression and his movements. This is going to fucking ruin your friendship, but he doesn’t even have half of a mind to think about it, so drawn into the delightful feel of your body and the aching in his cock that only seems to subside slightly with every thrust.

You try to choke out the word “again” and he feels like he knows what’s coming. Your whole body tenses, legs locking around him as you cream over his cock for the second time.

This seems to get Katsuki somewhere, the sensation of your pussy clamping down finally giving him some leeway to relief. He hits the edge of an orgasm, leading himself to the finish line.

The tension in his belly grows, cock twitching inside of your fucked out cunt. His fingers dig into your hips and he collapses forward, rolling his body so that the head of his cock catches perfectly inside of you, massaging and churning you up. You’re moaning, though maybe it’s more adjacent to whining, and Katsuki can hear himself mimicking the sounds, his body leading the way.

Then finally, on a pathetic and broken whimper, Katsuki cums. His whole body tenses, weight pressing down on you as he buries his face into your neck and lets his voice out beside the hollow of your throat. The relief and pleasure is so intense that Katsuki feels the way every muscle in his body tenses and lets go, filling you up with as much of him as he has to give.

His hips continue to pathetically rut into you, little choked moans escaping his lips as he uses his own cum as lube for his weak little thrusts. Then, he completely relaxes.

Katsuki feels the way his skin stops burning, the way the desperation at the back of his throat subsides, how his body rids itself of the quirk as quickly as the arousal came on. He shudders, coming back to himself and raising his head to peer at your expression.

You look exhausted, hair a mess and face covered in a thick sheen of sweat. You still flutter around his cock, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try and ride through the overstimulation of just having him inside of you. Katsuki furrows his brows, exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He raises his hand and uses it to push stray strands of hair from your face with his palm on your forehead. Then, with a clear mind, he leans forward and kisses you.

You blink at him for a second, before giving a weak smile, raising your eyebrows and letting your head fall to the side. Katsuki winces when he pulls out of you, sucking in a sharp breath and standing to his full height. He places a hand on his forehead like he’s assessing the situation, staring at your body, still fully clothed with your skirt pushed all the way up your stomach and your blouse missing a button at the top.

He wordlessly walks to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water, walking back over to you and wiping down the exposed parts of your body. You don’t really say anything to him, but you smile quietly while he gingerly wipes you down, your smeared makeup accenting just how much of a mess he’s made.

“Fuck,” he says. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how-”

“How you wanted this to go?” You say softly, the corners of your lips turning up.

Katsuki feels the way he flushes, all the way to the tops of his chest.

“No, it’s not,” he admits, running a hand over his face as he crouches beside you.

You laugh a little and he furrows his brows at you, frustrated and embarrassed.

“You’ve got a bit of a possessive streak, huh?” You tease lightly.

“I got hit with some asshole’s fuckin’ quirk and-” he begins explaining himself, something he probably should have done when you showed up at the door.

“It was good though,” you say, tilting your head at him from where you lay.

Katsuki blinks at you, his expression completely flat. You should really know just how fucking crazy you drive him. Then, he scowls a little, not because he’s upset, but because he’s currently feeling the opposite and that makes him awkward.

“You’re into that shit?” He says, a bit incredulously.

You shrug and give him a coy smile.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bnha smut #mha smut #tw.dubcon #tw.biting #tw.free use #tw.overstimulation #tw.size kink #tw.scent kink #idk what this is #it’s a little ficlet I suppose #AND SO DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I USUALLY WRITE I FEEL LIKE #ANY IM NERVOUS ENJOY #cal.writing

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hairmetal666 · 8 months ago

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Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #friends to lovers #famous eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #feelings confession #oblivious steve harrington #the grand tradition of steve harrington not realizing he's bi #eddie falls first steve falls harder #eddie's so cool about it #grammy award winning eddie munson #vaguely inspired by lupita and joseph at the oscars #driver roll up the partition please #a little bit spicy

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wordsinhaled · 1 month ago

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thinking about how edwin wore the confession outfit and niko told him he looked nice and charles gave him a onceover. thinking about how charles thought edwin dressed up nice for monty. how charles thought he dressed up nice.

for someone else - or maybe even simply for the sake of telling charles he had feelings for someone else - to make a good impression - to give himself more confidence while sharing a truth about himself with his best mate…

and edwin never had time to correct him, to say: “i dressed up nice for you. this is for you. i am for you.”

and only in hell does it all make sense - edwin is in love with him. but did it click for charles - maybe not right away in the moment on the staircase, but maybe later - that edwin had changed outfits for him? that edwin had been trying to impress him. to look good for him and catch his eye and make it special.

thinking about charles - after he realizes his feelings, realizes he reciprocates and finally tells edwin as much - looking back on that moment and thinking that was for me. charles being unable to let it go once he understands. asking edwin if he still has the jumper; asking if he’ll wear it again so he can appreciate it properly.

i just think charles would love that edwin did that. that edwin, who has worn the same thing for decades, put that sort of thought into the occasion of admitting his feelings to charles, even without any expectation that charles would feel the same.

thinking about charles who has perhaps in the past been used to not being the forever choice, loving that edwin takes loving him seriously, wanting to let edwin know the effort wasn’t in vain. charles unable to take his eyes off edwin the second time that edwin wears the outfit, looking so besotted that anyone could see how much he adores edwin from miles off.

and edwin, feeling wanted, feeling loved in return under charles’ attention, not realizing how much he’d appreciate having charles see him in this outfit as intended and how much it would settle something in him. perhaps edwin getting to say the words he’d planned to say, in the comfort of knowing they will be received and returned in kind.

simply - charles having a whole Experience about the confession outfit and getting to revisit it while they are in an established relationship, and it bringing them both this sort of closure and thrill and happiness, at getting to be in love, at getting to communicate their love to each other…

#dbda #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #payneland #tbh i want to make this a fic but god i have so many ideas so little time. but the concept is living in my brain so i figured i would #at least put it out as a bit of a headcanon/ficlet ❤️

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loveinhawkins · 5 months ago

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Eddie really can’t afford to be late, but he is anyway; the school year’s slipping away from him again. He nearly falls in his haste to cut across the parking lot—when he curses the sheet of ice beneath his sneakers, it sounds more like he’s cursing himself.

Someone’s holding the front door open for him. Eddie’s torn between hurrying even more or slowing down; he’s gotten used to certain people holding the door only to let it swing shut at the last second. His senior year the first time around was the worst for it: the bruise on his shoulder was as constant as a tattoo.

But the impulse to speed up must win, because whoever’s holding the door makes a motion with one hand, bringing it up to chest height before lowering it, palm tilted slightly up: dude, relax, it’s okay.

And Eddie’s seen that gesture often enough on the basketball court while pretending not to watch the game—spotted it in silent response to a failed throw, or even after an accidental shove from someone on the rival team.

So it’s not really a surprise when he gets close enough to confirm that Steve Harrington is holding the door.

Steve definitely doesn’t need to be; the school secretary is probably plotting his demise because of how long he’s been letting the cold air in.

They don’t exchange any words, but Steve gives a tiny wry smile, like they’re on the same team—although Eddie’s sure that Steve, at least, can afford to be late.

His hair is sticking up at the sides, toast crumbs on his burgundy sweater—Eddie can picture him suddenly, eating hastily as he gets into his car.

And it’s a fleeting, endearingly unpolished image, gone as soon as Eddie’s fingertips touch the door, to be replaced by the buzzing dread of tests and essays; he’s oblivious to the fact that in someplace far colder than this late morning, he’ll tell Steve Harrington that he’s actually a good dude, like the thought’s just occurred to him—thinking all the while oh, I already knew.

#it’s the little moments ❤️#pre steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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brainmuncher · 5 months ago

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The emergency

A good number of members within the Justice League have children. Not all of those kids are biological or adopted but they are their kids nonetheless. Some of those kids are even old enough to be adult heroes of their own, but even then they are still their kids. And the other kids tend to take up heroism at a very young age to most people's chagrin. Although as shown by the original child hero, now going by Nightwing, it’s not as easy as telling the kids to stop.

It was learned through intense hardship that smothering the child heroes was just asking for trouble. Despite how much the older heroes wanted to stay close to their kids, it was seen as overbearing and a show of mistrust. They would act out with even less backup in retaliation, which would only bring even more stress.

So to satisfy the need for protection without stepping on any toes, two new emergency meeting signals were introduced.

One was for the kids to send off. Each one was gifted a small device that could be hidden in their person. The device had both a mic and a tracking chip that could be activated when they were in extreme danger. As soon as the device was active a signal would be sent to the league for an emergency distress signal with the details of who sent it. Due to an outcry from the kids, the device could not be activated by the guardian of the child. The mic and locator could only be activated from the device itself. It wasn’t nearly as protective as some of the more worried leaguers would like, but it was at least something.

The second signal was one that the leaguer with a kid in danger could activate. This signal could be activated with a single code into the communicators that every member owned. If the member who sent out the signal didn’t specify what kid was in danger, every member would receive a generalized notification of the emergency alert for one of the kids. This wasn’t ideal, but it was learned early on that the guardian of the child was often too distressed to make the code more complicated. It was best to leave it simple and answer questions at the emergency meeting.

Which was great in all, until someone who doesn’t have a child involved with heroics in their care sends off a general emergency.

In places all over the globe, an emergency meeting signal message was sent by Hal Jordan, one of the lanterns. He didn’t include what child was in danger in the signal, meaning that it could be any of the underaged heroes. And considering he didn’t have a child in his care, that made multiple members panic.

When was the last time they checked in with the kids in their care? Who was the one he was sending the code for? What happened to the child he had noticed was in danger? Why is he the one that noticed? Where were their kids? Who was in danger?

Because of the nebulous nature of the call, it didn’t take long for multiple heroes to find the nearest transport to the watchtower and tumble in. What they didn’t expect was the absolute haggard appearance of their friend. He was standing in the meeting room looking like the world had been destroyed before his very eyes. The way he sat without even cracking a sarcastic remark made multiple members pause.

“Hal?” Wonder Woman called, her face pinched in concern. “What has happened?��

The aforementioned member looked over who had already arrived before settling on her face. It was at that moment she knew that he was only looking so collected through willpower alone. This wasn’t just any child of the league, this was personal.

“My nephew Danny has been captured,” He began, sending a wave of different emotions circling the room. “I’ve been trying to find where they took him for a week now and I can’t get any leads. I need your help.”

The unsaid questions and emotions were nearly palpable. Multiple members turned to one another or stared with a million questions. Nobody had known that Hal even had a nephew named Danny. Sure he mentioned someone named Jason at times, but he never indicated anything else. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned him or the fact that he’d been apparently searching for a week was strange.

“And why are you only telling us now? Why did you wait so long?” Superman asked, speaking up the question that was on multiple minds.

A fire of anger curled in Hal's eyes. It was fierce and protective. It was a mixture of appalment for being questioned on his decision and fury for the reasons why he had to do it in the first place. He stepped forward towards the center table, slamming his palms down and leaning into it.

“Because any person that goes against the group will be declared an enemy of the United States. I’ve already had my account and housing connected to Green Lantern seized,” He explained with a deceptively calm tone. “I also needed to make sure that they didn’t have any connections with the Justice League. They have their agents everywhere.”

Unsurprisingly, Batman appeared from the gathered heroes from seemingly nowhere. Despite the feud between the two of them, the Bat was completely zeroed in on the situation. While he had a decent amount of distrust in the lantern, mainly because of the parallax incident, he could tell that the man was genuine. And the Bat always did have a blind spot for children.

“Explain,” Was all Batman said, staring Hal down.

The lantern in question looked at him with a grim face. This was it. Now or never.

“They’re called the Ghost Investigation Ward, or GIW for short. They hunt down and either exterminate or experiment on anyone they deem ectocontaminated or a ghost,” Hal started to explain, his hand curling on the table in frustration. “My brother Jack faked his death and ran off to be with another woman. Those fucks deemed my nephew as ectocontaminated and tried to take him from his home. He ran from his family so that they couldn’t be arrested for knowingly harboring an ecto entity. Told me that he remembered my face from a photo his dad tried to hide in the attic and sought me out.”

If the fire in his eyes were any stronger, they would probably become physical and burn down the room. It was undeniable that Hal Jordan was understandably completely pissed off. This situation was terrible from down to the very root.

“I tried to hide him but they somehow found him anyway. Now my civilian name is being heavily monitored and Green Lantern is being hunted down,” He finished his explanation. “If you join me in this, be prepared to lose everything.”

This was so much worse than anyone could’ve predicted.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #ficlet #Hal Jordan #I hate using character tags lol #GIW doing what they do best #Also I did a bit of a dive on Hal #Found out he had siblings and one was named Jack?? and I was like ooooo #Like I wasn't planning on that connection but it became a thing anyway #I'd like to imagine that after Janice died Jack ran off without his kids and eventually met Maddie #He then tried to 'restart' his life #He acts like a fool to separate himself from his past #kinda like bruce and brucie #I just really wanted more Green Lantern and Danny Phantom crossover type stuff #I actually know very little about the Lanterns though lmao #So I don't feel confident doing a full fic #Anyone who wants to take this idea and run with it please do! I would love to see what y'all make of it :)

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 9 months ago

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He's been at Steve's house a week before he manages to gather up the courage to ask.

He shuffles into the living room, Steve's old slippers on his feet, Steve's old pajamas hanging off him. He'd lost weight in the hospital. And hadn't gained much back yet, still in too much pain to really have an appetite. But this, it needed doing. He needed it done.

"Steve?" He asks, throat clicking, voice scratchy from underuse. Steve looks away from the tv immediately, hits the mute button, eyes wide and on Eddie.

"Hey. You okay?" He asks, turning his whole body on the couch, towards Eddie, giving him his full attention.

Eddie just nods. Slowly. His eyes going unfocused, staring at the floor.

"Eddie?" And Steve's in front of him now, he hadn't even heard him get up.

"Hmm?" He hums in his throat, eyes still feeling foggy.

"Did you need something?" Steve asks, Eddie's eyes focus, the concern in Steve's voice bring him back into his body. He looks at Steve, nods, says,

"I need you to cut my hair." His lip trembles, he digs his teeth in.

"You... what?" Steve's confused. Rightfully so. Eddie swallows around the fire in his throat, tries to explain it to Steve. This thing he can barley figure out himself. Has a half formed idea at best. He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, Steve steps a little closer.

"It's just- it keeps- I keep laying on it. And it... pulls. And I'm sleeping and it pulls and I wake up and I can't breathe and it's-" he inhales, sharp and shakey and then Steve is there, his hands on Eddie's shoulders.

"Okay. It's okay. I'll do it. Whatever you want Ed's." He pulls Eddie upstairs, into his bathroom. Stands with him in front of the mirror, scissors in hand.

"Where do you want it?" Steve asks, his eyes meeting Eddie's in the mirror. Eddie takes a deep breath, brings his hand up, winces at the pull on his ribs but keeps going.

"Above my shoulders. But like... I wanna still be able to tuck it behind my ears?" He's not sure why it comes out as a question, but Steve just nods, Eddie sees his lips twitch into the start of a smile before dropping again. He reach up, drags his fingers genlty through Eddie hair.

His stomach sinks, his hair is gross. He hasn't washed it in days. Too tired. Too much pain. Too much effort.

"Sorry my hair's gross." He mumbles, lips barley moving.

"It's not. It's fine." Steve assures him, his voice soft, sections out a small lock of hair, he looks at Eddie in the mirror again.

"You're sure about this?" He asks, he looks sad. Eddie hates it. But also doesn't. Because it means Steve sees him, understands him, and how important his hair is to him.

But it doesn't matter right now. That his hair is a peice of him, a peice of the Eddie he'd built to keep himself safe. A peice of his armor.

"I'm sure. Please." He isn't begging, exactly, but his hands fist in his pajama pants, and it feels like it anyway.

"I'm gonna go just above your shoulder at first okay? And then if you want more off we can do that." Steve waits for Eddie to agree and then starts cutting.

Eddie closes his eyes when the scissors sink through his hair. Keeps them closed as Steve works. He stops a few cuts in and tells Eddie to wait there. Eddie sits on the toilet seat as he waits for Steve to come back.

He brings a radio with him, clicks in one of the tapes Eddie made him, and gets back to work. Eddie's eyes stay closed. He finds himself smiling as he listens to Steve hum behind him. Scrunches his nose when Steve full on sings a few times.

Not because he's bad. He's got a really nice voice actually. Eddie loves listening to him sing. But if he didn't scrunch his face he might to do something else instead, something stupid, with Steve so close.

It only takes a couple songs before Steve's hands are on his shoulders, gentle, reassuring, an anchor.

"Okay. It's done. Or at least. Might be. I can take more off if you need me too." His voice is soft in Eddie's ear, Eddie can feel the heat of his chest on his back he's so close.

He opens his eyes and feels his heart flutter in his chest. His head swimming a little. His hair hadn't been this short since junior year. He can see Steve watching him in the mirror.

"Good?" He asks, dragging his lip into his mouth and letting it go again.

"I think so." Eddie says, feeling a bit dazzed, a bit dizzy. And then Steve fucking reaches up with both hands, tucks Eddie's hair behind his ears genlty, his fingers moving down his neck to rest back on his shoulders.

"I could take another inch. It'd still fit behind your ears." Steve's eyes are moving over his head, like he's doing some complex math equation. Eddie wants to cry. His chest tight.

"Okay. Take it." He says, Steve's eyes move to his in their reflections again.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, reaching up and smoothing his hand over Eddie's hair. Eddie nods.

"Yeah. One more inch." He breathes the words out, like he just needs them gone, out of his mouth. Steve smiles at him, untucks his hair from his ears and starts cutting again.

Eddie watches him this time. Watches the way his tongue sticks out as he concentrates, measuring Eddie's hair between his fingers before he cuts. His tongue peaking out between his lips, brow furrowed in concentration.

Eddie watches him and tries to convince himself he actually wanted it shorter. And maybe he did. But he knows too, that he didn't want Steve to stop touching him. Steve's eyes meet his in the mirror and he smiles again. Eddie looks away. His cheeks burning.

"Okay. You're done Munson." His voice is teasing, it makes Eddie's stomach flutter.

"Thanks. Harrington." He teases back. Too soft. He knows. But he can't help it. His voice is stuck in his throat. Steve snorts as Eddie turns, takes a step toward the door.

"Actually. Can I-" Steve stops, his hand curling around Eddie's bicep, stopping him there. Eddie looks at him. Waiting.

"Can I wash your hair for you?" Steve asks, his voice quiet, Eddie barely hears it over the radio.

"My...?" Is Eddie's articulate reply.

"Please? It'll make you feel better. I- I think." Steve stammers a bit, always so endearing when he does that. Eddie loves when he's flustered.

"I uh... yeah okay. If you want." Eddie shrugs, tries to act normal. Like any of this is normal. And Steve fucking beams at him, that beautiful smile on full display.

"Okay cool. Just uh... here you can sit here while I get this cleaned up and get a towel and I'll be right back." He's talking fast, his hands flailing and jumping around as he talks. Eddie just nods, smiling at him as he watches him toss Eddie's chopped hair into the trash. Watches him take a lock of it and tie it in a knot, tells Eddie he'll put it somewhere safe. So they'll know when it's fully grown out again.

Steve wipes up the counter and disappears, comes back with two towels a few seconds later. Instructs Eddie to sit on the floor. He sets a towel down for him to sit on and lays the other over the side of the tub.

Eddie lets Steve guide him. His hands gentle as he lowers Eddie's head back over the tub, asks if he's comfortable, Eddie hums an affirmation. Steve makes sure the water is warm, not too hot, because Eddie doesn't like hot water. He gets it perfect. And then starts pouring water onto Eddie's hair.

Eddie's not sure where he got the cup. Or if it was already there for some reason. He means to ask but Steve's fingers sink into his hair and his brain short circuits. The shampoo smells amazing. Minty. It tingles against his scalp in the best way as Steve's fingers move in slow circles.

Eddie's eyes fall closed. He's sure he makes some obscene noise but Steve is kind enough not to comment. His fingers working magic in Eddie's hair. He rinses with warm water, the contrast from the cool minty feeling making Eddie shiver.

He hears Steve laugh a quiet laugh as he does and smiles himself. He hears another bottle pop open and closed and then Steve's fingers are back. Working the conditioner into his hair slowly, massaging it into his scalp as well. His hands moving slowly, with a purpose, for what feels like hours. He pulls back eventually, fingers dragging slowly through Eddie's hair as he goes.

"I'm gonna let that sit for about two minutes and then we'll rinse okay? You doin okay? Not in pain are you?" Steve all but whispers in Eddie's ear. The radio is still playing in the background. But Eddie couldn't tell you a single fucking song that had played since Steve started touching him.

"I'm good. Kinda tired. But that might just be your magic fingers." He peaks one eye open, watches as Steve laughs, shakes his head. He closes his eye again and laughs too. Only it wasn't a joke. Not really. Steve's fingers were magic. Just like the rest of him.

Steve hums along to Queen's Radio Ga Ga as they wait, Eddie tapping out the beat on his thigh as Steve hums and sways. The song ends and Steve scoots closer.

"Ready?" He asks, turning the water back on.

"As I'll ever be." Eddie deadpans, scooting back a bit from where he'd slid down.

"You're not gonna try and put products in my hair and blow dry it are you?" Eddie asks as Steve starts pouring water over him, fingers moving quicker now, moving his hair around to get it clean, he snorts again.

"No. Just wanted to get you clean." He says, pouring one last cup of water over his hair and turning the tap off. He grabs at each side of the towel under Eddie's neck and lifts, pulling Eddie up and wrapping his hair in one smooth motion. Eddie's eyes land on him and he can't help it.

"So my hair was gross. I knew it." He sighs, watches Steve's nose crinkle.

"It really wasn't that bad. But you thought it was. So i figured this would help." Steve shrugged, like it was nothing. Eddie bit his lip as Steve patted and scrunched his hair in the towel, being careful not to pull.

He claps his hands down on his thighs and helps Eddie get back on his feet. Pulls him genlty to stand in front of the mirror again and smiles soflty when Eddie takes the towel off his head and drags his own fingers through his hair.

It's short, leveled at his chin, a little above when he tucks it behind his ears. And he feels... better. Lighter. He shoves his hands up into the back of it, taking a deep breathe when his fingers drag over his neck, it makes him shiver.

"Fuck. I'm gonna be cold now." He mutters, chuckling in his throat, he hadn't thought about that.

"I'll keep you warm." Steve's voice is soft, when he speaks. The tape in the deck clicks and goes quiet as they stare at each other in the mirror.

"I just wanted you to feel better. But I'll gladly keep you warm too. Whatever you need Eddie. I- I mean I'm here. For you. Not goin anywhere." He shrugs after he mumbles through his little confession, his eyes on the floor when he turns to Eddie.

"I feel better." Eddie whispers, bites his lip and decides to be brave.

He steps forward, into Steve's space, Steve lifts his head, hazel eyes darting around Eddie's face. Eddie hears his breath stutter when he leans closer, presses his lips to Steve's cheek, firm.

Wanting no doubt in Steve's mind that Eddie means this. Means to kiss him. Means to pull him into a tight hug after. Means to hum happily into Steve's neck when Steve pulls him close, arms wrapping around Eddie's skinny frame and holding him tight.

"I'm not going anywhere either." Eddie breathes into his shoulder, presses another kiss there, into his shirt, like a promise. Steve squeezes him tighter, Eddie thinks he might be crying. His chest fluttering against Eddie's as he breathes shakily.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Eddie asks, lets Steve pull away a bit so he can see him. Eddie was right, there are tears in his eyes, but he's smiling as he looks at Eddie.

"Yeah. Course you can. You can sleep there every night if you want. Forever." Steve says, nuzzles into Eddie touch as he wipes tears away from his flushed cheeks.

"Forever huh?" Eddie teases, kissing acoss Steve's cheeks genlty as he laughs, it's wet, and wobbly, and Eddie is so fucking in love with him already.

"Yeah. Forever. Or however long you want me I guess." He shrugs again, dismissive, as if he really thinks Eddie would ever give him up.

"Forever sounds good to me. Not fucking letting you go now I've got you." Eddie whispers, his hands holding Steve's face, Steve's hands on his wrists, holding him too.

"You're gonna keep me forever?" Steve asks, his lip trembling as he looks at Eddie with hope in his teary eyes.

"Forever and ever, if I can." Eddie nods, and it seems to break Steve. He sighs, grabs at Eddie's pajama shirt and tugs him forward. Their lips crash together, a little rough at first, their teeth clicking until Steve seems to calm and slow down. His lips move genlty against Eddie's, soft and slow, and when he pulls back he's smiling again, his crooked little half smile that Eddie loves so much.

Steve scrunches his hair a few more times and then drags Eddie upstairs, gets them both comfy in his bed. And he holds Eddie as they fall alseep, pressing kisses into his hair and against his temple before sleep takes him.

Eddie wakes up warm. Drapped across Steve's chest as the sun hits them. He feels lips press into his hair, smiles when Steve makes exaggerated kissy noises. But he keeps his eyes closed, nuzzles deeper into Steve as he feels his fingers press into his hair.

Eddie hums as they drag through a few times, nimbly untangling rats or snags as they move. He sinks deeper into Steve, his heart fluttering as Steve's hand moves through his hair genlty, scratching at his scalp as he goes, before settling against the back of his neck, his thumb moving in slow cirles against the newly exposed skin.

Eddie whimpers into Steve's chest and snuggles closer, Steve keeping him warm, just like he promised. Eddie couldn't wait to spend forever with him.

#steddie #my writing #mine #my fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #Fates Endless Inkwell #fei #just a random little idea i had

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chronicowboy · 7 months ago

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Buck doesn't know how long they sit there in that café just talking. He's never had that before. The last time he'd done this, sat across from Natalia in the midday sun, he'd been excruciatingly aware of every passing minute as he tried to be fascinating to her, spun yarns of deaths and near-deaths and deathly comas. Here, now, Buck just exists and that seems to be more than enough for Tommy.

Tommy who hangs on his every word like Buck is the next Shakespeare even as he's rambling about rainbow emojis and allyship. Tommy whose smile is so big and wide that it carves the most beautiful caverns into his face that Buck kind of wants to live in. Tommy who grimaces every time he sips the coffee Buck bought him but dutifully drinks the whole thing over the course of their date even when Buck tells him he doesn't have to. Tommy who keeps muffling yawns into his fist every five minutes having just gotten off a twenty-four hour shift like he'd stay in that uncomfortable metal seat forever if he could.

It's the best second date of his life, so when Buck tells him to go home and get some sleep, he doesn't resist the urge to prolong the date for the few moments it takes him to walk Tommy to his car. With anyone else, so soon into whatever this might turn out to be, Buck would worry that it's too much too soon. But Tommy has been so loud in his affection even with how gentle he's made sure to stay. Buck wants to be as free in his wanting as Tommy as is, so he reaches out and slips his fingers between Tommy's, damn near euphoric when they begin to swing between them as they walk.

It takes a moment to drag his eyes up to Tommy's face, caught up in the feeling of a hand in his. It's not the first time he's held a hand, far from it. Not even the first time he's held a man's hand. But this isn't Eddie letting him squeeze his fingers as he screams in pain. This isn't Taylor indulging him every now and then. This is Tommy smiling softly down at their hands like he's as mesmerised by it as Buck is, the tips of his ears growing pink and sending a giddy thrill of satisfaction through him.

"Can I ask you something?" Tommy says, giving Buck's hand a happy little squeeze.

"Don't think there's a limit on second date questions," Buck replies.

"Evan." And, Jesus, there's something about the way Tommy says his name. Even when it's that chiding little tone that should remind him of his parents, all he feels is an overwhelming warmth, all he can hear is fondness.

"Of course you can." Buck grins and watches Tommy's smile crinkle his face all over again like he just can't help it.

"Why'd you choose that abomination of a coffee for me?" And Buck groans just to hear Tommy laugh. "Really? What even was that?"

"Black coffee four sugars," Buck mumbles, kicking a stone across the sidewalk sheepishly.

"Jesus, Evan." Tommy's laugh is something special, loud and unrestrained and the sound of sunshine maybe. "Why?"

"I-I don't know, I panicked!" Buck doesn't realise he's drifting away from Tommy until the man pulls him back in by their joined hands, and Buck lets the bump of their shoulders calm him. "Just thought, you know..." Buck turns towards Tommy's car, but Tommy drags him gently towards the Jeep, leaning against the door when they reach it.

"You just thought..."

"I don't know." He shrugs, heat rising to his cheeks under the weight of Tommy's bright-eyed attention, lowers his voice all the way. "It reminded me of you."

"What was that?" Tommy grins, using the excuse to move in a little closer.

"It reminded me of you," Buck repeats, clearer this time, more confident. "You know, bit foreboding on the outside, but all sweet on the inside."

"Christ, you really are adorable," Tommy breathes, sounding as effected as Buck feels.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies swarms in his stomach, delightfully unfamiliar to him but already intoxicating, almost addicting.

It's not two men stood on a busy sidewalk in the middle of the day then. It's just Buck and someone he really fucking likes, someone he hasn't been able to stop thinking about for a week, someone he's only kissed once somehow. And suddenly that's a fact that absolutely should be rectified.

Buck steps forward, leaning up just ever so slightly on his toes, and kisses Tommy right there in the middle of LA. And it just feels right. Overwhelming in the best of ways. It's a quick press of lips, something more suited to the schoolboy he feels than the very adult man he is, not the kiss he wants but the kiss they both need. Chaste and lovely. A hello again. A beginning.

Tommy's free hand ghosts against his jaw, a flutter of a touch as Buck falls back onto his heels and takes a breath. It takes Tommy a few moments to open his eyes which means Buck gets to watch them flutter open, dazed and delighted.

"Get some sleep, Tommy," Buck tells him, finally letting go of his hand with a squeeze. "Text me when you wake up."

"Yessir," Tommy murmurs.

And Buck can't resist another kiss then, just as quick and chaste, anything else dangerous to Buck's self-restraint, before he unlocks the Jeep and climbs in. Tommy waves him off, and Buck glances back just in time to see Tommy's hand falling down to his lips as if to chase Buck's touch.

#sami rambles #i had lots of feelings about the coffee order #this is for elke <33333 #the amount of inspiration ive got from our silly little dms....#911 show #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #buck x tommy #911 fic #911 ficlet #bucktommy fic #buck x tommy fic #bucktommy ficlet

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sgt-tombstone · 2 months ago

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Contrary to popular belief, when Soap joined the 141, he didn't attach himself obnoxious and irrevocably to his glowering lieutenant. There was no baby duckling moment, no imprinting from the sociable sergeant, no following Ghost around like a lost puppy

For his first few weeks on base, he was bright and loud in the way of the new kid on the block trying to make friends however he could, but he gravitated mostly towards Gaz, a man equal to him in rank, passion, and mischievousness. He sought out Ghost with the same enthusiasm that he sought out latrine duty or paperwork; a part of everyday military life that's easier to accept and move on than fight against. He didn't go out of his way to avoid Ghost, but he also didn't actively try to gain his attention either

Contrary to popular belief, it was Ghost who attached himself to Soap, not the other way around

Ghost has always stuck to the shadows, taken advantage of the brightness of others to stay hidden, to fly under the radar until he erupts with deadly force, and no one was brighter than Johnny. When Soap walked into a room, no one had the wherewithal to even think to check for anyone behind him; he stole the attention of everyone he came in contact with. He was a blaze of energy and charm and excitement, and Ghost shamelessly used it to his advantage, placing himself behind Johnny like he was deploying a decoy flare, knowing that he could rely on the shadow that Soap never failed to cast with his intensity. It wasn't a fear thing, either; Ghost never cowered in Soap's shadow. At worst, he lurked. At best, prowled. He did what he did best, assisted by an oblivious, brilliant sergeant

And when Soap caught on... Price never knew peace again, because Soap turned the glow up tenfold, intentionally creating pockets of shadow for his lieutenant to hide in, the two of them working in tandem until they didn't even have to speak, until they could move around each other with alarming, exceptional ease

Around base, Ghost took advantage of it for fun, or to get out of paperwork, or to avoid social interaction; he could trust his sergeant to distract anyone from anything for long enough that Ghost could slip away entirely unnoticed, with everyone around them none the wiser

In the field, though... They had never been a more deadly duo. There was risk involved, of course, because intentionally drawing attention to yourself in a firefight is less than ideal, but they trusted each other implicitly. Whenever Soap kicked up dust, Ghost took cover in it, hiding in plain sight, secure in the knowledge that the combination of Soap's diversion and his own trigger finger kept them completely safe. No one ever saw Ghost, not when they were too caught up in the pandemonium that was Johnny MacTavish, and then it was too late, because Ghost had already taken them out

And when Soap turned that wildness on Ghost himself, well... Simon could admit that he used his sergeant's influence to his advantage, but he'd never claim to be entirely immune to it himself...

#this was based on a video that I can't find rn but I'll link it as soon as I do lmao #idk if this makes sense bc I think I pushed the metaphor a little too literally but hopefully it does #basically soap is the distraction that allows ghost to be the scary motherfucker that he is even better than before #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #tombstone's epitaphs #tombstone's ficlets

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actual-changeling · 1 year ago

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There is a man with fire-red hair running a bookshop in Soho.

He hasn't always been the original owner, as almost all residents on Whickber Street know, but it is a fact you never bring up with him. Hiding behind a pair of sunglasses and layers of rough sarcasm, he is a shadow moving silently between shelves and plants, the Bentley parked outside seemingly more for decoration than actual use.

Previously, there had been a white-haired man with gentle eyes and a favour up his sleeves living among his books, and while he barely sold any of them, he was a pillar of the community just like the building itself. When he disappeared, an unspoken vow to never discuss the subject matter in the vicinity of the shop was made.

There is a woman with fire-red hair sitting in St. James's Park.

She feeds frozen peas to the ducks and puts the fear of God into everyone who dares to offer them bread or attempts to scare them away. The bench is hers, always empty, awaiting her arrival; sometimes she brings a bottle of wine, other times she cradles a Polaroid in the palm of her hand, and even the dark shades cannot stop the occasional tear from dripping down her cheek.

Rumours of her companion and his absence spread quickly, yet no one dares to ask, and the spies scattered around the park form a mutual understanding to avoid her.

There is a person with fire-red hair wandering the streets of London, wearing sunglasses and no coat, no matter the weather or time.

Their head is tipped back, their eyes glued to the sky, and yet they navigate through the masses parting around them with an unnatural ease. No one stops them, no one dares to ask why, and even if they did, they wouldn't offer an answer, not when they are asking themself the very same question.

When it begins to rain, they stop moving, stretching out their hands in a weak imitation of a prayer and allowing the water to seep into their clothes until they're as dark as the wet concrete beneath them.

There is a man with blinding white hair stepping out of an elevator that does not exist, and the end of the world comes with him. If someone were to listen in, they would realise that the man with fire-red hair meets him in the middle of the street, the air thick with lightning that will never find a home.

As they talk, nightingales all over London begin to sing.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #good omens ficlet #a little warm up improvisation

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scoops-aboy86 · 4 months ago

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Steve as a late night radio DJ, with Robin as his producer (because my partner has made me watch so much Frasier lol). He's got the sexy voice and Eddie, frontman of successful metal band Corroded Coffin, still remembers him from Hawkins and, ugh.

But, well, his manager set up the interview and it would cause more of a stir to no-show than it would to turn up and bicker with some washed up former high school bully. It's a different city, a different decade; maybe King Steve won't even remember him.

So Eddie turns up, and he actually beats Steve there. To the point of the show starting and it's just him in the booth, chatting awkwardly with Robin to fill the air. It gets less awkward the more they talk, idly catching up on old small town bullshit and what it's like to go from isolated baby queers ("I thought I was totally alone!" "Really? You didn't clock the black bandana hanging out of my pocket for five of my six years in high school?" "Sorry old timer, I was still in middle school for part of that." "Oh fuck off, Ms. 'I went to Sarah Lawrence and all I got was this awesome girlfriend.'" "Sorry Eddie, we can't all be super late bloomers like you.") to Actually Successful And Functioning Adults. (She's kind enough not to mention his single but unfortunately well known brush with rehab, other than to congratulate him on his seven year chip.)

And then Steve bursts in, huffing and puffing and diving for the headphones and mic to apologize to both them and the audience for being late. He doesn't even try to offer an excuse until Robin asks, "Uh, Steve? Want to share with us why your arm's in a sling and one of your eyebrows looks like it got flambéd right off your face?"

Which turns into a very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson ("Oh damn, Henderson! I fell outta touch with him ages ago. How is that little shit?" "Married. He didn't end up converting to Mormonism, but they still have enough kids to make up half a basketball team." "Is that... a lot?" "Six, Munson. They have six kids." "Which is funny, because he made soooo much fun of Steve for wanting that many back in the day." "Yeah. Showed him." "Fuck, my condolences to his wife if they all inherited his big head. You gotta give me his number after this. Or—DUSTIN, if you're listening to your babysitter's show, come to my next concert and there'll be two backstage passes with your name on it! Or, well, that embarrassing nickname your radio girlfriend used to call you, since I think I've blurted out your full government name by now." "That girlfriend is actually his wife now." "No shit?! Wow, I can't believe one of my little lost sheepies has managed to keep the same girl for over a decade. Is she really hotter than Phoebe Cates?" "Oh, she is smokin." "Robin, don't make it weird." "Oh it's okay, she already knows. I told her.") ... A very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson coming over to discuss plans for Ma Henderson's birthday, and bringing a cherries jubilee that Suzie had made so he could literally demonstrate the flambé presentation ("Listeners, I swear I did not know, when I asked Steve about his flambéd eyebrow, that it was a literal flambé accident. Eddie, can you confirm?" "I can confirm, Robin. We received no heads-up calls or messages from Steve before or during the show. It was serendipitous irony, 100% pure.") but poured waaaaay too much brandy on, and then Steve tripped in his mad dash for the fire extinguisher ("He was no help at all, just stopped dropped and rolled right there in the middle of the damn kitchen." "How are his eyebrows?" "Ugh, I have more of them than he does right now but at least his match. Don't worry everyone, he's fine. No nerds were injured in the course of this improv slapstick comedy routine that is my life. I swear to god, I need a girlfriend or a boyfriend or someone reasonable to hang out with besides all you weirdos." "Aw, you love us." "Yeah Stevie, what would you do without your loving nerd squad?" "Yeah, yeah... But don't try to leave yourself out of this Munson, as far as I'm concerned you're still the king of all nerds. And if you're reconnecting with Dustin, you're stuck with us too.") and had to stop by urgent care on the way to work.

Throughout all of this, Eddie is not twirling a lock of hair around one finger... but only because it's tied haphazardly back to keep it out of his face for the day. Steve is different from the guy he remembers strutting the halls of Hawkins High. Still all freckles and hair and charismatic grin, but he carries himself differently. More solidly built in his mid-thirties than his late teens, with a layer of softness that suits him. Calmer and settled, with the kind of confidence that comes with growing up. And the girlfriend or boyfriend thing? Holy shit. Holy shit. King Steve? Who knew? But, well, it explains why Steve and Robin are so close, Eddie guesses.

The Steve Harrington that Eddie had known back in the day hadn't exactly been the worst of the bullies, but he'd been friends with them, and they had spouted plenty of homophobic shit. And Steve had been looking right at him as he'd said it, like he's aware that Eddie is terminally single and maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of a question in his eyes.

Eddie has been publicly out for a while now, and the thing is... Steve is definitely his type. So he leans into it a little, testing the waters. And Steve responds to it like a sunflower greeting the sunrise.

By the end of the show Robin is slapping post-its on the glass partition that read "Get his number dingus" and "Get a room" and Don't make that face at me, yes I do know that he can see these too and I don't care, GET IT or I will recruit Dusty-dun to my cause" and "To clarify, the cause is getting you laid. Eddie, take note, he's allergic to latex."

Permanent tag list (ask to be added, but since I have gotten an influx of new followers lately just know that I write a lot of weight gain kink so like... just be aware): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

#this is not what i planned #but it got away from me a bit #robin is the best and worst wingwoman #steddie #platonic stobin #chubby steve harrington #bisexual steve harrington #later eddie finds out that steve has had a crush on him since dustin joined hellfire and started talking him up #his brain mets out his ears a little bit while he processes being steve's baby queer awakening and being in steve's mouth at the same time #scoops words #steddie ficlet #i guess #fraiser steddie au

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casdeans-pie · 2 months ago

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--- "Angel Erogenous Zones" ---

The middle of an Angel's neck, where their Grace can be extracted from - wouldn't that be a vulnerable, sensitive spot?

--------

It hadn’t been Dean's intention to be kissing Cas against his bedroom door, but as soon as it had slammed shut behind them that’s where they’d ended up.

There had been a desperate mix of gripping and pulling to draw each other in – and then suddenly they were on each other. Dean had both his fists full of trench coat, while Cas's hands had started on his shirt collar and slid up to the back of his head.

Dean had a fuzzy, vague realisation (his blood had far more interesting places to go than his brain) that Cas could be completely immovable if he wanted to be, so the satisfying slam of his back against the door was something that he’d let happen.

God, wasn’t that something.

Dean groaned aloud at that thought and Cas made a high breathy sound in response, like being able to make the other feel good left them in a never ending feedback loop of pleasure.

Their angle changed slightly, their bodies one long tight line of heat, as Dean reluctantly pulled his lips away to desperately breathe some air before he passed out.

Cas tilted his head back, baring the column of his throat, as Dean tasted it with his lips and tongue, while he got his breathing back under control. But Cas flinched violently when his mouth touched the skin below his chin.

“Sorry,” Dean said, freezing immediately. Even he could hear how wrecked and rough he sounded. He pulled back and searched Cas’s face – was he making sure he was okay, or looking for signs of regret?

Dean couldn’t help it when he placed a gentle hand on Cas’s cheek and wiped a thumb gently under his eye. They were both shining brightly with an inner light that seemed to swirl through what Dean could see of his irises (though they were mostly dilated pupil). He wanted to feel smug at the effect he’d had, but concern at the flinch he’d definitely felt overrode everything else.

Cas shook his head slightly and let out a long, shaky breath. “No, I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t think I would react like that.”

“I- uh- I mean, I get it man, this is uh- kinda new territory for us and-” Dean tensed and went to move away, but Cas held him close.

“No, please... Please don’t think it was a reaction to this. To us. There’s a scar,” Cas explained, voice even lower than usual, “from when my Grace was removed and I became human. It never healed.”

Dean felt his whole body relax again in relief and he pressed in closer, just barely resisting the urge to kiss Cas again, to catch sight of the thin white scar straight across his throat. The lowlight of the bedroom caught the edge of the raised line, making it stand out slightly, and Dean felt a deep pang of sympathy. The hand he’d left still resting on Cas’s cheek slid down to his neck and touched the very edge of it carefully.

“Does it hurt?”

“N-No,” Cas said, his breathing speeding up as his eyes slid closed. Blue light escaped from between his eyelashes.

Dean blinked in surprise. Wait...

“Sensitive,” Cas added, “sensitive place for ah-angels.”

Oh.

Dean had slid a finger over the scar gently while Cas had been talking and now he understood his reaction before.

“Sensitive, huh,” Dean repeated.

The moment that his mouth touched the scar he heard Cas gasp.

He paused, giving Cas the opportunity to tell him to stop, but instead a hand returned to the back of his head and fingers dug deep into his short hair. Dean smiled, knowing Cas would be able to feel it, and added a gentle mouthing of teeth. Cas made a noise in the back of his throat that shot a bolt of want down Dean’s spine.

He bit down harder.

A hand slammed over Dean’s eyes that shielded him from a blindingly bright blue light bursting out into the room.

Dean laughed, his chest full of warmth, as he crushed their bodies even closer together to hide his face in Cas’s shoulder.

“Oh, Angel,” Dean whispered, as a tingling electricity accompanied the light and seemed to slide over and under his skin. He had the strangest thought that it felt like silky feathers.

The light finally faded and Cas thumped his head back against the door.

“So, turns out, angel erogenous zones are a thing,” Dean said, his voice rumbling deeply with affection and warmth.

“I’ll teach you mine if you teach me yours,” Cas said breathlessly.

“I can work with that.”

#I love writing destiel fic instead of sleeping. scream #destiel #destiel ficlet #deancas #castiel's angel powers #sorry this one is a little steamier than my usual content - though its still what I would consider mostly sfw ?#pie's projects #destiel kisses

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starry-bi-sky · 4 months ago

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Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

#dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc au #danyal al ghul au #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc fanfic #i was hit with this idea two hours ago and was hit with the intrinsic need to write it down #parental vlad masters #protective vlad masters #vlad is currently going 'OH? OH YOU ABANDON AND REPLACE **MY** SON??? MURDER. DEATH. BEES UPON YOUR FAMILY'#but he's also still like. evil. much less of a creep! but evil. so he comes off a bit possessive. which was intentional.#vlad's reaction is kinda valid if it was accurate and bruce DID willingly and knowingly abandon danny. except he didn't. he has no idea #danny is even alive. vlad doesn't know that tho. we all love a good reasonable misunderstanding :]#hc that vlad needs a cane as a human because the ecto-acne that killed him fucked his nerves up a bit as a result and now he's got a bad le #and is also immunocompromised. which had a slight hand in his 20 year isolation thing.#stillborn? no still born au #stillborn danny au #stillborn danny #vlad masters #this may or may not be canon to the au im still thinking about it #vlad acknowledges that danny is formiddable but he's also not wrong that a media shitstorm like that would hurt him considerably.#diamonds are the toughest known material to man and yet it still shatters like glass when put under pressure. vlad's right he's fragile #ummm anyways yeah Vlad finds out first and promptly decides to go 'oh okay so fuck you personally actually. keep your replacement child'#he has No Plans on telling Danny what he learned mostly for the obvious selfish reasons and also bc yeah. this is gonna hurt danny #ITS NOT FUN IF IT ISNT A LITTLE TOXIIIIC #i absolutely know that vlad only swears in deserts which is why its important that i have him call bruce wayne a bastard directly.

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